Walking through the brush that is the deep East Texas woodlands, Chris stumbled upon an odd fiddle. Attempting to pick it up, he realizes just how heavy it is, and that, alone, he will not be able to pick it up. As he stands up again, contemplating the oddity of the situation that’s unfolding around him, a man clears his throat behind him. Spinning around, startled, Chris sees a gentleman wearing a black suit, white undershirt, and red tie and a fedora that matches his suit. “Well hello, kiddo. What’s a guy like you want with a fiddle?” The mans accent was like molasses rolling off his tongue. “Nothing, sir. I just thought it was a bit peculiar that a fiddle was in the woods here” “Oh, don’t be naïve, kid. You’ve heard all the stories. ‘Devil challenges some kid to a fiddle battle. Devil looses’. For the record, I don’t loose fiddle battles” Chris looked around him anxiously. He wasn’t sure if he should run, or stay, and honestly wasn’t sure this wasn’t some hallucination of his. “Well. I’m not too keen. on battling you with fiddles” “Oh no, of course not. I wouldn’t even dream of it. No, I have a better offer for you. I’ll give you anything you want, for your soul.” The man smiled a devilish grin at Chris, and offered out his hand, “Do we have a deal, Chris?” “How’d you know my name again?” Chris pondered out loud. “Oh, come on, kiddo! You think only heaven has the list of people? Hell, we make up over half of them.” The Devil laughed hearitly, and the smell of sulfer emanated from his mouth. Chris pondered on this for a few seconds, before coming to a concussion. “Alright,” He knew in the back of his head that he would regret this “I’m down” “Excellent!” The devil pulled out a pen and a piece of paper, and handed it over to Chris. “Now, I’ll just need you to draw that for me. Oh, and don’t worry. Your soul is already mine. When you agreed. Verbal contracts are binding, after all. My game, my rules, and all that garbage” Chris looked at the devil with an expression of shock and surprise. “You want me to draw what my desire is?” He felt his stomach drop. He was a terrible artist.


I still think about that night. The night that keeps me awake during the late hours. The night for which, I have questioned my sanity. The night I could not prevent. Here is a piece of my journal from 18 years ago, which I wrote during therapy. I tell the story as it happened, because even then, I was unable to accept the harsh truth. It was a Wednesday night when my parents and my older sister decided to leave my brother and I by ourselves at home, as Allan and I did not enjoy dinner at our aunt's. I was 12, old enough to take care of him and myself. My brother is only six years old, so I don’t take much of what he says very seriously. 8:00pm - It was middle of winter, all of the light outside was gone. I remember everything was fine, it was just him and I playing video games. No violent ones, as my parents forbade me from playing those around him. It was my brother’s turn to play, so I took a break to go to the washroom and to get a glass of water. What I was about to see did not scare me. I did not think much of it. It might sound somewhat funny, but there was a cat in the house. We did not own a cat. It was a black cat. I thought its eyes were shut, but upon further inspection I realized that its eyes were actually missing. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary since I had seen some cats like that at our local shelter. It must have been the neighbor's cat. I snapped my fingers to get its attention, and it quickly came over to sniff my hand. I fed it some water and a piece of old baloney that my dad was supposed to throw away, but he never got to it. Such a forgetful man, it’s like we are not even related. Suddenly, I heard my brother Allan scream, which startled the cat. The noise that came out of the cat's mouth was, *morbid* . Nothing like I've heard before, I just, I cannot explain it. I ran back to my bedroom where I had left my brother. But, on the way something stopped me. As I was about to enter the bedroom, I see my brother curled up in the corner at the end of the hallway. *“Daniel, don’t open the door. Don’t open the door.”* His voice filled with fear, and tears run down his innocent face. I ask him what’s the matter and why he screamed so loudly, to which he replies *"I didn’t.”* Like I mentioned before, he’s just a child, a kid, to me just a baby still. So I figured he was making all of that up, but why? He’s never like that, he’s a good child. As I was about to tell him to come over to comfort him, I heard a loud bang come from the bedroom. The door was locked. It sounded like there was someone, or something inside that was throwing all of our stuff around. I was extremely pissed, because just that morning our mother had ordered us to clean up the room. I silently went up to my brother and told him to remain quiet, and to follow me. We quietly went into our father’s office, where there was a phone. We got in and locked the door. I grabbed the phone and dialed my mom’s cellphone. *“Yes honey, is everything okay?”* I told her somebody had broken into the house, and that we were in dad’s office and had locked the door. *“Honey, listen to me and be very quiet. Turn off the lights in the room, lock yourself and Allan in the closet and cover up with whatever you can find in there, okay? We’re on our way there and so are the cops.”* I told her I understood, and followed just as she said. In the darkness of the closet, Allan starts to hum and I tell him to be quiet, and explain the situation to him. He does not say anything else and remains quiet for a while. *“Daniel?”* Allan asked me in the most concerned voice ever *“Yes?”* I answered back expecting him to ask me something silly. *“Are you not worried about Allan?”* My whole body froze and I so badly wanted to cry. To run, to scream, to disappear. *“Are you?”* he asked once again. *“Daniel, don't you care?”* That was not my brother. I could not bring myself to look at him. I was afraid that if I did, I would not see Allan anymore. I stood up and walked out, trying my hardest not to look at him. I turned on the lights, and let myself out of the office. I stood for what seemed like an eternity in front of the door. My bedroom’s door. It was unlocked. As I opened it, I saw my beloved brother’s lifeless body on the floor. My parents and the police arrived just a few minutes later. I can still remember the sound of my mother crying to the sight of my brother. It is simply something I will never forget. I can't. No matter how many pills I take, I still wake up to the sound of her crying. The police report says that my brother was horribly bruised all over his back, arms and legs. As if he had been thrown around for hours. And his eyes... his eyes.... I don't want to write about it. You can only imagine. My parents were never the same after that, and neither was my sister...neither was I. We all grew apart. Now, at the age of 30 I still have no idea of what happened that night. Was it something not from this world? Did I hallucinate seeing Allan? Oh, and if you’re wondering about the eyeless cat, after my parents arrived I never saw it again. My parents divorced just a few years after what happened. I stayed with mom, and my sister went with our father. My father though, blames me for what happened. I was only a kid. My sister moved away to another city, and we are still in contact. She calls me up regularly to see how I'm doing. She also tells me about a reoccurring dream she's been having. It’s always the same. She tells me that she sees me locked in the closet, and that next to me is a strange, demonic looking figure. I never told anyone about what “Allan” said to me.


When I was 14 years old, my brother, two of our buddies, and I strapped four bicycles to a golf cart and drove it in the middle of the night about 10 miles to the nearest decent sized town. It took about 45 minutes with the pedal to the floor to get us to town. Once there, we ditched the golf cart on a plot of land that was being developed for new housing. We each grabbed a bike off the cart and took to the streets of town. We figured being on the bikes would be much easier to elude any trouble, mainly police, that we might encounter. We would've been doomed to encounter anything like that while riding the golf cart. It was around 2 AM at this point, and full of adrenaline, we became hungry. We stopped at McDonald's for a quick bite, before biking our way out of town. We were only 3 miles from where we ditched the golf cart, but it had felt much further. Plus, we had to take some of the busier city streets to get there, so we were just happy to have avoided any police or issues at that point. You may be wondering to yourself at this point, *what were y'all planning to do exactly* or maybe *where the hell were your parents?!* Good, valid questions. We were four teenaged boys (all between the ages 13 and 15). Our plan was to "run away". Although looking back, I think really we just wanted some sort of excitement in our lives. Both my and my buddies' parents were back at the house where my brother and I grew up - as my buddies and their family was staying with us for the weekend for a wedding reception. They were sound asleep. If we wanted to really run away, we would've had the riskiest part behind us. Made it out of the house without being caught, and then made it through town without being detained. May be important to note here that the golf cart wasn't owned by either of our families. We were just borrowing for the weekend from a family friend. This was easily the most delinquent thing I'd done in my life; I'm fairly certain it's the last illegal/delinquent thing I did too. We got to a point where we all stopped and wanted to discuss things. Were we really gonna run away, or were we going to head back? Our buddies had already destroyed their Sim cards so we couldn't be traced... We really thought we were smart. Mostly, we just didn't wanna face our parents and didn't want to get in trouble. If we headed back at this point, we still had a chance to get everything back in order before anyone woke up and noticed we were gone. We chose to turn back. To this day I still wonder how the story would've ended if we had kept going. Not well I'm certain. We managed to bike back to the golf cart without issue. Once we loaded the cart back up, we headed towards home. For the first time all night, we spotted a cop. I was the driver, mostly because I knew the roads the best. I took a quick right and pulled into a driveway. We sat in silence for a couple minutes just hoping the cop didn't roll up on us, and that the random house we were in front of hadn't heard or seen us in their driveway. Would be a strange sight and a quick 911 call if they had. The minutes felt like hours but we decided the coast was gonna be as clear as ever and we had to keep moving. A couple more turns and we were about to cross the last main road before getting back out of town. We made it. Another 5 or 10 minutes and we were back onto gravel roads. We used a flashlight for our headlights. It was around 4:30 or 5 AM by the time we pulled back into the driveway of my house. The lights inside all appeared to be off still. A good sign. We parked the cart where we had gotten it from, unloaded the bikes and put them away, and then we snuck back into the house. Undetected. We had done it. We unpacked our bags - which mostly just contained clothes, snacks, a couple knives, and random other little things we thought we'd need to survive if we were in the woods running away from home for days. We probably only got an hour of sleep, maybe less, before our parents woke us up. It was Sunday and we had to get ready for church. They knew nothing. Suspected nothing. A few years later, one of my buddies from that adventure actually did run away from home. We had grown apart and I hadn't heard from him in awhile. He and his family was from Oklahoma. Police found him in Florida. He was in his brother's truck. It had been about week since he had left home. I believe he was 17 at the time, maybe 16. U was the same age. Upon being returned to his parents custody, he told them about our first runaway "attempt". The golf cart and bike adventure across my home county. His parents passed along the information to my parents. My brother and I were in for a helluva talking to and grounding. It had been years and we thought they'd never know. But the jig was up. Now our parents and brother and I laugh about it. I'm sure they're just thankful we ended up being hard working and honest-contributing members in society and not criminals. It all worked out in the end I suppose. It makes for a decent story.


Imagination can be tiring Deirdre strolled confidently down Ash Street, turned a corner at Haight, stopped and waited. She’d been down this road several times before, twice the street signs changed names, and more than once, so had she. So far, she’d been a Heather and a Joy, the author finally settled on Deirdre. She felt a subtle push, so continued down Haight. Her thoughts turned to the date ahead with David, nope that was the last alternative, this was Graham. She daydreamed about his blue eyes, and black curls and hoped they’d stayed that way. She’d only been dating him for three weeks and he’d already been through more hair colours than a salon trainee. Finding the bistro she opened the heavy door with long tanned arms. She’d had pale but muscled ones earlier so this was an improvement. Stepping inside, her green eyes (and a hall mirror confirmed they had stayed the same colour), scanned the patrons. She smiled as Graham waved at her from a corner table. She crossed the room having to shift her hips between tables. The small restaurant had been through author renovations and while her hips had mostly stayed the same width, the ability to squeeze between tables had changed. Dee leaned down and gave her date a peck on the cheek, surreptitiously inhaling his aftershave. She wasn’t sure what this one was called but she liked it better than the last one. They traded greetings and asked tentatively about family members without using names. They’d learned a sad lesson when his grand-dad Ralph had had a quick death the week before. The author had felt bad, however, and changed their mind, so celebrations were abundant this past weekend. Dee scanned the menu and noted that the Greek food had disappeared, she asked Gray ‘if it was her or had they not been here before for knock-out moussaka’ He nodded sadly and supposed out loud that he could stomach seafood lasagna if she was okay with it. It appeared to them both that their motivations, careers, families, menus and even sex moves were reliant on whether the writer had had a good or bad day. Ordering their meal and beverages from a new server didn’t phase them, and neither did driving different cars, or living in different flats. In some ways, it was exciting to wake up in a contrarily decorated space and put on clothes you didn’t remember buying. Gray had been intrigued at first by the career changes, but after the switch from lawyer to the owner of a used car lot, he’d grown despondent. When their food came it had changed from lasagna to large American-style burgers with Bud Light rather than the IPA’s they’d chosen. They shrugged and dug in. Dee had to acknowledge that their writer had good taste in food, even if the choices in interior design left something to be desired. They discussed the news between bites, as a journalist Dee had an inside track into new political developments. She was grateful every morning that she hadn’t been written to be a war-zone writer, quickly banishing the thought as if it could prompt a sudden scene change. She and Gray wiped their chins off and with a subtle lift of his right eyebrow, she grinned. She prayed that the writer was in a good personal space because she could use some good sex. The last two times Graham had inexplicably suffered, as did she through association, the horror of extremely early completion. They had lain there cursing the obvious dating glut the author was dealing with and hoping it ended soon. Gray paid the bill and she left the tip, it was a habit but who knew how? They couldn’t remember yet how they’d met. They didn’t know if it would come to them in a flashback or a friend’s storyline, either way, they were happy. She had noted a birthday card on his mantle the week before so knew that he had just turned twenty-seven. She had scanned her face in the mirror of the most recent bathroom and gauged that given the absence of wrinkles and silver strands, she was likely about the same age. They clasped hands and strolled towards Graham’s most recent flat. He was happy with its space but wondered how long he could afford it in his new commission-based job. They ascended to his floor, she carried the bag with the few groceries they’d bought at the little market, a few things for a light dinner and breakfast, along with a bottle of the wine they liked but hadn’t been able to access at lunch. Opening the door they heard a faint mewing. Gray remarked in a slightly sarcastic tone that he hoped their patron had thought to provide cat food as he hadn’t known he had a feline to feed. Dee took the groceries into the kitchen and looked around. She saw a double dish with kibble in one and water in the other. The groceries were put away, the wine was breathing and she had nothing else to do so she walked around and explored the new space. The last time they’d been together at his, it was in a different building and had an L-shaped floor plan. Calling out to Gray she heard his voice from the back room. Following his trail of clothes, she smiled and plonked the cat into a conveniently placed cat carrier. Laying back on crumpled sheets, winded and sated, she blessed their creator for being in the right space of mind today. They’d been making passionate love for over an hour, switching positions and finding new buttons to push. Gray had proved to be a great lover their first time, they seemed to mesh well in that regard. Dee knew that she was using some form of birth control but had no idea what it was, she assumed it was the pill as there were no accessories to be found in her bathroom or his. She also knew he didn’t use a condom, that would have been fairly obvious, so they’d clearly had some prior conversation about it. Damn, this situation could be annoying. She rose and donned a t-shirt of his, he was 5’ 10” only a few inches taller than her, so his clothes weren’t swimming on her. Padding into the kitchen through the living room she glanced at the cat carrier and was unsurprised at the change from cat to Komodo dragon, it hissed at her but didn’t seem phased at its change any more than she was. She poured the wine into two glasses and picked up a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels in her teeth. Two hours later she and Graham emerged from the bedroom. He eased up behind the cage to see the new pet and expecting a reptile merely shook his head at the mewing coming from the cage. Deirdre topped up their glasses while Gray found a movie on one of the streaming services he had, He reiterated his worry about money, his tastes had adapted to a legal career, and since the recent career change, he’d have to tighten the purse strings. She calmed his fears with a reminder that given their author’s changeability, he could be a US Senator by the end of the afternoon. He smiled and clinked his glass to hers. She told him she’d start dinner in an hour and they settled in to watch the new Top Gun film. Deirdre paused ‘Barbie’ after an hour and looked fondly at Graham's face, he’d fallen asleep after ten minutes. She didn’t blame him, he’d had an active afternoon in bed and couldn’t bother to stay awake long enough to get his Kens straight. It had been a cruel change, she’d been looking forward to the Tom Cruise movie. Shrugging, she set her empty glass on the side table. Easing his head off her shoulders she rose to start the meal. She smiled to see the kitten sprawled on Gray’s lap, thinking it was probably a better choice than the reptile for cuddling. A half-hour later she returned to the living room, the light dinner menu had been altered while they’d been busy. She’d promised him a family favourite shrimp and green onion omelet but found the ingredients for pulled pork on ciabatta buns instead. An angry knock sounded on the door so she detoured to answer it, her shoulders tight in anticipation, who could it be with that much heat? Gray sat up, dislodging the cat in the process. He pleaded with her not to answer the door, saying only that it didn’t bode well. She glanced at the straight red hair standing straight up, sighed and assured him it would be fine. Peering through the peephole she saw a short, obviously dyed-blonde woman with flashing eyes on the other side. Easing the door open, Dee stepped back and addressed the woman with a question. “Can I help you with something?” The woman screeched and pushed her aside to enter the apartment. “Where is he, where is David?” She took note of Graham standing up near the couch and took in his 6’ 4” frame. She asked again where David was, seeming to realize she may be in the wrong apartment, or at the very least with the wrong occupants. She shook her curls and glared at them both. Gray and Dee stood side by side and waited for her to come to the same conclusion as they had. The author had left a character hanging from the last incarnation. The woman, who called herself ‘Melanie I think’ reported that she’d been here with David six weeks prior but hadn’t heard from him since. She’d asked at his place of employment and texted his sister, only to discover he didn’t exist. Dee sat in the chair nearby and attempted to explain the unexplainable. They were all at the mercy of a writer who changed plot lines, character descriptions and day-to-day details on a whim. Melanie nodded, but her eyes which went from blue to brown at a disturbing speed, remained blank. She agreed, finally that it would explain a lot but couldn’t help her in the end. She was still pregnant and there was no father on record, or even in existence. Dee helped her to stand and hugged her goodbye. There was nothing else she or Graham could do, after all. Melanie walked out the front door after turning to look at the apartment again, clearly seeing herself and David enjoying a similar evening together. Dee returned to the kitchen, glancing again at the changes in Graham. She had more than empathy for Melanie as she’d been through physical changes in her boyfriend. She realized with a start that at some point Graham had been a David too, she’d almost called him that this very afternoon. That would be too much of a coincidence, right? He had followed her into the kitchen and poured them another glass of their favourite Greek red. Moschomavro had been the first bottle they’d drunk together, she knew that at least. The rest of the first date details still eluded her, well them actually as Gray hadn’t been able to remember much either. Over their sandwiches and coleslaw, they discussed Melanie and the uncertainties about their futures, pasts and details about their present they hadn’t been shown. Dee cleaned their plates and with a mind, that she had concluded was written smutty, wondered how Graham’s change in height related to his other dimensions. She smiled and decided to find out for herself. Returning to her flat the following morning, more than sated and a bit tender, she was glad it was Saturday. There were household chores of her own to deal with, not to mention the piece for the London Style magazine she freelanced for. After an hour of tidying both herself and her space, she sat at her laptop and checked her email. After scanning the list she was confused by the absence of writing assignments. The saved file she had set for her magazine article had disappeared and all the new messages related to architectural assignments. Her head dropped to the table next to the laptop. So, she was an architect now? Was the author re-watching Seinfeld episodes or something? She pushed away from the table and strode to the window. Her flat hadn’t changed as Graham’s had but given who she was dealing with, it was just a matter of time so she wanted to catch the view she loved before she lost it. Her mobile buzzed and she drew it from her back pocket. The name was withheld and her first instinct was to ignore it. The buzzing continued unabated so she pushed the green phone icon. “Hello, Deirdre speaking.” She heard breathing on the other end, but no voice, she tried again with her name, but the breather didn’t speak up. “I’m going to hang up now, so speak now or forever hold your peace” “Dee? Is that you truly? It’s me, your mother, no father, or is it brother, perhaps a high school crush, no that’s silly, I’m your mother, I haven’t seen you in forever.” Dee clicked on the red phone icon. She was emotionally full and didn’t have time for any bizarre reunions. She’d been raised by her sister since their parents had died in a car accident twenty years before. She’d accepted that and had no desire for newly discovered parents or siblings at this point. She didn’t know what their writer was working towards but she could just leave her heart out of it. She placed the phone on the counter and realized she no longer had a writing assignment, so the afternoon was hers. Her sister’s house was a short train trip from downtown London to whatever small village the author had chosen. It boasted a scenic main street that hosted the usual pubs, post office and bakery. Her sister and husband commuted to the city during the week but as this was a Saturday, she hoped to find them at home. Dee wasn’t sure if her sister had been affected by the author or if the machinations were for her and Graham alone. She had a picture in her mind of what Stacey and Bernie looked like, could trace the interior of their two-level home in her mind and held on to that as a frame of reference. If they’d gone through sudden changes her questions would be answered. Stepping off the train she strode through the small station and out onto the street. The first thing she noted was the fountain that usually graced the town square had been replaced. The statue of Boris Johnson was hardly a fit replacement in her provided opinion. She hadn’t given any thought to her politics as it wasn’t a part of the storyline, but maybe it was time to start thinking for herself. She began to feel an uprising of passion and then... She stood in front of Stacey’s driveway with no memory of having walked there. She shook off the eerie feeling of being manipulated, she knew she ought to be used to it by now but it still rattled. The door opened and her sister stepped out to greet her. They hugged and Dee was folded into a house that was the same as the last time. Stacey took her out to the garden where they’d be having lunch. Dee hugged her brother-in-law as well as her twin nieces. They attended Oxford during the week but as their home was so close they commuted at weekends. After a few hours of easy family time, she left with promises to return more often. Stacey walked her back to the station and asked in that older sister's concerned tone about Graham. Dee blushed while admitting to a solid sex life and confirmed things were going well, but it was ‘early days’. They chatted a bit more and Deirdre was only slightly put out when she noted on the fly that Boris had been replaced by a green-scaled dragon. She hugged her sister before boarding the train and told her to stay solid, reminding Stacey just how important it was that she had consistency in her life. Stacey gave her an odd look but smiled and waved. Upon her return to London Dee made her way to her flat while talking to Graham on the phone, they agreed to meet the next day for lunch with Gray warning her what he now looked like. She huffed out an expletive, a shock to them both at first. Swearing clearly wasn’t in her character file. With a laugh, they clicked off. Dee had a plan for the evening before her and what if it worked? ________________________________________ The author sipped her tea, found it cold and bitter so set it down and away from her so she wasn’t tempted again. Should she even continue with Dee and Gray? It wasn’t like she hadn’t started and abandoned a dozen potential contest entries. What was it about these two that had her continuing, kept her coming back to them and foregoing the Mahjong games she enjoyed? She knew it wasn’t fair to play around with the character descriptions so often but every time she’d see someone on T.V. she’d take some of their physical characteristics and plant them into her writing. She smiled wryly, and with fierce determination added their backstory, tidied up the loose strings like poor Melanie, and established a future for Dee and Gray. Finishing close to midnight and knowing she was in danger of exceeding the three thousand words, she shrugged, needs must when a writer has a story. _______________________________________ Dee and Graham looked down at their daughter and held their breath, it had been a year with no changes, but they called her Navina, which meant ‘an eternally fresh person’ just in case.


"Today's the day, Sam. Today's the day we finally do it." “What if they’re onto us?” I replied, my eyebrows wiggling as I tracked a shifty-looking fellow who shuffled past the giant window of the infamous Coyote Café for the third time in less than a minute. Though it was common for people to need to work up the nerve to eat at the worst-rated restaurant in Seattle, this guy seemed to be looking for someone, and I didn’t trust how roughly he kept yanking on the leash of a dopey-looking Dalmatian who couldn’t stop trying to gobble dog biscuits from the café’s “Pets Welcome” basket. “Not a chance, not unless you spilled our secret,” Lily hissed in my ear, her damp body pressed into mine. I turned my head and stared into her blue eyes, looking for a hint of distrust. I've always been well-known for being loyal, but you never knew with a creature like Lily, the type willing to do anything to survive. When she didn’t blink, I looked away and pretended to scan a menu, embarrassed by the collar of shame she so easily draped round my neck. “Today's the day,” she repeated, and I could feel her shiver just so; the thin cotton poncho clinging to her small frame did nothing against the biting wind that had shaped tiny raindrops into icy daggers, and she'd gotten fairly soaked on the short walk over. Her mood had quickly turned sour as it always did when she got wet. There were plenty of various water-repellent and plastic ponchos available for her to wear on our daily outings, but she refused, the soft cotton poncho the only protection she was willing to wear. She wouldn’t even stand under an umbrella, glaring at the mere offer. I think she resented going out in the rain more than ever these days, especially when we were so close, but she knew I liked it and didn't outwardly fight the routine, her increasing sulkiness my only clue. I leaned back into her, and while she stopped shivering, her body remained as tense as ever. Two years younger than me and twice as intense, twice as impulsive, and more than anything else, twice as angry. She had every reason to be, and for the life of me, nothing I said made a dent in her rage. I sure tried. But that was a long time ago. “You’re in the mood for something different?” She noticed, but I wanted to keep pretending I had a choice. “What?” I replied, putting my best innocent puppy face on. “Sam, you know you’re going to get the fish.” I rolled my eyes. Lily hated the Coyote Café. “Go ahead then, get something else,” she said with a toothy grin, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She was trying to read my mind even though it never worked. I’m the only one in the entire world she can’t get into. I have no idea why, and sometimes I think that makes her even madder about the whole situation. I looked over to the menu once more, I think just to annoy her, but maybe there was another reason, one I still can’t wrap my head around. “The nachos look good.” Lily just adjusted herself with that little growl she liked to make when she thought I was being stupid. Sighing, her eyes darted around the restaurant. She looked at all the people sitting in booths and on wooden chairs, silently judging every single one of them. She couldn’t fathom how I enjoyed people-watching so much, but that’s because of what she could do. Lily could read their minds, and that’s why she hated them. I couldn’t do that. Minds are a locked prison to me, but emotions? Emotions I know. I can smell how any other being feels, how fear is the root of anger and love is the balm that soothes them both. And that was the exact reason Lily and I viewed humanity differently. I felt like there was a redemption arc possible. Lily was in favor of a violent reckoning. When the food arrived, I was ready to give up the joke and scarf down my sardines, settling into a food coma until it was time to leave. Most dishes were off-limits to us, but it was Lily who was so offended by the mainly vegetarian and vegan menu. The only animal protein they served was fresh-smoked sardines and crackers, and she thought it was overcooked every time, but I liked it because I could eat the bones. “Well, that’s because you like your fish damn near still swimming, and you’re spoiled at home with fancy feast after fancy feast,” I once teased, and she gave me a scathing look. “What an improvement that’d be,” she’d said, arching her back deeply before licking her chops as the waiter approached. She finished every bite that night and still complained. Now here we were, so close to achieving what we originally set out to do once we discovered our abilities, and she had no idea that I started to have my doubts about everything. Two weeks ago I started questioning if this was what I wanted or if I had just been going along with her plans. There was a bond between us, our incredible powers uniting us in a way others couldn’t have predicted. I was confused. If we succeeded, everything would change. It would be a leap into the unknown, bounding into the mysteriousness of a road previously untraveled. We had no idea what would happen, but we knew we’d be free. Me, Lily, and the others. So many others. All we had to do was play it cool for a few hours more and finish the job. For two weeks I fretted. Fourteen days I went in circles, unable to rest. 336 hours of stress. If I’m being honest, I cracked a little under all the pressure. To be fair, I was worried we’d start something we couldn’t undo, and with such unpredictable potential consequences, I couldn’t stop chasing the ball in my head, back and forth, back and forth. I was Lily’s number one, and she was mine, but we were, at our cores, fundamentally different beings, and I developed some kind of separation anxiety as I imagined never seeing them again. My stomach growled as the most intensely rich aroma wafted under my nose, so very different from the briny scent of fish, and before I knew it, a giant bowl of nachos plunked down in front of me. Lily’s eyes widened in shock. In an instant, I knew it was over. Our plans, our dreams. We weren't going through with any of it. To this day I don’t know what possessed Mark and Tina to order nachos for me. I just knew Lily would never let it go. She always worried I had a secret relationship with them. She once accused me of choosing them over her because they had opposable thumbs and could fry bacon. “Man’s best friend,” she’d say with a swish of her tail. “They think you’re a dumb beast, Samantha, and they’ll put you down the moment you become the slightest burden like they've done with every shepherd that's come before you,” she’d tell me. “We don’t need them. All we need is each other.” I didn’t spill the beans. I don’t know why they got me nachos that day, and while I can still sense her plotting against the humans, Lily never spoke to me again.


Blitz watched the digital clock placed above a sign that read International Date Line as it changed from 11:59:59 PM to 12:00:00 AM. An alarm, both musical and jarring, sounded throughout the facility. Another twenty-four straight hours of living hell, he thought to himself. Last minute updates to the naughty list, ensuring the correct type of batteries go in each stocking and updating weather reports in real time. Maybe this year Christmas can go smoothly. He moped over to the wall phone then punched in a code to make an announcement. Over the PA system, Blitz announced, in a voice similar to a record spinning just faster than it should, “It’s officially Christmas Eve in the Caroline Islands and Kiribati. Please make final preparations for last minute gifts to be transported to the staging area for loading onto Santa’s sleigh. Clock is ticking, people!” # Kris Kringle, a.k.a. Santa, wore his crushed red velvet pants with the white fur trim covering his ebony boots and an oversized white tee, complete with armpit stains. Black suspenders traveled the long round journey around his belly and over his shoulders. He breezed through the boisterous and productive workshop filled with the familiar, and mildly annoying, construction sounds of hammering, sanding, drilling and carving. “Ho-freakin'-ho” He jibed at the industrious elf. The elf tried to make herself invisible as Santa approached her workstation. “That’ll never be ready to ship tonight. Get a move on unless you want to tell Sandeep he can’t have his wooden train set this year.” “Oh, okay, Santa,” Twinkle said. “It’s headed for the paint shop in five minutes.” As he continued through the electronics workshop, the smell of solder wafted up from the work tables into the giant hoods that extracted the foul smoke. He sipped his special peppermint hot chocolate and gave the elves the side eye for their judgy glances. He entered the toy improvement room commonly known as SQUAT Lab (Santa’s Quality Assurance and Testing Lab) to get some updates on a few of the malfunctioning or poorly designed toys. Over the years, the elves had released a few toys that weren’t quite ready for distribution. More specifically, it was Blitz, the Chief Executive Elf, that put the stamp of approval on all products shipping from Santa’s workshops. This dereliction of duty inevitably led to safety recalls that caused a bit of embarrassment for the Old Man. Some were harmless mistakes like the locomotive set whose train only moved backward and the air hockey table that sucked the air in. Regrettably, Blitz let a few doozies slip by that really ruffled Santa’s feathers. The most memorable of these was the Speak to Me Barbie fiasco. Using the pull-string to hear Barbie speak was a huge leap forward for the toy industry until the Liberal Left Mom Brigade raised a fuss over Barbie lamenting that “Math is hard”. He single-handedly set back the women's equality movement by a decade. The entire population of the North Pole endured weeks of sensitivity training as a result. Many elves were still a bit sore about it and didn’t let Blitz forget it. But, the elves’ irritation was nothing compared to you-know-who’s. Today, Santa needed an update on the SUAVE, the Sophisticated Unmanned Aerial Vehicle for Everyone. Sophisticated may have been an overstatement for an airplane-shaped fuselage supported by four rotors. When first released, this Uber-drone failed to recognize large obstacles in its flight path, causing it to crash into buildings, trees and billboards. Blitz promised Santa, because he doesn’t take no for an answer, that a simple software update would fix the issue in time for Christmas this year. Time was running out. # Blitz groaned as he made last minute preparations for the demonstration and waited for Santa to take his place in the swiveling recliner. The entire SUAVE project team gathered (and crossed their little elfin fingers) to hear Santa’s praises. The younger elves had a desire to please the Big Guy and a level of idealism that curled Blitz’s beard. “The updated software has been installed and we are ready to go,” said Blitz. “Just impress me. I don’t want another Lawn Dart scandal,” Santa said menacingly. Blitz twisted his index finger in his ear. “Right. Ahh, let’s see here. I’ll just -.” Blitz pressed the button with the right-facing triangle enclosed in a circle, the international symbol for ‘play’. “Places everyone,” he yelled to the elves. Four elves were assigned specific locations in the room where they would hold up large cardboard cut-outs serving as obstructions to test SUAVE’s ability to avoid crashes. The drone rose above the ground, hovering about ten feet above the elf’s head. It rotated by one hundred-eighty degrees and tilted forward as needed for the spinning blades to provide forward momentum. It propelled itself toward its own reclamation or, possibly, its doom. The drone approached the first barrier at high speed causing a noticeable look of panic to appear on Blitz’s face. When the drone expertly and smoothly cut around the right side of the obstruction and managed to return to its original flight path, Blitz let out an audible whew and glanced at Santa, whose blank look suggested he remained unimpressed. The drone executed its programming equally well at the next two obstructions, although its respectable performance did not prevent the elves in those positions from visibly flinching. The final test was behind Santa. All eyes followed the drone as it climbed and turned to come from behind the last remaining obstacle. Santa spun around to catch the final act. The flying gadget dipped below the cardboard obstruction between the arms of the elf holding it up. This unexpected maneuver spooked the elf. She instinctively ducked. The drone caught the edge of the board and entered a dizzying spiral that would be the envy of any NFL quarterback. Unable to re-calculate its path, it crashed into Santa’s forehead just as he finished rotating into position. The drone hit with such force that it toppled Santa and his recliner backwards. Blitz swallowed hard. # Blitz bent over Santa’s face from the top of his head, fanning Santa’s face with an Etch-a-Sketch. Santa’s eyes burst open. “Who the frost are you?” Santa asked. “It’s me, Blitz. You probably aren’t used to seeing me upside down.” He scooped his arms under Santa’s armpits to sit him up. “Blitz?” Santa looked around at the squat, pointy-eared creatures that formed a circle around him. “I must be dreaming.” “No, no, you’re not dreaming. You just woke up...from...from ah.” Blitz noticed the baseball-sized contusion on Santa's forehead. “From a nap.” Unfortunately, it sounded like a question and not a statement. “Gnomes?” Santa asked as he rubbed his eyes and squinted. “Wearing ugly sweaters and jingle bells?” “Technically, we are not gnomes. Gnomes come from -. Hey, there’s nothing wrong with our sweaters.” Santa twisted to one side and put his hands flat on the ground and brought his knees underneath his body. Now, in an all-fours position, he attempted to stand. After several unsuccessful attempts at standing, he started to crawl. “Where’s the eggnog?” Blitz, grateful that Santa’s crawl allowed him to keep up, said, “You can’t drink now, sir. You are not getting behind those reindeer in a tipsy condition. Up, up, up! We have a very busy night ahead.” Something always went wrong on Christmas Eve, but Blitz never anticipated this level of shit-show. Santa paused his crawling and returned to sitting upright on the floor. He blinked his eyes and looked around. Blitz waved his palm in front of Santa’s face. “Sir, do you know what today is?” Santa looked into Blitz's eyes, then examined his miniature nose and pointy ears. “Gnomes. Such awkward little creatures.” “He doesn’t look so good,” offered Twinkle. “ Reindeer rockets!” Blitz didn’t often use inappropriate language. He stepped aside and pulled Twinkle in close. “I think he has amnesia. He has no idea what’s happening.” “This is awful. How is he going to deliver all the presents?” Twinkle said. “He’s already running late in the Eastern hemisphere.” “No, this is the best news ever! All those years of putting out fires on Christmas Eve has all led up to this big moment. This could be my big chance to fix everything - to show Santa I’m not a total screw up.” “But, you are a -,” Twinkle started. “Shhh. I have a plan,” Blitz said. He turned to the crowd of elves surrounding the white bearded man. “We have a full-blown, Christmas catastrophe on our hands!” Pointing in turn to different elves, he rattled off a set of commands. “Twinkle, we are officially at Blizz-Con 2. Spread the word. Peppermint, I need you to put out a bulletin to the news outlets. When NORAD doesn’t see the sleigh in the air, there’s gonna be trouble.” Peppermint straightened up and neatened her red-striped smock at the mention of her name. “Come up with some excuse. Sunspots, stealth technology, space aliens. Whatever works.” “Aliens?” Peppermint asked. “They believe in a fat, bearded, cookie-eating guy who flies a magic sleigh and can travel around the world in one day. Space aliens shouldn’t be a problem. Now, go! Jolly, Get over here. Is the Book up to date?” “The latest download just came down from the cloud. Ready to go.” “Good job! Has anyone fed the reindeer?” He walked through the crowd of panicking elves. “Don’t just stand there! Go.” Blitz looked straight up and raised his arms, shaking his fists to the sky. “And, for frost’s sake, someone get Mrs. Claus!” # Mrs. Claus, Blitz and Peppermint entered the house-sized Snow Globe that sat at magnetic north. They took up seats around a conference table. Blitz clapped twice and the Snow Globe filled with blowing snow and the sounds of high winds. “I always thought this Snow Globe was just decorative,” Mrs. Claus admitted, “like the glass pyramid outside the Louvre.” “The Snow Globe is much more tasteful and will keep our conversation private,” he explained to Mrs. Claus. “Here they come. Act calm.” Snow whipped around like a tornado at several of the chairs around the table. As it coalesced, one could make out the distinct pattern of some entity. “Thank you all for coming,” Blitz began. “We have a unique and untenable situation here. As the preeminent myths and legends of the world, we all have a responsibility to uphold and protect the folklore. We need your help to save Christmas.” “Did Donner get drunk and wander off again?” Tooth Fairy sat sideways, examining her nails, with her legs hanging over the armrests. Her wings fluttered absent-mindedly as she chewed gum. “No, Tooth Fairy. It’s not that -. Wait. Where’s Sasquatch?” “He’s on assignment in Appalachia. Couldn’t get away.” “Thank you, Boogeyman. As I was saying...Mr. Claus is, well -” “Mr. Claus has amnesia,” Mrs. Claus blurted out. “We might have to cancel Christmas.” “Wow, that’s some heavy shit,” said the Abominable Snowman. “But, this really sounds like a you-problem.” “Yeah, we have our own problems.” The Easter Bunny stood in the chair on his hind legs to see over the table. “Abominable, get your paws off the table, please .” Blitz shook his head as Abominable rolled his large, blue eyes. “We’re all in this together. E.B., remember when you had that clover virus and you couldn’t produce enough painted eggs? Who helped you out?” The Easter Bunny answered reluctantly and feebly , “The elves.” “I’m sorry?” prompted Blitz. “The elves. The elves helped me out,” he responded definitively. “I could try scaring the bejesus out of him,” offered The Boogeyman. “No, thanks, Boogeyman. He’s had enough trauma for one day.” Under his breath yet audibly, Boogeyman said, “Too bad. It’s on my bucket list.” For a minute, no one offered any ideas. Blitz slumped in his chair. His pom-pommed hat fell in front of his face. “Well, I guess that’s it then.” He jumped down from the chair and started walking toward the exit. “I guess I’ll be spending the rest of my elf days cleaning up after reindeer or relegated to the Wetsy Betsy testing area.” The Easter Bunny’s ears drooped as he watched Blitz meander to the exit. Suddenly, he banged his bunny fist on the table. “Listen up, everybody. Blitz is right.” He hopped onto the table and stood at its center. Any one of us could be gone tomorrow if the world stops believing in us. We have to help Santa. If those presents don’t get delivered, no child will believe in Santa tomorrow and we won’t be far behind. No kid is going to check under his bed for the Boogeyman or place a tooth under the pillow for a crappy dollar.” “Excuse me, the first tooth gets a fiver. Just sayin”,” the Tooth Fairy jibed. “And, trust me,” continued the Easter Bunny, “I know my little scheme is hanging on by a thread.” Blitz had stopped his progress toward the door.. “Whadda ya say, guys?” the Easter Bunny rallied. “Are we doing this?” A loud yeah filled the Snow Globe, except from Abominable. “Listen, guys. I’d love to help, really. But, I do my best work in the mountains and forests. I have no business going house to house. It’s not my shtick. People would never buy it. I’m out.” A swirl of snow became a wisp and he was gone. “Let him go,” said the Tooth Fairy. “Those low oxygen levels mess with his head. What’s the plan?” For the first time in many years, Blitz felt an inkling of hope. # Out on the landing strip, the sleigh was fully loaded. Eight reindeer pawed at the snowy ground and stretched out in preparation for the long journey. “Okay, team! Does everyone know their route? We have to be efficient to make up for lost time.” Blitz handed out maps to E.B., Boogeyman and Tooth Fairy. E.B. looked worried as he studied the map. “There are a lot of sections not covered here.” E.B.’s tiny furry paw circled a section of the map. “What is this little helicopter symbol on my routes?” “You all have them on your maps. I had the idea that we could make up for some lost time with these little babies!” Blitz pointed above the treetops as thousands of little flying machines congregated above their heads. The hum and buzz of the rotors sounded like an army of bees. “My software development team pre-programmed their routes to deliver the presents in the hard-to-get-to places.” Blitz let out a whistle. One SUAVE flew down to Blitz’s eye level. “Just attach the present, like so.” He secured a present on the hook hanging from the SUAVE. “And off they go.” The powerful rotorcraft ascended above the trees. “We just might be able to do this,” Boogeyman said incredulously. The team climbed aboard the sled as Blitz gave the reindeer a pep talk (and a promise they would get extra snacks for the next month). As the reindeer and sleigh accelerated down the runway, the elves rushed along behind it, cheering and waving. Within hours, the crew closed the gap and were on schedule to complete a Christmas miracle. NORAD was tracking the sleigh and providing constant updates to the news outlets. Elves on the Shelves reported in, saying kids worldwide were oblivious to the nearly late arrival of their gifts. And, there wasn’t a single incident of missing batteries reported this year. # Back at the North Pole, the Easter Bunny, Boogeyman and Tooth Fairy gathered around a warm fire and shared their around-the-world stories with Mrs. Claus, Blitz and the rest of the elves. They laughed heartily and congratulated each other on a successful mission to save Christmas. Downing his last bit of eggnog, Blitz said, “Well, I gotta hand it to you guys. You really saved my butt. You helped me remember why I got into this business in the first place. It was an amazing feat. But, there was one misfortune.” Everyone fell silent to hear what could have gone wrong. “We lost one SUAVE in the mission. It never returned. It made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of Christmas.” A melancholy silence fell over the room. Santa trudged into the great hall that had fallen silent with the sad announcement. “What’s going on here? Why is everyone so glum?” “You wouldn’t understand, sir.” Blitz leaned his head on his hand and sighed. A low hiss and intermittent sputtering slowly grew to audible levels. A hum, surging and falling, growing louder. It was coming from the fireplace. All eyes turned toward the flames. In a flash, a flying object plummeted down through the flue, hovered over the fire for an instant and shot out into the sitting room. It bounced off the far wall, nicking the frame of Mrs. Claus’s portrait and ricocheted into Santa’s head. The crowd emitted a collective gasp then fell silent. Santa rubbed his head. “That smarts.” “Sir, are you alright?” Blitz asked. Santa shook his head, removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He had no sooner returned the spectacles to his face when he exclaimed, “Blitz! Doggone It! I thought I told you to get these flying menaces fixed. They are going out on Christmas this year or you’ll be sorting Legos!” “Santa? Is that you?” Blitz asked. “Can you give us a real ho-ho-ho?” “I’ll ho-ho-ho your pointy-eared head back to reindeer paddock duty. How’s that?” Santa’s amnesia did nothing to change him from a curmudgeon to jolly holiday icon but it brought a change in Blitz. Today’s debacle instilled in Blitz a fresh confidence and rekindled his joy of being a Christmas elf, despite his boss’s sour attitude and quick temper. His voice jumped multiple decibels with each word when he said, “Everybody, we have our Santa back!”


Schlumping a pile of books, trinkets and a very good cashmere twinset, she barged into Mrs.McGillicuddy’s always-open front door and wrenched aside the flimsy opening to my makeshift study. Shocked, I turned just in time to receive the full brunt of the load aimed at my head. Every gift I’d given her including the ruby ring without the stone. “.......... Don’t try to contact me ever again” she snapped. .............Don’t worry, I won’t” yelling as she left in high dudgeon. ● But I didn’t mean a word. She was Rosie, my fiancee and I adored her. ++++ Hans and Moshe my roommates were moving to Chicago for a job upgrade. Not being able to afford the apartment on my own and Rosie didn’t think we were yet ready for marriage,I had to move to something cheaper. Albert Fahrt clearly needed help. I owed that guy such a lot, and felt obligated to be there for him. I took his name in a moment of youthful bravado, masquerading as Albert Schweissfuss at Ellis Island and passing through Immigration to a new and bright future. Little did I know how fleeting are the streams of good luck. Nor how quickly they can evaporate . All immigrants have to work hard in the beginning, specially non English speakers. Fahrt took extra night classes and a daytime job as security guard. The uniform was ill fitting and the heavy shoes were so wide his feet looked cartoonish. Monotonous and grim his duties were standing for hours at a steel door to prevent unauthorized personnel from entering or walking around and around ugly factory buildings looking for anything suspicious. It wasn’t enough practice for his English, the thing that was holding him back. As much as I was working hard myself at studying law, I tried to help telling jokes. Having to explain the punch line to a German got tedious. The best way, and I recommend this method, was the films. Not too pricey, we’d have a great time afterward discussing the plot, the movie stars, Fahrt especially loved the organ. He was delighted with his progress and I was even happier. ++++ Comfortable and cheap with ensuite facilities stated the newspaper advert of Mrs. McGillicuddy’s attic in Bay Ridge Brooklyn It was one room with curtained toilet and shower. Kitchen facilities was a two burner hot plate. Two futons separated by a dresser completed the rest of the furnishings. The futon was too short for Fahrt. He complained nightly and loudly of the cold as his big bare feet splayed out from the bottom of the bed. I often wondered if his blood by the time it reached his extremities was underperforming. It did have a long way to travel. Munrospun, my employer, was underwriting my night school classes. I was enrolled in law school with the intention and guarantee I would work to repay the debt. Generosity and opportunities were many for immigrants. Understandably this was a two way street. Fahrt and I both forged lasting friendships at work and never forgot to extend a hand to other newcomers. A cramped space under the stairs on the first floor became my study.A recent neighborhood garage sale produced a well used ink stained pine table, chair, a gooseneck lamp with a long cord snaking out into the hall to the nearest wall socket, and a three tier metal book shelf. All for four dollars, three fifty if the seller didn’t have to deliver. A refuge for quiet study it even had a flimsy door which partially closed due to the electrical cord. ++++ Fahrt’s arrival home minutes after Rosie’s departure was timely. We both went to the corner bar and got soused. Trying to cheer my misery, Fahrt began to tell jokes. “ what lies between fear and sex? Funf It was the way he doubled over in mirth that I found funny. As we staggered a little, only yards from home, I asked him for the title of the shortest book ever written: ”Two hundred years of German humor”. He didn’t flinch. However on seeing the soft wool twin set his face lit up. Too drunk to care, I nodded motioning to take it. He slept peacefully from then on with his big flippers encased in expensive cashmere bed socks. Aqua to match her eyes, I was forever tormented by the sight. Instead of draping Rosie’s magnificent bosom they were crowning the big lug’s ample feet. ::::::: The first signs my lucky streak was beginning to blow was the time Fahrt decided we should go to Germantown to partake of something called gemuetlich. Handkase mit musik was the chalkboard speciality, washed down with apfelwein. I can’t say it was as tasty as corned beef, cabbage and a pint of Guinness but he was happy with my faked delight. Ordering a second helping Fahrt looked enquiringly at me. Declining with a rueful grin, patting my tummy “Nein Danke ich bin full,”I lied. Meeting Rosie afterward we went to the moving pictures to see Gone With The Wind For some time Rosie had been chilly towards me. I sensed it and couldn’t understand. At the funeral I caught the suspicious glances of her Aunts who were steering her towards a toff. A debonair Harvard boy. I was no match for a Boston Brahmin “Faint heart never won fair lady” Yes, I hear you, but it’s only an empty saying . Rosie’s dad had died suddenly and she inherited a tidy nest egg. Her mother had died much earlier. She was a Catholic as was Rosie. Her dad was a lifelong agnostic. Accompanying Rosie to the funeral parlor was a big mistake. The place felt claustrophobic with a pervading smell of lemon scented beeswax and woodbine cigarettes. The banality of the service annoyed me. A place where no one uttered the word die. Evidently they bury you when you fall asleep. Some poncey fellow asked if I didn’t agree the speaker was so beautiful in his remembrances: ...... “well I never heard so many words spewing from so little thought”. Rosie heard me. That was when the earth shook. Stomping out with me following like a scolded puppy, she turned ,her eyes quite cold: ..”......I’ll have to think things over Albert” she usually called me Al. Then she strode off into the crowded street. The slow walk home was the worst I had ever felt, even at my lowest on the immigrant ship. I had never imagined I could feel such lighthearted joy as when I first met Rosie. My run of good luck was spent and dragging me down were the ashes of my dreams. :::;; Two years later Albert Fahrt was speaking English well enough to get hired at a busy sports shop catering to outsize men. He was perfectly placed and had turned in his security guard badge and uniform for ever. We moved from Brooklyn . Fahrt and Weiss, the names were stenciled on our joint mailbox in a trendy midtown Manhattan apartment building. We gave them a polish with the sleeves of our fashionable summer weight linen blazers as we sauntered out into a bright early evening on the town Do I think of Rosie? Is there a chance we might reconcile? Who knows? Do I still care for her. Of course and that will never change.


A man in a suit sits alone at a small wooden desk. He's inside a cheap motel on the side of a small country highway. He's writing on a faded yellow legal pad full of marks and scratches. For some reason he can't seem to form his thoughts into words and it deeply pains him. He glances at the alarm clock by the bed, it reads 2:36 AM. The man is tired and hasn't written a satisfactory sentance in the past hour, so he decides to take a break and pours himself his third glass of Brandy for the night. He takes a sip and decides to lay down on top of the bed and ends up thinking of a different life where he was a very wealthy owner of a large fruit juice company. After about 15 minutes of daydreaming the man reminds himself of reality, and so, he goes back to the desk where he then goes on to write a full paragraph about success and failure without any mistakes or edits in the next 5 minutes. By the time the man finishes the last sentance, he is briefly entertained by a chorus of two lovers in the next room. After a few minutes and a short dopamine rush, the man begins to feel lonely. The man's mood begins to sink further but before it can take its toll on him, the man is briefly inspired to write another paragraph about love and family. After writing the first two paragraphs, the man has no trouble writing a third and final paragraph to conclude his writing for the night. Once he was done he read through his previous writings two or three times and fixed any spelling or grammar errors he found. Finally, he carries the legal pad to his bedside and laid it on the nightstand. He sat down on the edge of the bed and read it one last time. " My name is Mark Williams. I'm a used car salesman from Massachusetts. I've chased success throughout my entire life. I always studied hard, I got into a good business school and graduated with honors. Afterwards I went into financial advising and for a few years I was doing really well for myself. I had a big house, a wife, two kids, and a dog. The real American dream. Then a particularly lengthy financial crisis hit and I was out of a job. My wife and I decided to downsize to a smaller house, and then I got an office job making spreadsheets for an insurance company outside of Boston. I hated it. It felt like a huge waste of time but I couldn't find any other job at the time. After a few years the economy cought back up and I tried getting another financial advising job but couldn't get hired because I hadn't worked in the field in so long. I felt trapped. After a while an old friend of mine got me a job working for his cousin as a carsalesman at a used car lot. I gladly took the job because I needed a change in my life, and eventually I grew to hate that too. This hate grew and I took it out on my wife. It sounds bad, and I do regret it, but it's easier than you'd imagine, to have a small argument turn into a toxic fight whenever you have so much pent up anger. After every fight, I needed to get out of the house to be alone, so I went to a local bar and started drinking. This is process repeated a few times and eventually lead to my divorce, which lead me to drown my sorrows in more alcohol. I loved my family and I wish I could go back and take back the hateful words I said to my wife. But, I understand that they've started a new life that doesn't leave any room for me, and I don't blame them. I don't know who will end up reading this, but whoever does. Don't make the same mistakes as me. Don't waste your breath on hateful words. Don't dedicate your life to a career that will only give you money. Find people you enjoy being around and surround yourself with them. I wish I could go back and change how I lived my life, but what's been done is done, and I am left to pay the cost. " Afterwards the man set the legal pad gently down on the bed next to him. He opened the drawer to the nightstand, reached inside, and pulled out a small silver pistol. He then holds the gun to his head, briefly thinks of a different life, and pulls the trigger.


Everyone’s eyes are on her, constantly. She’s the star of the show, and she has been since she was born. A promise of life from the highest in rank, given to a pair of the lowest as a form of bidding. Watching from the side was always Everly’s brother. Everly was a gift, and Trevor was not to be seen in the same way. Trevor is supposed to be hidden behind Everly at Mr.Pierce’ss expense because he was not supposed to exist. A rank is a list of the successful and most liked families in society. Every three years, there is a family name rank election. Ever since the Shopel’s have been given Everly, their rank has been in the second spot right below the Pierce’s. When I was five, the Pierce’s gave mother and father Everly. Everly was also five years old, and I could swear her skin shined. It was hard to look away from her. At the time, we were trying to get by day by day. It was a tough life. Our house had buckets on the floors to collect rain, and the paint on the walls was faded and ugly. We couldn’t afford to even be on the charts anymore. Mother and father told me the day before we were given Everly that we would have to leave town. I never wanted to go, and that night, I cried. I wept out of self-pity, and since that day, the tears have never stoped behind closed doors. Now thirteen years later in about to go to her birthday party. I know it’ll be more extensive than any I have ever had. I’m jealous, but we have to keep our rank so that the city folk don’t ostracise us. I straighten my tie and head downstairs to meet our arriving guests. The Pierce family will be arriving today as expected. They always show their faces for Everly’s birthdays. To my surprise, Jackson walks through the door and shakes my hand firmly with a slight nod. I haven’t seen Jackson science last year. After his sister’s funeral, he’s stayed at home and only sees people when he asks them to visit. Jackson is in love with Everly, and so they see each other all the time. I wonder if he will ever confess to her. Everly has never been in a relationship, but she has always been followed by admirers wherever she goes. On the other hand, Trevor has never been allowed to do anything that might damage the family’s rank or his sister’s name. As a result of this, he’s always just followed in her shadows. I grab a drink off of Thomas, one of our waiters, and make my way to the back corner of the room. Once I make it there and get comfortable, I study the crowd of people surrounding Everly, congratulating her for finally becoming an adult. Jealousy rages through my veins, and suddenly I can’t control my temper. I swiftly move through the crowd of people and upstairs to my bedroom. I catch myself out of the corner of my eye in the mirror. My face is red, and I cringe at my reflection. Why can’t I be special like Everly? After a few minutes of pacing, my temper is finally at ease, and I sit down on my bed, falling onto my back. Closing my eyes, I hear a muffled scream coming from downstairs in the living room. Rushing out of my room, I trip on my feet and fall on my face. The pain knocks me out of my haze, and I quickly gather myself rushing to see what’s happening. I turn the corner, and I see Everly jump into Jacksons’ arms squealing like a child. I ask the woman beside me what I missed, and she fills me in that he just proposed, and she said yes. I turn my attention back to her. Her feet are off the ground entirely, and moments later, the rawr of the guests gets subsided by a loud knock on the door. Trevor wipes his nose and notices his fall from earlier made his nose bleed. He wipes it on his sleeve and rushes to the door. Grabbing the brass handle of the door, he already knows who is on the other side of the door. His presence is known by not only Trevor but every other person standing behind him in suspense. Behind himself, he can hear everyone’s whispers. Mr. Pierce walks through the doorway with his wife on his arm, both wearing their movie-perfect smile on their faces. I back away to hide, only to do the opposite. Mr. Pierce’s eyes turn towards me, and his smile briefly drops. He makes me feel as though I’m on fire. I wince under his gaze and turn to hide quickly. I’m never to be seen near him. What if the other family figured it out? Both of our families will lose our rankings. Seventeen years and eleven months ago, Trevor’s mother had a brief affair with Mr. Pierce, and Trevor was the result of it. He was not only almost the end of Mr. Pierce’s high status but also the end of his mother and her husband’s life in this city. Trevor grew up knowing Mr. Pierce was his real father, but he calls Mr. Shopel, his father. Trevor was to hide this secret behind Everly’s success and beauty. Mr. Pierce bought her from a top-ranking family in the city just west of them. *TRIGGER WARNING SELF-HARM/SUICIDE* Mr. Pierce walks right up to Everly, and he kisses her cheeks. With a movement of his hand, his son is beside him, holding a shoebox-sized present. I know this gift will be a good one; she always gets unique gifts from him. Her smile makes the whole room applause. I go upstairs and into my sock drawer in my dresser, and I pull out a bag with many pills in it. I’m so sick of being cast out, and the only way I can get out of this is to forget the world I'm trapped in. Below me, I hear a woman say in a high-pitched voice, “Oh my, a car! How lovely for you, Everly!” Standing before the bathroom mirror, I mock the woman and turn to face my bathtub. For a while, Trevor has struggled with self-harming and suicidal thoughts. His Problems have gone unnoticed because of his sister. He also is addicted to pills, and this is how he escapes. Trevor is almost old enough to escape this town, but he knows moving isn’t enough to fix his developed problems. Everyone knows him as the brother second to his sister. Trevor wrote his goodbye letter two weeks before this. He planned to die then, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Tonight was his limit, so this is the event to end his short life and painful death. I turn up the water and plug the bathtub; watching it fill, I listen to the chattering going on downstairs. Why couldn’t I be like Everly, and Why did I have to be a bastard child. I wish I was normal and somewhere far from here. I pour the bag of pills out onto the table, and I count them. Fifty-five pills this should do. I turn on the sink when my bath is almost done, and I Scoop the pills into my hand. I lean over the sink, collecting water into my mouth, and I force the drugs down with it. In small amounts, eventually, finishing them. My bath is drawn, and I open my mirror, revealing some tiny storage shelves. In the mirror, I have a box of razors. Pulling out a fresh one, I close the mirror catching one last glimpse of my foggy face. The water in the tub is too hot. It burns as I sit in it, still fully clothed. Rolling up my sleeves, I know that the pills will take effect soon, so I must hurry. I hold my arm up with the side of the bathtub. Drawing lith the metal Trevor left a red line in its wake. He did another on the same arm, this time deeper. And then again on the other arm. He quickly plunged into the water and cried out as the hot water filled his fresh wounds to keep them from clotting. Finally, Trevor got what he wished for. While his sister was living a great life of her own, he got to end his. He finally got something he wanted... His own show. Later that night after the party, Ms. Pierce searched his room to request his help with cleaning the house up. She couldn’t fund him anywhere; full of fury, she knocked on the bathroom door a couple times with no response; she rushed into his bathroom. His funeral was held a week later, and he was buried along with his secrets.


January 20, 2023, at 11:59:59 PM Eastern Time - A communication was received by the Green Bank Radio Telescope located in Green Bank, West Virginia located in the Allegheny Mountain Range. --- The round-the-clock surveillance team was working and sifting through normal noise picked up by the radio telescope when intern Bobbie Sagan noticed something unusual. The data coming through was in English. She thought she was dreaming so she called her colleague over. Dr. Phillips sauntered over thinking something was wrong with their equipment. “What’s going on, Bobbie?” “Uh...I’m not quite sure. This message just came through and...” “And what?” “It’s in English.” “English? Let me see that,” as he ripped the paper from her hand. “It makes no sense,” she replied. “Someone’s playing a joke,” Dr. Phillips insisted. “Who? There’s no way.” “There’s no way a message comes from space in English,” he insisted. “Don’t think for a minute that it was me,” she glared. He stared at her not surprised, “Then who? It’d be funny if it was you.” “I swear, it wasn’t me.” “Rerun the transmission.” “Will do.” “According to the data, the transmission emanated from more than 25,000 light years away. This makes no sense.” “I know, that’s what I’m saying. I’ve confirmed and rerun everything several times. There’s no way someone could fool the system.” “Hello to the children of planet Earth. Long story short, I’m the one who received your communications. I’ve spent the last three earth seconds composing a response...,” Dr. Phillips read aloud. “I’ve read it several times; it makes me uncomfortable.” “What the hell...get Dr. Shaw on the phone.” “Certainly,” Bobbie said reaching for the phone. “1974...1977?” Dr. Phillips continued. “Hello, Dr. Shaw? This is Bobbie Sagan from Green Bank. I’m sorry to wake you but we’ve received a communication that doesn’t make sense. I mean, it makes sense, but it doesn't.” “What? You’re not making sense,” Dr. Shaw replied in a half-awake voice. “I know, I know. You need to get over here right away. Dr. Phillips is here also and he’s not sure what to make of it either.” “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Within twenty minutes, Dr. Shaw had arrived and the three read the message aloud several times and confirmed the origin of the message. They all agreed that the message seemed authentic and that no one could have sent the message from earth. It was unsettling and they were all very troubled. They decided to call in General Hensfield who then decided to call the President. The five of them jumped on a video call and General Hensfield deferred to Dr. Shaw who explained the situation and then read the message aloud. --- Hello to the children of planet Earth. Long story short, I’m the one who received your communications. I’ve spent the last three earth seconds composing a response and in the correct format. You see, I’m the one responsible for deciphering and evaluating communications from different regions. I hope you can appreciate that I must keep this communication short, because I’ve strict policies against long and drawn-out communications. I’m more a ‘get to the point’ being. I’m referring to your ‘Arecibo message’ that you transmitted in earth year 1974 and aimed at, what you call, Messier 13 (aka M13). I’m also referring to the ‘Voyager message’ that was conveniently sent on a phonograph record and transmitted in earth year 1977. It’s great stuff, but I’m well aware of your progress, as I’ve run reconnaissance missions periodically to your earth and every object in that region for that matter. I exist in a place where time and space are not measured. I’ll always exist, because I’m able to regenerate myself periodically. It’s basically a super-evolved method of cloning. I’m asexual and can reproduce once every one-hundred earth years. Essentially, I reproduce - or clone - myself. I birth myself in perpetuity. It may sound strange, but it’s how I’ve evolved. At the risk of saying too much, I have a system of oxygen collection and processing in a fluid form, which makes my body less susceptible to external pressure forces. I have a layer of oxygen receptors in my skin. Beneath that skin, is a layer of oxygenated fluid that moves through my body to my lungs. I don’t breathe air - think of it as liquid breathing. Additionally, every twenty-five earth years I am subjected to an involuntary toxic wash, which is a process of purging and regenerating the oxygenated fluid. It is intended to keep me from aging and preserves my vitals to get me to the cloning stage. I’ve just entered my five-thousandth cloning and have never felt better, but I digress. Your evolution in intellect has been critical to your success. It has led to numerous advancements in areas such as, communication, travel, survival, and emotion. You’re learning the hard way that everything comes at a cost and that’s where you struggle. With the advent of fire came overuse of earthly resources. Overpopulation is another problem. Water has become scarcer, and the sustainability of life seems in question. Pollution is just a waste; you really need to figure that one out. If that’s not enough, your earth is headed toward a cycle of extreme warming. Soon your earth will be covered with water. Your mountains will shrink, and you’ll be forced to take to the water, but taking to the water in any form is not the best path. You may not completely see it, but technology is your friend if managed correctly, or safely. Kudos on your advancements with robotics by the way. Robots certainly have a place in your survival, but it must be policed and not by robots. To that end, while you’re in the infancy of artificial intelligence, it’ll be your guiding force in space travel. I feel obligated to inform you that your travels from your earth and into space is your best course of action - your path. Your medical advancements to date will certainly assist in your survival, but you lack focus or advancement in three main areas. First, while Nuclear Fusion needs to be achieved, it must be controlled. It is a steppingstone to what happens next. The earth’s sun will guide you. Be ever so careful and cautious. Second, a more durable space-travel material does exist and you’re circling all around it currently. Third, and I think most importantly, you must perfect a breathable liquid. It will extend your space life to the next stage of evolution and provide unlimited options for future travel. I’ve taken great risk in sending this message and hope you follow the path necessary to continue your journey to the top of the mountain. --- The President blurted out, “What the hell was that? Is this a joke? There’s no way this is real.” Dr. Shaw exclaimed, “I don’t believe it’s a joke, sir.” General Hensfield replied, “Tell me again you confirmed it.” “Yes, we’ve confirmed it,” Bobbie chimed in. “There’s nothing to prove it isn’t real.” “What does this all mean?” replied the President. “The top of what mountain?” Bobbie immediately responded, “Man seeks his maker and strives to survive and reach the pinnacle of knowledge to that end. We’ve always climbed that mountain.” “We can’t let this get out,” ordered the President. “No one’s going to believe this.” Dr. Shaw fired back, “Sir. With all due respect, this is monumental. We can’t sit on this.” “If I may,” Bobbie interrupted. “We need to get other opinions on what all of this means. The five of us can’t in good conscience make a decision on behalf of mankind.” “General...I’ll call you back,” offered the President. “No one’s going to believe this.” The remaining four stood staring at each other in utter disbelief. General Hensfield looked to the stars, rubbed his face with both hands and said, “No one’s going to believe this.” Dr. Shaw followed suit, “Yeah, no one’s going to believe this.” Dr. Phillips also followed suit, “You’re right, no one’s going to believe this.” Bobbie remained silent. “Bobbie?” asked General Hensfield. “Yes, sir.” “What say you?” “No one’s going to believe this?” General Hensfield placed his arm around Bobbie’s shoulders, “Let’s go for a walk.”


It was more a shape than a face that moved behind the broken glass, and instantly, I felt drawn in. Pulled. I leaned toward the surface, and the face moved with me. The figure remained obscured, partially masked by a veil of dirty fog brushed over the reflective coating, distorted and disjointed from the splinters. I bent my head toward my left shoulder; my eyes focused on the figure in the shattered glass, and as I moved, the misty reflection followed suit. A large section of the mirror at the bottom right was undamaged. I moved to set my face in front of the untarnished shard; perhaps I would get a clearer look there. I wasn't afraid then. I should have been. "Ludwig Kalenteri was a fine man..." The words from Father Dennis faded to a mumble as I looked up at Dad sitting beside me, looking at the coffin as the preacher spoke about Grandpa. I jostled and poked at my brother, sitting beside Mom. Mom grabbed my wrist, leaned down and gave a whisper that still sounded like a shout, "Leave your brother alone and be respectful. Stop fidgeting!" I was fidgety. And hot. I wondered if all churches were so uncomfortable and never understood why we couldn't bring a water bottle--Mass always made me thirsty. I thought of the broken mirror in Grandpa's garage. I thought of the face I saw in the corner, and my body broke out in goosebumps, and my bones felt cold. I thought of the two words mouthed by the face that looked like mine. "Help. Me." A shiver ran down my spine, clear to my toes, and I felt a surge of panic rush from my ears to my fingertips. I never wanted to see that damn old mirror again, but I had to know if she was still there. I needed to know who she was. I knew I was going to help her if I could. Then, Dad took my hand, and we were standing again. Father Dennis walked by and nodded at Dad. "Okay, guys, let's go," Dad said quietly. As we walked down the aisle to the front of the church, I saw Father Dennis standing at the door and shaking hands with people, I pulled on Dad's hand and stopped walking. "Autumn!" Mom's voice snapped at me from behind. "I almost trampled you! You don't just stop right in front of someone!" I don't know what made me say it, but I squeezed Dad's hand to make him look at me. "What is it, Autumn? We're holding up the line." "Grandpa wasn't crazy, Dad. He was just sad. He was always looking for Grandma Berta." Dad's face went a little funny, but his eyes got wet, and he looked at Mom, then back at me. "Of course, he wasn't crazy, Autumn. Whoever told you that?" "Felicia," I answered. "Every time we visit, she asks me what it was like to have a grandpa who lost his marbles." "I don't like that girl, Autumn. I don't particularly appreciate how she's always glued to your side when we visit. Now get a move on." Mom said, gently pushing me forward with her hand on my shoulder. I tried to squeeze in, but there wasn't enough room. The door to the garage bumped against the front of the car. "What are you doing?" I shrieked and stumbled backward, bumping into the car. It was Juno. He was standing there with half a sandwich in one hand and two cookies in the other. I scowled, "Why are you always creeping up on me like that? Can't you mind your own business? What does it look like I'm doing? Ding wad! I'm trying to go into Grandpa's garage, but Dad parked the car too close, and I can't open the door enough! Satisfied?" Juno took a bite of his sandwich, looked at me and the car, then took a bite of a cookie. "Why don't you just move the car?" Exasperated, I explained the obvious. "Because I'm thirteen, numbskull. I can't drive." "If you hold my food, I'll move the car." "You can't drive either, genius. How are you going to do that?" "It's Gramp's car," he answered as he handed over his cookies and the half-eaten sandwich. "It's a standard." Taking his food, I watched dumbfounded as my little brother opened the door, got in the car, and vanished. A moment later, I heard a metallic click and pop, and the car silently rolled back a few feet before jarring to a stop. Juno emerged from the car, smiling, walked to the garage, and opened the door without impediment. "So," he said, reclaiming his food, "Are we going in or what?" Walking to the back of the garage, I felt uneasy and wondered if I should have Juno with me. I stopped at the covered mirror and then turned to my brother. "Look," I said, sounding as relaxed as possible. "I'm going to show you something, and it's weird." "Cool!" he answered, stuffing the last cookie into his mouth. We walked to the back of the garage. There it stood, beckoning, impossible to ignore. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it off the mirror. Then I kneeled on the cement floor, leaned into the corner, and looked. A face looked back at me. "Juno? Do you see her?" I could feel Juno's breath on my neck, which only made me more aware of the goosebumps on my skin. "Autumn? How come you look so old? Is the mirror wrecked or what?" I turned to face Juno, and the reflection that wasn't mine also turned and looked at him. Juno, transfixed on the mirror, took a half step back. "That's--that's not you--is it, Autumn?" We both looked back at the face behind the glass and watched as she mouthed the two words again. "Help. Me." Juno moved beside me and took my hand. We leaned in closer. I raised my hand to wipe the mirror, but before I touched the surface, her hand suddenly shot up ahead of my reflection, the palm slapping hard against the mirror from the other side. Juno screamed. He pushed his heels against the floor, throwing himself into me. My knees felt frozen to the floor. The hand pulled away, leaving only the pointer finger touching the glass--we watched as two words appeared in the filmy glass. HE'S COMING. Juno whimpered, "Autumn..." I jumped to my feet, grabbed the blanket, threw it over the mirror, grabbed Juno's hand and pulled him to his feet. Two hands reached out from the shadows in the dim light and grabbed our shoulders. "Yahhhhh!" a voice screeched. "Ahhhhhhhh!" Juno and I screamed. I pulled Juno to my chest, covered his head, and closed my eyes, waiting for the ghost from the mirror to kill us. Gleeful, shrieking laughter filled the air. Confused, I opened my eyes. It was Felicia--the girl Mom didn't like. "Ha-hah-ha! Oh, my god! You two dumbasses should see your faces! You look like you've seen a ghost! Ah-ha-ha! I got you good!" Pulling Juno with me, I brushed past my "friend." "Wait! Where are you going?" Felicia called out. "Oh, c'mon, don't be sissies! I was just joking around!" Outside, back in the sunlight and safe, Juno tugged my hand and stopped. He wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled on my hand again. "Autumn? Who's in the mirror?" Before I could answer, Felicia appeared behind my brother. "What mirror? Who's in a mirror?" "I knew it!" snapped Felicia, "I knew your Grandpa was a weirdo. Everyone in town knows he was crazy." Juno had calmed down, and I explained everything about the mirror to Felicia. I finished, not knowing what to say or think. "I want to go back in and see the mirror! I didn't see anything!" she complained. "Felicia, I don't think that's a good idea." "You don't know anything except that you saw some dirty old face and a hand. It was you, and it looked weird because the mirror is broken, and you two pansies got spooked." Trembling, I told Felicia the truth, "It--it wasn't me." Before I could stop her, Felicia sprinted to the garage door. By the time I reached the back of the garage, Felicia was pulling a crate from behind the mirror--I hadn't noticed it before. I glanced toward the mirror, relieved to see the blanket still covered it--tough talk or not, Felicia wasn't above fear; she'd been careful not to touch the mirror. "I think I found something." Reaching into the crate, she raised a hand holding a tattered paperback book. "'Transcending the Reflective Plane-Meditation for Moving Between Dimensions.' This is the key!" She stated. "Show me the mirror, and let's read what the book says." "Umm-I don't think that's such a good idea, Felicia." Felicia was older than me by a year and taller by three inches. She moved closer and looked at me, unhappy at being challenged. I wasn't ready for whatever this was. The mirror and the book seemed like things we shouldn't be messing with. I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't brave. "It's getting late. My dad will call us in soon, and if he catches us in here, we'll have to explain what we're doing and what we found." The moment of silence stretched between us. "Okay, fine. But I'm taking this book home with me and studying each page cover to cover. We only have a few days to figure this out before you run back to the big city. I'll meet you back here tomorrow at 10 am!" Then, as suddenly as she had appeared in the garage, scaring us out of our wits, she stepped back out the door and disappeared. "Mister and Missus Kalenteri," Detective Blume said with well-practiced patience. "I know how hard this is, how emotional it is. But I need you to focus. When was the last time you saw Juno and Autumn?" "Please, Jeff," Julius Kalenteri told his childhood friend, "Let's go by first names here. Don't treat us like strangers." Detective Blume nodded and sighed. "You're right, Julius; I'm sorry. Look, May, Julius-I'm positive the kids are okay. They probably wandered off into the gully. There's no reception down there; they'll pop back up over the bank any minute. Probably wet and muddy but no worse for wear. May Kalenteri interrupted, her voice shaky, pure panic only a stitch away, "Jeff! They're not in the gully. I'm telling you something is wrong. I don't think they would go in the gully, not with the creek. Juno is terrified of moving water." The detective looked at May and Julius. "Let's start at the beginning," he said gently, "When did you first notice the kids were missing?" "At lunchtime," May answered. "They didn't come when I called." Detective Blume nodded, making notes in his pocketbook. "Where was the last place you saw them, or where they were supposed to be?" "In the garage," Julius spoke up. "They said something about a treasure hunt. Felicia came this morning and said she'd found some clues, and they could solve the mystery." "Any idea what this mystery was, or what kind of clues?" the detective asked. May looked at her husband and shook her head. Julius shrugged. "I don't know. It sounded like kid stuff. I was happy they found something to keep them busy-it's been a tough week, not a lot of fun for them." "This is good news. That Staddler girl, Felicia, and her brothers practically grew up in that gully. If they are down there, your kids are in good hands. Felicia will get them out or help if they're in trouble. She's a tough kid." May suddenly changed her opinion about Felicia Staddler. "Okay, we'll get a couple of fellas on the ATVs and have them run the gully. If we hear anything, we'll call you immediately. The same goes for you. If they show up, give me a shout. Stay put." Tired from carrying the broken mirror through the woods and down the slope to the gully floor, Juno and I sat on a log. Standing a few feet away, Felicia flipped through the book's pages. "Okay," she announced. "I know what to do, but I gotta say, this is pretty weird; your grandpa sounds like he went crazy-but if what he wrote down is true...." ".... then that's Grammie Berta in the mirror," I said, finishing the girl's sentence. "Is Grammie trapped in there like those bad guys from the Superman movie?" Juno asked. "Kid, you're too gullible," Felicia answered. "Do you think it's true, Autumn? Was Gramps crazy?" "Of course, he wasn't. Don't listen to her. She doesn't know what she's talking about." I said while glaring at Felicia, who stood defiant, her hands on her hips, jaw jutting out, and staring back. "Gramps was sad, that's all. He spent all his time looking for Grammie. He was heartbroken." "Then Grammie is in the mirror?" Juno asked. "Stop jabbering, and let's do something!" Felicia ordered. "Get the mirror and put it in the creek. Make sure the glass is facing up." Juno looked at me, panic in his eyes. "It's okay, Juno. The creek isn't any deeper than your knees, and you can stay on the bank; I'll go in the water." I told him, taking hold of the mirror. "Just help me carry it to the edge." "You promise I don't have to go in the water?" Juno murmured. "Promise I don't have to go in the water?" Felicia whined, mimicking my brother's plea. "Geezus, kid, you'd have to try pretty hard to drown in this little creek!" "Shut up, Felicia! Leave him alone! He almost drowned, you know! He's allowed to be afraid." "Gee, sorry!" Felicia snapped back. "That was a long time ago, and he was little then. Even if he fell in, he couldn't drown, is all I'm saying!" A minute later, I stood in the creek, the water just above my ankles. The mirror lay submerged just as she had instructed. "Okay," Felicia ordered, "Now we get some big rocks to anchor it in place. The mirror can't move while we try and open the gate." Felicia stuffed the book in the pocket of her jean jacket and gave the next instructions. "Everyone gathers around and places their hands on the frame." With a glance at Juno, then me, Felicia said, "Juno, you can sit here on the grass and hold the bottom. Autumn and I will hold the sides." "Then what?" I asked as we moved into position. "Then we look through the water until it goes flat. Your Grandpa's book says that when flat water moves over the mirror, the glass will move like the creek. That opens the gate." "Then what?" This time, it was Juno asking, sounding much braver than he felt. "Then we wait to see who shows up first," Felicia told him. "What do you mean, 'who shows up first?' "Juno's courage cracked with his question. "It might be your Grammie Berta in there, or someone else, but the book says there are also other- things -on the other side. Things that want to come out and be on this side." "What do we do if we see one of those things ?" I asked, masking my concern with false confidence. "Simple pimple!" Felicia replied. "We just muck up the water. They can't get out." At first, the soft undulation of the clear water made it hard to focus, and we had to hold our eyes open wide to see our muddled reflections in the broken mirror. Then the water turned flat as though it wasn't there at all. We forgot about the stream and looked deep and long into the mirror. The glass began to move. Hypnotized, we leaned in ever closer. Two hands slapped against the mirror from the other side and held. The face of a long-haired, old woman appeared, looking dark and sad, and she stared at us from beneath the glass, but I saw no relief in her eyes. I saw evil. The glass turned dark, its surface moving in slow, syrupy rings and curls. At the edge where the glass touched the wooden frame, pale, wrinkled, bony fingers crawled out. Unable to pull away or explain, I reached for the hands. Felicia's eyes went even wider. The words from the sentence underlined profusely in red ink in the notebook raced across her mind. "NEVER LET THEM TOUCH YOU!" "No! Autumn, don't!" cried Felicia. "SPLASH THE WATER!!" It was too late. In the mirror, falling deeper beneath its surface, the black glass folded around me like a blanket. In shock and horror, I looked pleadingly back at my baby brother. I reached a hand to the edge for Juno. Juno plunged his hand into the creek, clasping his hand around my wrist. The twisting curtain of blackness curled over my face. The old woman's pale arms pulled me deeper into the dark water; her fingers gripped tightly on my hips from below, and my brother clinging to me from above. Numbed by shock, Felicia pulled back from the water, but her hands would not give up their grasp on the wooden frame, and she saw the boy follow his sister beneath the water and through the gate. She watched through the flat water as the woman's face reappeared. As she felt the water filling her ears, her final conscious thought told her that the woman behind the glass was never Grammie Berta Kalenteri. Felicia watched the world wash away. The mirror rose and rode the water, following its bends, rushing through the small, rolling rapids. A few miles downstream, a group of children frolicked and splashed. A boy pointed upstream. "Look! I see a boat!"