Artemis had a twisted smile on her face, all the while Lauren cleaning her wounds after killing one of the night-slayers that followed them. The human sighed. “ Don’t do that. It’s fucking creepy.” “Do what?” “Stop smiling,” Lauren laughed. “You have blood all over your teeth,” she cleaned the rest of the blood off the mutant’s face, quelling the urge to shove the ragged cloth over Artemis’s mouth; whether it were the blood-thirsty grin or what she felt from it, she couldn’t say. She silently snorted. Tom would never let her hear the end of this one. She found herself murmuring, "I can't believe this, I really can't." "What?" Her eyes glittered. "Can't I just celebrate our victory?" Lauren shoved at her. "You said it yourself-you killed things that had more brains than that. This was nothing by your standards." "It's nice you think highly enough of me as to have standards then." Oh, if only you knew... "Doesn't say much about me then, does it?" In a trance the human stroked her cheek, nails lightly scraping off the residue of blood in the process. Face to face, they locked eyes. Lauren swallowed, pushing forward. Her lips parted, heart fluttering when the embrace was reciprocated with just as much intensity. It was not the ideal place to submerge into their passions or tensions. The human herself was still somewhat astonished at what came over her-if it were truly lust, infatuation, or fear? Lauren let out a grunt into the dark cave, legs locking onto Artemis’s; her strength collapsed into the mutant who inhabited her space closely, soon fallen to the death of tenebrous nightfall. Lauren could no longer hesitate with her emotions. She had been frozen into the distinction of time and above all, tragedies--first with losing her parents, protecting her brother, Tom, as they were forced into memory loops and injections, then looking out for themselves on the island. She had to put other people out there to die, to disfigure themselves at the mercy of ash and topaz river-beds but she would do it again for him. Artemis, however, made this thinking process very difficult. Lauren chuckled ruefully as she pulled away. “We both fucking reek of death. We just killed that thing back there, and now this?” “This is how we show respect when a mutant dies. We consummate on their grave." “Very unlikely!” The human snorted, every atom within her burning and pulsating. She found something to forge on lightly--mentally, at the very least--the excuse made her cloud herself away from the present they were in. Perhaps that was the best skill of hunting, the best skill of surviving--going with the flow of things regardless of circumstance. It only drowned out the grotesque just as much as it twisted them in it, into each other metaphorically as the moon glowed onto their skins. This new-found understanding of their darkness surprised them, surpassing physical intimacy. Heartbeat trained in the darkness, Artemis’s claws sprung out on Lauren’s shirt, inching along her skin to barely make a mark. Lauren eased out her hand, anticipating--“You better not fucking tear this off of me. I packed light on clothes.” Artemis scoffed, her breath warm as the rain appeared again lightly on their trail. She struggled to keep up. “That’s your fault.” “Yeah, yeah,” the human snorted but didn’t pull away from the contact. “God forbid I pack what I need for my brother and me to survive, then have a quick thrill and fuck all else in my life...” The mutant pulled back, a brow lowered, and by her nature, eyes smoked in yellow elixir. As much as she wanted, it had to wait. For her. “What do you mean?” “It’s just... Look, everything goes to shit. I’ve used people--I told you that and oddly when your humanity was taken from you I guess so was your common sense being as you’re still here.” A cunning smile draped across Artemis's lips. “Ah, I see. Survival, especially in the wilderness, is never going to be innocent. It’s not only that bothering you or is it?” “You don't even know. Many things bother me...” “Sure, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t act on it-on what troubles you.” “I’m probably the most impulsive person I know,” she looked away, remembering the osmosis of the tides, the bushy forestry, and the cabin in the yellow-amber fields. For her own sanity, she had to cover the previous owner’s pictures with black tape; she couldn’t bring herself to throw them out after his death, yet she didn’t want to be reminded of it either. Though she had to wonder. “What should I act on? My impulses or my fears?” “Fears are your best bet.” “I’m afraid of... of losing my brother, him not remembering me or our life together. I’m losing him all over again.” "Why would he not remember you? You said he broke out of the loop with you." “He’s got amnesia, for fuck’s sake!” She winced. “Sorry, I’m just... I’m trying--you obviously, well, you didn’t know. He washed ashore on the island after trying to escape with his girlfriend,” an eye-roll at that, “with the resources I gathered to help us... leaving me behind to die. Just swell and peachy.” Silence enclosed them like a python’s prey frozen in the midst of its pretty neck. The silent night screeched as Artemis lied back against the stone-walls. “Wow. Some brother you have there then. Why go back for him?” The rest of the sentence went implied. “I’m not like him.” Lauren said. She shook her head, almost as if convincing herself of that. “We were close. All we had was each other. I had to look out for him and I thought he would do the same. Right now, I can’t reconcile the brother I knew or the brother he is now. Would he leave me behind again? “You don’t have to answer that,” Lauren sighed, moving steadily towards Artemis. “Sorry for unloading, this shit’s been weighing on my chest.” The mutant gave a half-effort of a shrug, stretching her back out. She stifled a yawn. Lauren sat down, laying her head on the cat-like mutant’s ankle. “Is this weird?” She squinted in confusion. “I don’t think you’ll make my foot go numb.” “No, you silly bear, I mean--all this. We were just about to have sex after being on the run for five hours straight? We haven't known each other for long either. How screwed up is that?” “I didn’t think of it as just sex...” “Fine,” Lauren cocked a smirk. “Foreplay then?” “I don’t want to only have sex. I like you.” “Oh. Well, you know how to show a girl a good time then,” she bumped their shoulders, laughing at the frivolity along with the impassive look that passed on the mutant’s face. She hid her face behind her hand, for once, nerves tingling like the ravines across the sands, “I think I like you too...” “While threatening me with your jury-rigged spear?” “I-I didn't want to hurt you, but I didn't know what to think either." Artemis frowned, considering this. “Remind me, we also have to work on your stances, you will get mauled in no time." Lauren hummed, nursing the broken fabric off her shirt before letting it fall into a small puddle. “Sorry for ruining,” she waved in the air, “this... first date, I guess?” Artemis tapped her claws against the cave, discerning a light sound that echoed between them. These women were moon-struck fools in the abyss, but wearing a dumb grin, the mutant could not care at this point. It had been years since she could find solace in another, let alone, a human being. Something she had not been in a long time, it could help her understand and maybe re-integrate with what is known on the island, something she never considered. Away from her territory. "You didn't ruin anything. We got to know each other better." She shouldn’t get her hopes up, as even she knew they would never be able to escape. That would be her first mistake in letting her guard down. Though she also hid in their parallels--killing others for survival and mind-games to play on predators that would soon become prey. An inseparable part of Artemis, the part that went off of animalistic instinct, craved for contact, intimacy, especially physical, though she found herself satiated with the small brushes and cuddles. Artemis gazed up at Lauren, recalling something from earlier. "Also... Silly bear? Really ?" "Fuck off." For the first in many years, they slept with warmth. The dark shadows of the moon lit like a soft lantern.


Every day, between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm, the ‘St. Augustine Public Library for Spectacular Minds’ is bustling with human activity; Imaginative children, bookish teens, and introverted adults converge at this location to indulge in themselves in the confines of countless pages and words. Some get caught up in the rhythms and rhymes of Doctor Theodore Seuss. Others find their attention grasped at the throat by the fantastical visions and voyages of Jules Verne. Or perhaps the worlds of fiction doesn't fascinate one who seeks to uncover the fantastical secrets of our reality, perhaps individuals would rather be lost in the stars with Carl Sagan or experience a journey through time with Stephen Hawking... The three-story building provides its members with such a wide array of material that one can be lost in the labyrinth of shelves for hours upon hours. One can find themselves reading word afterword, page after page, and even book after book. No matter what the taste, the preference, or the desire is; the ‘St. Augustine Public Library for Spectacular Minds’ has a collection for any book enthusiast, lover, or worm. And it has the power to convert long-mundane hours into grandiose spectacles that feel like mere minutes. Causing her visitors to wish that they had the ability to control time and stretch those measly ten hours of operation to a staggering 24-hour period where one can relax, put their feet up, and enjoy a good book. There have been many instances when the mechanical voice through the intercom announcing that "the library will close in 30 minutes" causes children and adults to cry! Kicking and screaming begging for hours to be extended! Trying to bargain with the librarians to allow them to stay for a few more minutes! Attempting to hide out in the three-story labyrinth, where they can spend their night lost in the sea of words instead of being pried away from the books and forced outside in the cold-dark reality that surrounds them! A reality they are forced to confront every moment of their life! The reality that they seek to escape from! But day after day, the citizens of this three-story city are forced to leave. At every 5 pm, the building excreets a crowd of long faces who stumble into the parking lot, longing for just one more second in the palace of pages. Then at 6 pm, after all the librarians have checked all the shelves, all the bathrooms, all the reading rooms, and all the nooks and crannies for any book who may be far from their home; the lights are shut, the doors are locked, and the ‘St. Augustine Public Library for Spectacular Minds’ is put to sleep until her awakening at 8 am for the next day...However, there is always stirring in the night. Due to Humans diurnal nature, they never really have a grasp on the true circumstances of the night. The black blanket that casts a spell of drowsiness on all of us. Many scientists, researchers, explorers, television creators, and dreamers believe that "Space is the Final Frontier''. Space is the great unknown, space is the greatest mystery, space is the final question that desires an answer. But it is all wrong. Space is a great question that is in need of an answer, but it is not the final question. What is the final question? What is the final frontier ? What is the great unknown ? It is simpler than one thinks. It is simply, the night. Humans believe they understand the night, they comprehend it, and they know all its secrets. However, they only know what the night wants them to think. The night presents itself with a 'mask'; it allows us to see what it wants us to see, not what is actually there...And behind that mask is something that our mortal minds can and never will comprehend; an entirely separate world of organisms, beings, entities, and creatures that only traverse the world as the sun sets in the east. Beings that are capable of critical thinking, deduction, as well as knowledge of an entirely different world than our own. We can go into hours upon hours of describing this hidden reality that hides from the naked eye but out of all the creatures and critters that separate themselves from us, there is one beasty that particularly captures the attention. An organism that lives in the ‘St. Augustine Public Library for Spectacular Minds’: the 'Crandook'. A Crandook is the common size of a house-cat, it is an anthropoid that's body resembles that of the ring-tailed lemur subtract all the fur. Giving its torse, arms, hands, legs, and feet a scaly-leathery appearance that is similar to a featherless chicken. However, there is fur found upon its head and tail. The head is identical to the common Raccoon: the ears have a triangular shape, there is the 'domino mask' formation around its eyes, the long snout with the tiny black noses at the end as well as an impressive row of fang. And finally, black eyes that allows for the dark to become more visible. To describe the tail of a Crandook, is too describe a 3-foot-faceless-king cobra covered in seta. Although, contradictory to the Crandook's size, they have complete functionality over their tail. They utilize the tail to assist them in climbing, to wrap around objects, to use as an indicator for if danger is about, or even as a brush to clean their skin. If one ever was seen out in the wild, the observer would come to the conclusion (specifically based on its appearance) that the Crandook's diet consists of bugs, berries, and bananas. But as history tells us time and time again; appearances are deceiving. The diet of Crandook is knowledge; it consumes items that emit knowledge. Items such as phones, computers, dvds, and of course: books! When the clock strikes 8 at ‘St. Augustine Public Library for Spectacular Minds’, the Crandook awakens and traverses it's three-story buffae! Leaping from shelf to shelf, it sifts through each of the correctly placed books and chooses which one will make a tasty meal! Which one will provide the most efficient type of knowledge! Which one will be the most enjoyable! It lurks and stalks it's bound-motionless prey. Glazing it's hand slowly over each of the book’s spins, trying to feel which is the best, which is the most delicious, which one will be the most satisfying. After 10 minutes of contemplation, the Crandook finds its three candidates. Takes them away into a scheduled area in the air vents. Opens the cover and begins tearing into the book! If the book was conscious, it would start wailing in pain, howling in agony, and crying for mercy! But alas that is merely a 'what if' and if that 'if' was true, the Crandook would not care! It is hungry! After tearing through the books, it returns and finds more books and more and more! The cycle continues until the crack of dawn. At 7 am, when beams of sunlight shine through the window, Crandook retreats to it's hidden quarters and sleeps. Awaiting for the next night. Librarians do their inventory of the shelves and always discover that a few books are missing. They check the computers; they were not signed-out, they should still be on the shelf. Questions race through their minds! "Were they stolen?" "Were they misplaced?" "Did someone forget to sign them out?" "Where are they?" And as the questions pile and pile, they begin accusing the common customers, threatening to remove them from the library, and who would want to be removed from Heaven. As the investigation and Accusations continue, the Crandook slumbers away in its secret chambers, that no one will ever be able to stumble upon purposely or accidentally. It awaits for the ‘St. Augustine Public LIbrary for Spectacular Minds’ to go to sleep, once again. Where it’ll reign page-tearing terror on it’s victims.


Once upon a time, in a kingdom long forgotten, a girl was born in a suit of armor. Her name was Clang. This was not unusual. It was a dark era, fraught with violence, and the world needed warriors. To be born with armor was considered a great blessing, for it secured her a place amongst the kingdom’s greatest knights. The armor was silver, and covered her whole body from head to foot. It glimmered in sunlight like a freshwater pearl. There were little slits carved in the helmet for her to peer out of, and a sheath for a sword at the waist. Blades and arrows bounced off her as if she was made of stone. If a blow managed to dent it, the armor would mend itself like broken skin. But there was one problem. Though the armor grew with her, it never fit properly. When she took her first steps, clanking across the floor, the greaves pinched and nipped at her heels. Clang fell down in a heap, and cried and cried until her mother came to rescue her. “Oh, my sweet little knight,” her mother had cooed. “The proudest knights are forged in hardship. You’ll learn how to balance all that weight, eventually, and then you’ll be the greatest warrior that ever lived.” And balance she did. She spent hours practicing how to walk, so that the armor would no longer pinch her. She learned to stifle the winces of pain that others could not see. She no longer rattled and creaked with every step, but rather strode with the poise of a knight. Her whole village would come to see her practice on the dueling ground. As Clang wove her way through sword and shield alike, they would think to themselves, “Surely she must be amongst the kingdom’s greatest knights. What honor she will bring to her family, and to us!” All was good, they agreed. All was well. So what if the armor chafed her wrists and ankles until they were bloody raw? So what if the armor cracked and broke when no one was looking? Both children and warriors know instinctively to hide their weaknesses. Clang would often shut herself in her room until her armor mended itself. She knew in her heart that broken armor is not something to show the world. Once, as a child, Clang tried to take off the armor. She had wanted to if her skin was pale like the clockmaker’s boy, who seemed allergic to the sun and spent every summer indoors. She chipped away at her leg until a sliver of skin was exposed. It was the color of warm tea and softly fuzzed like a kiwi. Clang giggled while running her finger along her leg. It tickled! “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Clang dropped her sword in surprise. Her mother was angrier than she’d ever seen her before, angrier than when she had carelessly broken their prized glass window. “I - I wanted to see what color my skin was. I didn’t know anything could be so soft!” “Silly girl. You’re the same color as your father and mother, you know that. It’s unseemly for you to tarnish so great a blessing. Do you know how many people would do anything to wear armor like yours? What would the other families think if they saw you like that?” Clang learned to be grateful. She accepted a posting in the queen’s army, and fought bravely in many battles. She brought home to her family lavender and silver coins and other expensive things. The whole village grew used to the lavishness she bestowed upon them. A marriage was arranged between her and a Queen’s guard with copper plate. In sunlight, the two of them arm in arm were almost too bright to look at. Clang didn’t know the color of his eyes or the shape of his smile. Her parents were unbelievably happy. For a time, it seemed to all that she was invincible. She almost believed it was true. But the weakness of all armor, even the kind you are born with, has always been the person inside. It happened in battle, while she and her fellow knights were buried in muck and mire. One of her comrades, a boy in sky blue armor, had removed a gauntlet from his fist. It seemed impossible - the armor they wear is seamless, and cannot be undone. And yet there he stood, holding a pale, vulnerable fist up to the light. Laughing, armor falling to the ground forgotten, the boy ran between swords and mailed fists as if they did not exist. He was beautiful. She could not help but stare and gawk. It was a different kind of strength - the kind that does not fight wars, but stops them. It seemed she was the only one who felt that way. Anger was written on the faces of her fellow knights, not surprise. More than one of the blades that hacked at the boy were swung by former allies. “What foolishness”, they said. “What use is a sword not grasped? Armor not worn? Who would fight as they always had, if he did not?” The air was thick with their rage. Soon their eyes turned towards Clang. They seemed to ask, “Why do you not jeer with us? What are you?” Clang did not know what she was, nor what she should do. Seeing the boy had lit a cold fire in her belly. She didn’t know beautiful was something she could be. She didn’t know beautiful was something she could want to be. It hurt. It scared her, too, how quickly her curiosity spiraled into something more primal. A need she didn’t know she had. Suddenly, Clang could not breathe. She was confronted with a choice. She could keep on her armor; it was familiar, if not comfortable. Others certainly liked it. For a time, this is what she did. She wore her armor, polished it so that it gleamed softly and oiled its joints so that it moved with silent grace. But no matter how much it sparkled, it always looked lackluster compared to the human she wanted to be. When she was strong, and distracted, the suit was manageable. She got by. But it was in the dark moments, when the suit of armor seemed poor protection indeed against the feelings in her heart, that it became unbearable. The smell of oil and metal filled her mouth, and she wanted to gag. In private, Clang began to take it off. Initially, she needed to tear it open with her sword, but soon she found it fell off her body with ease. She found a whole world that was closed to her before - the feel of sand beneath her feet, the texture of stone, the glossiness of an apple. Her whole body was a riot of color and sensation. Without the armor to weigh her down, she was faster than ever before. She began to notice that she was not the only one who suffered. One night, standing guard for a wealthy merchant, she noticed two lovers sneaking across the grass - one armored, the other not. Clang wondered at their urgency. Without hope for a future, they made a lifetime of love fit into a few whispered words. There were others. A girl who snuck out at night to practice with a spear, and stared at Clang’s armor when she thought Clang wasn't looking. A knight who secretly confided to her that he would rather make music than fight. The simmering anger among farmers who could not raise weapons against the beasts and foul things that plagued their fields. Her fiance did not like that she took off her armor. “Where is the person I fell in love with?” he’d say. Though she tried, she could not convey to him that she was more herself than ever before. One day she found herself striding before the queen herself, armored only in courage. She was nervous, every thought a streak of lightning, every heartbeat a strumming thread of light. But there was no going back. The Queen was outraged. “What is the meaning of this facade? Where is the knight who brought us honor?” Clang bowed low, and held her sword aloft. “With you as always, my Queen.” “But how will you serve without armor? I do not need laymen and women - there are enough farmers and craftsmen in the world. I need warriors, and to shed your natural duties is not only dishonorable, it is deviant.” With a flick of her wrist, she commanded the knights of the court to drag her away. “Look how fast I am,” says Clang, dancing between spear and shield. Though she wore no armor, a sheen of magic covered her body. “Look at how brightly I shine!” She pleaded with the Queen. “I was born with armor, but not with the strength or skill of a warrior. I was not born with the wit that has led me to victory in so many battles. I was not born with the loyalty I have for you, my Queen - it was earned. I can serve the kingdom a hundred times better now that I am free.” It did not matter what she said. Though none of the knights of the court could touch her, she found it impossible to touch their minds in turn. Tradition, she discovered, is the strongest armor a person can possess. Clang was forced to retreat to the edges of the kingdom, hiding from the knights she once served alongside. But she was not alone. The legend of the knight who took off her armor spread from city to village and back again, until even the youngest child in the kingdom knew the name of Clang. Unrest grew. Candlelit conversations pondered the promise of freedom unclaimed. Some said that an unarmored woman claimed Clang’s armor. Others said that her fiance, stricken by grief, shed his armor and forsook his post to find her. There were rumors of Clang and the boy who once wore blue assembling an army to overthrow the Queen. All at once, the kingdom exploded in protest. Knights laid down their arms. Palaces burned, and there was violence in the dark of night. Many dreamed of a world where an individual could grow beyond the circumstances of their birth. Not everyone fought - not even most - but it was enough. The Queen relented. As people began to live more freely, the darkness in the world receded. The world no longer needed people in armor, and as generations passed less men and women were born with it. Instead, children brought into the world strange and beautiful things, as if they reflected the changing course of human history. Clang never returned to the kingdom. Some say she continued to fight for freedom in other lands and other times. Others say she and her fiance found one another, and spent the rest of their lives in peace. All agree, however, that she continued her first, final, and only pursuit - being unapologetically human.


They watched the sun slowly dipping, unaware of the darkness gradually enveloping them. She could feel the comfort of his warm body sitting close to her despite their bodies not being close enough to touch. As she took one more deep, satisfied breath, she almost sobbed. If only she could stay here forever. She looked around and thought about the idyllic eight days of her holiday. The location, stunning amenities, hotels, and restaurants had all been fantastic, but the next day, it was time to go their separate ways until the next time. This had been the holiday to top all others, and knowing she would soon have to say goodbye to her holiday companion was really heartbreaking. She could have stayed here forever - just breathing - nothing more - not eating, drinking, or talking - just contentedly breathing. They would say their goodbyes at 7.30 tomorrow morning and then not see each other for another 12 months. She slowly gazed around the rooftop garden. Although not many stories high, the skyscraper had been positioned on a piece of land considerably higher than any others surrounding it. The two sat on a bench carefully set in the cultivated foliage. Surrounding them were various low bushes showcased in all their beauty and meticulously placed on the enormous landscaped roof. In the rooftop garden were numerous covered canopies to provide shade from the burning sun, pergolas and trellises dividing the plantings into individual gardens. As far as she could see, one stunningly colourful flowerbed mixed with various foliage of differing heights drew her attention repeatedly. Here and there, walls of different sizes and designs protected the numerous ponds ablaze with waterlilies and plants that she couldn’t name, and each pond surrounded by its own miniature flower garden. In various corners were expensive-looking cafes and discrete restaurants. ‘Perfect for illicit affairs’, she thought, as only the artistic signage, coupled with the occasional snatched words or laughter heard from behind flowering foliage and shady trees, made her aware patrons were enjoying a cooling drink or a delicious meal. Paths leading to fantastic scenic views were surrounded by protective safety barriers at the roof's edges. Although acknowledging her poor photographic skills, she constantly ‘click, clicked’ away, trying to capture an image of this beauty. Peering down onto the streets below were lines of shops displaying quite splendid wares, all determined to lure those with luxury tastes. The clean roads were busy with trollies, taxis and expensive-looking cars. Looking beyond the streets lay a harbour crowded with ferries, yachts and small boats bobbing up and down. Looking out further than the port were various vessels ploughing through the smooth channel and taking fare-paying customers from one side of the harbour to the other, whilst other boats had struck out further and were making their way to the various islands standing proud in the distance. As she sat contentedly yawning, she realised how she longed to be amongst those travellers transversing from one shore to the other. She raised her eyes to the sky, expecting to see the dipping sun and approaching sunset, and was surprised to notice the sun continuing to burn brightly above and retain the heat of the day. She slowly rubbed her well-made-up eyes, trying not to smudge the mascara so carefully applied earlier in the day. She shook herself gently, feeling confused. She had been about to suggest that they leave and go to their favourite restaurant for their final evening meal of the holiday, but somehow, she had judged the time of the day wrongly - it seemed that it was mid-afternoon, not early evening. Her partner didn’t comment on anything and seemed quite comfortable watching the afternoon sun beginning to climb in the sky. Suddenly he stood up and said: ‘Too hot for me. We need to move ourselves”. As she stood up, her eyes drifted to the harbour far below. “Do you fancy going to the harbour and jumping on one of those ferries? It seems a shame not to have visited a few of those islands before our holiday ends”, he said. “Race you to the harbour”, he said. ***** Their feet thundered along the boardwalk as they rushed towards the first ferry scheduled to leave; they paid their dollars and joined the other travellers in the well-sheltered seating area of the ferry, ’Do you know where we are going?’ she asked. ‘No, don’t care - do you?’ he said laughingly. ‘Wonder how long it takes?’ she mused. ‘What? The ferry? Depends on where it’s going. Let’s enjoy the journey.’ he said. She nodded and smiled contentedly. A short while later, as she left the ferry, wondering where they were and what to expect, a short Asian man came towards them, offering them a hand of welcome. “Hi, I’m Sunny, offering a tour of the island. Can I show you around?’. She saw no other tour drivers as she looked around. ’How fortunate that the other travellers had not booked Sunny’, she said to her partner. They jumped in the taxi with Sunny and set off. They were on an island under new development commercially and for the tourist trade. Tall, impressive skyscrapers jostled for space next to Temples and Churches from different eras and cultures. The main commercial streets still badly needed transforming, and the small shops bore little resemblance to the expensive stores on the other side of the harbour from where they had set off. Many shops were housed in old colonial buildings from the island’s history. Sunny expertly drove them around the small, under-developed roads and happily answered all their many questions. ‘Most people come here for the Casinos. Would you like to visit one?’ asked Sunny. Sunny took them to ‘The Gondoliers’ as he felt it was one of the prettiest. As the taxi swung into the complex, they were immediately caught up in the crowds and general excitement. Young Gondolieri, dressed in blue and white striped t-shirts, blue trousers and straw Panama hats adorned in blue ribbons, rushed forward and swung open the taxi doors to help them out. They both bade farewell to Sunny and were guided to a descending set of steps where a brightly painted gondola awaited them. Holding her hand, the Gondolieri slowly assisted her to a soft-cushioned seating area. She turned to her partner, and both smiled broadly, clearly in agreement that this was turning into a beautiful afternoon. Standing at the back, the Gondolieri steered them around the various Casino canals until they finally reached an imposing set of stairs leading up to a magnificent entrance hall. As the gondola approached the steps, two men dressed in blues and red descended and assisted them as they climbed the steps towards the entrance. Offering his arm, her guide helped her proceed upwards to make a grand arrival! More guides awaited them as they reached the landing at the top of the stairs. ‘Would you like to go round the tables, or would you prefer refreshments first? ' one of the guides asked. ‘Shall we go round the tables first and then go for something to eat and drink after?’ she suggested. All agreed this was a good idea, and bowing deeply, the guides ushered them into the main Casino. ‘Do you want to stick with me, or shall they meet up in an hour or so?’ she asked her partner. ‘I’ll just wander. I find people losing money fascinating’, he said. They went off in different directions, and she went to the ‘Fruit Machines’ - not for her Roulette, Poker or Craps. She loved playing the machines and was surprised at how much Fruit Machines had changed since she last played. Firstly, it was now possible to feed a ‘bet’ directly into the machines using bank cards; buying tokens was no longer required. She sat in front of an enormous machine and noticed there was no longer a handle to pull. Instead, there were various icons and buttons to press, which she assumed allowed different bets. She had no idea what these buttons did, as all attempts at pushing them did precisely nothing. All she could do was press the PLAY button again and again. Suddenly, a loud noise came from her machine. She swivelled her eyes over its busily decorated front, trying to see if the noise indicated her bet was depleted. In embarrassment, she moved her hands to her lap, hoping that removing her hands from the machine would stop the terrible noise. She couldn’t see any flashing lights or words likely to assist in putting a stop to the noise. Her embarrassment rose as the noise grew louder, clearly disturbing the other Casino players. Both croupiers and players’ heads had repeatedly looked up from the tables. Finally, in desperation, she stood up and began hitting the machine's front with all her might to try to stop the noise. Her partner appeared from nowhere and ran over, looking concerned. “Is that your machine making all that noise?’ ‘I can’t shut it up’, she wailed. A handsome man wearing the uniform of a Casino employee came over. He wore a name badge bearing the name Keith. ‘Do you want to cash in your winnings?’ said Keith, pressing a button. Immediately, silence ensued. ‘Thank you for shutting that noise off. What was causing it?” she asked confusedly. Keith was laughing. ‘What do you think that noise was?” and without waiting for an answer said: “You won one of the Jackpots. Not the biggest Jackpot, but a Jackpot.” ‘My goodness. No wonder it was so loud. How do I get my money? ‘Just press ‘Cash up’, and a docket will come out, and then you go to the payout machines over there’, said Keith. Pressing ‘Cash Up’, a printed docket appeared; she attempted to read it but quickly realised that the printing meant nothing to her. She shrugged her shoulders. Keith asked to see the docket, and passing it to him, he gave a long appreciative whistle. ‘Wow, you’ve done well. It’s too much for the payout machine, so I’ll take you to the Cashier, who’ll sort you out. You need to follow me”. Off they went, with her almost running to the Cashier to keep up with Keith, who was striding ahead. They got to the Cashier, and Keith flourished the docket at the man behind the barred window. ‘Do you want the Cashier to count out the cash and give it directly to you, or would you prefer him to put it straight into your bank account?’ Keith asked. Her partner, unable to control his excitement, said, “How much; how much”. She began to laugh. A few days before, they had discussed coming to the Casino, and her partner had been adamant that it wasn’t a good idea to spend time gambling in a Casino. However, she had noticed his demeanour had changed dramatically, and he was no longer his usual calm, unfazed self. The amount that had been won was considered unsafe to carry around in her purse, so it was decided to pay the winnings directly into her bank. Another gentleman appeared at her side and asked if she required any ‘Winning Extras’. ‘What on earth are ‘Winning Extras?’ she asked. “A meal, a hotel room, a car to take you as you wish, the casino’s yacht to take you across the harbour”. ‘Well, we can’t stay in a hotel here as plane journeys are booked to our respective countries. How about the Casino’s yacht to take us across the Harbour?” said my partner. ‘Yes! Let’s do that. God, this whole thing is like a dream!’ she told him. The whole boat began to shake as she gingerly lowered herself into the launch. ‘Phew’, she thought as she tried to find something to cling to. ***** As her eyes slowly opened, she saw him smiling at her. She stretched and said: ’Come on. It’s time to go and eat, and I must finish packing. She looked around her and felt immediately confused. It was by now dark but still warm. She put her hands down to her sides and realised she was still sitting on the bench in the roof garden. She smiled at the memory of what had been a dream. She whispered to him, feeling a little foolish: ‘I dreamt we’d gone to a Casino and won a lot of money. It was such a vivid dream that I almost thought it was true.’ He looked at her, clearly confused: “We did go to a Casino, and you did win. Can’t you remember?”


That’s the thing about this city; is not eco-friendly. And has no bike lanes. The traffic is horrendous. Many families have like two cars, at least. One for him and one for her. Why should they use public transportation with all kinds of smelly dudes when they can go to the office with a car? Even if they stay at least one hour in the car for just 6 kilometers driving distance. This is one reason this city is in top ten of the most polluted in Europe. But living here is a necessary evil because here I can make a decent living. I am talking here about money, of course. The money I will spend later on trying to treat the diseases inflicted by this polluted city. Good thing we can’t afford two cars. So, I use a bike to do my deliveries. I work for a company where people order things through an app and I deliver them. A cubic box is flapping gently against my back as I pedal, zig-zagging next to pedestrians on the sidewalks (and they curse, most of the time), or among the cars (and they honk also most of the time). My wife is using our car for her job. She is a massage therapist and I won’t expect for her to carry the massage table on a bike. Right? Now I arrive in a residential neighborhood. Duplex houses with a small backyard, and ornate cement tall fences upfront, the house of choice for the emerging middle-class. Usually, these guys are good tippers. I drive slowly now on the narrow street to find the number of the address. Okay, riight there. Still on the bike’s saddle, I push the button of the intercom. A female voice blares, “Yes...” “Good day, madam, I am here with your order,” I say. “What order?” she asks, a bit bored. Gee, how many things these guys are ordering at once? “Your apple pies order, madam,” I specify. “Why don’t you say so?” Tzzank! The metallic door lock is released, and I open the door leading to the front yard. I also drive the bike inside. I can’t know for how long this lady will keep me inside and if I let it on the street for sure someone will steal it. Even in this pleasant neighborhood. I don’t trust people anymore in this city. This is my third bike. The other two “left” me for some slicker masters. A middle age woman exits from the main entrance of the house and her face is not happy at all. “Why have you brought your bike inside? Nobody will steal it in this neighborhood!” Good thing it’s a sunny summer day and my bike doesn’t leave muddy traces behind. One scolding less for me to hear today. “Sorry, madam, but I don’t know well this neighborhood so I can’t be sure of anything.” “Yeah, right. You, young people, don’t know good values anymore. Just drunkenness and stealing, that’s all you see and do all day!” Oh, man! I have to endure this too. For sure she will not tip me. I unstrap the box from my back, unzip it, and hand over to her two cases with the pies. The payment was already done, so I move backward slowly to the exit, keeping eye contact with the grudging lady maybe, just maybe, she will tip me. Oh, Lord! It’s a miracle. She digs her hand in the pocket of her house robe and hands over three small bills. It comes to my mind that joke from some movie “Gee, now I can go to college!” but I take them anyway, and say “thanks” with a small voice, followed by “have a nice day”. Exiting the duplex neighborhood, I am greeted by larger boulevards flanked by taller buildings. This time I cannot ride among the pedestrians, so I use the right edge of the asphalt road. At some point, a red station wagon Ford is passing by my side being in a hurry. But suddenly it slows and goes again in front of me on the first lane. The bus lane. I see a bus coming from behind, so I speed up to pass alongside the red Ford. Just when I am near it, the driver abruptly stops and opens the door. I was looking back, worried by the approaching bus, so I miss this reckless move. The collision with his side door is unavoidable. I fall down, my knees are all an open wound, also the left side of my face is scrapped. I am in pain, and I hope I didn’t break a rib too. The plastic helmet protected somewhat my head. My bike glided partially under the car. And my delivery box is still strapped to me but is creased like hell. “Look at you!” exclaims the driver, a guy in his fifties with grey hair and a significant belly. “What came to you to sneak in like that?” “You’re the one to speak?” I ask, boiling with rage. “When you are the one who stopped so suddenly and opened the door in my face?” “Okay, let’s not get wind up here! I’m sorry, Okay?” “And what good that makes to me?” I ask, trying to stand and evaluate the status of my delivery box. Fortunately, the pies I just delivered earlier were the last for the day. Otherwise, now I would have to pay for my cargo as well. The man, driven probably by a shred of guilt, helps me recover my bike from under his car and offers, “Let’s put your bike on top of my car and get you some band aid on those wounds!” “Ah, so nice of you to take me to the hospital,” I retort ironically. “Nah, you don’t need a hospital. Just a woman’s hand. Let’s go to my place. It’s not far and my lady is expecting me and she is a nurse of some kind. She will patch you up. Hah? What do you say?” I look at him cautiously. He doesn’t have a face of a serial killer and I was confident that my thirty years will overcome his fifties if situation may arise. My riding pants are a mess, same is my T-shirt. And the blood keeps dripping from the wounds at my knees. So, I accept. “But you will repay me for my torn clothes,” I demand in a serious tone. “Sure, how much can they cost, anyway?” answers the magnanimous driver. If the wheel is not spinning, the money won’t flow , says a colleague of mine. But it seems that for me today the wheel will not be spinning anymore. And for sure the bike will need a check-up at a bike shop I frequent in my neighborhood. This guy must pay for the trouble he caused. “Wait just a tiiny little moment while I go to that liquor store to get something,” continues the man. “That’s why I stopped here, anyway. I wanted some champagne for my lady, if you know what I mean.” Great! Because of his bacchanal celebration, I am in such a mess? But what can I say? I put my bike on the metal supports on top of the station wagon and fasten it there with the locking cable, while my box goes to the backseat. I stand in the passenger seat and use some paper tissues to tend my bleeding knees. The man returns pretty quick with two champagne bottles and hands them over to me. I guess those are safer in my hands since I am sitting on the passenger seat. “I am Dan, by the way,” he said, starting the car. “Mircea,” I reply, not so happy about getting to know new people this way. Dan is a chatty guy and his mouth almost never stops while he drives to his house, that proves to be an apartment into one of those tall buildings. “Let me tell you from the start,” he says in a conspiratorial tone. “The lady I am speaking about, is not really my wife. My wife is out of town. This one is a dear of mine. She says she’s a massage therapist, but she does everything if you know what I mean.” My heart sinks into my stomach. “Please, God, let it not be my wife!” I say in my mind. It will be a disaster for our marriage and a too much of a coincidence. “Here we are!” says Dan after driving for a few minutes. The bike is locked on top of his car and my box is still in the car so I follow him slightly limping to his apartment, with a raised pulse and waiting for the moment of truth. The elevator is leaving us on the seventh floor. And soon Dan (Dan, the Man!) opens the door of one apartment yelling, “Honey, I’m baack !” And he takes the champagne bottles from my hands and puts them on the coffee table in the living room. “Honey” is a young blonde with a naughty nurse outfit and everything. Her massage table is forgotten in a corner of the room and she stays relaxed on the sofa. I let out a relieved breath. She’s not my wife. It’s Alina, her good friend. Wouldn’t have been nice for this city to have dedicated bike lanes?


The Ugly Duckling The days of my past are shady at best. The thought of my dad travelling to earth to find the ideal host for carrying a baby makes me shiver. I wish I could have gotten to know her, my dad in his sleep has revealed many features of her which is why I sneak into his room at night and lay under the bed waiting for him to sleep. My world is small, and almost all of the humaliens live in big space ships to raise their children and teach them the ways of alien life on planet zero. The aliens on this planet have huts, made of stone, and over the thousands of years were able to create a space station. The space station has a huge warehouse full of different minerals stolen from earth. They have tanks full of fresh water, soil also taken from earth. Another warehouse has animals needed to sustain life such as pigs, goats, chickens, cows, plants, bees. The biggest warehouse made of metal has hundreds of old tossed out computers, and technologies. Outside the wind turbines power the warehouses. The warehouse with the hundreds of computers have discovered that mixing certain minerals and melted rock from our world make the spaceships for the humaliens. These spaceships can travel 2 x’s the speed of light, have fire resistant panels to travel to earth easily going through the ozone layer. These things I remember as a child, the mechanics, the planting of vegetables, and working on the lights that simulate the sun. Our world has no sun, it is always dark unless you are in the warehouses or spaceship. Our humaliens (part human part alien) are very pale skinned, has gaunt eyes, very frail, and are very light sensitive. My mom-a blur of visions and memory used to read to me before bed, chase me around the spaceship, and cook amazing meals in the spaceship. I have seen these behaviours when travelling to earth to get supplies. I wish I could stay on earth and learn the ways of humans. At 16 years old the boys must look for mates on earth that can host a baby. It is the law that the hosts can only stay for four years and be brought back to earth. Time would only lapse for the humans for a day or two at the most on earth, and the women would not remember being captured or giving birth on planet zero. I remember her smell, which reminded me of the lavender that I plant for the butterflies and bees, I often find myself laying in the fields imagining her. She had long red hair, freckles on her face, and a smile that light up a dark room. I remember her voice and her reading my favourite stories. One of my favourites was the ugly duckling. It was my favourite because on earth that is the way I feel, with my very pale skin, sunken eyes, and only three fingers on my right hand. When I sneak into my dads room at night I can hear him talking to her and reaching for her. He talks about her green eyes so bright, and asks her to dance with him. It makes me cry because she has been gone for so long and she would never remember us. I will be turning 16 soon, and do not want to fall in love with someone for only four years. I don’t want to see my child cry and call for their mom for years. How could I pick someone to say goodbye. My heart feels like it is twisted and making me sick when I think about it. I want to ask my dad why he didn’t leave the ship on earth and hide for the rest of his life just to be with his family. I wonder if he thought about it, and if he did what would happen if someone did hide and then only be found years later? He is so sad, he tries to smile when we talk and eat our mostly freeze dried meals. He often looks down at his food, to only push it away. My departure is coming soon, and try to imagine my life on earth, with a beautiful girl, walking, swimming, riding one of those bicycle things, dancing and so much more. Some of the other boys my age are excited and can’t wait to depart to earth to find their mate. The ship drops us off in different places around the earth to walk amongst the humans to search for our mates. After the ship fills with water and harvest their minerals, they go to the place where they dropped you off and pick us up with a young girl. Our humalien minds are far more advanced than humans, we can read human minds and manipulate them into anything we want or need. It is almost like hypnotism but our minds can target anything living within less than a second, and if we brush by anyone we can search their minds and retain a-lot of information. Many times travelling to earth we are dropped off at universities, space station tours, labs, pharmacy’s ext. Tomorrow is my day to be dropped off to find a suitable mate, I am ready to say goodbye to my world forever and join the humans. I will miss my friends and father but I can not love someone to only say goodbye. The boys on the ship are excited, and I pretend to listen but my plan is to be dropped off, find a bus, and travel to a small town never to be found again. It will be easy to get a job, find an apparent and live a humble life. Mind manipulation can get me anything I want, but once I have money I will be able to actually live the life of humans. I hope. A year later has passed since my drop off and I have a job, now a house, and a bicycle It is very hard to blend in with the humans because I am different. People shy away from me, they are polite but get away from me as soon as they can. I find myself walking by the lake that is close to the community that I live.It is so beautiful, the wind, the sun, the birds, the clean air. The humans take this planet for granted and I really don’t know why. I plan to stay here for the rest of my life, even though it will be shorter than my life up at planet zero because the gravity is much more dense here and plays havoc on my system. One day on my walk around the lake I saw a beautiful older woman who had red hair and green eyes and she was reading to her granddaughter the ugly duckling. I pretended that I was skipping stones, but I was listening to her. I wondered if she could be my mother. I glanced at her and her smile was so beautiful. I could feel a connection and sat on the bench that was close to the bench she was on. Every Saturday I went to the bench to see if she was there with her granddaughter, I wanted to get to know her better. I really wanted to brush up against her to see if I could search her brain of any recollection of her being up in space. But, I dare not. The days turned into weeks, and I still had a hard time fitting in. However, my co-workers were starting to warm up to me and trust me, but the girl I work with has no interest. I refuse to use my abilities for mind manipulation but I hope to find someone soon before I get to old to have a child of my own.


There are far too many cameras and far too many people in this room. The flashing of the camera bulbs irritates my eyes. I suppose I'm ready to tell my story. My whole body aches but I think I can manage a few sentences. They want to know what I saw. There was a problem with the spacecraft. I got too close to a black hole... I don't think it was my fault. It's hard to say. My craft appeared light years upon light years away from the black hole. My sensors said I was at the edge of the known universe. I did the only thing I could. I turned the cryo-chamber on, turned my ship around, put her on full burn, and went to sleep. Apparently they sent a rescue team for me. Somehow they found me. It's been twenty years. Honestly not as long as I expected to be gone. It doesn't make any sense. That's okay, I accept it. "What did you see at the edge of the universe?" said one of the interviewers. I tried to reply without giving away how weak I felt. "Nothing," I said. "You are the only explorer to reach the edge of the universe. Is that all you saw? Nothing?" "When I say nothing... I mean nothing," I struggled to say. "Just an empty void of space. Blackness all around?" "No, no. I saw nothing." "Yes, exactly. It was all black?" "No. You misunderstand. I saw nothing." The man appeared to be getting agitated. He obviously just didn't understand. I sighed. "There was nothing. Let's think about this. What do you see out of your third eye?" The man chuckled. "I don't have a third eye." I nodded. "Of course. But what do you see? What do you see out of your elbow? The back of your head?" "I... I don't... nothing." "Is it black?" "No..." "Exactly... Just nothing." "That doesn't make any sense. You looked out the cockpit window of your craft and..." "There was absolutely nothing. I can't make it any easier than this." "That's... wow. Do you remember what you saw when you went into the black hole?" "I..." I couldn't find the words. "Anything at all?" The man asked. "Was it the same as the edge? Was there nothing?" "No..." I smiled. "I saw everything.


As Faith sat at her desk reviewing her travel plans for the year, she couldn’t really complain. She loved how much travel was involved in her marketing role at the prestigious publishing house she worked for and she felt this year she had completed lucked out. A trip to New Orleans in April followed by a few Italian trips and Alaska later in the year. These academics really wanted a ‘good old jolly’ away from their families, with whatever shenanigans that involved. Last year at a Russian studies conference, Faith couldn’t believe how much flirting and presumably bed swapping seemed to have gone on. Everyone in their best suits in meetings during the day and then as the hotel announced ‘cocktail time’, things usually turned into a scene from a Baz Luhrman film: ties got loosened, ladies let everything down. At this said conference, Faith had been approached by several ancient academics. One of her journal editors who she had unfortunately been asked to keep an eye on and ‘wine and dine’ said after too much vodka ‘if I were forty years younger, I’d have a crack.’ She felt quite nauseous at the comment but also a bit sad for him: a long haul flight in his eighties must have been hard on him. Fortunately, Faith found that if he drank too much at the conference, she could say ‘Do you know what Alan, I may just have room service tonight. Shall I arrange something similar for you?’ and he usually complied. She remembered one Russian academic at the conference who was quite persistent and kept coming round to her booth in the exhibition hall. ‘Would you let me take you for dinner? I would really like to get to know you.’ Her response was always the same ‘That sounds lovely. Would you mind if I bring my Editor Alan?’ pointing to the octogenarian. ‘I’m meant to be accompanying him to dinner.’ ‘Oh, I see, well I hoped we may have been able to spend some time alone together.’ Seriously, I feel like I’m in Ancient Rome. Everyone seems sex mad. Another reason, Faith was always on best behaviour was out of some misguided loyalty to her boyfriend back at home. Faith had been with Eddie since their final year together at Oxford and while she knew that the spark had extinguished and they were both firmly ‘mates with benefits’, neither of them had had the confidence to break it off as they were still quite fond of each other. So she carried on with her travelling and he carried on working his way up the corporate ladder at the IT firm he worked at. As she packed up her bag to fly out to New Orleans the next day, she said to Eddie ‘Shall I call you when I get there?’ ‘Don’t worry we can catch up when you get back.’ There were times when Faith never felt so alone. She lived in a house share with Eddie and his friend Simon but felt increasingly like their mother. The next morning, she rang her mum on the way to the airport. ‘Morning mum, it’s me.’ ‘Hello love, how are you? You sound a bit sad. Is everything ok?’ Trying to hold back the tears Faith said ‘Yep fine. Will be good to get away. Need to have a think about things.’ ‘Is all ok with Eddie?’ ‘Oh yes, all fine. He’s so jealous I’m off and has asked me to call him every day.’ She felt awful for the blatant lie but didn’t want to worry her.’ ‘I’ll have to come on one of your trips. Where is this conference next year?’ ‘Boston.’ ‘Ooh yes I do fancy that.’ ‘Definitely, we can tag on some extra time to shop and explore and it’s quite a short flight.’ ‘Ok darling. Have a great time and give me a call when you get to the hotel if you get chance. It doesn’t matter what time.’ ‘Ok mum. Love you.’ ‘Love you too darling and get a taxi everywhere. Don’t walk anywhere on your own.’ ‘No mum, speak soon.’ She loved her mum so much but sometimes found talking to her confirmed how she was really feeling, and it definitely highlighted just how alone she felt in her relationship with Eddie. He just didn’t give two hoots. As soon as she arrived at the airport, she loved to pretend she was in a film or TV series. She could be anyone she wanted for the next five days in the US. On previous trips when she’d arrived at various hotels, waitresses had approached her at breakfast and said ‘Ma’am, are you from the airline? Or ‘Ma’am, are you here for the shoot?’ And she went along with it as it was exciting to pretend to be someone completely different for a few days. It wasn’t that she hated her life, but she felt directionless, and her loveless relationship was really starting to get her down. As she settled down in her seat, checked her phone for any messages on the remote chance there may be something from Eddie, she switched her phone off, got her soft grey pashmina and wrapped it round her shoulders before taking out her notepad, pen and a few novels. A beautiful air hostess approached her, ‘Madam I don’t know if this would be of interest, but we have a spare seat in business if you’d like to move?’ ‘Oh, that sounds wonderful thank you so much’ as she grabbed all her belongings. The hostess who had the kindest of faces showed her how to adjust her seat for more room and then added. ‘And can I tempt you with something to drink? Champagne, wine, Bloody Mary?’ ‘Oh, this just gets better and better. Would a glass of bubbly be ok?’ ‘Of course, sweetie and you just let me know if you need more and I’ll keep it coming.’ Faith couldn’t believe it. This never happened to her. Maybe a change of fortune was on its way. The flight was one of the most relaxed she had experienced and on arrival she jumped in a cab to her hotel. She always tried to stay awake for as long as possible but thought it may be tricky after a few glasses of bubbly. The Marriott hotel was hosting the conference and for ease Faith had booked herself a room in the same hotel. She dropped everything in her room and then went to explore and grab a coffee and some fresh air. She located the gym was as she found a workout helped with jet flag. As she approached her company booth, she saw lots of boxes with books and journals as well as the stand. A huge relief as she could count the times she’d turned up to a conference and boxes had gone missing or were stuck in customs. She headed back to her room and called her mum who sounded relieved she’s arrived safely. She promised to pop into Sephora and pick up some nice eye make-up and her mum sounded delighted. Fatigue was really starting to set in, but she was determined to try and stay awake. Maybe if she popped out and then ordered room service when she got back? Her huge bed was looking so appealing now and she found it increasingly hard to summon the energy to do anything but lie back on the mountain of soft cushions and pillows and watch TV. Maybe a cup of tea in her room and she could peruse the menu. She always loved to order a huge salad with lots of meat on it and a large glass of white wine. She found herself becoming more and more sluggish, so she grabbed the phone and ordered room service to arrive in the next hour. As she switched on the TV, she got sucked into an episode of Greys anatomy . Why is Mcdreamy and in fact all of the characters so good looking? How do they have time to work out and work all the hours required of a junior doctor? She felt her eyes start to close when a knock on the door said, ‘Good evening, madam... room service.’ She jumped up and let the young chap in who laid a huge tray on her desk. ‘One superfood salad, a bottle of sparkling water and a large glass of Pinot grigio.’ ‘Amazing thank you so much.’ She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt she sounded like The Queen. ‘Please may I ask you to sign here?’ ‘Of course, thank you.’ Faith changed into her sumptuous white robe provided by the hotel, brought her tray to the bed and got under the covers. This indulgence was something she loved about travel. She didn’t have to cook for two ungrateful boys, and she had sole control of the remote control rather than having to watch Band of Brothers again. As she sipped her Pinot it felt like nectar of the gods and she enjoyed the enormous salad before slowing sinking.... When she came round, the TV still on, bits of salad dressing on her chin and an acidic taste in her mouth from the wine, she looked over at her clock to see it was 2am. She brushed her teeth, changed into her pyjamas and attempted to go back to sleep. Tomorrow would be such a long day if she didn’t. She lay there feeling like it was 7am which it was in the UK and time to get up and get going. This was useless. She put on her gym gear and decided to head down to the lobby for an explore. She was surprised to see how many people were around, a mix of jet-lagged conference attendees slumped in the lounge bar and then those who were just coming back from a night on the town. She said hello to the concierge and said. ‘I’m just popping out for a stroll. Is it safe is I just stay in the area?’ ‘Absolutely miss, you need to keep your wits about you but if you stay on canal street where it’s lit, it’ll be fine.’ ‘Ok thank you.’ Faith wasn’t sure she was in her right mind so decided she’d just head out for ten or fifteen minutes. Canal street was littered with bars and as she headed down further into the French quarter, she couldn’t help but stop and stare at the architecture which looked so familiar from the countless classic films she’d seen. It really felt like she was on a film set. She was also aware of the volume of drunk twenty something year-olds and feeling slightly uneasy, decided to head back to the hotel. As she headed back in the concierge nodded to her and checked that all was ok. It was so nice to receive a bit of kindness so far from home. She went back to her room and managed to fall asleep for a few more hours. At five, she was raring to go, so ate a protein bar and hit the gym for an hour before ordering breakfast to her room. She headed down to the exhibition hall and looked at the space trying to work out how best to tackle. Her company preferred the designated marketing person to assemble the units which were tall and a bit fiddly so as she stood and stared for a while, a chap came over to offer some help. ‘Hi, I’m Ted, one of your authors. Can I help you set anything up?’ ‘Hi, I’m Faith. Pleasure to meet you. That would be amazing thank you.’ He got stuck in and Faith couldn’t help but notice how absolutely gorgeous he was. Blond, blue eyed and muscles to die for. ‘You are so kind, honestly, I’ll be fine with the rest. I’ll have to put your book in a prominent place now.’ ‘Ha! Very kind. Well, I’ll try and find out where my sessions are being held but lovely to meet you and I’m sure I’ll see you during the breakout sessions.’ ‘Thank you again.’ Ted loitered for a bit and then headed off. The girl on the booth next to her said ‘Goodness you’ve got an admirer.’ ‘Oh no, just one of our authors’ As she unpacked the huge volume of books and journals, she picked up Ted’s book and placed it in the most prominent spot. She mentioned it to everyone who came by. As the first coffee break started and attendees made their way through, Faith found herself talking to so many charming people. A group of chaps came up and introduced themselves as Editors of one of the journals she had on display. They were intrigued to know more about Faith and kept teasing her saying ‘That is definitely an Alabama accent. Isn’t it Jo?’ ‘Oh, it is, Faith looks like she’s from Alabama.’ ‘Ha! Stop it you lot.’ As she laughed hysterically and let out a small snort, she turned and Ted was there. ‘Oh hey’ ‘Hello, it seems this is the booth to be at.’ ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’ She said blushing. ‘I came to see if you needed anything. Can I get you a coffee or wait at the booth if you want to stretch your legs.’ ‘Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you.’ Faith couldn’t believe how kind he was as well as incredibly delicious on all fronts. ‘Well let me know. I don’t have a session again till twelve, so I have another hour.’ ‘I may just head out for a second if you don’t mind. Price lists are here and we’re having cocktails at the booth at five if anyone fancies it.’ When she returned to the booth, Ted was certainly working his charm and there was quite a group of students purchasing texts. ‘Wow thank you. I really needed to stand outside for five minutes. I lose all track of time in these halls.’ ‘No problem at all. Have I earnt a cocktail later then?’ ‘Oh yes definitely, maybe even two.’ As Ted left and she watched him closely, pull out some papers from his leather satchel, she thought ‘goodness nice chaps do exist.’ At four thirty, the trolley of drinks was brought over, and a very smart barman said, ‘Would you like me to make you one Ma’am?’ ‘Oh, that’s ok. I’ll be on the floor if I start early. I mean, no that’s ok, I’ll wait.’ Faith was so relieved when she saw Ted turn up with his incredible smile. Would you like a hand at all?’ ‘No, you just enjoy.’ As they chatted about New Orleans and how magical it was, Ted asked ‘I don’t know if you have any plans, but would you like to explore the area with me later?’ ‘Oh yes, I’d love that. I did go out in the early hours this morning but would feel safer with a companion.’ ‘Yes, it gets a bit spicy around Bourbon Street. Shall I meet you in the lobby at seven?’ ‘Sounds great’ By the time the punters had dispersed, it was six thirty, so Faith ran to the elevator, ran to her room, jumped into the shower and put her black halter neck dress on. Mmm is this too much? she wondered but then thought oh sod it, when do I ever have chance to dress up and with that realising she was five mins late, headed to the escalator which took you to the reception. She smiled as she saw Ted heading up the escalator to meet her. ‘Sorry Ted, those academics and their cocktails!’ ‘Don’t worry. Wow you look ...wow.’ Blushing she said, ‘so do you, you also look wow’ and they giggled. Despite trying to sound quite casual about ‘exploring the area’ Ted had organised for the two of them to take a cruise down the Mississippi and when Faith felt the cool breeze, Ted leant in and wrapped his jacket around her. They hopped off the ferry and headed to a bar where a band were playing lots of Charles Mingus tracks. After they’d finished their drinks, Ted offered Faith his hand and they stood up and enjoyed a slow dance towards the end of the set. They walked around the historic quarter passing Anne Rice’s home and ended up in a very low-key restaurant where Ted found a very intimate table for the two of them. Throughout the dinner, all Faith could think about was kissing him and perhaps more. As they strolled back to the hotel and headed to a white part of the lounge, Ted said ‘would you like me to take you upstairs?’ With that she lunged herself at him and they walked to the elevator. As there were quite a few conference attendees in the elevator, she controlled herself until they got to her room. Undressing each other, he said ‘I’ve wanted to do this since I laid eyes on you.’ ‘Me too’ and with that they made love into the small hours. On waking, she wasn’t sure where Ted was and assumed, he had probably left and that was it but a few moments later, she had a knock on the door. ‘Morning, sorry to wake you. I forgot to take a card. I popped out for lattes and cinnamon rolls.’ ‘Are you actually the perfect man in real life or is this just a conference facade?’ He kissed her deeply and then they fell back into bed. As the conference ended and the two of them had spent the most glorious time together, Faith felt very sad at the thought that it all had to end. Ted kissed her right up until she got into her cab to the airport and said, ‘I’ll call you when you’re back.’ ‘I’d love that.’ ‘Someone’s had a good time in N'Awlins’ the cab driver said. With that, Faith couldn’t stop smiling all the way home filled with the hope she needed.


Spending the holidays with your family is the best as that's where memorable memories are made. Like when my younger brother got mad when me and my sister got a playstation for Christmas. Ah, good times. But, sometimes unexpected gifts or guest's come along the way. •••••••••• Christmas is in two days. The stress and hectic is there. You can feel it in your soul as you have to plan so many things like what food are we going to have, whose present is whose, how do I wrap this, or did I get their present. There are so many things to do in less time. You didn't want any more distractions as you had to get things done, but sometimes fate isn't on your side. * knock knock * You weren't expecting any family or guest to come over as they were getting their things done as well. You stopped what you were doing which was gift wrapping and walked to the front door. You didn't just want to open the door without knowing who it was since so many horrible things can happen since it's the holidays. Through the peephole was a woman standing there. You cautiously opened the door slightly to poke your head out. "Hello, can I help you?" You asked The woman turned to face you and you immediately thought of your uncle as she has the same smile as him and the mole by the counter of her eye. "You must be confused as to why I'm here, but I'm your cousin. I know you won't believe me, but I found you online and saw you were close to my dad, so I wanted to visit you and ask if I could come for Christmas as I haven't seen my father in a while or since I was little," She explained, a hopeful smile on her face "How can I be sure what your saying is true?" You asked, cautious "I can tell you everything if you let me inside. It's a bit chilly out here if not we could meet up at a cafe to talk," She suggested "Come on in. I don't have that much time on my hands," You said, stepping back, opening the door wider "Thank you. I'll make sure to tell you everything," She stated, walking inside, her cheeks rosy red from the cold air "Well, you still haven't told me your name, but I think you know mine," You said, closing the door behind you "Oh, sorry. I'm Mikayla Moore," She announced, looking around as if asking if she could sit down "You can sit down anywhere. Do you anything to drink?" You asked, walking to the kitchen "Water," Mikayla said, a small smile on her face You nodded and walked into the kitchen, pouring water into a glass and dumping in an ice cube or two. You walked back in and set the cup on the cable in front of her. "Thank you," She grabbed the cup and took a sip You sat down on the opposite couch, watching her then you looked at the photo frame that encased the family photo from a family trip. You grabbed it and held it to Mikayla. "If you don't mind, can you point to your father, so I can see if your telling the truth, sorry," You said "Yeah, I know you don't mean to be offensive, I understand, so I'll do anything to gain your trust," Mikayla grabbed the frame and looked at A smile appeared on her face when she saw her father, smiling with his arm draped on another man's shoulder. "He's right here with his arm around a man," Mikayla said, pointing to him You looked closer and saw it was the uncle you were thinking about. "Do you by any chance know his name?" You asked, testing her "Aiden Garza," Mikayla said, looking at you "You really know him. I just want to ask why didn't your mother tell my uncle, I mean your dad?" You asked, curious "I asked my mom that too, but she told me that she didn't want him in my life. I do remember particular memories that I've met him, but I was too young to remember. He did pay child support, but I never got to spend time with him. His name is on my birth certificate," She told me, reaching into her purse and taking out a paper then handing it to you "It's alright, I believe you. I d-" "Please, just look," She shook the paper You grabbed it and looked at it. Your eyes landing on the father's name section. 'Aiden Garza.' He really was on it and he even signed it. You looked at the birth date, seeing that she was the same age as your sister. "My uncle didn't tell us about you, but I remember seeing a photo of him holding a little girl. I'll bet he'll be happy to see you if you came christmas," You said, handing her back the certificate "Really, you'll let me come," Her eyes gleaming "Yeah, I think my uncle deserves some happiness in his life. Even can I know more about this whole situation?" You asked You couldn't believe that you had a lost cousin, but you were so excited since you had a female cousin and who was close to your age. "So, let's see. I wanted to know more about my dad, so I kept pestering my mom, but she would tell me to stop asking about him. I didn't have a great childhood. I have 5 half siblings, the youngest was older than me by 3 years. I didn't live in a great neighborhood, I lived in a house for 13 years then moved into an apartment and lived there until I was 19. I couldn't bear to live there anymore as my mom gave me trouble every single time and I wasn't doing good. So, I worked until I had enough money to get an apartment or stay in a motel, but now I'm here to get to know my dad and be in his life if he wants me too," Mikayla reminisced, an annoyed look on her face "Sorry for asking about something so personal," You apologized, not knowing she had a rough childhood "It's fine even though I can't change it, but it's a part of me," Mikayla stated, shrugging her shoulders "But I can see you grew up well despite how you lived," You said, a small smile resting on your face "Thank you, but I think I should get going as you probably have many things to finish," Mikayla said, standing from the couch "No problem and thank you for coming to share the news that you've been hiding. I know this Christmas will be perfect for my uncle," "I do hope so, but can I have your number so you could tell me when to come like when my dad has arrived," Mikayla asked "Yeah, give me your phone," Mikayla gave you her phone and typed your number in it, sending a message to yourself. Your phone ding. You handed Mikayla her phone back and took yours out to save her number. "Thank you, Sam. I'll see you Christmas eve," Mikayla said, waving and leaving through the front door "Bye, Mikayla. See you Christmas eve," You said, waving at her. You watched her get into her car and drove off. 'This Christmas is going to be something .' •••••••••••••• "Hey, why do you keep looking at your phone?" Your uncle asked, not Mikayla's father "Oh, I'm just waiting for my friend to text me so I can give her her present," You told him "Oh, okay," He walked off Mikayla's dad was already here, you texted her once he arrived and she said she was on her way. You were worried that she would bail, but were hoping that she was on her way or she was stuck in traffic. You just waited, talking with your family and playing games to pass the time. You left to the restroom to do your business and once you were done, you heard talking. "So, your Sam's friend?" "Yeah, I came to talk to her about something," Mikayla was here. You quickly walked to the living room and saw Mikayla standing there by the christmas tree by my family surrounding her. "Mikayla, why didn't you call or text me that you were here?" You asked, worried as you walked to her "Sorry, Sam. I forgot, but I'm here," Mikayla said "Mikayla?" My uncle, Aiden, said, staring at her "Yeah, that's my name," She said, but you could tell she was scared and nervous "Is your last name, by any chance, Moore?" My uncle asked "Yeah, how'd you know?" Mikayla asked, trying to act like she didn't know "Can we talk privately?" He asked her, nodding to the front door "Yeah," Mikayla followed him outside Everyone watched them leave then they looked at you. "Who is she?" "Why is Aiden acting like that?" "She's my long lost cousin and Uncle Aidens long lost daughter," You stated Everyone was shocked and started talking, wondering how nobody knew and why he never told anyone. So, time was the essence as everyone waited for the both of them to come back inside to know what was happening. Soon, the both of them came back in. You could tell that they were crying as they were sniffing and their eyes looked a little red and swollen. "Everyone, I know this is confusing, but I want to tell ya that I've been hiding that I have a daughter, but she's right here," He looked at her, hugging her from the side, "Mikayla," "Aiden, what the hell! You hid that I had a niece. Why couldn't you tell us?" My mom asked, shocked "You hated her mother, Lydia, even I couldn't see because of her, but now we can see her whenever," My uncle said, upset "Okay, I understand, but I have a niece," My mom went over to Mikayla, "Let your favorite aunt give you a hug," My mom hugged Mikayla, who was awkward and shocked, but she hugged her back. Everyone started a conversation with her, telling her every memory that would make her laugh and smile. It's not so bad having a long lost family member come back into our lives.


Hello guys, I am a huge fan of H.P. Lovecraft and his work in general and being a hobby-ish writer he is also a big inspiration for me. I wrote this story a few weeks ago and I tried to keep it as similar to his style as possible. So, if you have some time to spare, feel free to read my story and share your thoughts. Moreover, english is not my first language, so if you find some grammatical- or spelling errors, let me know. Enjoy! \^\^  **The Estate** Free is the mind, that doesn‘t fear. Free is the mind that can go out at night, untouched by insidious rustling in the underbrush. Free is the spirit that knows no horror. These are well known facts and even if not fancied about occasionally, the sane mind will agree with me on these thoughts. A wise man once said: “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.“ Since this one grim night on the fields east of the woods near Salem, this fear is my horrid companion. Hitherto I haven‘t found out what slaughtered the poor farmer‘s family and desecrated their humble farmstead. I haven‘t found out what lets the soldiers disappear from their patrol on the forest‘s edge. I only know that this thing, the murderer, is nothing the human mind could comprehend. The abomination that stalks those lands, that haunts my dreams every night, was birthed from the rotting organs of a dying world in pits so black, not the holiest of lights could fathom. As a private investigator I have dealt with many cases of ridiculous to grim nature and having solved the majority to the satisfaction of the employer I achieved a modest amount of fame in my ranks. Thus, I was called to a very remote region east of a great town called Salem. The village, in which I had to investigate what was described to me as a strange kind of serial killer, was so exiguous, it didn‘t even have a name. It was just commonly referred to as the Estate. This dwelling‘s position was well remote, for its only connection to civilization was a small road leading westwards to Salem through the blackest and thickest of forests I ever witnessed. The Estate had a rather sad expression, consisting mostly of rotting farmsteads, meadows and an abandoned town square with a building which seemed to formerly have been a town hall. I arrived at dawn and although it was harvest season, the fields were barren. The mayor, being my employer, greeted me and guided me to the latest crime scene: A small farm in the north-east of the Estate, where a family of six had been murdered in the most bestial of manners. On the way the mayor explained the real reason, why I had been called to this dark place. I had to investigate the horror that roamed this place. Apparently the poor family was the third in a series of brutal massacres which happened in the Estate, accompanied by missing children, farmers disappearing, as well as soldiers killed and mangled which were supposed to protect the village. This horror had been haunting the poor people for about one and a half year and over the rime more and more families emigrated through the woods to Salem, moving only at day, when no cloud was in sight lest nothing and no one could hide in the shadows cast by a veiled sun. At the time of my stay only four families, including the mayor‘s, remained, and I was their last hope. My task was to find the beast and free the people from their shackles of terror. Then we arrived at the scene*.* I had seen husbands killed by jealous mistresses, bloated bodies which were disposed in rivers, but never had I witnessed vistas so disgustingly horrifying as I did on that doomed Tuesday morning. No earthly creature, regardless of every mental state, would have been able to bear slaughtering the wretched family in the way it was done to them. They were mangled in ways I will never be able to forget. The sane mind would instantly have fainted or gone mad, even the insane mind would have turned at once and fled from this horror scene, but I was beyond that. My curiosity overwhelmed the fear in my heart and I kept investigating the crime scene. Afterwards I proceeded to gather information from the few residents. The Estate must have been a flourishing rural town until the incidents began, forcing the inhabitants to cower away in their houses, praying to whatever god was left in those unholy times. At first the people suspected enemy spies or highwaymen in the forest and soldiers kept patrolling and securing the town. The common suspicion of an enemy attack waned as the first family was murdered in a dark, late autumn thunderstorm at night. They were brutally slaughtered, along with their livestock, akin to the family I had beheld a few hours earlier. Since that, the superstition arose about a supernatural being, a demon or spirit, that haunts the forest and the Estate, hunting men and slaughtering families in its bestial manner. Supposedly one was able to hear voices and screams in the forest at night, along with a metallic sound, like an old metal bar being bend or ancient gears scraping into each other. There were many speculations about the appearance of the demon and every description seemed to differ from another. Some talked about a huge bear like beast, that lives in its den in the deepest and thickest parts of the forest, others fancied it to be a winged demon that darts through the sky at night, travelling with the thunder of midnight storms and finally a few described it as a possessed scarecrow of abnormal height, with claws as long as swords, that stands on the fields at night, just to be gone the next day. Though the visual descriptions all seemed very vague, everyone agreed on the sounds the beast uttered. The screams seemed to be *mockeries of its victims*, mimicking their last words like a parrot. The noble city folk dismissed these stories and reports as superstition, which will likely turn out to be a pack wolves or a group of very brutal bandits. But for me, after my traumatic experience in the farmstead and for me being keen on ghost stories and supernatural beings, there was most definitely a demon at large and although I was terrified to the bones, my curiosity won once more and I took precautions to find the beast that night. One man, living relatively near the house where the first massacre took place, had told me during my interrogations, that he heard the demonic voices to an increasing degree near that very house and this suspicion was confirmed by some of the folk. Hence, I planned on spending the night in the ruin to potentially observe the phantom. Equipped with a thick jacket, my camera and my trusty revolver, not that I believed in being able to kill or damage the thing, but it made me feel safer, I made my way down to the abandoned house as dusk fell. The house itself looked ghastly and the weather had taken its toll on the building. Broken windows gazing like black eyes, the former fencing half sunken into the ground like tombstones on a graveyard long forgotten and still claw marks and dried blood, recalling the suppressed memories of what had once happened here. I looked around in the few minutes of fading sunlight that I had left and discovered a rather fresh trail of prints leading from the house to a dim part of the adjacent forest. They were *nearly round* and conveyed the beast to be limping. Moreover, the track were accompanied by what seemed to be t*hree parallel lines*, drawn by a claw that‘s been dragged through the mud. Sometimes the lines vanished, just to reappear again. With the sunlight waned completely, I set up my lookout. I chose the hayloft, which was stationed on top of the barn, opposing the house and thus granting me an optimal view. It was a moonless and cold night and the wind blew mercilessly through the brittle barn. After around two hours of waiting, while I was getting tired in the freezing cold, I observed something quite unsettling, which had me wide awake ad an instant. Near the forest, behind the house, there stood a *scarecrow*. At first, I thought I would be hallucinating. Why would there be a scarecrow standing so close to the forest and far away from the next field, where it could fulfil its purpose? And why hadn‘t I noticed it, when I was previously examining the site? These two questions were occupying me while I kept staring at that nightmarish figure, swaying in the nocturnal gust. What happened afterwards is hard to remember. Somehow I must have drifted off with my thoughts and Hypnos must have taken me into his dormant embrace, for when I regained my consciousness, I found myself lying on the floor and my watch just striking midnight. I will never forget the sound that woke me, until I find final oblivion in the hands of death. The metal creaking, the cawing of crows and this voice, this doomed voice that echoes in my head every time the sun sets and the cold, cruel darkness takes over. “*IS SOMEONE THERE?“*, it sounded in a manner so unearthly, it is impossible for me to describe it in our puny language. “*HELP ME!“*, it whimpered childishly. It was directly underneath me at that time and the creaking became louder and the hell swarm of crows rose their laughter to a deafening level. That is where my memory gets clouded. The last thing I remember actively doing is looking out of the window, in this pandemonium I had found myself in, and finding the whole edge of the forest barren, except for *three straight lines*, originating from somewhere near the forest and leading into the barn right underneath me. That was the point where I must have gone mad. I remember the pitch black fields, the mud in my shoes, branches and thorns tearing my clothes and me running and screaming like a pig being butchered alive. I was found by soldiers on the skirts of the wood near Salem with a fractured ankle, multiple bruises and a few broken rips. Luckily the doctor believed my story. I told him that I was hunting in the forest, got attacked by some animal and had to flee, breaking my ankle by getting caught in a root. As soon as I got out of the hospital, I quit all my mandates at once, explaining my sudden unavailability with a rare disease that I had recently caught. I didn‘t dare to tell anyone about the terror of the Estate and I didn‘t contact my original employer either. There are some things the world needs to have unanswered and superstition is important to keep the human mind sane in the face of the horrors that emerge from the pits of hell. As I said, I didn‘t and will never tell anyone about the thing. I know too much and I can‘t live in the absence of light any more, let alone sleep at all. Every time I close my eyes I see that swaying scarecrow, the house, the claw marks. Every time I hear a crow, a shudder runs down my spine. At last, I lost every reason to stay in this abomination we call life. These are my last words to a broken world and let this be a warning to every curious person out there. There are things man is not supposed to dig up, for they are destined to dwell in the dark, gnawing on the decaying roots of our earth. Let this be a warning.


Pebbles Against a Window It was two o’clock in the morning. Josh knew that fact because of the red numbers that shone brightly from his old clock radio. “Why am I awake?” he wondered. Then he heard a sound just outside the window of his second storey bedroom. Had that been enough to wake him up? Could be. Remembering the Past Then he was suddenly hit by a blast from his past. When he was a teenager sleeping in this same room, his buddy Ralph would toss pebbles at his window to get his attention. It would typically be a Friday or Saturday night. Ralph would have come home late, and his parents would have locked him out. They were beyond strict and edged on downright mean, particularly his father, a man of a particularly powerful build, and hot temperament. Josh would go to the window, and open it as wide as he could. Ralph would then climb up the metal rungs of the old television antenna, and crawl into Josh’s bedroom through the window. Then Josh would listen to Ralph talk about what had happened prior to his being locked out. Josh’s room was on the second floor of the main building of the motel complex that his parents ran. There was a restaurant downstairs, and 12 ‘cabins’ as his parents called them (although they were just rooms) for their paying guests. Downstairs was the office and a small, but quite popular restaurant that served their guests and others who had heard of the restaurant’s good food and friendly service. Once Josh and Ralph were talked out and tired, they would go downstairs. Josh would get the key to a cabin that he knew was unoccupied, and give it to Ralph, so he could spend the rest of the night there. Josh’s parents wouldn’t mind. They knew about Ralph’s situation at home, and were sympathetic. When his parents had moved into a retirement complex, Josh remained in the only home he had ever known. He had become the chef for the restaurant, after spending years learning how to cook from his parents. Wishing to dedicate himself totally to developing chef skills, and not wanting to have to deal with the added and uncreative responsibilities of a motel manager, Josh had shut down the motel aspect of the complex. The restaurant had become quite successful, especially in the winter. Snowmobilers who stayed in other motels and cheap hotels in the area were big fans of the food that he cooked. It was one of the few things that they talked about that did not involve favoured trails, snow conditions, breaks in the ice over lakes, and the more esoteric features of their machines. During the winter, Josh even had put up a sign in a part of his parking lot. It read, “Snowmobiles Only”. In the summer there was always some clever person who would ask him “Does that still hold?” His smartass reply was some version of “No, at this time of year it is Sea-doos only.” Josh hadn’t thought of Ralph in years, and hadn’t seen him since they both were 19. Ralph had moved out of town, and no one he knew had heard from or seen him since. He had asked Ralph’s parents about him once in the supermarket. It had taken nerve, even as an adult, to talk to them. They just said, “Not sure” as if Ralph was something they had misplaced in the basement, and hadn’t bothered looking for. Back to the Present. After this emotional rush of memories, Josh felt that the sound that had awakened him, couldn’t have been made by Ralph, or by pebbles for that matter. He must have heard something else, and his dozy mind must have translated it into something old and familiar. Then he heard the sound again. This time he was fairly certain that the sound he had heard was that of pebbles hitting the window. He crept slowly to the window, worried that the one who had tossed the small stones would be able to see him. Then he looked down. There was a man in the parking lot, picking up pebbles. He was not alone. Near to him were two people, a woman, and a very small child of undetermined gender. Behind them was a dark and rather run-down van. Josh rolled down the window, and yelled, “Who are you, and why are you making this noise?” There was silence at first, as if the night had been insulted by Josh’s yelling. Then, in a much lesser volume came the reply from a familiar voice. “It’s Ralph. I wonder whether you would take us in for the night.” Josh quickly responded with “I’ll run downstairs, and let you guys in. But first, I will put some clothes on. I still sleep in my underwear, Ralph, and it’s cold outside.” A well-remembered laugh was the immediate response. Josh dressed quickly, and was soon downstairs, opening the door. Although he wasn’t much for physical greetings, he gave Ralph a huge hug. He even extended the same to the woman and child that were with him. He bid them to sit down at one of the restaurant tables, while he made some coffee and hot chocolate, and warmed up some muffins that he had made earlier in the day.. Once they had all settled down, Ralph began to tell his story. He had worked at a decent job as an assistant manager at a hotel in a town about two hours drive away. His wife worked there as a part-time cleaner, their child always with her. There had been a fire and the place had burned down, so they no longer had jobs. Ralph had come back family home a week ago. His parents still lived in the old house. So he, his wife Aileen, and their three-year-old daughter Ethel had gone there to stay until at least one of the parents got a job and they could afford their own place. His parents gave them one week, “Then you’re all out of here.” They hadn’t changed a bit, particularly Ralph’s father. By six o’clock that evening, their week was up to the exact hour. They had been almost physically tossed out. Ralph’s father was still a very physically powerful and intimidating man. He ended his verbal notice of ejection with a statement, that, quiet unintentionally, would prove quite useful. “You could always go to where your friend still lives.” They had never called Josh by his name, just “your friend,” with a noticeable sneer of judgement. They had gotten into their van and had looked for a place to stay the night, with no luck. Then Ralph remembered his father’s words about “your friend.” He decided to take a chance. After hearing Ralph’s tale of woe, Josh said, “I’m glad you came, old friend. You can stay in the best of the cabins, like you did in the old days. Last year I closed down the motel, as I am too busy as the chef at this restaurant. Maybe that can change now with you and Aileen here. You can run the motel. But Ralph, no more pebble throwing incidents, waking me up at two o’clock in the morning. That will be written into your contract.”