For the last two decades, we have always owned our own home. Our last home was an expansive one on a lake-six bedrooms, a full basement, three bathrooms and a full walk-up attic that hid everything from various holiday decorations to unused furniture. It was a lot of room but more importantly there were no sounds except for the occasional fox rustling through the leaves, singing bullfrog or a fish jumping to capture their evening dinner. At some point, we wanted to retire and downsize. My husband was already retired and I was counting the days until I could claim the same status. We had this long-term plan of selling the house and moving into an apartment in the city. Living our best lives having wine with our neighbors and dining out, shopping for clothes and fine smelling soaps rather than new roofs and furnaces. On a whim, we decided to list the house. It had been on the market over a year when we purchased so we figured we would put some feelers out with plenty of time to change our minds. However, it sold in less than two hours of the listing going live. And the buyers wanted in. Fast. So here we go. Dreams realized. We spent the next few weeks giving away most of our things as if we were going to live on Mars and fantasizing about our future. As if any tiny cocktail fork or butter dish would be an imposition on our new lifestyle. We scaled down from 3500 sq feet to 1100 sq feet and we were elated to do so. Our kids received all their childhood memorabilia and photographs-any reminder that we raised five children. We were essentially cutting ties from parenthood and moving gracefully into retirement symbolized by the small two-bedroom two bath apartment in a large complex with all the amenities one could imagine. We handed the lake house keys to the new owners, mutually excited about the future. We quickly settled into the apartment in the city locked into a 12-month lease. No lawn and snow removal responsibilities. No unexpected repairs or home improvement projects. Freedom! Pictures went up on the wall, things perfectly and sometimes strategically placed to make this new lifestyle work for us. We had done it! We had thrown caution to the wind and found paradise. We had prepared for everything or at least we tried. Even the actual mental toll of communal living. We read one story after another of all the bad neighbor experiences in hopes of an easier transition. On the first night, we lie awake hearing every sound through walls that were thin enough to see through. We heard every passing motorist and every conversation around us. Would we ever hear silence again? We complained to each other but only half-heartedly since we were proud to be among the group that could complain about city living. Before too long, we adapted to the noises of everyone else living their lives. Until one day, we heard the most terrifying sound imaginable. Outside the apartment, some woman (which we now know as the downstairs neighbor) was running throughout the grounds screaming “Help me! Somebody help me!” with the urgency of someone who may get murdered any second. Did our bad luck instantly import us to the pre-cursor to the next Dateline mystery? We tried to see her and yelled for her to call out so we could answer her plea. Sounds came and went with no way to triangulate on her location. She was running but from what? Screaming over and over, this dark, urgent request. In our panic, we were unable to locate this cry for help and for the first time in my life, I called the police. The 911 operator talked us through every important question. As the police arrived, guns drawn, shielding themselves behind our vehicles in the driveway, pointing at the apartment below us. Fearing a stray bullet in the certain gun fight, we tried to find hiding spots hardened by walls, unsure if they were bordering the mayhem. Stepping out the shared floor guessing which sections may be vulnerable to violent, breakthrough bullets. But then the screaming suddenly stopped. Certainly, she had met her fate. Certainly, we were too late. Why didn’t we call sooner? Why did we try to locate her first instead of calling for the experts to help neutralize whatever nightmare threat was chasing this woman? It just stopped. I watched out my window sick to my stomach waiting for crime scene tape and the coroner to drive up. And yet nothing. Within 15 minutes, guns were holstered, police cars exited with nothing more than a passing wave. What the hell just happened? I am not a nosey person. I like to keep to myself, and I like others to do the same. But this bizarre scene deserved some explanation which went unasked and unanswered. The next day we passed each other in the parking lot. She wouldn’t look at me, but I am quickly surveying her for what is certain to be obvious bruises and cuts and other life-threatening injuries. None. I tried to say hi, but was met with an ignored response. Maybe she was embarrassed? Maybe she couldn’t look at me because she was being held captive in some agonizing stockholm syndrome. I repeat my greeting to let her know I am here for her for whatever she needs. This time I recognize the response. Hostility toward the good samaritan who was trying to help her with her own desperate request. But in this moment, I quickly realize, she was mad, and I was the problem. Several days passed with the normal noises of dogs barking and babies crying but no more murderous screams. Relief. Maybe it was one bad day or moment. We settle in and I start working from home which was my normal working status. I have an office in the loft of the apartment which meant everything I said flowed down to the living room and vice versa. But my retired husband was keeping busy, and the apartment was working out nicely. Until it happened again. Up until now, I remained incredibly suspicious of the husband since the incident. But this time (and most of the future events), no one was home but her. Screaming louder and louder. Hair raising screams. Under me and around me. In my living room. In my bathroom. In my kitchen. Screaming. Crying. Urgent pleas for help. Resisting the urge to call 911 again. Worried I would draw even more ire from the people downstairs. Only to pass each other later or the next day like nothing was happening. This is all part of the experience, I thought. Just another story to share among all of the wine-drinking neighbors we haven’t met yet. We have an “office” to raise concerns but after the reaction when we called the police, I didn’t want to aggravate things any further. So, we just learned to deal with it. We knew exactly what time she awoke and went to bed, and we found solace in the quiet hours of her sleep schedule. We went about our days and nights adjusting to this bizarre situation. Apartment living, am I right? Months went by and something transformed our brains. If someone was truly calling for help, it would have literally fallen on deaf ears. Visiting guests appeared to notice what we have now become accustomed to. They don’t comment, they just look around as if they are hearing things. They have always known us to be reasonable, normal people. So, they looked confused because we don’t even notice. And we simply go about our business as if someone isn’t screaming for their life. We laugh about the latest meme on Facebook and talk about mundane things occasionally raising our voice over the sounds of terror. One day a co-worker on a conference call tried to challenge our new existence and asked about the screaming woman in the background of all my calls. Is everything okay? Does someone need a doctor? I politely explain that we live in an apartment thinking this would explain it all. When she didn’t back down, I just assumed she owned a home with no shared walls and floors and tried to continue with our work-related conversation. She wouldn’t understand. She was not one of us. “I have lived in an apartment for years and this isn't normal” she proclaimed. There isn’t anything I can do though. 12 month lease. Besides we are getting used to it. We eventually end the conversation about the terrifying background sounds and move to more productive work at a little louder decibel and with a more awkward pace than it was when we started. Then one day, logic finally broke through. About 8 months into our lease, I received a call from “the office”. I had never talked to them and was curious when I saw the number appear on my phone. Apparently, there was a complaint from the apartment below that our TV was too loud sometimes which bothered her. I suddenly snapped out of my docile, don’t-bother-anyone-and-they-won’t-bother-you mentality and unleashed on this poor woman who had the unlucky job of calling me that day. I explained everything. The screaming, the police, the guests, the work calls. Everything laid out neatly and efficiently amid my release. As if my mind was regurgitating 8 months of some sort of cognitive journal. When I paused to take a breath, I was met with silence on the other end for a very long time. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”, she finally inquires. Thinking I now sounded a bit deranged; I explain that we were under the impression this was normal apartment living. She seemed slightly shocked at our naivety and asked for details. I gave them. Many of them. She was apologetic explaining others had complained. What? People complained? Weren’t we all in this together? Despite the original reason for calling me, she explained they were “in the process of addressing it”. She offered up a solution. Move... to another apartment in the complex. We were given several options. Close to us. Further out. We scoped out our potential new neighbors like a private detective. At all hours of the day and night, we stalked the pending neighbors listening for similarities to our current living situation. Why go to all the trouble of moving again if it was going to be the same situation? We remained unconvinced that this is not normal. But to our surprise not one plea for help. Not one blood curdling scream. Not one heart racing event where I imagine a gruesome murder scene. Quiet. So, we chose our next home and packed up our belongings to the now familiar and weirdly comforting sound of the devil we know. Wondering about the new neighbors despite our thorough reconnaissance. Some part of me is disappointed that our experience is unique. That we can’t wear our apartment dweller war wounds with the rest of the crowd. We are no longer in a class that becomes aloof city dwellers. This wasn’t a typical experience that we will laugh about someday. Wherever things land, though, we will always be grateful for our first apartment experience. The experience left us entirely immune to the random noises and sounds from the walls and floors. We are fully and completely adjusted. This experience accelerated all learning curves and understanding of shared spaces. I wish nothing but the best for the former neighbor and hope she finds her way to peace. As strange as it sounds, some part of me feels like I am abandoning her. Our journey are now separated just as quickly as we came together. But there is still this constant, nagging worry that some news outlet will eventually answer our many questions about this woman and her demons, real or imagined.


Short Story Choice of Genre Writing Assignment - Fantasy It was just like every other Thursday evening in the castle; the king and queen stood strong among their people in the royal court, taking mind of the issues among their kingdom while the princess sat up in her room, laying on silk fitted bed sheets in a puffy purple gown with the most stunning floral embroidery, reading the royal lore. Nothing was unusual about this Thursday evening, until there were guards screaming in the courtyard. “Over there! Get her! Don’t let her get away!” Princess Edeline set her book down and rushed to her balcony, seeing what all the commotion was about. She looked down across the grounds, seeing guards surrounding a mass of green smoke, each of them looking utterly baffled. The princess stood there looking at everyone coming out of their homes to see what was going on, but became distracted when she heard a small crash from behind her while panel folding screen, followed by the same green smoke she saw outside. “Oh god, this isn’t my house.” Said the girl behind the green as she came around to the other side. She had the most beautiful long black hair, and skin a deep shade of green. She looked around until her cool grey eyes landed on the princess. “Nice place you got here.” “Who are you?” Edeline asked. “Ah, how rude of me.” She said, adjusting the hem of her skirt. “I’m Emmie.” She extended her hand out. The princess shook her hand lightly. “I’m Edeline.” “Already knew that, princess.” Emmie said, causing Edeline to feel a little embarrassed. Emmie dressed in mainly black, and she walked around the room with her head held high, as if there was no place she wasn’t worthy of being. It made Edeline feel intimidated. “How did you get here?” Edeline asked. “Little spell. I meant to go home but one thing led to another and POOF! I’m here, not there.” “Well, it’s lovely to meet you.” This catches her off guard. As if no one has ever found her presence to be a lovely thing. It made her smile a genuine smile, a smile she’d forgotten about ever having. “So what do you do around here for fun?” Emmie asked as she ran her fingers down the spines of the books scattered around the room. “Lots of reading, I assume.” “Yes, lots of reading. I have my lessons and classes, and all I have outside of that is my books. There isn’t a lot I can do outside of this room.” She sat down on the edge of her bed. Emmie never thought in a million years that someone of a royal family could be unhappy with their life. Having everything, never having to worry about money or having food. It sounded splended. “Edeline?” Emmie began. “Would you like to leave the castle for a few hours?” Being called by her name, not princess, gave Edeline a feeling she’d forgotten. It made her feel less than what she was. Like she wasn’t just the daughter of the king, but like she was a person. “I’d love to.” “Excellent.” Emmie went over to her, taking her hand in hers, and just like that with a few words, there was a puff of green smoke, and they were gone. It’s been a year since the day that Edeline and Emmie met by chase, maybe even by fate. Every night now, they ran off to a cottage in the forest just outside the kingdom. They came after Edelines bedtime of eight o’clock, and left before her classes began at seven o’clock the next morning. They did this every day for a year, 365 days exactly. It became a haven for the girls. A place where they could be free from the thoughts and expectations of those around them. When they were there they were nothing more than who they were. They’re titles they held were unable to pass the threshold. Edeline was not a princess, Emmie was not a witch, they were just people. Two joyful people in love feeling nothing but bliss. If only the girls would have know it would end so soon. “She’s in here!” One of the palace guards was looking through the window of the cottage, seeing Edeline and Emmie laying there together petting the stray cat they found in the kingdom that they took in. The king bursted through the door. “Edeline, what have you been doing here? With her?” He yelled. “This girl is very dangerous!” Edeline tightened her grip on Emmie’s hand. “No, father, she’s not.” She said. “She is the single kindest person I have ever met.” The king noticed their hands, their fingers entertwined, how the cottage only held one bed rather than two. It then hit him that his daughter had a secret, a secret he deemed impure. “I love her, father.” Emmie scooted closer to her. “Please, father, just try to understa-” “No!” He interrupted. “This cannot go on! You are to be betrothed to the price of the kingdom across the sea. The prince !” A tear slid down Edeline’s cheek. “But father-” “Enough!” He glared harshly into Emmie. “You are to never return to the kingdom.” He grabbed Edeline’s wrist, pulling her away to the carriage outside. Just like that, they were torn from each other, and just like that, two hearts broke in unison. Ten years later Edeline was married to the price of the kingdom across the sea, Prince Christpoher. They lived out their life ruling over both their kingdoms side by side, helping each other with any issues their people faced. They were a wonderful team and a lovely pair, but there was something missing. An aspect of love that they couldn’t feel for one another, but other women that they were torn from for this very marriage. It made them resentful of each other at times, but they were still together, feeling more like good friends rather than lovers. Adeine wandered through the castle, standing in what was once her bedroom. It was never changed from the way it once was, how it was when she felt that everything in her life was at peace. She sat down on her bed, running her fingers over the dressed set that she no longer fit into now that she was older. Out of what seemed like thin air, a cat came running across the room. Edeline stoot up, walking over to see the animal, She picked it up and recognized the colors of it’s fur. The cat her and Emmie once cared for. Her sweet little Nightingale. “Oh, I’ve missed you more than you could possibly know, my love,” She said as the cat purred in her arms. “I’ve missed you, too.” Said a voice from behind her. She turned around, and there she was. Her green skin, her black hair shorter now, her voice still as sweet as honey. Edeline was in shock. She almost didn’t believe that it was real. “Are you going to say anything?” Edeline ran over and fell into her arms. They stood there melting into each other just as they used to. “I love you.” Edeline said. “I love you, too.” Emmie replied. They stood there, her hands in hers, looking at each other as if it was the first time they'd ever seen one another. “Come with me.” Emmie said. “Back to the cottage. Back to our home. Just you, me, and Nightingale.” Edeline didn’t know what to say. “We’ll be happy.” Edeline nodded. Emmie released a long breath, letting her shoulders drop and her body relax as if she’d been holding this in for so long. “I’ll go get my things.” Edeline said, but Emmie stopped her. “Allow me.” With the wave of a hand and a puff of green smoke, her bag were backed and sitting on the bed. “I need to leave something for Christopher.” Edeline said. She took a pen and parchment from the dresser drawers and began to write. I’m finally going after my happily ever after, it’s time you go after yours. She removed her ring and set it down on the paper, leaving it there for him to find. And just like that, with a puff of green smoke, they were gone.


David could hear the door behind him opening quietly, a set of heavy footsteps walking up beside him as he stared numbly at the night sky. "Do you mind if I smoke?" He smirks tiredly at his friend John, trying his best to show him the reliable leader he thought he should be for them. "Knock yourself out." “...so, how are you hanging?" Apparently he didn’t try hard enough. "Really? Do I really look so bad that you feel the need to make small talk?" David couldn’t stop his words from getting out, the stress of it all finally causing the metaphorical glass to spill. Part of him wants to apologize to his friend on the spot, but the other more present part is too tired to even try, so he just sighs in defeat and hopes for the best. "Honestly, it looks like someone has been shitting on you all day and you just gave up on trying to make it stop.” John spoke up, lighting his cigarette calmly, not bothered in the slightest with his outburst. “So yeah, you look terrible." "Dammit..." David chuckled mirthlessly at John’s comment. Even if there were better ways to put it, being told about it bluntly seemed something he needed in that moment. He could sense his friend shifting beside him, turning to look at him with honest concern. "Do you want to talk about it?" "Not really, but at the same time I just want to get this outta my chest!" That was pretty much the story of David’s life. Bound to carry an impossible weight that no one else could ever attempt to carry on their shoulders, not even slightly. But then his line of thought is interrupted by a cigarette in his peripheral vision. "... cig?" Finally, David turns to see John, offering him an already lit cigarette. "Thanks." He takes it tenderly in his hands, driving one end towards his mouth as he takes in a long drag, almost as if he was gasping for air after being so long underwater. Somehow the intoxicating smoke felt more refreshing than the air itself. "Ah don't mention it, I got spares back in the car." "You do know that shit kills, right?” David makes sure his friend is looking at him as he says this, sounding like a disappointed father despite the same age between the two. “Especially with the amount you smoke a day." "Ha! As if what we do isn't more dangerous and more likely to get us killed than lung cancer!" John seems too proud of himself, and despite not wanting to, David finds himself laughing at his friend’s antics. It's an extremely morbid way of thinking, but there is a bizarre logic behind it that just ends up making him crack. David takes another long drag of smoke before finally focusing his attention on the conversation at hand. "Remind me, how exactly did you decide to follow me through with this mess? I mean... how are you okay with any of this? Why the hell are you guys still putting up with this mess when you aren't the ones cursed to face it?" John remained silent for a while and David suspected that maybe he had gone too far now and was about to lose the only remaining anchors he had left to a modicum of normality in his life, until he simply just shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know about the other guys, but I stick around because I want to see this to the end and because I still owe you for saving me back then. If I was to make a guess though, I think the same could be said for Ash and Clive.” The answer leaves him shocked, not what he had expected but happy to have heard it nonetheless. Still, he felt a sort of responsibility and curiosity that just needed to push the conversation even further. “I envy you...” “Hmm, how so?” “You actually choose to do this and can back out at any moment if you like, I can’t, because apparently ‘ chosen ones’ don’t have freedom of choice. You can go out and have lives outside of saving the world, so am I wrong in wanting to stop fighting just because I want to have a life of my own? Even if it’s just for a day?” David hates how weak he is sounding now, he is supposed to be the one to face against the darkness, against the shadow of the universe , instead he is just ranting at his friend how much he wants to quit. It's not fair that it has to be him, but it also isn’t fair for the world to have to suffer because of his selfish desires. The rock and a hard place scenario, a cruel and unnecessary classic. “No, no you are not.” John pulls him away from the treacherous thoughts once more, his voice level and careless as it usually is. “You got handed the worst hand of all, I don’t think any of us would really blame you if you suddenly decided to stop being humanity’s savior...” John goes silent again, contemplating his next words carefully as he finishes off his cigarette and begins to pull a new one from the package. “Let’s say you could drop being a hero for a day, what is the first thing you would do?” David is taken aback by the question, not fully expecting this to have been the way the conversation would go. Still, he pauses to think of an honest answer to give. “I mean, I don’t want much, I just miss the old times before the dreams started. Maybe a good night's sleep, that sounds nice right about now.” “Oh come on, you would have chosen that one regardless of the dreams." David didn’t know what he expected, but to have John mock his answer and laugh at him sure wasn't the first thing he expected. Regardless of it, he knew there wasn't anything genuinely hurtful in the reaction, just friendly teasing. However, that didn't mean that it wasn't grounds enough for David to flip John off, though that only made him bellow in laughter even louder. "Come on, pick again.” David sighed in defeat, taking in another drag of his smoke as he thought of another answer, an old pleasant memory flashing in his mind, and with it a more suitable answer. “Well, there is something I wish I could do again.” It seemed his confession was a satisfactory beginning of an answer for John, who simply nodded along as he watched him curiously, a wordless go ahead to further explain this wish. John chuckled silently, a cocky smirk already creeping on his face. "Does that something have anything to do with that cosmic fling of yours?" It was impossible for David not to roll his eyes at what his friend was implying, punching him on the shoulder just for good measure. "... jackass." John simply laughed, clouds of smoke escaping his mouth with each exhale. "Look me in the eye and tell me you weren't thinking that~" David felt the need to punch his friend's shoulder again with a bit more of a sting behind it than before, only thinking against it after realizing it would only make John try harder to get a confession or reaction from him. “Maybe in another life...” David sighed defeatedly, a tinge of melancholy in his voice as he turned to look at the stars. “As much as I would like the idea, it is not likely to happen any time soon.” “True,” He could feel a heavy hand falling over his shoulder, roughly patting him in an attempt to reassure and comfort. It hurt, yet they were welcomed nonetheless. “But that would also mean that if you never got tangled in this ‘Children of light’ business, neither of you would have met. You really should stop seeing the negatives for once and just enjoy the silver linings you have.” “The world really is falling apart if you are the one trying to inspire me with a speech...” David joked, the first genuine sound to come from his mouth since the beginning of the night. Taking the last drag of his cigarette, he held the butt of it between his fingers and threw it into the night sky, uncaring of where it would go. He could feel John’s cocky grin beside him, a proud look on his eyes at having managed to break down his defenses with ease. With a soft sigh, David finally answered the question from before truthfully. “Back home when I was little I used to do this thing every night I got the chance. There was this park right in the middle of the gated community we used to live in, and at the other side of it, right near the edge, was this sandbox with a large playground! They had everything: monkey bars, stairs, slides and swing sets!” David spoke with the same enthusiasm as if he were in a confessional, yet his words were more truthful than those he might have shared in the presence of a priest. “Sounds neat.” David nodded in response, not commenting on how John was already snuffing out his now late cigarette and pulling out another one from its packet. “Well it was made out of steel and concrete, so it was starting to rust and chip away under the sun and wind but I still liked going there, even after I turned fourteen. But it wasn’t the games that made me want to go there in the first place...” “What was it then?” “The sunset." David paused for dramatic effect, enjoying his tale more the longer time went on. "I don’t remember how it got there in the first place or why I decided to do it, but I climbed up the railing on the slides and made my way up to the pipe roof of the set.” “Holy shit! Did you ever fall?” A cocky smile was beginning to spread across David's face as he heard John react. Somehow, it was more satisfying than punching his friend in the shoulder. “No, thankfully. My parents would have killed me for doing something so stupid if the fall didn’t get me first. Still, the risk was worth it every time. I couldn’t really see above the roof of the houses, but I could still see the sun setting behind them, turning the blue sky into a sea of colors. Yellow, orange, red, pink, violet and finally black, with small glints of starlight shining on and off. The same colors, same order, but it always felt like I was watching it for the first time.” “Sounds like a treat.” David nodded, a soft melancholic smile creeping on his face. "It was. When this is over and we go back, the first thing I'm doing is climbing that playground again and seeing the sun set behind the houses." John simply laughed, this one genuine and understanding compared to the first ones. If David turned and looked at his friend in the face, he'd see his eyes sharing that same emotion. "How about this..." John started, putting a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder, a fresh cigarette on his other hand. "Why don't we look for a spot where you can see the sunset while we deal with this . It may not be as pretty as it is back home, but mountains and trees should be a good alternative to houses." David couldn't help but chuckle at the proposal, his hand snaking towards the offered smoke. "Sure... that sounds like a great plan." Taking the cigarette in his hand, a small flame producing from the tip of his fingers lighting the tip, David took a deep drag, letting the mouthful of gray wisps of smoke escape his lips as if it was a cold winter day before looking at his friend with a daring smile. “Where do we start looking?”


The first thing you need to know is where this story starts. Coming from the engine, a loud noise brings us into the scene. That came out more dramatic than it really was. A car pulled up to the gas station I work at. Not much of a car, really, so much as an old piece of junk with four wheels. It was more or less the color of a cherry, if you looked at the cherry with sunglasses on, on an autumn day. That exact shade. A leather jacket opened the car door, and inside the jacket there appeared to be a head full of dark brown hair. Now, I will preface this by saying- I was not interested in him on a personal level, nor was I entraced by his good looks. He was just a more than welcome distraction in the mundane reality that is my job. I watched him fill the tank up with gas, and he pulled out a cigarette pack from his back pocket. My brows furrowed on their own accord as I wiggled my way from behind the counter, hands already grabbing the door handle. Before I could even open my mouth, his head swivled around and he flashed a smile. "You got a lighter?" Just from the relaxed tone of his voice, I could tell he was used to getting his way. "You got a death wish?", I said, though it came out less sharp than I intended. He stopped for a moment right then, looking at me with confusion written all over his face. Then he snapped back to reality, and grinned once again. "Right. Gas station." He ran a hand through his hair, seemingly only bothered by the fact that he could not, in fact, smoke in this particular area. The fact that it was a safety hazard didn't cross his mind at all. I pointed behind me, showing him the vague direction of the area where smoking was allowed. "I'll be inside if you need any more assistance." He did. Coming in to pay, he bought a pack of Red Marlboros, multiple cans of beer, a plain black lighter, and a bag of crisps. Hardly a healthy way of living, but I didn't feel the need to point it out. The interaction, while brief, was a nice change from the loud, obscene truckers and other usual suspects I had to deal with. I did not particularly feel like breaking the comfortable silence, the only sounds being the rustling of a paper bag and the loud cling of the cash register as I gave him back his change. We parted with a wave on his side, and a slight nod on my side. I watched his piece of junk car pull away and go down Route 66. I sat back, taking my book back into my hands. A dog-eared, beat up copy of "The Sun Also Rises". I awaited the next customer- Lord knows we don't get many around here. After all, that road has been wrecked for 10 years, and there was no way of telling who, or what, would be pulling up next.


When I was in my late teens tennis was my obsession. I began playing tournaments. Here in Manitoba, Canada there used to be 3 levels: A, B, and C. I lived in the middle level, B. At tournaments though there were no cliques, everyone socialized together. I watched Glen’s matches often because he played a style of tennis I liked. As an “A” level pro there was a lot I could learn by watching him play. He won the Manitoba Open at least once in the late 70’s. In terms of tennis, we didn’t have much in common and we remained acquaintances. In the early 90’s I started playing golf regularly, played less tennis, and gradually drifted away from the tennis crowd. In 1998 I had recently joined a golf club and as I walked out to the driving range one morning I noticed a tall familiar figure hitting balls. I hadn’t seen Glen in over a decade. Unlike with tennis, we shared similar golf skills and formed a close friendship as we began playing regularly. As an added benefit Glen introduced me to his golf buddies and soon I was part of a regular group of a half dozen players. Soon we were phoning each other to arrange epic “Shell Wonderful World of Golf” matches against each other but also to discuss any number of other topics. Our friendship came along at a crucial time as I was going through a divorce. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t make friends all that easily, I’ve never had a wide circle of people who could be described as close. Looking back on it I never formed friendships with fellow teachers because I preferred a separation between my work and private life, plus I got enough shop talk at work. There has always been more acquaintances than friends. It’s strange sometimes how people are going through opposite experiences. While I was adjusting to life as a divorced father of two, Glen had begun a new relationship and seemed to be on top of the world. Soon he was newly married and talking about the new house they were building. It was great to see him so happy and I took some encouragement in seeing that it was possible that I could one day be in a good marriage too! Eventually I began getting “out there” a little. I joined a singles club and began dating. Each week Glen and the other golf buddies would ask about any dates there may have been since we last played. I had some interesting stories about some uncomfortable evenings out and my endeavors to wrap them up as soon as possible. Since I was only one of two single guys in our group, they looked forward to hearing any “reports” I had to share. After a few years of single clubs and dating I had come to the conclusion that I needed to take a break from it all. I had one purchased event left and I figured that I'd just go and at least eat the included dinner and then stop going altogether. Then everything changed! I met Lorraine at this last event. I still remember how striking she was in the white jeans and pink top she wore that night, how easy she was to talk with, and her sense of humor. I remember seeing some of the attendees playing shuffleboard and asking if she would like to partner up and play. “We’ll kick their butts; they’ll never know what hit them!” was her reply. As if this wasn’t enough, she golfed too! When I asked her out for nine holes of golf and dinner afterward her reply was “Sure, but you’ll need to bring your A-game!” I was hooked! Glen was happy for me and soon made the suggestion that led to some of the most enjoyable days of my life. He said “Freddie (his nickname for me that he and our golf buddy Brent had given me after the tour pro Fred Couples), the four of us should go play”. Soon it was decided that the most even way to make teams would be Glen being a partner with Lo, and Brent and I would be the opposition. There were numerous matches with taunting and teasing. Often Glen would phone to set up all the details of a big match and then he’d say “Ok, put my partner on, we have to talk strategy”. He always called Lo “Partner”. He would joke that if it was too tense for Lo to drive out to the golf course with the opposition (me) he could come by and pick her up! If Lo told him about shooting a good score he would laugh and advise her not to post the good games on the handicap system until after our match in case her handicap went down! We also began taking four or five-day golf trips to Detroit Lakes. Glen, Brent, Wade, and I would play at four of about a dozen terrific courses in the area. We would play each day with a new partner and then rehash all the highlights (and bloopers) over dinner. Our favorite place was Zorbas in Detroit Lakes, Minnesota. I knew even then that those would be some of my most cherished memories later in life. When I suffered with back issues for about six years Glen would always phone to see how my recovery was progressing. We would talk in person or by phone for hours about health, golf, and sports. We didn’t always agree but I always enjoyed the conversations. Especially about the Winnipeg Jets concerning the team’s players, trades, and draft choices. When Glen was diagnosed with kidney cancer in 2021, I would call to chat about how he was doing. He never complained about getting sick or asked “why me?” He was always upbeat saying how it was one step at a time and that he would get back to a full recovery day by day. Although there were several setbacks along the way he remained positive. When I was diagnosed with prostate cancer and was recovering from surgery the roles reversed and he encouraged me, and met me for lunch often helping me to remain positive. We were both surviving cancer at the same time and encouraging each other. In early September 2022, we met for lunch with another friend on a flawless fall day. Glen and I were feeling that we were on the home stretch of our recoveries and that we could perhaps play nine holes and ride a cart so that we didn’t try to do too much too quickly. It would feel great to return to doing something normal and we agreed to arrange this on the weekend for the next week. When my phone rang that Thursday and I saw his name on my phone I answered as I always have: “Ernie...how’s it going?” (Ernie was his nickname because his height and swing reminded me of the South African golfer Ernie Els). It wasn’t Glen though; it was his wife. I just knew by the sound of her voice... He had suffered a brain hemorrhage as a complication of his recent gamma-knife surgery. He was unresponsive and quickly lapsed into a comma with no measurable brain activity. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for her to have to make the decision to take him off life-support. Even though we knew that his long-term odds weren’t that good, it was a shock how suddenly it happened. One month later my golf partner Brent passed away of esophageal cancer, going from initial diagnoses to his last day in less than three months. It was a tough fall and it hit me hard. Late last October we had some beautiful warm days past the usual end of our golf season here. I woke up and looked out my window and almost reached for the phone to call Glen and figure out when and where we should play. I still have these moments where I blissfully forget for just a second that he’s really gone. The Jets will play a good (or bad) game, Donald Trump will do another ridiculous thing, or as just happened last weekend, Nick Taylor (a Canadian) won the Canadian Open. Just for a second, I find myself thinking I should call “Ernie” or half expect my phone to ring. We still meet his wife for dinner every now and then. The last time I asked her if I could buy his Ping driver from her. Glen and I used to joke about him selling it to me and he used to say “Freddie I can’t do that - it would come back to haunt me!”. Her response was “I want you to have it but you can’t blame him for any shitty shots!” I assured her that I wouldn’t, but that I might here his voice from somewhere asking “Freddie, what happened there?” That driver is in my golf bag now. As I walk the fairways and see it there all the memories of our epic matches and wonderful trips to Detroit Lakes come back to me. It feels good to have Glen with me out on the course.


“A toast! To the bride and groom,” the best man bellowed. A cacophony of clanging glasses and cheers of “Here, here” rang out through the hall. Henry and Elizabeth Wesley, the happy couple, beamed at one another, seated as they were at the head of the massive hall on the Wesley’s similarly massive Hampshire estate. The Wesleys were one of the wealthiest families in England and a regular feature of London society. As the feast began and the guests’ attentiveness gave way to an atmosphere of general revelry, Edmund, Henry’s younger brother, sat stoically at the far-left end of the bride and groom’s table, already deep in his glass of wine. He shot the occasional glance down the table at his jubilant brother and his beautiful new wife. I suppose everything’s come easy for him; why not this? A rotund man in his fifties approached Henry and Elizabeth. “Mr. Patterson, excellent to see you! We’re both ever grateful you could attend,” Henry said. “I wouldn’t have missed it! Your father would have my hide,” replied Mr. Patterson. Both men chuckled. After a pause, Mr. Patterson continued, “A promising young man such as yourself from a respectable family... We should speak about your future soon. I happen to know a local MP that will be stepping down next election and I can think of few others more suited to run in his place.” Henry and Elizabeth exchanged excited looks. “I would be honored to be considered by you and your colleagues for the seat. Father has always impressed the importance of a public career for me as future head of the family. I shall call upon you and your wife soon and we can discuss it further.” Why does everyone reward him? As the feast dragged on into the evening, the hall became warmer and merrier as more wine and spirits were brought up from the cellars. Edmund had drunk a fair amount himself (he had actually started an hour before the ceremony that morning) and his head was starting to swim in a hot glow. This, combined with the warm light from the candles and chandeliers, caused a thick and heady mist of intoxication seemingly to permeate the room. Edmund overheard the deep, authoritative voice of his father further down the table, closer to the bride and groom. “One more toast: to my son Henry, a lucky man and the greatest son a father could ask for.” Greatest... “He’s made us all proud, but none as proud as I on this happy day. Henry, Elizabeth, may your future together be long and joyful.” “Here, here!” answered the guests clustered around father and son. Edmund made a point to wait a moment longer than normal before taking another drink from his own glass. After some time, Edmund could not be sure how long, he slipped away from the table. Henry and his best man - a close friend of his from Oxford - were leaning in close to speak privately. Henry glanced up at Edmund as he departed, then resumed whispering, as if trying to banish the thought and sight of his younger brother. He never asked me to be the best man. Edmund made his way to the washroom to splash some water on his face in an attempt to clear his head and regain his senses. He gazed in the mirror. Edmund had a round, misshapen face that was higher and slightly protruded on one side. His eyes were ever so slightly different colors; people often didn’t immediately notice, but it gave his face an off look that never escaped new acquaintances. His hair was short, thin, and prematurely graying. In essence, “homely” was something of an understatement. Henry, on the other hand, had always been the most dashing boy in any circle he frequented. Edmund reached into his coat pocket and removed a small phial. It was brass, inlaid with a floral pattern, and had a cap over its mouth. One could not see the contents from without. When Edmund returned to the hall, the tables and food had been cleared away to make room for music and dancing. Henry and Elizabeth had apparently just begun a most mesmerizing waltz. The bride’s dress flowed and fluttered to the movements, which took on an almost otherworldly appearance in the dimly lit hall. After the first dance, more couples joined in, and the night sank into ever greater depths of joy and merriment. Edmund, however, found himself alone, milling about one of the tables pushed against the walls, laden with fine wines, liqueurs, sweet fruits, and confections. Edmund had had quite a lot to drink, but alcohol rarely dulled his mind overmuch, and certainly didn’t distract him from the torrent of thoughts racing through his mind. Edmund grabbed a knife from the table to cut a slice of one of the many cakes laid out. Before he could, Henry came up from behind and clasped Edmund on the shoulder. “Isn’t she stunning, Edmund?” he said, gazing back at Elizabeth. “Can’t think of what I did to deserve her.” “Indeed...” replied Edmund in a deadpan. “Though I’m certainly ready for the festivities to end and for the ‘wedding night’ to begin, eh?” said Henry in a jocular fashion. Edmund made no reply. “Ah, I promise I shan’t go on about it. I know you’ve been a bit bereft of feminine company,” Henry said with a knowing, ironic smile. Edmund still had the knife in his hand. Henry nudged Edmund playfully in the side a little harder than he would have were he sober. Edmund gave a slightly pained smile, which hid his clenched, grinding teeth. Henry then jaunted off merrily to join a group of his schoolmates from Oxford. Before Edmund could turn back to the table, Elizabeth approached him. Edmund and Elizabeth had known each other since childhood; her family lived close and Edmund had remained at home when Henry had been sent to London for schooling. This gave them ample time in their adolescence to cross paths and strike up a friendship of sorts. “There you are! I was looking for you earlier,” said Elizabeth. Edmund’s heart skipped a beat. “I needed to get a bit of fresh air, sorry,” he replied. “Don’t apologize, Eddy! Come dance, this is a great waltz!” Before he could object, Elizabeth grabbed his hand and hauled him to the center of the room. As the music picked up, Edmund struggled to match the ease with which Elizabeth flowed into the dance. Edmund panicked inside as he attempted with every effort to avoid crushing Elizabeth’s feet. Remembering the few dance lessons his mother had given him, he gingerly placed his hand at her hip and the two began to whirl awkwardly around the room. I should not have had so much to drink... After a few moments, it was clear that Edmund was at a loss. He had never learned to dance as well as Henry as his parents didn’t see the point in investing the time and energy - or the money for an instructor - for their youngest. Sensing Edmund’s difficulty, Elizabeth leaned in. “Let me lead,” she whispered with a sly smile. Edmund felt himself go red at being this close to her. Slowly, they changed the positioning of their arms and Elizabeth began to dominate. Edmund gradually began to relax. Moving in a crowd as they were, and with plenty of chatter and drink still sloshing about, hardly anyone would notice that Elizabeth was leading. Memories of their shared childhood swam through Edmund’s mind. Remembering those times made him happy, and he smiled at Elizabeth, and she back. For a moment that seemed to last an hour, their eyes met and kept each other’s gaze as they stepped and twirled about. Suddenly, something caught and twisted Edmund’s foot, yanking him out of his daydream. He had strayed too far and hadn’t minded where he was, resulting in his foot catching on that of another dancer behind him. The next thing Edmund realized; he was on the ground. The dancing and the music had stopped and many of the guests were staring down at him, startled. The woman he had collided with had fallen to the floor as well and was grasping her ankle in pain. Elizabeth stood with her hands over her mouth. As Edmund recovered himself, a smattering of laughter could be heard from the side of the room - Henry and his Oxford friends. Edmund felt himself grow red hot under the countless piercing eyes. Stop staring at me! Stop laughing at me! He started over to the young woman he had injured, hand outstretched to help, but before he could reach her, her partner lifted her to her feet and escorted her away from the center of the hall. Edmund was left in the middle of everyone he knew, and the few he cared about, alone, in silence... After what felt like a lifetime, the musicians began to play again, ending Edmund’s agonizing horror. Elizabeth was pulled aside by a group of acquaintances and drawn into conversation, appearing to forget all about Edmund. His brother similarly had returned to some comedic banter with his former classmates. Edmund slinked back toward the table at the head of the hall where the family had sat during dinner. He glanced up and was horrified to see the gray, hard features of his father staring down at him. After being fully appraised by his all-seeing gaze, and as if being found wanting, his father departed with a huff. Always second, in every regard . Yes, it was always Henry who received your attention and love. You poured money, gifts, and opportunity on him, even though he squanders everything. Everyone simply loves him... Well... perhaps it’s time something changes... Edmund stepped out onto the back lawn for the rest of the evening, puffing on a cigar, thinking. He was always thinking, considering everything. He rarely smoked, but tonight was a special occasion, though not in the way everyone else thought. A few minutes later, his brother stumbled out of the house onto the porch where Edmund stood taking in the view of the family’s garden. Henry came up beside Edmund and leaned against the stone rail. “I-... is this where you’ve been hiding, Eddy? You scampered off quickly after that dance fiasco,” said Henry, slurring his speech slightly. Henry took a deep sip from the wine glass in his hand. Go on, drink... “I’d had enough. I needed to clear my head.” “You never know how to have fun. Always s-... sulking about. Shying away, especially from the ladies. I saw how you looked when you were dancing with Elizabeth. Don’t get any... *urp* untoward ideas.” You have no clue just what “untoward ideas” I have... Edmund smiled warmly and placed his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Speaking of your bride, shouldn’t you be with her now?” asked Edmund, hoping to rid himself of his brother’s company. Henry stared at Edmund for a moment, almost as if suspecting something. But not quite. Henry gave Edmund a wide, toothy grin and slapped him on the back. “Right you are! How could I forget? You always had a sharp memory.” I remember it all... everything . Henry downed the remaining wine from his glass before setting off inside, swaying as he walked. Edmund watched him go in silence, his expression mute. When Henry had disappeared inside, Edmund descended the stone steps down into the garden. He strolled leisurely to a small pond at the center of the garden, which was ringed by rows of hedges. He remembered when they were children, he and Henry used to play here often. Memories came flooding through Edmund’s mind, including the many times he had served as “entertainment” for Henry and his friends. Fitting that this is where I’d end up... I suppose it all ends here... He took a long draw on his cigar and looked up into the flawless night sky. The stars of a clear summer evening were mingling with the faintest hint of predawn light on the horizon. He let the cigar fall to the ground and stamped it out forcefully, then reached inside his coat pocket. In his hand, he held the little brass phial with the cap and inlaid floral pattern, whose contents couldn’t be seen from without. He removed the cap. Empty, to the last drop. He thought back on all the drinking his brother had done that evening and how he’d downed his glass on the patio. Too much, they might say come morning... Edmund smiled, softly at first, and then deeper and deeper. Deeper than he could ever remember smiling. His teeth were bared and bright in the dark predawn. He threw the empty phial in the pond, wheeled about, and started back towards the house, a spring in his step and the future on his mind.


Stella threw a stone in the river and got a rebuke. "Don't do that! It may disrupt my wish." They were the only ones at the river bank, which was strange at this time of the year but was expected, due to the pandemic. The three girls had figured it would be a nice time to visit the much talked about Ile-Ife especially since the tour guides had no customers and could give them all the attention. Two girls looked back at Tina in confusion. Tina sighed, hoping her wish would still be valid as she explained. "This, is the Osun River" she spread out her hands. "And people make wishes here." Stella scoffed. "Don't be so gullible. That stuff is a myth." Tolu gave her a jab. "Be nice." "What? I like to say it as it is. I mean, that's why we're educated." Stella shrugged. Tonia shook her head and went to sit on a bamboo chair, whilst her friends followed. "So, what did you wish for?" Tolu raised her brows in curiosity. "Now, don't tell me you wished for Segun to change his mind, cause we all know that's not going to happen." "Stella! For once! Let her talk." Tolu glared at her. "But you know I'm right. A guy doesn't say he no longer loves a girl if he hasn't given it a lot of thought." Stella began fishing out some dirt in her nails. Tolu rolled her eyes. "You're right and thankfully, I'm not that stupid." Tina agreed. "Anyways," Tolu clapped happily, "we're here to celebrate Christmas and make you forget all about that - that - that man." She took a deep breath, "for a lack of better words." "I'm not about to start insulting him. I guess he did what he had to do. Let's just enjoy this trip without any mention of him." "Now you're talking!" Stella cheered and hugged them both. *** "Hey!" It was eight a.m. when Tina came into the small office of their tour guide, catching him unawares, about to wear his suit. "Hello!" He looked embarrassed to have been caught dressing up. "Did you need something?" "We've been able to attend those awesome carols and visit the museum, what's next?" "Nothing this morning, but I was about to go for a rehearsal at the theatre. I didn't think you three would be interested." "I don't know about the others but I am. Can I tag along?" "Sure," he shrugged. "Give me a minute to inform my friends." Tina ran up the stairs and barged into the room. "Guys! The tour guide is going for this theatrical play, anyone interested?" "Na, not my scene." Tolu shook her head and continued with her phone. "I would have come but I'm really...tired." Stella yawned. "Alright! See you later." She changed to her shoes. "Wait, you're going with him, alone?" Stella looked at her from her half sleepy state. Tina nodded. "Be safe. It's christmas and there are strange people out there. Besides, we don't know this place so well." "True, thanks anyways. Bye." She waved at them and rushed downstairs. Thankfully, there was no traffic. People were probably staying indoors due to the pandemic. The only sign of the festive season were the carols they attended the first day and the lights on the streets - even that, wasn't so bright during the day. "You said earlier that you didn't think we'd be interested." "And I was right." The tour guide glanced at her as they stopped at the traffic light. "Partially! Now, what did you mean?" "Well, not to insult you, but you three seem like the party kind. I'm still surprised you want to tag along, how come? "Honestly, I'm truly not the theatrical kind, but it's nice to know what goes on backstage. If this were the actual play, I doubt I'd have agreed to come. Besides, I'm not so busy." "Right. An idle mind is the devil's workshop?" "Correct!" She answered just as the car began to move. They discussed Christmas and what they loved about the season, entering into an argument but managing to settle as they got to their destination. "Follow me." He led the way, greeting people as they moved. "This play is for when?" "Christmas day. Today's our last rehearsal." "Hmmn..." Tina nodded and followed him backstage. "Do you mind helping me rehearse before I get on stage?" "Uhm, no problem." "All you need do is read out Juliet's part." "Alright." Tina smiled and waited for him to change into his costume before they started the rehearsal. *** "Hey! You're back, how was it?" Stella looked up from their game of scrabble. "I don't know, something strange happened." Tolu paused. "During the play?" "Not really, cause there was no play. It was just practice for tomorrow's play." "Okay...so what happened?" Stella got up from her playing position and handed Tina a bottle of water. "Thanks." She took a huge gulp and took in a deep breath. "So, I was assisting the tour guide-" "You still didn't get his name? That's rude." Tolu shook her head. Tina opened and closed her mouth, unable to defend herself. "As I was saying," she pouted, "I read the lines of Juliet whilst he acted his, you get?" "Please get to the juicy part already." Tolu clapped, making Stella shake her head. "It was going well until it was time to propose to Juliet." "Wait a minute, did Romeo ever propose?" "I don't know," Tina shrugged, "he mentioned that it was a contemporary version of the story though." Stella and Tolu nodded simultaneously. "Then he started saying, "oh Juliet! I have watched you since you came on the trip and you're the most quiet of your friends. You're the kind of woman I see myself with - honest and thoughtful. Let's court." Stella's eyes rounded. "Was that in the script?!" "No!" Tina cried. "Wait, does this mean he thinks Tolu and I are lousy?" Stella asked in shock. "You mean to say, he proposed, truly proposed?" Tolu had moved to the edge of the bed, looking excited and shocked at the same time. "Exactly! I can't believe it." Tina held her face. "How was his facial expression?" "I don't think he realised what he had said. He was staring into my eyes so intently, it was so creepy!" "Wow... What do you think about him?" "Tolu! Are you well at all? You want her to consider a man she just met two days ago, a man whose name she still doesn't know." "Strangers become friends and then, something more." Stella rolled her eyes. "It's those movies you spend all day watching. If a stranger proposes to you, he definitely has an ulterior motive." "I agree. He should have thought of it, I hope he wasn't expecting me to say yes. Besides, I'm on this trip because Bode dumped me. I need a break from relationships." "You won't even consider him?" "Tolu!" Stella hissed and went back to her playing position. "Better come here and let's finish this game." "I don't think I can continue with this tour, especially since I ran out on him. It would be embarrassing. And...we can't leave here because he's getting his pay from people like us." Tina told them a few minutes into the game. "Aren't you so nice. I guess, if you insist, we could complete the tour. What would you do though?" Stella tried to think. "Maybe go window shopping?" *** Tina went to Afere Mall. It was the biggest in Osun state and by far the most beautiful she had seen since their arrival. It was a good place to window shop - a lot of things caught her eyes and she was tempted to buy. Thankfully, she only took her purse and her ATM card was in her bag. As she looked around, someone suddenly approached her and got on one knee. "Uhh, I think you're mistaken." She looked around and tried to move away from him but he grabbed her hand. "Please don't say no." His gruff voice was way too loud and a crowd began to gather round. "I love you with every fiber of my being and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. When I met..." Tina tuned him out and settled on his features. He looked rough, too rough to be taken home to her parents as a husband. His beards were bushy and he was on dreadlocks, definitely not her kind of man. "Are you done?" She finally asked when he went silent for a minute. "I don't know you, so I can't say yes." The crowd began to murmur. "I think this is some sort of mistake but-" The man got up and told her, "it's a joke." "What?!" "You're on our show...those are the cameras up there." He pointed her towards some people who waved at her. The crowd began to clap and soon dispersed. "Well, that was mean... You couldn't even say yes." Tina felt angry but didn't want to say anything. "You can check out our comedy skit on Instagram. It's titled, different reactions to a proposal." Tina shook her head and left the mall, branching at a restaurant to calm herself. After ordering, her phone rang and she saw it was Segun. She contemplated picking it but dropped it, doing so three times. A man suddenly approached her. "Is this seat taken?" He was already seated before she could say no. He began to whisper and leaned towards her. "I've been trying to call you, why aren't you answering? You didn't change your mind about the date, did you? I mean, you're here, right?" Tina leaned far away from him with an annoyed look on her face. "I don't think you know who or what you're talking about. I'm not here for any date." "Come on. There's no need to lie. See, we're no longer young." "Excuse you?" "If you say yes to marry me, we can get married as soon as possible. I know we just met but I've been following your profile weeks before now." He rushed out, looking anxious as he sat at the edge of the seat. "Let me get this straight." Tina took in a deep breath. "You're here for a blind date with this lady for the first time, and you're proposing? Already?" "I don't appreciate you speaking like you're not the one." He brought out his phone and showed her a picture. Tina's surprise was written all over her face. "She does look like me, but I'd know if that was me, alright? That's not me." People had begun to stare in their direction and Tina had to lower her voice. "I have had enough - of this madness for one day. Good day." She got up just when the waiter approached with her food. "Take away please." She told him. *** "Wow, that's crazy, girl." Tolu clapped happily. "Who does he think he is? Proposing to a girl on the first date." Stella rolled her eyes. "That's not even the point guys!" "True, three proposals in one day, I'd say you're too pretty to be ignored." Stella smirked. "Or... It has something to do with that Osun River?" "No way!" Stella glared at Tolu. "What did you wish for?" She turned to see Tina with rounded eyes. "I wished for -for - for suitors for Christmas." "You did what?! Why would you wish for that?" Stella groaned. "I was feeling down about Segun breaking up with me, and he's the only suitor I ever had." Tina frowned. "Sweetheart, you don't need anyone to make you feel special or beautiful, you are..." Stella engulfed her in a hug. "Exactly, and if those men can't see that, they aren't yours in the first place." "Wait...does this mean...the Osun River wishing thing actually works?!" Stella stared at them in shock. "Let's go take a bath in there! We need several miracles this Christmas." "We are Christians Tolu, we can pray." "Okay, I feel hot." Stella rolled her eyes whilst Tina laughed. The three ladies went to get a bathing suit and hurried to the Osun River. *** "Better make your wishes ladies!" Tina laughed at the upset look on Stella's face. "For the last time Tina, we are Christians!" "If only Segun could see all of these curves." Tolu splashed at her friend. "Oh please! I'm not showing anyone this beautiful body until marriage." "Great idea. That Segun wasn't even reliable." Stella wiped her face as she rose from under. "Speaking of which, he's here." Tolu looked in shock. "What?!" Tina froze. "He, as in, the tour guide?" "He, as in, Segun." "What?!" The other girls whirled to see Segun approaching the river. "How on earth did he even know we were here?" Tina cried, watching Segun approach them like a man on a mission. "Probably through the dozen pictures we've taken and posted on IG." Stella shrugged. "Don't tell me he's getting in the water." "He can't try it." Stella shook her head and shouted, "don't come in the water oh!" "What are you doing here Segun?" Tina shouted "I made a mistake!" His voice echoed. "I'm sorry. I was so anxious about meeting your parents that I broke up. Please, marry me! I love you." The three ladies watched him get on one knee and bring out a little red box. "He's joking." Tina looked pissed. "You can't just come back, asking me to marry you, with such a useless reason for dumping me. You could have talked to me!" "I'm sorry!" "Do you guys think this is the Osun River at work?" "Definitely." "Of course! Someone that says he no longer loves a lady gave it a lot of thought and he's changing his mind in three days? I can't believe it." "Go home Segun. I'll think about it and give you a call." "Please sweeth-" "Go home! She said she'd call you back." Stella hissed and splashed him. "Bye-bye!" Tolu waved. After he left, Tina sighed. "I think I need a walk." "I can't agree more. Four proposals in one day! Even I can't handle it, and I didn't get proposed to." Tolu sighed. "You need it babe." Stella patted her shoulder. Tina got out of the water and waved at the girls. "Just make sure you keep your phone on, alright?" "Yupp." *** It was seven p.m. and whilst Tina walked down the beach, she noticed a handsome man staring at her. It wouldn't have looked strange asides the fact that he was at a table with candles lit and flowers all around, balloons tied. It looked really special but the man at the table looked anything but happy. "Hey! Are you alright?" She approached him. "Yes, I am. You look really pretty though." Tina laughed, blushing a lot. "Don't tell me you're about to propose." "Actually, I already did and she said no." It took a while for Tina to realise he wasn't referring to her. "Wow... With all of these pretty things?" "And for the third time." "No way...." "Oh no! Here comes the cake, and he's with people." He whispered. "Help a guy out here, alright? When I propose, just say yes?" Tina chuckled. "Alright. If it will make you feel better about the no." "It will, trust me. And it will save my face in front of these strangers. I mean, after all these plans!" Tina nodded with a smile as he got on one knee and proposed. "Yes!!!" She shouted, with a bit of tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouth as she gave him a big hug. "In this pandemic?" He laughed and put the ring on her as their viewers clapped. Once their audience left, he asked, "did you forget to tell me what an actress you are?" Tina laughed. "We didn't get round to that part." He sighed, looking at the cake. "Would you care to join me? There's wine." Tina laughed. "After the fifth proposal today, I think I need it." "Really? How did that happen?" He poured her a cup and gave her a slice of cake as she explained how her day went. "Wow! Five proposals in one day! Aren't you the dream?" "Oh please, I think it has a lot to do with the Osun River." "Yeah, I was going to ask about that. First, there's no Osun River close to that hotel. Second, there's no way they'd open the Osun River in this pandemic." "What!? I don't believe it, how then do you explain the entire day?" Tina asked in surprise. "I think it's the magic of Christmas. After all, it's christmas Eve. That, and the fact that you're so beautiful, let's say it was love at first sight for us." Tina laughed and got a slice of cake as they took a walk round the beach. "I'm Martins, just in case you were wondering." "Really? After proposing." The smile was etched on her face as they clinked their glasses and talked through the night. *** "And that! Is the story of these two love birds." The host announced. "Yes! One year and counting." They flashed their rings at the crowd who couldn't stop cheering. "Any questions?" Someone got up. "How did you know she was the one?" "Honestly," Martins took his wife's hand, "when you meet a woman willing to boost your ego and cover your shame, you know she's a gem. Two, five proposals in a day, that - was a dream! Besides, we pretty much sealed the deal when I refused to take back the ring." "And I'm glad you didn't." Tina blushed. "Just as I am glad Ola said no, three times." He gave her a kiss as they joined in the countdown to Christmas.


I woke up long before morning arrived. Or perhaps I didn’t sleep. I was excited like a kid the night before their first school trip. Climbing out of my bed, I heard the soft breathing of Tobias. His eyes were closed and he had rolled himself into the blanket like a log. If I had a gun or a knife, could’ve I ended his life there? I shrugged off the idea, chiding myself. The Calamity must have put out protections of some sort. Maybe a glyph, a spell-code scribbled on the frame of his bed. There’s no way he’d leave himself in a vulnerable state. But that hadn’t been my first thought. I sneaked out of the room, and stepped into the hotel’s lobby. A new face greeted me behind the reception, a young man. I passed by the guards in the front, lingering a bit while I observed them. Their faces stoic and refusing to meet my eyes. Were they Hunters in disguise? The roads were empty. It was the sweet spot in the early morning where the light from the lamp posts had been turned off but the sun hadn’t climbed out of their horizon bed. A wind brushed past me and I zipped up my jacket. The sound of my boots crunched against the pavement in a rhythmic pattern. I looked at the tall looming buildings, wondering if there were anyone keeping an eye on me. The Hunters had kept watch on me in Irkutsk. They’ve even grown bold, sending Altan into the fray even though I knew of him, hard set that I won’t rat them out. *You won’t. Because we know how much you despise the situation you’re in.* Altan had said it like a fact, *they* knew me better than myself. *Your greedy smile from before revealed your true self.* Same with Tobias, pushing and using me like a pawn in his game. The clouded sky was still dull and groggy from the lack of light. The sun was slow to wake up. I raised my hand, pointing upwards to the heavens, and focused on the sensation in the forest, of the image of Rosalyn. The first syllable was *Gryal*. My lips continued without my brain’s instructions, finishing the invocation. And the surge of magic passed through me, up my hands and exploding into the sky. And the city stirred. Heads popped out from open windows, watching the firework in disbelief. Dogs barked in panic. People hurried out of their homes in their pyjamas. They all watched the fireworks with open mouths. I hurried back, hiding in the crowd’s confusion. My heart beat hard and the grin on my face refused to leave.  \*\*\*  The hotel’s guests had turned into a mob, bombarding the young receptionist with questions, asking if the city’s being attacked, if it’s a prank. The guards stood next to the receptionist, trying their best to answer the questions and to calm down the mob. Sitting on one of the couches in the lobby was Tobias, observing the situation from a distance. He noticed me and signaled me to come to him. I ignored his call and headed to our room, a sense of satisfaction flooded through me when I passed him and his face dropped in shock. He got up from the couch and walked quickly to catch up to me. “Did you cause the ruckus?” Tobias asked. “Rosalyn named it well,” I said. “It really grabs one's attention.” “Aren’t you afraid that it will attract the Hunters?” he continued. “What’s there to be afraid of, you can handle them, can’t you?” His words faltered and we entered our room. This side of me was new to him and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Frankly, I wasn’t sure how to deal with it myself. “What happened to staying undercover?” he asked, standing with his back to the door. I plopped down on my bed and pulled off my boots. “I’ve given it some thought and don’t think it’s necessary. If the Hunters wanted to harm us, they would’ve done it already.” “How do you know?” I stared up at his steel-grey eyes. “Why should I tell you?” The surrs from the angry mob by the reception prickled the floor. The Calamity folded his hands across his chest, his face deep in thought. “Let’s set things straight,” I said. “You have power over me due to the magic addiction. I’ve accepted it, I won’t be able to run away because I want to learn. I need to learn. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have power over you.” “Oh?” Tobias’ voice sounded mocking. “And what do you have?” “Knowledge. I know about the Hunters, of Rosalyn Darmitage, of the modern world. How many people possess all three?” I don’t know why, but I had the gall to pick up my phone and played with it, not even giving The Calamity my full attention. Confidence poured out of me. “Let’s set the bar straight,” I continued. “You are not my master. We’re trade partners who want things from each other. We’re making an exchange here, you teach me magic, how to channel Rosalyn’s memories into spells and I’ll continue to be your guide and aid you against the Hunters. I won’t care about the lives you take, or the world conquest you probably have in the back of your mind. If you can’t agree, I’ll leave. In the end, I’ll succumb to the cravings and crawl back to you, but not before I’ve exhausted all my options, including asking for help from the Hunters and spilling everything I know about the Darmitage and about you.” “I can detain you,” he said. “Put you in a hypnotic daze and have you spill out all that information.” “Perhaps,” I said. “But you haven’t, I wonder why. Might there be a weakness in that spell you used on that lady receptionist? You had the opportunities to do so when you put me to sleep after killing the Hunters.” I looked up from my screen. Cracks had formed in his composure. His eyes ran around the room, searching for solution. For once, I was the one in power. “What happened to you?” he asked. My lips twisted upwards, into a manic grin, like the one he’d done yesterday in the car. “I figured things out.” I reached out my hand. “So what do you say?” His face said it all. Lips thinned into a single line, nose flared, the middle of his brow scrunched together. But he reached out a hand and shook it. He forced out a smile and said in a voice dripped in venom: “Let’s learn some magic, shall we?” “Let’s.” I shook his hand. With my other hand, I clicked on ‘stop recording’ on my phone and put it in my pocket, wondering what Altan would say if I showed him the footage.


As I begin to come back to my senses, I hear an interval beep to the right of me. One, two, three, four, beep. One, two, three, four, beep. One, two, three, four, beep. Every five seconds then. I groan out loud as I wonder how long this irritating beep is going to go on for, how long has it been beeping already? Is this real life or am I in a dream? Speaking of reality where the hell am I? I can feel a mattress beneath me, I shift my legs and sense stiff sheets on my bare legs and a thin waffle blanket scrunched between my fingers. I hear a muffled conversation somewhere in the distance, the screeching sound of a sneaker halting on the floor, someone somewhere nearby coughing lightly. My head feels foggy - like my thoughts are in slow motion and idea of formulating a sentence or speaking it out loud might be tiring enough to put me to sleep for a year. Speaking of year what year is it? What day is it? Who am I? No, no calm down my name is Lina Heavins, I’m 17 years old, its 2023, I am in St. Dominick’s Children’s hospital and the surgery most be over . Unsuccessfully it seems . The smell of antiseptic floods my nose and burns my throat - God it’s the 21st century why have they not figured out how to sterilize things with something that doesn’t smell awful. All the doctors’ offices and hospitals over the years you would think I would be used to the smell by now, but familiar nausea fills my stomach causing it to churn and I feel a sweat break out on my forehead. Nope that’s not the antiseptic doing that - I’m going to hurl . I sit up to empty the contents of my stomach when I hear a voice I recognize say, “ oh shit ” and then I feel a familiar plastic bag with a wide, rigid round opening at the top get pushed between my fingers. Grateful for emesis bags at this moment because while throwing up all over myself is something I have done many times over the years; it remains one of my least favorite hospital activities. “Damn Lina, you okay?” The voice of my brother Brady somehow sounds both concerned and disgusted at the same time. I can’t help but grin at the thought of him being grossed out. Peachy, livin’ the dream. “Fine just anesthesia sickness, thanks for the barf bag” I say wiping my mouth with the excuse for sandpaper we are calling a tissue he handed over once I finished. Really? I know for a fact that a fraction of my medical bills could fund supplying the place with some softer Kleenex. “I take it the surgery was unsuccessful given that well, I can’t see anything?” I ask Brady trying to hide the defeated tone of my voice. “Not exactly” I hear my dad chuckle from further away in the room. “Have you touched your face?” A well of urgency builds up my core and my hands fly up to my face where I feel the dressings. Soft cotton gauze , unlike the damn tissues , and that sticky not sticky tape hospitals use after they draw your blood and bandage you up. Is it possible? Did it work? Is the reason I can’t see right now not because I’m blind since but -- A prickling sense of anxiety rushes up my spine and settles in my chest. When I open my mouth to ask more questions, I can sense someone has entered the room with us. “Well, well, well Miss Heavins - thank you for not heaving all over yourself and the linens as that would have delayed our fun”. Dr. Bomnidae, apparent jokester, was top of his class at Harvard Medical School and he has been my primary ophthalmologist for the past 6 years. Shortly after I was born, I caught a rare infection that damaged my corneas resulting in total blindness. Dr. B read about my case during his residency and convinced himself and his peers that he could reverse the damage caused by the infection and so him and the team at St. Dominick’s reached out to my parents. During his time at Harvard and after he has studied cutting-edge corneal repairment as well as transplants. After meeting Dr. B for the first time, he instilled hope that the damage might be able to be reversed with a combination of his skillset, time, and patience . Key word might. Before this surgery Dr. B mentioned that he is confident that he has restored and regenerated enough of my tissue over the years for this one to be the one that gives me some of my sight back. Dr. B made it very clear I won’t ever have perfect vision but hey, half an ice cream sundae is better than no ice cream sundae at all am I right? Seeing the world physically, because let’s be clear you can see the world more than just physically, is something I’ve always dreamed of. When we were kids, I used to beg Brady and my parents to describe things around the house to me. Even though I had no visual context for the words they shared with me I fantasized that one day I would be able to connect all the dots. Before visiting Dr. B, I had been told there was a zero percent chance of me living with any form of sight and so I made peace with my way of experiencing life. I may not be able to see a beautiful sunset at the beach but I can still feel the sand beneath my fingers, I can hear the ocean waves crashing and the children playing, I can feel the suns warmth absorb into my skin until it feels colder and colder and how is that any less beautiful than seeing a big ball of gas move down the sky as it changes colors? It’s not, it’s just different. BUT I wouldn’t mind being able to experience both and if that’s even a remote possibility then I’m certainly not going to say no. I feel Dr. B approach my bedside and I can smell his aftershave, citrus and cedar wood like always. “Moment of truth Linny! Dr. B said the surgery went exceptionally!” I hear my mom exclaim from somewhere near where my dad’s voice came from. I can practically hear the smile in her voice, but I feel a pit on anxiety ball up in my stomach. I can’t help but feel that if the surgery didn’t work that it would somehow be my fault and that I disappointed everyone. I know it’s a crazy thought and maybe it’s the post-op drugs, but I still can’t escape it. I feel Dr. B’s fingers peeling back the tape on the sides of my temples and I am wondering if everyone in the room can hear my heart thundering. It’s beating so loud in my ears I almost don’t hear Dr. B say “Lina it’s time to open your eyes”. With a deep, and admittedly shaky breath, I focus on pulling up my eyelids. They feel wet, sticky and swollen and my heart immediately sinks to my stomach. Darkness. Nothing. It feels like the weight of the world falls over my body like a wet blanket. Dr. B’s voice snaps me out of my own thoughts “Blink as fast as you can Lina all the topical antibiotics would be creating a film over your retinas, we need it to clear away.” I do as he says and blink as fast as I can and then, my breath hitches. It’s dark but I see a shadow in front of me, no a silhouette, a person, “BRADY”! I’ve never seen my brother, but I know it’s him, I can feel his familiar warmth in front of me. The lights are off and it’s fuzzy, but I can see the shapes and colors that encompass him. Colors, my god I can’t wait to learn colors. “As we had hoped for many years, it appears the surgery was a success.” I turn toward the direction of Dr. B as I continue to blink rapidly as I connect the dots of citrus and cedarwood with the tall, lean man smiling in front of me. “Lina we are going to be talked about in books for this -- you have helped a great deal of the people in the blind and low vision community with all the experimental procedures over the years until we finally got it right.” I think I hear a quiver in his voice as he speaks. I see the shapes of who I know are my parents and hear their sobs and cries as they hug and embrace Dr. B. thanking him for everything he has done for our family. I am in shock, I think. That’s the only way to describe it. I barely hear any of the words coming out of Dr. B’s mouth to my parents about next steps and my post-op procedure instructions. I am so focused on the shapes of everything around me, the colors, matching the colors and the shapes with touch and smell - and hopefully taste soon , I touch my stomach and feel it rumble. I didn’t realize the room had fallen silent as everyone watched me explore my newfound sense with the items around me. I look in the direction of everyone and I feel what might be the biggest smile of my entire life spread across my face. “Can someone please take me to see the sunset?”


Jennifer bit her lip and knocked on the door, acutely aware of the probability that her article hinged on which direction this meeting swung. A lady with a bob of gray hair and a red apron opened the door, and a sweet, buttery smell escaped into the winter air. “Well, come on in, sweetie pie. Don’t want you freezin out there.” She waved her in with a white, flour covered hand. “Thank you, Ms. Brenda.” Jennifer stepped inside, although the fifty-five degree sunshine felt amazing compared to the icy blasts she’d left behind in New York City two days before. “Wow, your house smells amazing. They should make a candle with that scent.” Ms. Brenda chuckled. “Shortbread cookies. I make them every Tuesday. You sit right here while I finish this batch. I’m ready for your questions whenever you are.” “Well, like I said, I’m Jennifer Andrews with The New York Times. I caught wind of the quiet property sales in your neighborhood, all of which sold without ever going on the market. You’re one of the last original owners left in this development along the river, aren’t you?” The wooden rolling pin squeaked as she flattened the yellow dough. She nodded without looking up. “Seven families gone.” “Has anyone approached you about buying your place?” “Oh yeah. I’ve gotten three phone calls, and I told them not a chance. But now my neighbors are gone, and I feel kinda lonely. I’ve been wonderin if I should reconsider.” “Before you do anything like that, hear me out. I believe there is a company using unethical tactics to buy up these properties. Do you know why your neighbors sold? Were they offered a lot of money?” Ms. Brenda scored the dough into rectangles, then popped the pan in the oven. She slowly wiped down the counter and rinsed the sponge. Jennifer bit her lip again and tried to wait patiently. “I’m sorry if this hits a sore spot.” Ms. Brenda shook her head. “It’s just... well, I feel ashamed to admit it, but we all did somethin terrible. On accident of course, but it’s catchin up to us.” Jennifer frowned. “I don’t understand.” “I suppose I don’t mind showin ya.” She moved to the built-in desk at the side of the kitchen and pulled a paper out of the top drawer. “We all got one of these in the mail last summer.” Jennifer studied the paper. “An unpaid riverfront tax from the past thirty years of $130,000 due in full this April?” She looked up in shock. “That’s ridiculous!” “I can’t pay that, and they couldn’t either.” “Have you called the number they provided?” “No, I’ve been tryin to forget about it.” She sniffed and looked out the window. “I know that’s foolish, but I feel downright sick when I think on it.” “Forging a letter from the IRS is a felony. This may be a scam to pressure people into selling. Would it be okay if I called this number right now?” Ms. Brenda smiled broadly and patted her heart. “That would take a load off my chest!” “Awesome. I think there’s a good chance you’ll get a call from another buyer soon after, so be prepared. Also, is it okay if I impersonate you? It might be slightly offensive.” “Go right ahead. I’ll sit here and watch the show.” She handed Jennifer the phone and sat down on a big, flowered armchair, one of two in a bay window overlooking the Red River. Jennifer dialed and waited on speakerphone. A female answered. “IRS accounts receivable department. This is Nancy. With whom am I speaking?” “Hey, there. This is Brenda Myers,” Jennifer said in a gravelly drawl. “I’m in a tizzy cuz I’ve got this letter here sayin I owe the government a lot of money. Can you help me out?” Jennifer glanced over at Ms. Brenda in alarm. She had clamped a hand over her mouth and was bobbing violently in the chair. Please don’t have a stroke in the middle of this. “Of course, Ms. Myers. I’ve got your account pulled up. It looks like you owe $130,000.” “Lord Almighty, that’s a fortune! Whew, lemme take a minute.” She covered the phone and whispered, “Are you okay?” Ms. Brenda’s face was now purple, and tears squeezed out of her eyes. She nodded. Jennifer broke out in a sweat. “Nancy, tell me- do you have financin options? I was thinkin I might take out a loan. Or maybe I could ask my daughter for the money. I don’t know, what do you recommend?” “We, um... y-yes, financing is an option. Would you like me to send you some information on that?” “You’re a lifesaver. Thank you, dear.” “Of course, Ms. Myers. I’ll put a pamphlet in the mail today, and it should be there in a week. Goodbye.” Dial tone. Ms. Brenda exploded. She leaned over and smacked her knees as loud cackles ripped out of her chest, one after another. She dragged in a deep breath and let out another round of trapped laughter. Relief washed over Jennifer, and she started to giggle, too. “Oh my gawd, you sounded just like me!” The oven beeped. “You deserve a snack, young lady!” Jennifer flashed an impish grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. Did you notice how nervous she got when I talked about actually paying?” “Yeah, she had ants in her britches. Coffee?” Jennifer and Ms. Brenda ate and chatted for the next ten minutes as if they were old friends. Then the phone rang. Ms. Brenda answered and hit speakerphone. “Hello, Ms. Myers? This is Elizabeth Pelfrey. My husband and I are looking for a riverfront place in your area. One of my good friends recently bought a property on your street, and I was wondering if there was a chance you might consider selling?” Jennifer wrote on a notepad: Let’s hear their offer. “Well, I suppose we could talk about it. Tomorrow at 3?” When Ms. Brenda hung up the phone, her eyes were huge. “You can just hear them out without committing to anything. I’ll record it as evidence.” “Will you pretend to be my daughter Hannah? She won’t mind, and I’ll need the support.” “Of course. Texas accent?” “Yeah, sweetie. You got it down pat.” There was a knock at the door. It opened half-way, and a young man with a nicely trimmed beard leaned in through the opening. “You doin okay, Ms. Brenda?” His smile faded when he spotted Jennifer. “Jacob! Oh yeah, Jennifer here has been a huge help to me, and I’ve laughed more today than I have in years. Lemme get you some shortbread.” She bustled over to the kitchen. He stepped inside and eyed Jennifer warily. His plaid shirt, tailored khaki pants, and clean boots created a unique blend of cowboy and businessman. “Jacob’s the son I never had, grew up four houses down thataway.” She handed him a paper bag full of buttery sweets. “Well, I better go.” Jennifer headed to the door, hoping to draw him out with her before he blew their plans. “You be nice to this one, Jacob!” Ms. Brenda called out. “She might look like New York, but she’s got Texas in her heart.” The warmth dissipated as soon as the door shut. He followed her down the steps. “Are you tryin to buy her place?” “No, I’m a journalist from The New York Times.” “Like hell you are.” He narrowed his eyes. “You leave Ms. Brenda alone, you hear?” Jennifer rolled her eyes and hopped in her vehicle. “You’re full of it. Goodbye, Jacob Antonio Bracken.” She smirked at the shock on his face as she reversed. She always did her homework. “Hey, kid. How’s it going?” asked her boss through the phone. “Big lead- I’ll be there tomorrow for an offer. I’ve done three interviews, and I also went to the City Council Office. The land is zoned single-family residential with no pending applications for change.” “Great progress. Make sure you record that.” “Got it.” Time to start typing. *** Jennifer rolled up to Ms. Brenda’s house at 2:30 on Wednesday with adrenaline pumping through her veins. She had abandoned her sleek black boots and leggings in favor of brown work boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt. They set up the video camera in the living room, as well as a small one on Ms. Brenda’s shirt. The meeting went as expected. The couple tried to reschedule when they realized “Hannah” would be attending, but Ms. Brenda told them it was now or never. They seemed uninterested in checking out the house, yet eager to buy, and quickly made a lowball offer that only covered the value of the land. Mrs. Pelfrey had scrunched her nose and whispered, “We heard about your little tax problem. We’d be willing to pay your debt if you gave it to us at this price. You’re digging your own grave, otherwise.” Ms. Brenda fanned her face after they left. “Who would have thought that fake taxes would be so stressful?” Jennifer smiled. “You did great. Thanks for playing along. It could make a huge difference in the future of your neighborhood. Do you think I could leave my car here for a bit while I walk the properties?” “Sure thing, sweetie.” Jennifer decided to walk along the river, just in case she saw anyone and needed to hide out below the banks. She had no idea what was going on behind the locked gates that had been put up at the end of the driveways. Each property consisted of five acres of heavily wooded land that could easily hide something. The river meandered through the flat terrain, with red silt beaches that bumped into steep banks overhung by gnarly tree roots. Jennifer relished the fresh breeze on her face and the smell of the dry grass. She took deep, cleansing breaths and promised herself she would make an effort to get out in nature more often when she returned to New York. Suddenly, she walked into a clearing and found herself surrounded by bulldozers and rubble. An eerie silence hung over the site where a home had stood only days before. Jennifer jumped into action. She whipped out her phone to take pictures of the work site and the tractor license plates. Illinois. Mrs. Pelfrey definitely had a Chicago accent. A half-empty bottle of AtomZ water sat in a cup holder. A gun cocked behind her. Jennifer’s chest constricted. She held out her hands and slowly turned to face the danger. Jacob Bracken and the barrel of a shotgun stared her down. “What are you doin here?” he asked in a low voice. “Investigating,” she answered breathlessly. “Do you work for them?” “Of course not. I’m taking pictures to condemn whatever company is destroying your neighborhood. I promise I’m trying to help!” He tilted his head to the side, and his gaze traveled from her braid to her boots. Then he lowered the gun. “I haven’t had time to explore until today.” Jennifer quietly let out the breath she’d been holding as he took a look around. “They brought in their own equipment and workers. No locals have been hired,” Jacob said. She climbed the steps of a backhoe. “Hey, this one still has keys in it.” She gasped loudly. “What?” “There’s an AtomZ emblem on this keychain! Maybe that’s the company buying the land.” She snapped another photo. Jacob shook his head in disgust. “I saw an ad for AtomZ the other day. Their motto was helping you help the environment. More like helping you right out of your home.” Jennifer glanced over at Jacob. He set the shotgun on the ground and climbed into the tallest tractor. She slunk toward it. “I found a wallet!” he called out. “Take a picture of the ID!” Jennifer grabbed the gun and rapidly unloaded it. She shoved the shells in her pocket right as he looked down. “What the heck!” Jacob leapt out of the tractor with fire in his eyes. She dropped the gun and backed away. “Gimme that ammo, girl,” he warned as he closed the distance. “Don’t you dare stick your hand in my pants.” He grimaced and halted. “I wasn’t gonna do that.” “If you were thinking about grabbing the shotgun shells, then yeah, you were.” “But you made it sound wrong.” “I’m glad you have the decency to rethink it.” The woods began to rumble as a truck approached. Jacob grabbed his gun. “To the river!” They sprinted to the edge and jumped. A tree hung over the bank, half of the roots exposed from erosion. They ducked under the cave it created. A door slammed. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.” “You leave your wallet everywhere, man.” Jacob stowed his gun on two loops made by the tree roots in the dark recess behind them. “Nice gun rack,” he whispered. Jennifer covered his lips with her fingers, desperate to go unnoticed. The warmth of his skin spread through her fingers, and she pulled them away, embarrassed. Particles of dirt remained on his lips. “Sorry,” she mouthed. He smiled in amusement. “Dude, you left the keys in this one! We’ll get fired if AtomZ finds out about this.” The men bickered their way back to the truck. The engine rumbled again and sat idling. Jennifer looked out at the river as they waited, aware of how her arm, hip, and leg pressed against Jacob’s in their tight hideaway. The sky had transformed during their investigation; pink and orange now streaked from the horizon upward until it faded into a soft purple. Jacob rotated to look at her. “This is an interesting way to watch the sunset.” “Mm-hmm.” She didn’t dare face him again. He continued to study her profile. There was a twig caught in her braid and a smudge on her cheek. “You look like you’ve done this before. How’d you learn to work a gun like that?” “My dad taught me. What made you trust me?” “Ms. Brenda trusts you, so I will too. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you look like a farm girl today.” Her lips twitched at the corners, and she twisted to peek over the bank. “All clear.” They crawled out and brushed off their clothes. Jennifer gave the shotgun shells back to Jacob. “Wanna walk down to see our old place? My truck is parked in the woods, and I can drive you back to Ms. Brenda’s.” “Sure. Hey, I’m sorry about your Dad passing in November.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Thanks. I forgot you already know everything about me.” She threw up her hands. “I’m not claiming that.” “Mom took it really hard. Then three days after the funeral, she told me she sold the place. Just like that. So she moved in with me, which is fine, but I hate that our land is gone. My grandfather developed this neighborhood.” “I didn’t know that.” “You weren’t very thorough with your stalking,” he teased. “Then I’ve found my New Year’s resolution: Be a better stalker.” He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re too pretty to be a stalker.” He cleared his throat. “How’d you find out about this debacle, anyways?” “A tip from a friend.” She wasn’t willing to admit she’d been wistfully perusing real estate in the area for the past year. “There’s a place in Pennsylvania where this is happening as well.” “Why’d you come here when that one was closer? Do you have family in town?” “No.” She reached into her leather backpack and pulled out a map. “But I grew up right there.” “That’s right across town!” he said in surprise. “No, we would have gone to school together. I would have known you.” She pointed to the map again and shook her head. “That’s the school zoning line. I was in another district.” “Can you start a fire?” “Yes.” “Do you hunt?” “I shot a water moccasin when I was ten.” She laughed. “Did I pass the Texas Verification Test?” “Why’d you leave?” “My parents died in a car wreck when I was fifteen, and I was in the foster system until I graduated. I got a scholarship from NYU, so I took it. I figured what better place to be lonely than New York City where everyone’s too busy to notice?” “Are you lonely?” She smiled softly. “No, I have a lot of friends now. New York’s been good to me.” “Next question. What’s going to happen when you write this article?” “Well, AtomZ’s business practices will be exposed to the world. There will be an investigation, and I think there’s a good chance the land will be returned to its rightful owners.” “Damn. Your plan is a lot better than mine. I think I’ll get rid of the dynamite in my closet.” “Please tell me you’re joking.” He grinned and shrugged. “You’ll never know.” “Will you rebuild if you get the land back?” He nodded. “There it is.” The river swung wide around a big piece of land that rose above it, the only hill for miles. A giant oak towered over the water with a wooden swing. He glanced at Jennifer. Her eyebrows had pinched together, and she pursed her lips as she fought back tears. “What is it?” he asked. “My dad pushed me on that swing once. We went tubing, and I begged to stop there to try it. I’m sorry for trespassing.” “We let the neighbors use it, and it sounds like you were our neighbor, Jennifer.” She turned to face him. “Jennifer Andrews is actually my pen name.” She held out her hand. “I’m Bonnie.” “Bonnie...” He smiled warmly and took her hand in both of his. “A girl with Texas in her heart.”