The spell was more complicated than I had anticipated, requiring ingredients that weren’t exactly standard fare in our spell kits. I had to gather them all under the cloak of night, sneaking through the shadows of the campus, hoping no one would ask too many questions. First, there was the lock of hair from a true artist—this one I “borrowed” from the head of a particularly talented upperclassman who had a habit of brushing his hair in the common room. Next, a drop of ink from a quill that had written a masterpiece. For that, I made a visit to the restricted section of the library, where the dusty old tomes sat untouched for centuries, and carefully siphoned a single drop from the oldest one I could find. Then, the feather of a raven, symbolizing the link between life and death, creativity and destruction. That one had been the easiest to find, plucked from a bird that frequented the woods just outside the school. Finally, the hardest of all—one tear of frustration, spilled during a moment of creative block. That one, of course, was my own contribution, shed during one of my many late nights spent staring at a blank canvas. I laid the items carefully within the salt circle, each one placed at the point of a pentagram I’d drawn with ground moonstone. The spellbook was open to the summoning page, its ancient words practically vibrating with power. As I began to chant, I could feel the energy in the room shift. The air thickened, humming with potential as I recited the incantation: "From the depths of creation’s core, I call upon the muse of yore. With ink and feather, tear and hair, Manifest before me here and there. Inspire my hand, inflame my mind, Bring forth the vision, unbind." The final word echoed in the room as the candle snuffed out, leaving only the soft glow of the circle. When he appeared, he was more than just a muse. He was a living, breathing embodiment of temptation. My breath caught as he stepped out of the circle, his dark eyes locking onto mine. He moved with a predator’s grace, and as he drew near, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You have no idea what you’ve called forth, do you?” His voice was a low rumble, sending a shiver down my spine. “I... I need inspiration,” I managed to say, though my voice sounded small in the charged air between us. “Inspiration?” he repeated, a smirk playing on his lips. He reached out, trailing his fingers through my hair, his touch light but electric. “Is that all you desire, Lyla?” My heart pounded in my chest as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “What if I could give you more than that?” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “What if I could make you feel things you’ve never felt before?” I swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. His hand slid down to my neck, fingers tracing the line of my throat, sending tingles through my entire body. “Let me in,” he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. “Let me show you what true inspiration feels like.” I should have been terrified, but instead, I found myself leaning into his touch, craving more of the warmth he radiated. “What do I have to do?” I asked, my voice barely more than a breathless whisper. “Just let go,” he replied, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below my ear. “Let me guide you.” My head spun as his other hand found its way to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. His touch was intoxicating, his presence overwhelming, and I felt my knees go weak. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, his voice a dark melody. I obeyed, and the world around me dissolved into nothing but sensation. His hands, now tracing down my arms, left trails of fire in their wake. I could feel his breath on my neck, hot and tantalizing, as he whispered words of encouragement that sent shivers through my entire being. “Feel the energy, Lyla,” he murmured, his voice like silk against my ear. “Feel the magic within you, begging to be released. You’re holding back... let it out. Let me see all of you.” My breath hitched as he pressed his body against mine, his heat seeping into my skin. I could feel his lips barely brushing against my neck, each touch a promise of something more. “You have so much potential, so much power,” he continued, his voice a dark whisper. “But you have to be willing to give in to it. To give in to me.” Something inside me snapped, a floodgate opening that I hadn’t even realized was there. My hand gripped the brush tightly as I began to paint, my movements fueled by a fire I had never felt before. The muse’s presence was overwhelming, his touch, his voice, every breath he took sending waves of desire through me. I lost myself in the rhythm, in the way he moved with me, guiding my hand as I painted with a fervor I had never known. Each stroke was a release, each line a surrender to the passion he was pulling from me. When I finally opened my eyes, panting and trembling, the canvas was filled with a vibrant swirl of colors and emotions. I had poured my very soul into the painting, and it was alive with magic. The muse stepped back, a satisfied smile on his lips as he looked at me. “You did well, Lyla,” he said, his voice laced with approval. “You’ve unlocked something inside you, something powerful.” I could only nod, still catching my breath, my body thrumming with the aftershocks of the experience. He leaned in one last time, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, “Remember, whenever you need me... just call.” And with that, he was gone, leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his touch and the memory of his voice echoing in my mind.


Alone, Hannah journeyed space, travelling from world to world, gathering history to sell to those who shared her fascination with things as they were before. Some days were busy, either with customers or with finding items, learning their history to be passed on to those who purchased each item. They wouldn’t leave without everything she could give them. Others were quiet, often the ones where she was in space, making the journey from one place to the next. Then there were the more unusual days, when someone came in searching for something special. Special, however, was different for everyone. Hannah docked at one of the colonies she’d travelled to often. One of her regular customers there was always on the hunt for more. His interest wasn’t exactly the same as hers, but it was enough for her to choose to sell to him. Like always he stepped in the moment Hannah opened her shop, slowly making his way through the ship, looking at everything she’d bought. She waited. Patience was one of the most important things, giving them the time to search. They might find what they were looking for. He, however, kept moving, searching through everything she’d brought back, until he reached the counter. Their eyes met. Hannah knew a little about him, from snippets he’d shared of his family, and she smiled. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. How’s your family?” Smiling back, he nodded. “Good, thanks, and it’s nice to see you again.” He gestured. “Do you have anything to share with me?” “Always.” Hannah studied him. “Were you looking for anything specific today, or just once more on the hunt for the unusual?” “You know me well. The unusual.” He glanced back at the shelves. “From the looks of things you had a lot of luck.” “I did.” Running her tongue over her bottom lip, Hannah stepped away from the counter, to where she kept those things she held back, for those who were specifically looking for them. “Remember things aren’t always how they appear to be.” Fortunately it was a lesson he’d learnt before, during his times in the shop. Some of the others would get angry, believing Hannah was the reason for whatever happened, and when that happened she’d make certain they couldn’t enter again. It wasn’t something she would accept in her space. When a purchase was made she was always open. Honesty was the safest policy. Yet there were those who didn’t accept the truth. They didn’t understand what they bought might not fulfil their dreams. When the item they’d bought ‘failed’ them they’d return, wanting a refund, telling Hannah she owed it to them, when she didn’t. They knew if they tried to claim back their money through legal channels they’d be told they’d made the decision, and it wasn’t as though she made promises. Buyer beware, especially when it came to items from the old world, as it was so easy for lies to be told, before becoming the ‘truth’. On one of the shelves was a box. Hannah took it, walking back to him, placing it on the counter. He looked at the box for a moment, then at her. “What’s inside?” “According to the person I bought it from it’s an indestructible ball, found in the ruins of a lost empire.” Hannah opened the box, showing the ball to him. It was bright orange, and, from the beginning, it had been hard to believe it was truly indestructible. “From what I could tell they were passing on a story they’d been told, so I delved more deeply. “The lost empire was old. From what had been learnt, the archaeologists delving deeply into who they were, they had some very unusual technologies. Although it may not seem like it this may be connected with one of them. However there’s an equal chance it existed as a prank item. “Other balls similar to this one were found. Some were in places they believed would have been hidden away to be found by someone within their family, but it’s not something they chose to test. For them these items were important to keep hold of. There was one accident, where the ball was poked, and it cause it to break.” “What was within it?” “Unfortunately for me they didn’t say.” Hannah shrugged. “I can’t even be certain this was originally created by that empire. This may be a recreation by those who came later.” Nodding, he studied the ball, knowing better than to touch it. He could pay for it, and then touch it, but he knew better than to think he was going to get his money back, as Hannah told him everything she knew about it. Finally, nodding, he reached into his pocket, taking out his card, because the other thing she’d learnt about him was that he had money to be able to buy whatever he wanted, even if it ended up being nothing. Passing it over to her, not asking how much it was, his eyes stayed on it as Hannah took his payment. Then, when it was through, she placed the card close to him, so he could take it should he wanted to. It seemed right then as though he didn’t. Carefully, he took the ball out of the box, rolling it in his hands. Hannah watched. She leaned back against the wall slightly, seeing what he planned on doing with it. Was he going to see if it truly was indestructible? Bouncing it on the counter, something she hadn’t tested herself, he then ran his fingers over it, poking it slightly. Maybe he thought it was one of the prank balls, hoping he might understand it. Finally, it happened. He found the right spot, and the ball didn’t burst, but instead seemed to completely disappear, leaving them with nothing more than a smell and a sound. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at Hannah. “Was that what I think it was?” “Yes, I think it was. There are those within every civilisation who find farts amusing.” Laughing, he nodded, picking up the box. It went into his pocket, potentially as a reminder of what he’d spent his money on. That wasn’t something he’d ever get back. At least he didn’t blame her for not warning him he might be entirely wasting his money on nothing. He knew that. There were never any certainties. “Do you have anything else?” “I always have something else. Are you looking for anything specific?” “No, I don’t think I am.” He slowly looked around. “You always seem to have something I haven’t thought of, and I’d like one of those.” With a nod, Hannah stepped into the back, where some of the larger items were, drawing the person-sized wax figure out through the door. “You may be interested in this.” “From Earth?” There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes, until she shook her head. “It’s not one of the wax celebrities?” “Oh, it’s a wax person, but not in the way you imagine.” Hannah placed it beside her, choosing not to look at it. There was a time when she’d kept her eyes on it all the time, just in case, because she knew what was meant to happen. “I can share the story with you, if you’re interested.” There was a moment when she thought he might say no, but then he nodded, eyes on it. “Would this be a piece of interesting history?” Hannah smiled. “It would.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, trying to find the right place to start with it. “The person who sold it to me was old, much older than both of us, choosing to finally give up on the possibility he might be able to find a way to save the woman he once loved. Even if he did find a way it was likely she’d be the age she’d been when she was first transformed, so there were never going to be able to have any kind of future.” “So, you’re telling me this wax figure was once actually a person?” “From what he said it was.” Hannah glanced at the figure. “I have no reason not to believe what he said, as Rebecca was a member of a research colony, sent out to explore a world they believed had never been inhabited.” She sighed. “There is a chance it wasn’t. From the records it seems like there were possible sites, but they may have been groups sent like the researchers before anyone truly settled. “Journals he shared with me while I was there, he was unwilling to part with due to him wanting to be able to remember Rebecca, especially as he hoped to be able to pass them on to a museum at some point. I don’t know if that will happen. He seemed… well, broken, to be honest, which is understandable if the story he told me was true.” She breathed in deeply. “There were regular messages sent back for a time, as the researchers learnt more about this world, talking about certain strange flora and fauna they’d come across. “Exploring other worlds was something Rebecca loved doing too much to settle down, which was why the two of them hadn’t yet married, but it was something they’d talked about being a possibility in the future. She wanted him to go with her, only he wasn’t quite ready to give up everything to do that. “I think it’s a choice he regretted, after what happened. He was angry and disappointed with himself for not being there when it happened, because at least then they would have been together, although then they’d have both ended up in the same position. Being honest with him didn’t seem like the right thing, considering how emotional he was. Having been in love myself I can understand the emotions.” Blinking, her customer looked at the figure, shaking his head. “If that was my wife…” He raked a hand through his hair. “Letting her go would have been impossible, even as a wax figure.” “Yes, I think I might have felt the same way.” Hannah stared at nothing for a moment, trying not to think too much about what was lost to time, before returning to the story. “No one’s quite certain what did happen. There were records kept, as things slowly started to change, and Rebecca’s journal held the most information, something he thought might help him to be able to save her from this fate. “The others… well, they were wax.” She reached out with one hand, touching Rebecca’s arm gently. “Some were lost, while others ended up in the hands of people who did everything, without knowing if everything was actually going to be enough. The problem came from understanding how it happened. “When the time came there were no more messages they sent out a group to find out what had happened to the researchers. At first there was nothing. Had things stayed that way it’s possible we would never have learnt what happened to them. Instead there was suddenly a flicker of heat, like someone was down there, which led to them making the journey down. “Reaching where the researchers had settled there were no other signs of life. They walked into the main building, which happened to be right in the middle of the small settlement. Hearing him talk about it, what it was like to enter that building, when they had no idea what had happened to anyone within. Had they died? Was there some other reason for them not sending out messages any longer? “Honestly, this isn’t something I imagined could have crossed any of their minds. Why would it?” She looked at Rebecca once more. “At first they didn’t know what they were looking at. Some of the figures were standing, the way Rebecca is, while others were sitting, although we can’t know if that’s the position they started off in. “One of them became flesh and blood in front of their eyes, something that only happened for a second, a sigh that something entirely unexpected had happened. Their first task, they knew, was to understand what exactly had happened, because they were worried removing the figures from the settlement might affect them in some way. He explained it as wanting them to be safe, an understandable choice, with each of them having once been people. “People who had families, and those families needed to be told what happened. The reason he was there, searching for her, was due to him having made the decision he couldn’t stay away. He had to be there to learn the truth, however complicated it might be. Seeing Rebecca standing at one of the computers, finally putting all the pieces together, the first thing he did was start going through everything she wrote. “Little by little he was able to piece together the story of what happened to the group, and why they didn’t leave when they first worked out what was happening. They did have time when they could have left. Instead they stayed, believing they’d be able to find a solution to what was happening to them. By the time they realised it wasn’t going to happen it was too late. “Anyone who could have got them to safety had been transformed. Rebecca kept trying to learn more, in case someone did start looking for them, trying to explain the experience - and told them it was best for all of them to leave the world before anything happened to them. There was no way of knowing how long it would take for it to happen to others.” “She was the last to change?” “By her own words she did everything she could to fight against the transformation, even though there was no doubt in her mind it was coming. Not after she watched everyone she made the journey with change into wax, slowly losing their bodies, all of them doing anything they could to cling on to normality.” “I can’t imagine what it must have been like.” “Neither could I, but the choice they made to stay in order to learn might have ended the same way.” Hannah raked a hand through her hair, leaning back to make it easier to look at Rebecca, feeling closer to her than before. Being given a chance to share the story changed everything. “It wasn’t something they realised straight away, the same way the researchers hadn’t. They, I think, expected there to be something that transformed them, only that didn’t seem to be the case. “There’s a chance it might have been the planet itself, although I don’t believe it was the case. Rebecca didn’t either.” Hannah studied the figure, thinking of the pictures of the woman she’d once been. “She didn’t ever come to a conclusion, possibly because her fight ended before she could, but there were a couple of theories she had, with one of them being linked to certain food they were eating.” “Food somehow transforming them all into wax?” He shook his head. “I’m not certain I would agree with the theory, but then I wasn’t there. How am I to know what happened to her? Has she moved at any point?” “Although I’ve never seen it happen he had, which might have been wishful thinking. He wanted her to still be in there somewhere, and there’s a chance she is, listening to us talk about her now. Only she has no way to speak to either of us, because she’s trapped within this wax form. Maybe in becoming one of them she even learnt how it happened. “While I was making the journey back here I talk to her occasionally, wondering if there might ever come a time when she talked back, but it never happened. I didn’t think it would, and there were never any signs she had moved. There’s a chance she might when she’s with you, should you wish to make the purchase, unless you’ve made the decision you’d rather not.” “Share the rest of the story. I believe I will purchase Rebecca, even if she never moves, because the story…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to put the feelings into words right now.” “Neither do I.” Hannah smiled. “I understand what you’re feeling, which is why I made the choice to add her to my shop, rather than walking away. Normally I would have done. Something like this feels a little closer to slavery than I’d like, but then I thought about the possibilities for her. Maybe, if she’s lucky, she’ll end up in the hands of someone who’ll do what they can to help her, or she’ll find herself somewhere what was done to her is naturally undone.” “Is that something you truly believe is possible?” “Anything is possible. That’s an important thing to keep in mind. Rebecca was young when she transformed, a woman who believed she had her whole life ahead of her, but it didn’t happen. Instead this was her fate. Yet there’s something more to it, I’m certain of that, and at some point in the future everything is going to change for her.” He looked at Hannah, and she could see the doubt in his eyes. Why would he think someone who’d become wax had any chance of a different life? “If someone who had his entire life to find an answer couldn’t what makes you think anyone else will find a different solution?” “Our understanding of the universe is changing all the time. This may well be another case where someone finds the solution. I don’t know whether they will, but I think it’s worth giving those who are still here a chance. The others… well, that’s one of the more complicated parts of the story.” “They melted?” “Seems to have been the case. Rebecca, and a few of the others, were protected from that, while the others… well, they didn’t get as lucky, unfortunately. I hate talking about this around her, in case she can hear what we’re saying. They were her colleagues, her friends, and the people she did everything she could to help, but I don’t think they ever truly stood a chance of finding the solution. “Like I said when the others arrived the first things they found told them they should leave. Gather everything they could, and get off the planet before anything bad happened to them, but they didn’t truly believe it was possible the same thing would happen to them. Had I been there I’m not certain I would have done either, because it seemed like an impossibility to begin with, only to find themselves in a position they couldn’t possibly understand. “Neither could the researchers, and they were the ones who had a better chance, considering the things they’d done before. Rebecca, and her colleagues, had been on multiple planets in the past where unusual things had been found, but it was never like this. They’d never found themselves in a position where they became something else entirely. “As she was flesh for the longest she did see the others as they occasionally became flesh, something that happened more often in the early days, until it only happened once a day at most. Even when it was happening more often she didn’t have a chance to speak with them, to ask what they were going through while they were wax, because they weren’t flesh for long enough. “What she could share was the slow transformation she went through, hours passing before she wasn’t able to type any more, but she kept talking, trying to hold on. Trying to find something that would help. I know they didn’t send out any requests for help, because they didn’t know if simply stepping onto the planet would be enough to change someone. Rebecca wondered more than once in her notes whether they were lost from the beginning, so they never had any chance of being able to leave the planet. “Due to those who saved the researchers never transforming it appears that wasn’t the case. They did leave within weeks, however, when the first of the group transformed into wax, never mentioning they were feeling anything at all. Only that was probably because they had no way of knowing what was actually happening to them, as they hadn’t read Rebecca’s journal. “She did say the experience was slightly different for everyone, but there were some similarities. There were those who were worried being in close proximity to one of the figures would be enough to change them, something that doesn’t appear to be the case, as I’ve been travelling with Rebecca for several months now, and I haven’t been through the transformation. I believe it does prove it was to do with the planet, rather than the people who found themselves there. “It took months to happen originally, with the first transformation of the new arrivals happening much sooner, a sign the power of whatever it was that made it happen was growing. Potentially due to it changing so many people into wax, although, to be honest, I’m not certain this is exactly what we would call wax - simply a close enough word to use to describe it, especially as it does react similarly to heat and light. “The purchaser of Rebecca does need to be careful should they wish to keep her for any length of time. I made certain she was somewhere cool, but not so cold it might have cracked her, as that can also happen. I looked at some of the pictures of the others, who were affected by not being in the hands of the right people. “He did keep an eye on those he could, remembering stories Rebecca told him about each of them, how their lives had entwined through the years, until the time came when they were all transformed together. The first to go was the leader of the research expedition, mentioning a couple of days before it happened he wasn’t feeling well, but it wasn’t until later they were able to put the pieces together. “When he didn’t get up that morning they assumed he needed to rest, so they didn’t check on him until lunchtime, which was when they found him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking like he’d just finished putting his boots on. Rebecca’s entry from that day was terrifying. They had no idea what was going on, whether it would happen to anyone else, but they made the decision to stay to try to find help for him. “From there it passed on to the three people who were able to get them off the planet, who all had some experience with the spacecraft they’d used to make the journey. She couldn’t help wondering if that meant whatever was happening had made the choice to go for the four people they needed the most first, although that would mean there was some kind of sentience, and that didn’t seem to be a thought she liked much, although it linked in to something she found while she was out searching the other potential settlements. “None of them believed there had ever been anyone living there, yet there were signs of people at least having travelled there in the past, with one of them leaving something behind - the very last words of a note. ‘It’s not safe.’ There was no way of knowing what it linked to, but she held on to that memory, until the time came when she realised the world they’d travelled to wasn’t safe. “Arriving there, those were the first words he read, followed by ‘leave fast. Gather everything, and get away from here before anything can happen to you’, something they should have listened to. Making the choice to ignore it was the worst mistake they could have made, as it meant one of their group was also transformed. “It might have been more than one, a kind of disbelief having hit the group, not entirely willing to believe what was happening was real, something Rebecca also described. She was one of three people arguing they needed to get away from the planet sooner rather than later, because there was something strange going on. Only the others were focused on trying to find a solution, and the three gave up, realising they couldn’t make it happen. Instead they simply had to live with things are they were. “Unfortunately it was what Rebecca believes led to the loss of their pilots, and it was then the panic hit the others, as they realised how bad things truly were. He used that information to convince his group they needed to leave, no matter how little they might have wanted to, taking both of the spacecrafts with them in order to make certain they could get everyone off the planet. Otherwise they’d have had to leave people behind. “None of the wax people weighed as much as they would have done in their flesh forms, something that was to be expected. Rebecca talked about how the transformation changed them, how complicated everything was, and then the sensations she felt as she slowly became wax. It didn’t happen quickly, but as it started to happen she felt this lassitude sweeping through herself, enough to keep any of them from yelling for help. Had they done it might have saved them all.” Slowly, nodding, he stepped closer to the counter, looking at Rebecca more closely than he had done before. “I don’t understand how an entire person, every part of them, would become wax.” “There are no answers I can give you. Just shared the story with you, so you understand who she is, because I want her to end up in the hands of the right buyer. I want you to care for her. She is precious, even if there is no possible way to save her from this fate.” “Yes, she is.” He gestured at the card that was still on the counter. “I feel like there’s still so much to the story.” “Oh, there were pages of it, and I’ve barely been able to share any of it with you.” Hannah put her hand on the card. “I have to be certain. This is what you want to do.” “Buying Rebecca, a woman who has become wax, feels like something I need to do. Like I was meant to walk in here, to find her.” He shrugged. “Does that sound as stupid as I think it does?” “No, it doesn’t, because I felt the same way.” Her eyes met with his for a moment. “There are people I said no to before, when they said they were interested in her. I said I’d been travelling with her for months, and that’s the reason for it, so I found a person who had a similar connection to her. “She may not seem like it now, but she was someone, and she had people who loved her. At times I was uncomfortable around her, because I felt like I was using her for profit, when I’m not. What I want is to find her a home with someone who understands, especially with it being possible there might be a solution. I know there are people out there hunting for it, due to it being their father who was taken from them by the planet.” Hannah took a small booklet out of her pocket, putting it on the counter. “What is that?” “A way for you to connect with the others, should you wish to. It’s not something you have to do, but it will help you learn more about what happened to her, and potentially learn if they do ever find a way to transform someone from wax into flesh once more.” Nodding, he picked it up, slipping it into his pocket. “I assume she’s not going to be cheap.” “For her protection my price was set at a certain point. I believe you will make the right choices with her, even though it might end up being a mistake, so she will be a little cheaper. Please do what you can to keep her safe, to potentially find a way to help her, and make certain she’s passed on from one generation to the next.” “I will.” As she took the money from his card once more, Hannah returned it to him, before going to the exit to the counter, gently carrying Rebecca with her. “There is a chance she will move?” “Yes, there is, and some of the others even tried to talk. This may happen if she does move. I don’t know.” Hannah looked at Rebbeca one last time. “If it ever happens I’d like to know about it. For her I think it’s much less likely, due to the choice she made to fight for so long.” “Probably. She seems like the kind of person who gave up those moments in the hope she might find a solution for the people she cared about.” Just as gently, he took hold of her, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. “You weren’t wrong when you said she didn’t weight as much.” “One mistake, and she could melt or crack. I’m trusting you with her. For some she’d just be another curiosity, but I hope you’ll treat her well.” “Both of you have my promise that I will do what I can to protect her, and, should it be possible, help her.” Watching him walk away with Rebecca, Hannah was almost certain she’d made the right choice. Before he stepped through the door Hannah was almost certain Rebecca’s human eyes met with hers, the gratefulness within them something she hoped she wasn’t imagining. Sighing, she stepped over to the door, closing up the shop for the day. Maybe her sister had finally found someone who could help her.


The moment McKenzie landed in this small town, on the outskirts of Scotland, he knew he was going to have a good time here. Stonehaven was a harbor located to the east of Scotland, distinguished for being a lovely spot to stay. And now he understood why. This little borough had it all: the lush greenery, the lovely folk, the tranquil tourist spots, and above all, the serenity it held. That was what drew him the most. But, he was not here to stay; he had only one job to do here, and it had to be a quick goodbye. David, for one moment, wished he was just like everyone else: a happy family, a tedious office job, a stable retirement, and a place like this to spend his last days. But, he was not like everyone else; he shared a dangerous line of trade. David McKenzie was a rigid man in his early sixties, but his physique was as stocky as a middle-ager. Yet, his features did nothing to conceal his age; the wrinkled skin and the neat hair combed over to the left gave away the gentleman’s love for the ’60s. He always wore a suit; his line of trade persuaded him to do so, and he had no reason not to love it. He perfected his coat as he got out of the cab-- work habits . David had left the resort almost twenty minutes ago; an overnight stay to get him ready for the job. A flawless false ID won him all the way through until then, in this little town, but he could not ignore the possibility of doubt in the dubious of minds: the local souls. So, David had to get it all over soon, before things got out of hand. He raised his head and assured whether he was at the right location, and for someone’s misfortune, he was. The pawnshop looked nothing more than ordinary. But this day, it meant a lot, lot more for some personages. It homed some treasures that it could never have even dreamt of possessing; some valuables that belonged elsewhere, in safer, more powerful hands. And that was the reason why McKenzie was now in front of this store. He had some possessions to retrieve. David pushed open the front door and let himself in. The insides of the shop lit by the evening sun, it all was perfectly normal. A stout young man came in from behind the hall; his brown hair all messy, his eyes red and sunken. David could now understand what he was dealing with; it had made things easier for him. The young man observed David top to bottom; he didn’t have many customers in suits. And when he had them, it meant jackpots. So, the ‘junkie’ was undeniably interested in the deal that was about to happen; so was David. “Well, sir. How can I help you?” the ‘junkie’ asked, his tone almost mocking. He was already awaiting someone, and this stocky, aged man seemed to satisfy the criteria. But he needed to confirm, and sure as hell, they had their silly little passcodes. “Well, I share a dangerous line of trade, kiddo,” David replied casually, resting his arms on the desk; this was a procedure with which he already accustomed. And his years of experience had him report this line even more times than he ever beckoned his mother. The young man smirked at the comment and retraced his path, back to the hall behind the desk. “Come with me,” he announced as he stepped outside the room, and McKenzie followed. The ‘junkie’ locked the door behind them as McKenzie entered, and strolled over to the opposite side of the hall. The hall was gloomy and was a complete mess; overturned chairs and a heavy wooden table filled the room. But, David couldn’t notice any other cabins inside; his confused eyes followed the young man. “Name’s Chris,” the young man spoke as he pushed the heavy, wooden table out of its position. A hidden vault, McKenzie was enjoying this endeavor; it was approaching his expectations now. He assisted Chris in moving the table over. The young chap was in no condition to move the furniture all by himself. When the table was out of frame, Chris hunched down on the floor and yanked open a tile, and as David anticipated, he found stairs that led to a bunker. Now, this is getting better. Chris hopped down the stairs and switched the lights on. But as fit as he was, David still found stairs difficult; his legs had faced grave injuries in the tumultuous past, and the pain grew with him. When he reached the ground, he was impressed by the little cellar; the insides were mostly wooden, illuminated by an ordinary filament bulb. The yellow light almost strained his eyes; old age was affecting him in various ways. The cellar was not very spacious, but it provided enough space for these two to move around. Chris tossed many items around, grabbed a suitcase, and sprang onto the slab, his eyes inspecting David all over again. “So, how about the payment, old man? You got cash? Cheque? ‘Cause cheques don’t work for this stuff.” David stayed silent for a moment. Then, he pulled something out of his coat pocket and walked towards the young man, “I was thinking about an exchange.” He slipped the thing that he carried across the slab. The ‘junkie’ leapt off abruptly on the shocking sight, his eyes and mouth hanging open. “That’s, that’s the Medallion of Orkzestar,” he stammered. “Freak, this stuff can get you millions, if--if not billions. And you want to swap this with some silly papers from the 15th century? You are a psychopath.” David smirked at the comment, and replied, “Well, it’s an emotional thing.” His reply was brief, and Chris was beyond amazed by this gentleman. He sauntered over to the other side of the cellar, swaying his head sideways; something seemed wrong about all this; but still, the amount of profit blinded his intuition. “Alright, it’s all in the suitcase. Farewell, sir, may we never see each other again,” Chris stepped back, saluting David with a confused look on his face. Child’s already dreaming, David grinned. He leveraged the suitcase from the desk and turned about to face Chris. The next thing he did, however, drove Chris bothered; David again pocketed the Medallion. Now, he was preparing to leave with both the Medallion and the suitcase. “What are you doing, man? You can’t do that. Put the rich stuff down.” David didn’t bother; he just continued on his way to the stairs. Chris could not hold it in anymore; he grabbed his pistol and pointed it at David, “You are not going anywhere, sir.” The next few seconds were too quick to perceive; the moment the bullet left Chris’ pistol, McKenzie made a swift turn, impossible for his age, grabbed his gun from behind, pulled the trigger and Chris was down on the ground. “Ah, shit! Shit! What’s the problem with you, dude?” Chris muttered loudly; deep in pain, he clenched his teeth together at the sight of a gap between his elbow and palm, his flesh hanging limp, blood now flowing in all directions. But, David did not stop; he came closer to Chris and pointed the gun at his temple, his face stagnant of expression. “Woah, Woah, cool down, man. Just leave. Take whatever you want. Please don’t kill me. I am sorry. Sorry. Jesus! You are a freak. Give me, give me a chance, man. I won’t do anything. Just go, please.” David didn’t flinch; he kept the gun pointed at Chris’ temple. “I don’t believe in second chances, kiddo, ’cause I never got one.” Another gunshot reverberated inside the cellar. David climbed back up and arranged the hall all over again, the table back in its position. A hidden vault; it’s always interesting.


I get my bag packed and drive to the station, my mind racing as to what is about to happen. The last few years have been highly uneventful but ever since mankind discovered immortality I had been envious of the people in those expensive tests, for a good 4 years I’ve been saving for the chance to enter a test, ‘it’s been fun see you guys on the flip!’ I post on my twitter account, and today is the day I start. I have been constantly researching for info about the legitimacy and the safety of these tests but today I take the plunge, I will become immortal, or so I hope… I arrive at the building about 2 hours later, the lab facility is exactly 2 hours out from Remote, yes my town is called ‘remote’ and it is quite remote, I open the creepily futuristic doors and I am greeted by a man in a suit and tie, he introduces himself as Andrew Sullingham. “You must be Elijah, come in!” he exclaims with a hint of monotone delight. I walk down a stairwell for what seemed to be 30 minutes at least and we arrive in the room that I will spend the rest of my unending life for, he points to a bus that is in the middle of the room surrounded by tarps, white tarps, they give an awfully Utopian and cliché feel to the whole lab setup, but what strikes me as irregular is that there is no control room or monitoring at all throughout the basement of the huge facility. I make the conclusion that the room must just be upstairs. Andrew directs me into the bus and yells “have a nice trip!”, and pushes me over, I get up from the black floor of the bus and murmur, “good pun.” He looks slightly discontent with the reaction I gave but he’ll recover. I find my way to the back of the bus and see a power point, ‘huh guess I paid a price of 40 thousand dollars, good thing they delivered a good product. I plug my phone charger in and my phone instantly reaches 100%, Andrew catches my reaction from the very front of the bus and shouts bemused “whaddya expect Elijah? You paid a stack of cash for this it’s the least we can do.” “Anyway, enough chit chat, you ready?” I look at him with a nervous anticipation on my face, “ok, I’m ready.” I get out my earphones and prepare Spotify for the journey, Andrew hands me a syringe that has what I assume is the immortality juice, as it is commonly referred to as. He explains to me that it won’t work if there is another person in the same vehicle and that it needs to be applied to the blue vein in my right arm. After that He promptly leaves. I inject myself and feel a tinge of pain and then nothing, I feel enlightened, as if nothing matters anymore, and I plug my earphones in as well as turn on Spotify, and my journey begins. It’s been 3 months and I am super lucky I paid for an infinite data plan on my phone because I would’ve run out on about day 15, I think that I’ve listened to nearly a 15th of all the songs on Spotify so far, I don’t have anyone that I miss and I can’t contact the outside world so I will enjoy my solitude forever. I haven’t thought about my family in about 7 years, but now I have, just now, I forgot to mention how beautiful the stars are around my space bus, they remind me of a Spotify playlist I made, it’s called stars. After being on the ride for 200 years I can’t remember my previous being, that’s what I call my life before immortality, kind of cool don’t you think? I want to get off, Where are my parents? What did I do? Where is Andrew? Why do I exist? Can I get off? What have I done? I have spent the last 3 years trying to answer these questions, there are now etchings on the walls, and they read ‘time is a concept, existing is reality’ they remind me of really cringe ‘deep’ Instagram accounts. Not sure how I will spend the rest of time, but hey maybe I will find somebody to pick up on the way, I will see so many things, the beginning, the end, the middle, and more stars. Year 83573814091848198473184731746217948137431998888821321874. I’m going to do it, I have seen all there is to see. Goodbye god, if you exist, maybe I’m a god with no power… I am going to end it all, I packed a rope, and I wonder who I’ll see on the flip? If there is one.


Little bells clang clang clang above me as I walk into Golds. I shuffle into line. Regulars fill the tight, boxy store, trying to get their different fixes. The scruffy man in front of me is getting vodka. I want cigs. I play with the lighter in the deep pocket of my dad’s oversized Army jacket as the line proggresses. Scruffy man finally buys his vodka and departs. The bells *clang clang clang’s* behind him. I see the pretty blue box I want behind the counter. My feet start shuffling. A tall boy waits for me to ask what I want. I don’t recognize him, so he must have just started working here. “Can I get a pack of blue American Spirits?” I ask. “Can I see I.D.?” the tall boy behind the counter asks. "Sure." I show him my provisional license as proof that I am old enough to slowly kill myself in Pennslyvania. He glances quickly at it and then grins. I know what this is about. "Is your name really--" "Yeah yeah yeah--I know what my name is, can I just get the cigs?" I blush. "Sure," the tall boy laughs and rings me up. “Thanks,” I whisper. “That’ll be seven dollars, Bunny Butler," he says. “Fine,” I shove the money at him and snatch the blue box. I rush out of Golds. My breath materializes in front of me, and my body shivers. I take out the blue box and smoke one of my new cigs. The tension in my shoulders relaxes. I have not gotten around to changing my name yet. But I'm gonna. I'm tired of dealing with it. Annoying people like that boy always tease me about it. I hate it. I smoke my cig and pace in front of Golds. I light another cig and start walking home. I play with my red BIC lighter as I meander the worn-out streets. The flame is pathetic now, and it'll be out of butane soon. I'll head to Golds after work tomorrow. I get home, take a bath, and snuggle into bed. I look over at my clock: **10 p.m.** The apartment is bustling with roommate activity. I wrap myself in my blanket and try to go to sleep. Of course, the tall boy flashes into my mind. His black hair dangling at his shoulders. That stupid grin. He must have been over six feet tall. His face was kinda nice looking. Why am I thinking about him? I bet he thought he was being cute, saying my name like that. *Errrr*, The nerve of that guy! I wake up the next morning and get myself ready for work. Waiting tables sucks. My lighter finally dies at work, so I definitely have to go to Golds to get a new one. My shift ends, I leave the shitty restaurant on fifth-avenue, and I head to Golds. I hug my dad's army jacket as the icy wind beats my body. I push the door open, and the *clang clang clang* sings above me. The tall boy is behind the counter again. I see him notice me walk in, but I try ignoring him and get in line. I finally make it to the front. The boy is grinning like an idiot, again. "What can I do for you this evening," he asks. "A pack of BIC lighters," I say. "Sure thing, Bunny Butler, that'll be five dollars." “Oh great, you remember my name.” “Pretty hard to forget a name like Bunny Butler,” he laughs. "Fuck you," I give him the money and bust out of Golds. I smoke a cig and pace in front of Golds. Why did I get so ticked off? Maybe because he's cute. It's embarrassing to be made fun of for having a stupid name from someone attractive. Also, yeah, I guess I’m admitting that I like him now. Ughhh. Why couldn’t my dad just name me something normal. I wish I hadn't told that boy to fuck off. Maybe I should go in and apologize to him? It isn't his fault my dad named me something stupid. I should just go home. *Clang clang clang*. The tall boy walks out of the store. He looks at me a bit sheepishly and takes out a pack of Newports. "I'm sorry I teased you about your name," he says. "I'm sorry I swore at you," I say. His eyes brighten a bit. We smoke silently for a bit.. "Your name is pretty dumb." "Thanks, jerk." "Your welcome,” he stamps out his cig, “It's dumb, but you're cute, and you kind of pull it off." "I'm gonna change it," I say. “That makes sense.” “You’re not gonna tell me I shouldn't, that my name is unique, that I shouldn't care about what other people think, or some cliche thing?” “Most people don’t get pissed at being called by their name. Do what makes you happy.” “True,” I say. He grins. "Whoever named you Bunny Butler must be a real son-of-a-bitch." "Yeah, my dad is crazy,"I say. “You don’t have daddy issues, do you?” he asks “Probably.” I smile. "Do you wanna go out sometime?" "I'll think about it.


This wasn’t how they said it would be. Cross them all, Rect thought to himself. Where’s the glory? Where’s the feeling of accomplishment? Where were the men revelling in a hard-fought victory, sharing the spoils of war, drinking and laughing at the thought of being so near to the clutches of Sylx, and laughing in defiance in his face. Today was not the day he would wrap his icy fingers around you, no, today was the day where we stood tall as brothers and sang aloud our joy to still be alive. But there was no joy to be shared. There was simply the grief of worn out men relieved to not have to fight any longer. They wept for their fallen brothers, and they drank to forget they ever existed. No, there was no glory to be had here, not for a common foot-soldier like Rect. He realised as he stood there, surrounded by broken men, covered in blood of friend and foe alike, still clutching the sword he had been lucky wasn’t wrenched from his hand as soon as the skirmish began, that he had been lied to. Not directly, not by anyone he trusted, but by the songs, and the stories he had been raised with. Tales of Maltior the Vanquisher in his unbreakable deep-forged armour, and Feelan the Swift, legendary for having never taken a hit, amongst many other heroes. He had been raised on the glory and beauty of war and never until this moment had he considered the harsh implications of so many deaths. How foolish he had been. His breath caught in his throat and he felt a tear begin to roll down his cheek. He suddenly realised why the Legion, on the whole, is home to the downtrodden and poor, those looking to make a name for themselves. No man who already had enough would subject himself to this terror. So why had he? Rect dropped to his knees and wept for his own ignorance. In the midst of battle, it had been fine. In that what they said is true, Baran, cousin of Sylx, had come to him. He had come to them all. There was no thought in battle, there was but instinct and the desire to survive amongst all else. Whilst Sylx fought to rip you away from the upper world, Baran did all he could so that Sylx would not be satisfied. And it had worked for some, as it had for Rect, so he wept tears of joy that he had not been taken, and he wept tears of grief that he now had to live in the terrible aftermath. But at least that was preferable, he told himself. At least it was better than the clutches of the unknown. And so, he wept, and none judged him as all who had fought understood the toll it took, and when he was done weeping, he stood and he admired the wreckage. The once impregnable city of Agrakar was smoking, its walls riddled with holes. In the name of the Queen they had torn it apart over the course of a week, with Rect and his fellow men providing the final surge needed to rip the capital away from the clutches of the T’Halash once and for all. Rect wasn’t entirely sure why they had needed this city, something about birth rights for the T’Keltin royal family, but more likely it was simply about taking the land for their own. More land, more power for his Queen. She had been there, before the final charge, smiling in the faces of the men she sent to their deaths, speaking words that had no right to build these men to such courage, but they did and those men charged willingly to their demise with smiles on their faces, Rect included. But how? How had she had such an effect on those men? Was it her beauty, or the power that emanated from her as she stood above them, clad in fine armour, blood red for her house, veined with gold for her? Rect remembered looking at her as she spoke, and he remembered feeling he would do anything; he would die happily if it only meant he had died in her service. What a fool he had been, she had taken his naivety, all their naivety and used it to twist them around her finger, to do as she willed. Why did she need to take the city? Was the cause necessary to expend so many lives? Were their lives less valuable than hers? Rect remembered in that moment, before the charge, that these thoughts had come to him, as they did now, but he had disregarded them. Of course, it was worth it, and of course he would do anything that his Queen would ask of him. She was his Queen and he her humble servant, ready to lay down his life at a moment's whim. But now stood in the wreckage, her wreckage, that she had caused, he seethed. He had shed his grief, and now he was angry. Angry at his radiant Queen for sending them to their deaths, and angry at himself for trusting in her, and believing in the idea of heroes. There were no heroes to be found in battle, simply those who had died, and those who wished they had died as well so as not to live in the broken world afterwards. Cross them all, and Cross her especially Rect thought to himself as he picked up his sword, placed it back in its sheath and turned his back to the city walls.


Oh it's been so long since I went horse-back riding. The wind feels amazing on my face. I catch my reflection in the clear stream next to me as I pass it. I look good! My dark hair flowing, my red cape billowing, my bracelets of submission glinting in the sun. I don't even care if the saddle on this horse will end up chafing my thighs in this Wonder-Woman costume, I've not felt this free and powerful in a very long time. The trees, mountains and fields, all are fading into a blur around me. Its just me and this beautiful black horse. The only sound I can hear are the clippity-clop made by its galloping hooves. Actually, no. That's not exactly what it sounds like. It's not as rhythmic as it should be. It's more like a faint "tap-tap-tap". Did I leave the faucet open in the kitchen last night? Impossible! I don't do such mistakes. "tap-tap-tap". There it is again. Maybe I did. I will take care of it when I get back home. "Mommy?" Where did that sound come from? "Tap-tap-tap... Mommy?" There it is again. "Mommy? Is Friday a holiday?" Hah! No. It is not. But you would think that wouldn't you Teddy boy? Now go get washed up while mommy makes us something to eat. Wait a second! I pull at the reins of the horse suddenly as I try to slow it down and stop. But it gets startled instead and throws me in the air. As I am airborne for a terrifying second, I realize that I had been dreaming. And as I hit the floor of my bedroom in my pajamas, I know for sure that that's what I was doing. As I lay there contemplating my life choices, there are three things I notice. a.) I must run the vaccum cleaner under the bed more often. b.) Wonder-woman costumes are completely impractical. And c.) I was horribly late. I scramble up from the floor. Unbelievable! My shiny new alarm clock did not gone off at all. And I am half-an-hour late! This is sacrilege in my universe. "Mommy will be with you in a second darling. Go pee and brush your teeth!", I call out to my son. "No! I am gonna sit outside your door until you come out. Why did you lock your door again?", he responds with his little boy whiny voice. Because you were making it a habit of coming into mommy's room every night and you are almost 9 years old and everyone already judges me for babying you too much and I don't want to add one more thing to their ever growing list of why-I-suck! - I think to myself. "I am sorry honey! I am coming out now. Step away from the door." I open the door as gingerly as possible, as I know he was still sitting propped up against it, which meant as I opened it, he fell into my room. With a toothy grin. "Very funny! Let's go get washed up now. We are horribly late today!" He doesn't move. Just lies there, on the carpeted floor, looking up at me. "Ted, please do not test my patience today. We are already late, let's go NOW!" Nope. Such a cocky little devil. Fine. I lift up his arm and he suddenly decides to go all dead-weight on me. With a mighty effort, I pull him up, put him on his feet and push him out of the room. Once he is in his bathroom and I'd made sure that he is indeed following the whole peeing - brushing - pooping morning ritual, I run back into the kitchen. The clock on the microwave shows 6.30 a.m. Only half-hour to go before we absolutely have to leave. "It's okay! I'm fine. Everything's fine. This is nothing I can't handle. I am Wonder-Woman." I quickly say my mantra to myself to calm my nerves. Okay so no time for coffee. I can have the slightly burnt brew from coffee shop around the corner. Let's focus on the break fast and lunch part. I can heat up yesterday's leftover pasta for breakfast, but the lunch needs to be something healthy. I decide to make an artfully cut salami "smiley" sandwich for him. But as I am surprisingly inept when it comes to art and was in a rush, the eyes came out slightly squinty and the smile ended up being borderline creepy. Great! My son's lunch looks like Pennywise the clown. So, I stick a post-it note on the little minion themed lunchbox declaring my love for my little prince and call it a day. I am really into overcompensating these days. We rush through the rest of our routine and barely make it out of home on time. If I am not late to drop him off at school, I promise to treat myself with the pricey coffee at Starbucks. So, once my little boy was safely deposited at his school I drive to Starbucks, stand in the line for no less than 20 minutes, while tapping my foot impatiently, rolling my eyes at the patrons before me ordering ostentatiously complicated drinks, and mentally screaming at the barista to "HURRY THE FUCK UP!". I finally make it to the front and order my simple mocha latte with caramel sauce and promptly bleed through my ears when I hear the price. With a locked jaw and forced smile I pay for the coffee and leave for my store. With such an overpriced coffee in my system, today better be a good day! If only I knew what awaited me. Because, by 9 a.m. my "good day" started veering dangerously into the "bad day" territory when my store manager took an impromptu day off leaving me to handle the delivery of all the new garments that were supposed to be arriving at the store. "It's okay!" I tell myself "It's okay! I'm fine. Everything's fine. This is nothing I can't handle. I am Wonder-Woman." So, I start taking deliveries at the back while my very inexperienced newbie "sales consultant" took over manning the counter and accepted customers. I check in with the doe eyed sales girl in between deliveries and my other chores, and each time she manages to look even more terrified than before. By 11 a.m., as it was turning out to be an uncharacteristically busy day, I decide I would call for reinforcements and dial my best friend's number and she agrees to help me out after lunch. At 11.30 I put my little helper out of her misery and tell her to go get something to eat. I close the store for 10 minutes to take a little breather, quickly scarf down an energy bar with the tasteless coffee from my old coffee maker. After my laughable lunch, I open the store up and wait for my sales girl to arrive. By 12.10 I start getting antsy. But by 12.40 I am pretty confident that the girl was not coming back. And sure enough when I check my phone, I see her message. "I QUIT!" In all caps. Okay. I get it. It is not the ideal job, but you don't have to yell. "Its all right. Everything's fine. I am going to be okay. I only have couple of hundered invoices to book into the system and check with at least 10 customers at the same time. Nothing I can't handle. I am Wonder-Woman." , I tell myself weakly. It's my fault after all. During the pandemic I had to reduce the overhead costs of paying my employees their salaries. So, I ended up firing everyone with an incredibly heavy heart. But it was either keep them employed or keep the store afloat. I've been working with a threadbare staff ever since. Which meant longer work hours and offering discounts which I couldn't afford. Living on store brand corn flakes and ramen noodles at times. But now that things were opening up I am hopeful again. This was more than a livelihood for me. It was something my mother and I had dreamt of together. And I'd made a hell of a lot of sacrifices to be where I am today. That meant I could never quit. At 1 my best friend arrives with her signature wide smile and warm hug and a much needed cup of coffee from the overpriced coffee shop down the street. Bless her soul! We work in tandem for 3 more hours until I have to leave to pick my son up from his school and drop him off at the baby sitter's after which I get back to the store. It's 6 p.m. now, which means that I have been up on my feet for 12 hours straight. But the day isn't over yet. I still have to go meet with a potential customer. And the meeting is downtown in a pub. Although I abhor the idea of having the meeting at a pub I knew I could not lose this contract. It is for some ethically produced organic clothing brand which is a big deal these days among the "young millennial" crowd. So, I check up on my son and his baby sitter. Make sure everything was under control. I close up shop, say a little prayer of thanks to my mum and leave for this happening new pub. As soon as I enter this place, I feel massively out of place. Like a colorless little 35 something sore thumb sticking out in the crowd of mostly 20 somethings. Except for my smudged ruby red lipstick I am dressed from head to toe in black. It felt as if everyone had stopped in their tracks and were now looking my way. I touched my hair self-consciously, glanced-down at my shoes, pulled at the skirt of my sensible black dress and beat it to the restroom. When I catch a look at myself in the mirror, I do a double-take. Gosh! I look so frazzled . No wonder they were all staring at me . My hair, that I had wrangled into a bun in the morning, is now out of it and sticking up in all directions and to my forehead. My lipstick: non-existent. The mascara: long gone. The dark circles are making themselves known once again. And also, I was looking my age. "It's okay! I am fine. Everything's fine! This is nothing I can't handle. I am Wonder-woman." , I chant to myself as I run a brush through my hair, dab a little concealer under my eyes, decide to forego the mascara and line my eyes with my trusty kohl which made the chocolate brown in them pop and refresh my ruby red lipstick. Taking off my crumpled blazer, I stuff it in my over-sized bag. "Okay! I am ready now", I smile and say to my reflection. I sit myself at the bar. It's 10 past 7. We were supposed to meet at 7. No worries. In this traffic, it's absolutely normal to be a little late. I decide to order myself a vodka and tonic and wait. It's 7.30 now and I think I have a head ache and a shoulder ache and a body ache. The bar stool was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, poking me in the backside. My drink is left mostly untouched. By 7.40 I am almost sure that the meeting is not going to happen. As I am about to leave, I receive a text from the customer that his infant daughter had to be taken to the hospital as she had not pooped for 7 days straight. I can't even be angry at the guy! "Perfect! Just perfect!" I huff out a laugh and empty my first drink and order another. "To hell with it! I'll Uber it. Tomorrow's the weekend. I've got nowhere to be. With the day that I am having I deserve it." I check with my baby sitter again. My son was sound asleep by now, she assures me that he had had his dinner and instructs me that I should stay out for a little bit more and relax a bit. I thank her profusely and hang up with a smile on my face. I am just sufficiently buzzed from my second drink when I decide to look up from my phone and join the land of the living. The crowd around me is getting wilder by the second. "So, this is what happens after dark on a Friday! Fascinating." Just as I am going back to my drink while doing my best to blend into the background, my eyes get caught on to another pair on the other end of the bar. My heart involuntarily skips a beat. My smile drops as I realize those eyes belonged to a guy. Sharp features. A regal nose. Dark eyebrows. 5 o-clock shadow around a solemn mouth, which curves into a small friendly smile as soon as our eyes get connected. I look away immediately. "Was that for me? It couldn't be. Gosh, I am too old for this shit!" I glance back at him, as indifferently as possible, and yep! He is definitely looking at me. He was not bad-looking, maybe even handsome by some people's standards. "Why is he looking at me?" , I think, looking away again. "How long has he been looking at me? And why is it bothering me so much?" It's been over 4 years since my divorce. 4 years in which I have never been on a date because I'm always so focused on my son and my business. "There is no harm in looking right? I am not going to approach him for sure. I hope he doesn't approach me either. And if he does, I can unleash my patented resting bitch face to deter him. So what's the big deal in just perusing?" I give myself a mental pep talk, straighten my back, take a fortifying sip from my drink and a deep breath and slowly look his way. Oh! But he is looking somewhere else now. Bummer ! Disappointed, I am just about to look away when he glances towards me. And our eyes connect once again. Then he smiles. Close-lipped. Eyes twinkling. Subtly crinkling in the corners. Knowing. "He smiles as though he knows all my secrets" , is my first thought. It is difficult to make out the color of his eyes from here. The mood-lighting in this place was not helping. But from how his eyes were glimmering in the dim light I guess they must be jewel toned. "Maybe his eyes are green. With flecks of gold around the irises. Like a field of golden wheat surrounded by a deep green forest" . Look at me going all poetic. I mentally roll my eyes at myself and smile. In reciprocation his smile grows wider and warmer. As if it made him genuinely happy that I had smiled. It was the most bizarre thing. "Why would a complete stranger care about my happiness?" "It's okay! I'm fine. Everything's fine. This is nothing I can't handle. I am Wonder-Woman" , I repeat my mantra in my mind as I engage in a war of wits with the good-looking stranger on the other end of the bar. We are competing to see who would look away first or who would make the first move. Certainly not me. The evening reaches its crescendo, he makes a move as if to stand up, but right then my phone rings. "Hello. Hi Catherine. Is everything all right?". "Yes everything is fine. I don't want you to worry but Teddy just had a little episode. I gave him his inhaler and he is doing better. But he's asking for you." "Okay. Tell him mommy's on her way. And thank you so much for being there. I really appreciate it. I am leaving now. I will see you in a bit." I am already gathering my stuff, paying the bill and sliding off the bar stool as I speak to her. But as soon as I stand up I stumble. I hadn't realized exactly how tipsy I was. Just as I fall, he is there, out of the blue. He grasps me by my elbow as he steadies me and puts me back on my feet. Rattled and I put my hand to my racing heart, and I look his way, straight into his eyes. "Are you all right?", He asks. "Green. I was right", I say with a sigh. "Sorry?", he says with a puzzled look on his face. "Oh nothing. Thank you for your help. But I've got it from here", I tell him with a kind smile and he smiles back. And just as he opens his mouth to say something, I say, "Goodbye. Goodnight and thank you again." He looks confused for a second and replies, "It's not a problem." Then, I walk away from him. Order an Uber and go back home to my son. Later, as I settle down next to my son for the night, my mind wanders and I think of my stranger again. He, for an instant, made me feel attractive, wanted. I was just a woman out on a Friday night for those few minutes, not a mum or a store owner. And I am unashamed to say that it did give me some validation, which I didn't even know I needed. It certainly did transform my mostly "bad day" into an almost "good" one. I did feel something akin to disappointment when I left without even asking for his name. But that feeling was fleeting just like those moments. As I stroked my son's hair I reminded myself, "It's okay! I'm fine. Everything's fine. Nothing I can't handle. I am wonder-woman." And all was well in my world!


The way it feels when you’re walking through the crowds and every overhead, florescent light feels like your own personal spotlight. The sickly sweet yet somehow comforting aroma from coming off the freshly baked buns and perfume samples drifting to my nose. Really what could be better. And the girls in tv shows and movies who go to the mall always look absolutely fantastic. They are always beautiful girls who know how to do their makeup, their blonde hair bouncing on their shoulders as they laugh with all their friends. And you can’t forget about the shopping bags. The bags upon bags upon bags upon bags! Coach. Juicy. Abercrombie. Guess. Vera Bradley. Its just endless. That’s what all the cool girls in my school did. Monday mornings they would all show off their new clothes, jewelry, bags, anything they’d bought over the weekend. Just waiting for someone to ask where it was from. “Oh this little thing?” they’d say, feigning surprise. “Oh, you know, just got it at Abercrombie this weekend. Super cute right?” And they were always right. “Super cute” their friends would have to agree. I never got to go to the mall, my lazy mom said it was too far, and she usually worked late nights on the weekends anyways. But that doesn’t mean I was a total loser or something. I did alright. Senior year I got to sit near the cool kids, and sometimes even asked them about the mall. Unlike Lacey. Lacey was such a dweeb. She was a whole year ahead in math, so she was always studying. And she'd do the lamest stuff like ask questions in class and bring her own lunch. One time she even asked the teacher what the homework was when he forgot to announce it. Un-freaking-believable. I was so embarrassed for her I had to put my head down on my desk for like 10 minutes. She eventually even joined the marching band. I mean, can you believe that! She played the tuba of course. I only know all of this because all the cool girls would make fun of her. And I sat with her at lunch sometimes because I felt so bad for her. I tried to teach her the ways of high school, the ways of life. I just wanted to show her how to be at least a little cooler. Well, until I decided she was a lost cause so she started sitting with all her marching band friends instead. After that, I realized helping people is too much trouble, and from then on I decided to sit on my own. My table was right next to the popular kids though, so I got to hear all about what was cool. Thank god I don’t have to hear it second hand anymore though. Now that I’m all grown up, and have a job, and a car, I can go to the mall anytime I want!! Life is just totally perfect. I go on Wednesday through Saturday nights, and sometimes on Sunday. And my routine is down solid. First I get fro-yo. Low-fat of course with just a couple blueberries on top. After I eat that I get a small pumpkin spice latte and head out to do some shopping. Some of my favorite stores aren’t in my mall anymore, but I make do with whats there. I can’t always buy everything I want because I come so often, so usually I keep a few extra shopping bags from the high end stores to walk around with. I can feel the eyes of young girls on me as I strut across the mall. Jealousy searing behind their ocean blue eyes as they look from me to their friends giggling. My velvet, Juicy jumpsuit combined with tan Uggs and pink tinted sunglasses are just too much to ignore. I know this is exactly how those girls from my high school must have felt. Except maybe even better because I’m older and can buy pretty much anything I want now that I’ve moved my mom to the cheaper nursing home. (she’s so old what does it even matter where she lives). But anyways, last week I was totally shocked at who I saw trying not to stare at me. Lacey. J. Michelson. From the marching band. She may not have had her tuba on hand, but she was still a totally square. She was dressed in boring jeans and a blouse and only had one shopping bag. Just one! I smiled to myself as I walked by, and I could see her looking at me from the corner of her eyes, her face colored by sadness. It totally made my day. God do I love the mall. god do I love myself.


(IP) Let Sleeping Gods Lie Why had he agreed to this again? Oh yeah, because he wanted glory and ballads written in his honor. But that had been before he’d woken up a giant, sleeping serpent, whose eyes were bright and cunning, and golden sparks flew out of its mouth. “Haven’t you heard the expression *‘let sleeping things lie’?”* The snake hissed, the gray feathers along its back standing straight up. “What do you want, little human?” It asked, stretching its long neck, the better to look at its new quarry. “I-I’ve come to pay tribute to you, O Great Scaled One!” This was a lie, naturally, but Hector found himself willing to say whatever possible to get out of this alive. “I have heard the legend of the Great Serpent, the guardian of the ancient forests, and of his benevolence—” Much to Hector’s surprise, the snake chuckled, the sound hoarse and dark. “It appears you’ve lost your way,” The thing continued, yawning sleepily, showing off a mouthful of bright, sharp teeth. “No one disturbs me unless they’ve something to ask of me. So, what is it? What desire shall I grant now?” It sounded bored, but for his part, Hector could not believe that this was happening. He’d heard of the serpent’s ability to grant wishes, but he’d dismissed that part of the story as mere poppycock. How many more legends were true, just waiting out there to be found? “I… I would ask you for rain,” Hector murmured, and the serpent squinted at him for a moment. Then the monster’s great, bubbling laughter came flowing, and Hector blinked, nonplussed. “Rain? You’ve come all this way to ask me to aid the clouds?” Of all of humanity’s requests, this fell on the less grand spectrum of things. “Why?” “My people are dying, you see,” Hector answered, making sure to keep his head bowed in deference. “I’ve traveled across the Rainbow Desert to ask for your help.” He hadn’t quite planned it that way, but it didn’t matter. “Our crops are dying, people are starving. I’ll give you anything you want, just please, help my people.” The monster stared at Hector with one bright, beady eye, unflinching, and he steeled himself, not daring to move a muscle. “Very well, boy. I will honor your request. But first, you must do something for me.” “What is it? I’ll do anything to save my people. Please. You must help us.” “You must journey to the center of the forest and retrieve the crone’s eye. You will find a waterfall, and behind it is where she lives. Return with the eye, and your people will never starve again.” Hector knew that this was foolishness, but he’d gotten this far, believing in the old legends. Theirs was a desert kingdom, and it needed water to truly thrive. “Thank you, Lord, truly.


There is a room. There is a scream. I can hear it on the other side of the door, a big wail of a scream that can only come from someone who would rather put each of their limbs through a meat grinder, attached, than endure that kind of pain. I know what is coming; I have seen it before. People would be rescued from the Square and come here to be mentally evaluated and physically examined before being released back to society; or so they thought. I know this because I have been here so long I have named the specks of dirt on the wall - Becky is my favourite because she has nice hair. The scream doesn’t dissipate but instead grows more intense. *Damn, she’s really getting the full treatment.* Most people that are returned from the Square don’t have many limbs to speak of because they are torn off by the Reapers. You’d think that if they wanted to keep the entertainment going they would try to keep the remaining Nephilim fodder alive. I'm jealous of the source of the screams though - not many Nephilim still have mouths because they are deemed “vestigial”. All my room has is an IV drip; inhuman beings don’t need human niceties and besides, who misses cheeseburgers anyway? Totally not me, of course. As soon as I start up my usual conversation about cheeseburgers with Becky I can hear the click clack of heels. *She’s baaack*, I trill in my mind. I think today I’ll be a tiger. As she nears my cell I crouch and stalk towards the door. When the clicks stop I launch myself at the window as I feel my well worn muscles spring and she collapses to the floor; best part of the day. Stiff and sentry-like, the guards enter and chain me to the spot on the wall covered in claw marks - sometimes I get too much into my cat act. I nod a hello to them as per usual but of course no mouth equals no response. I still think I’m going to get a nod back. The heeled woman follows them in through the small doorway and now comes the worst part of my day. “Good morning, Seraphina. I hope you’re well because, as you know, we have the eight-hour marathon starting at 10 and I cannot have my champion going off to Heaven now can we?” She laughs an I-own-you-but-you-should-laugh-anyway kind of laugh - she says the same derogatory joke daily. I’d rather die than listen to her dribble but the fact that she’s talking means I’m closer to my opportunity. This marathon will guarantee my death - my ticket to release. I hate that joke but today it becomes ironic - I will finally be rid of her. She’s still talking but I've tuned out her shrill voice as I’m being dragged down the hall by the guards - why would I want to make it easier for them? I float down the river lazily, hearing the gushes of water crashing into the rocks and the glacial water permeating my back until I shiver in pain and pleasure. The river twists and turns and now I hear the buzz of bees as they bounce from lily to lily - gathering sweet nectar for the honey I ache to taste on my tongue. Buzz, buzz, buzz. There’s a voice that tells me to shut up and suddenly there’s a much louder buzz as I float gently away. My river dries up momentarily and now I stand in the launch room, shuffling my feet and bouncing on them; anxious to kill and anxious to die. I can see the remains of my fallen Nephilim brethren and all I can be is envious. I’m too strong for my own good. The screen above the loading bay displays the last of the commercials for the Alliance and a timer with only five minutes remaining. As I feel the familiar grip and weight of my signature double bladed staff I cannot help that my eyes light up with a fury. I will kill all the Reapers today; I will not hold back anymore. My grip tightens on the staff until my claws break my skin. “Remember Seraphina, you will not die. I do not care if I have to hybridize you like a mutt.” Heel Lady sneers at me and I am placed behind the gate too soon - the tiger in me roars with disgust and I have to agree.


In peaceful solitude, Scorpion stood on the river bank. The sun glinting off her black and red armor, her body at rest, yet peaceful only in appearance. With longing she watched the river. Had it been moments or hours, she could not be sure. The gently rippling waters burbled over rocks before feeding a small pond. It caught the sunlight and shimmered as it lazily flowed past, but she had no interest in the water's dance today. Her eyes flitted across the surface. Nothing. Still. Scorpion clicked her claws in annoyance. Where is he? She thought, I've been here all morning! Her patience wearing thin, Scorpion turned from the water and slowly crawled away. Until the unmistakable sound called her back. The splash had been quiet, but distinct. Scorpion rushed back to the water's edge. Her convictions renewed. She would not miss him again. Patience. She told herself so strongly she had almost spoken aloud. Searching the river with determination, she waited. Waited. The surface exploded at once as the fish leapt again. Twisting in the air, sunlight catching on a thousand scales, droplets twinkling like stars from his tail. He captivated Scorpion, and she was powerless to resist. In an instant it was over, as the fish disappeared beneath the river again. Scorpion sighed and settled into the soft sand. Alas, Fish took no note of the staring scorpion on the sandy shore. His life was the river, ever flowing and changing. He leapt because it was his nature, not to captivate a lonely arachnid. Even so, captivated she was. Again and again he jumped, and each time she took in the splendor. With each graceful leap, her heart jumped as well. There was something about this creature that called to her. His beauty and vibrancy echoed somewhere deep within her. Despite her best interests, she knew all too well that she was in love, and the fact tormented her. In silent rage, Scorpion lashed out at the ground in front of her. Claws raking the sand as her tail snapped forward sending a pebble sailing into the water. "Oh, hello!" A voice called from beyond the water's edge. Scorpion lifted her gaze. The fish was before her, swaying from side to side. "My," began Fish, "you're simply gorgeous! Come for a swim?" For a long moment she said nothing. Her mind reeled for a reply from suddenly absent thoughts. "Um- uh- I can't swim." Scorpion stated, kicking herself. "That's a shame." Fish said with a slight and fleeting frown, and slipped beneath the water. "W-wait!" Cried Scorpion. But it was too late. He was gone. "I love you." She whispered after him. Her small body shuddered with a sigh. Half defeated and half ecstatic. The interaction, though brief, was more than she had dared to hope for. She watched Fish leap until the sun passed behind the thick canopy of trees. With sunlight and shadows dancing across the river, she turned to crawl back to her lair.


I reached down to grab the man’s hand to pull him out of the boat wreckage. Shark fins occasionally sliced through water ripples just beyond where the man had been floating on wooden debris. I pulled him into my boat. His skin was blistered and oozing. He’d been languishing in the sun without cover for quite some time, I guessed. “Those sharks near the surface usually don’t attack,” I assured him. “Now the ones circling below you, well, those are ambush predators, and they sure looked like they were getting bolder, judging from your toes.” Two of the man’s toes were nicked. “Hardly life threatening, your little shark-nibbled toes, but the fresh wounds and gently dripping blood would have made you into chum had I not gotten to you when I did.” The man rocked back and forth, hugging himself tightly with his scrawny arms, and probably would have been pissing himself from fright, had he not been dehydrated. “What’s your name?” I asked. The man only trembled and shook. His mouth was open and his teeth chattered. He stared at the cooler in the corner, grunting and panting. I went over and took out a bottle of water and gave it to him. His hand shook so violently, and he was in such a state of shock, that he could not grasp the bottle. The bottle fell, spilling cold water onto the floor of my boat. The man fell forward and began lapping up the water like a dog. “I’ll get you another,” I said soothingly. I placed another bottle in his hand, and wrapped my hand around his, until I was sure he could hold it steady. “Bob,” he sputtered, between gulps of water. “You sure were bobbing,” I chuckled, “like an apple. I think I’ll call you Apple.” Apple eyed me with annoyance while chugging water. “Bob is my name,” he said, finally gathering enough strength to form words. “Sorry,” I smiled, “just trying to lighten the mood.” “I’ll put you in my book,” he said, with a cragged voice. He must have blown out his voice screaming at overhead planes, I figured. “Why don’t you rest quietly, and I’ll get some crackers for you. You don’t want to eat a big meal, or drink too much water immediately, or you’ll get sick. You have to ease your body back slowly.” Bob held up his water bottle in a silent toast to me. He nodded his head, then drank the rest of the water. I radioed for help and the coast guard and paramedics arrived quickly. “Are you ok, sir? Do you feel pain?” The paramedics swarmed Bob. I had never rescued anyone before, and wondered if they were this concerned over every stranger they rescued. Bob looked like a race car with its pit stop crew. The paramedics, all of them, gathered around him, and lifted his arms, checked inside his mouth, poked him, listened to his heart, called out vitals, and shined lights into his eyes. At the dock, reporters scrambled over each other like breeding gerbils in a small cage. They shoved microphones forward, while cameramen stood leaning over the dock ropes with their cameras aimed at Bob. “Robert! Robert Briggs! Were you under the influence of any drugs or substances when you took off in your plane?” One reporter screamed her question above the many other questions being shouted. I looked over at Bob. I had no idea who this man was, although everyone else seemed to think he was famous. Bob wearily hung his head, trying unsuccessfully to hide his face from the throng of news cameras. “Robert, were you released from rehab on your own recognizance, or did you escape against your doctors’ advice that you should remain in rehab?” A man stumbled over a camera tripod as he yelled his question. “Were you attempting to commit suicide, Robert, when you flew your airplane without alerting anyone to your hastened departure?” Another reporter shouted from atop her news van’s roof. I tossed Bob my jacket to put over his head. The guy was almost shark bait, and now he was again shark bait, except the sharks circling him here on land, were reporters. Bob caught my jacket. “Thanks,” he graciously mumbled, then quickly covered his head with my jacket. A giant dog tore after Bob, tackled him, then pinned his neck to the dock with its fangs pressed into Bob’s jugular. “Shit!” I whispered under my breath. I walked faster, away from the ensuing chaos, and toward what I hoped would be an easy escape back to my car parked just beyond the marina. I’d been smuggling drugs in international waters and forgot about my private stash I’d tucked away in my jacket pocket. Thankfully, the rest of my important cargo was sealed inside my daughter’s inconspicuous toy camera I’d stripped and modified. The drug dogs must have been preoccupied with the stronger smelling, unsealed drugs in my jacket pocket. I escaped unharmed, and laid low for a while, at my country home with my wife and daughter. As it turned out, Bob was indeed famous, though I had always heard of him as R. A. Briggs, the author. His next book was all about me, which gave me a good chuckle. I got the feeling he was pretty pissed off that he had gone from shark bait to dog bait within hours. While relaxing with my family at our pond, I read Bob’s newest novel, knowing full well that I was the evil antagonist. The main character in Bob’s book was named Richard, nicknamed Dick, and was a boat captain who was choked, beaten and stabbed to death, and I mean repeatedly strangled, bloodied, and beaten with a baseball bat, a tire iron, and finished off by shoving an apple down the throat of the character clearly modeled after me. Talk about overkill. Quite the imagination Bob had. Later, I learned that R. A. Briggs was nearby at his book signing event. I left a copy of Bob’s book at the front desk of the luxury hotel where he was staying. I gave explicit instructions to the clerk that the apple must remain on top of the book when given to Mr. R. A. Briggs. Inside I wrote, ‘Sorry about that, Apple. That was quite unplanned. I had forgotten about that thing in my pocket when I gave you my jacket. You are apparently, extremely livid, but, nevertheless, you didn’t rat me out. In fact, you made millions off my character. I saved you, you saved me, and now you’re richer. All my best, Lifesaver.’


My life is boring. You may think that is a bad thing, but for me it’s a dream come true. I come from the bustling streets of central Britain where everyone seemed to have somewhere to be every second of the day. So when I moved out far into the country to pursue my dream of becoming a florist, I was finally able to think clearly. My town is about as average as they come, the most notable thing that happened here was the time our next door neighbor won a lifetime supply of sunscreen from the local radio station. Seeing as we live in a rainy European town where the sun is a foreign concept, it was short lived fame to say the least. So as a whole life was calm, and living here was relatively simple. However, the one thing that never ceases to perplex me, is the lonely clock tower that stood tall in the town’s square. No one knows where it really came from, some elders say it was there before the town ever existed. But one thing was for sure, it wasn’t normal. You see, no matter where you were, no matter the time, no matter the weather, you could always hear that damn omnipresent ticking in the back of your mind. Sometimes it was a whisper, and sometimes it was a yell but no matter how loud it was, it was there. So you can imagine the panic when the ticking finally stopped… I awoke with a startle, and I immediately knew something was off. It took me a second before it broke through the power of my morning grogginess, and then it hit me. The clock, the ticking, it’s gone. At first I was overjoyed, true silence, something that was a stranger to me for many years now. That joy was quickly smothered when I looked out the window however. “Dark… it’s dark outside…” I said to no one in particular. A seemingly usual observation turned negative when I saw the alarm clock on the bedside table near me. It read 12:35pm, by this time our small town would be bustling with activity, stocking markets and going about their daily errands. However the streets stood as still as ice. I decided the best course of action would be to head outside and maybe figure out what the hell was going on. As I stepped out into the cold supposed nighttime air, I promptly realized that the time wasn’t the only thing to have stopped in its tracks. Leaves frozen mid fall, my friends and acquaintances stuck in whatever activity they were engaging in, and even the morning dew refused to loosen its clutch on the delicate blades of grass surrounding everything in our fair town. The only thing that moved… was me. My head spun with the possibilities of what was happening and thoughts began to flood my head. Why was this happening? How can I fix it? Why was I spared? My trance was promptly broken by a flickering in the corner of my eye. Upon focusing on it, I could tell it was being produced by some sort of candle in the towns square. Another one like me perhaps? Seemingly void of any other options at the time, I began to follow the old cobblestone path to the disturbance. Entering the square the first thing entering my sight was the looming clock tower in the center. It’s hands stood still as rock, almost as if they never had moved in the first place, but I knew better. As I scanned my surroundings for the odd light I had seen before, my eyes settled on a table that had seemingly appeared out of thin air at the base of the tower. At the table was the candle that had drawn my attention previously and perhaps the oddest thing ive seen all day, a man sitting calmly at the table with an empty chair across from him. Having no other words come to mind, I offered him greetings sheepishly and without a word he gestured to the chair across from him. Obviously asking for me to take a seat, I obliged and sat awkwardly across from the stranger. As I sat there with him, I began to notice some things about him that I failed to notice previously, most likely due to the absurdity of the situation. He obviously wasn’t from around here, he was groomed nicely with slicked back hair and wore a black suit with a flower that I failed to identify tucked into the front of it. Strangely enough however, he seemed to have a large brass gear ever turning in the back of his head. After a few moments of silence that felt as if they dragged on for eternities, the mysterious man began to speak. “As I assume you have already realized” he began softly, “things aren’t exactly normal around here are they?”. Angry at his perceived calmness with the situation, I lashed out “Normal?! My whole life has come to a stand still and you waltz in here as if some minor inconvenience has taken place?!” I stopped myself from going any further as I realized I was practically out of my seat at that point, “I just want to know what’s going on” I added. “And you will, in time” the man calmly responded “you may call me Princeton, and I’d appreciate it if you joined me for a walk”. And without another word he stood up and began to stroll towards the clock tower. Had I been a cautious person, I would’ve been skeptical to say the least, but I was too curious for my own good and I followed close behind Princeton. The door to the clock tower had never been opened, at least to the people of our town, no matter what efforts we tried, it stayed sealed. However, as me and my new company approached the entrance, it opened up for us on its own. I hesitated to follow inside, but my own wonder overtook me and I entered into the tower. The initial reveal was quite disappointing, “it’s really just a normal tower, what about the ticking?” I exclaimed, bewildered. But Princeton didn’t even hear me, or if he did, he made no sign of acknowledgment. He just continued up the stairs to the top of the clock's inner workings, presuming he wanted me to follow, I started my way up as well. Entering the main chamber, I was greeted with an odd sight, another table much like the one at the base of the tower outside. Only this time, resting upon the table were three things, a screwdriver, a gear (much like the one endowed upon Princeton), and an hourglass that had almost ran out. Before I could even get a word out, Princeton began to speak “When I created this world long ago, I needed to find a way to sustain its life and ensure the progress made by its inhabitants would continue ever more” he looked out the way window longingly before continuing “That’s when I had discovered the ability to harness a special characteristic of this universe… dark matter.” Seeing as I was obviously confused by the words he was saying, Princeton began to switch his focus to be a bit more simple. “You probably notice the manifestation of this dark matter as the concept of time, an everyday thing that dictates the very path of your life”. “Where is this going, Princeton? What is your point?!” The look on his face seemed almost annoyed at my impatience, but he regained his composure and passed over my rebuttal. “This, time, however was extremely unstable out of its natural state, and I needed something to anchor it to this land, thus this clock tower, modeled after others to blend in was created and for years I have protected this tower and its every corner to keep it safe…” he paused as if trying to think about how to word his thoughts “but my time is swiftly coming to an end, and I need a new disciple”. I was taken aback and almost couldn’t find the words to speak, after a brief moment I finally spoke “This is… a lot to take in I guess. I’m gonna need some time to think about it I guess”. This seemed to anger him, and this time he didn’t hold back “you dare defy me boy?! I have chosen you to take on the duty of a god and you choose to brush me off?!”. The hourglass approached its final grains of life as Princeton grabbed the gear that mimicked his own and the screwdriver next to it. “I should’ve done this the moment we came in here!”. And my world faded to black as something I couldn’t explain overtook me… My life is busy. You may think that is a bad thing, but for me, it’s a dream come true. I come each morning from the dark corners of a tower, for it is all I have ever known. And I’m happy, I’m very happy. My job is my life, and my life is my job. Keep the clock going. Tick tok tick tok tick tok. And the ticking never stops. ————————————————————————— Bit of a longer story this time for my second venture into writing, but I still finished it which surprised me. Again any advice good or bad would be greatly appreciated.