Jeremy peered through the backyard window at his usual perch in the hedge. Inside was a well-organized bedroom, with chess and martial arts trophies lined up, soft cream walls, checkered bed sheets, and a stuffed chess piece. Jeremy waited for this special time of the day, the moment he thought about all day long. It's 9:45 pm she's going to get changed and surf online till twelve-ish, Jeremy predicted to himself. Sure enough there she was as predicted. Her name was Sarah, she goes to Jeremy's school. She had soft features, curly brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a svelte build. Everything about Sarah was hard to look away from. She took off her plaid shirt first, then her black leggings. Revealing a lavender lace bra, and white simple low-waisted panties. "I love lavender on her skin", Jeremy commented to himself. Sarah looked through her drawer for some nightwear. She chose a pink nightshirt with owls on it then put it on. Then Sarah slides her arms in the shirt to unhook her bra and removes it. It was an odd habit that Jeremy liked.

The fact that Jeremy never saw Sarah fully nude, made him feel less guilty. He found out that Sarah lived close to him he couldn't resist. At first, it felt wrong, but he rationed with himself. He thought I'm not planning on hurting her. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. it'll be my little secret. Jeremy rarely spoke to Sarah at school. When they do talk it's mostly about homework questions or it’s just small talk. Jeremy would always fumble his words or say the wrong thing. His friends would poke fun at him afterward. They don’t know what he does at night. As Jeremy looked through Sarah's window she looked panicked. She looked at her bedroom door, closed her laptop, turned off the light, then ran into her closet. Jeremy tried to see what was going on, he pulled out his phone to call 9-1-1. The lights were turned back on by a man in grey sweats and a matching hoodie. He scooped Sarah's phone and laptop into his bag, then started digging in her drawers. Clothes flew out as the man scavenged around. Jeremy was already speaking with the 9-1-1 operator. He informed the police of what was going on. The operator assured, "Police will be at the house in ten minutes." Jeremy looked at the time it was 10:12pm, then his eyes glued to the closet. The thief took what he wanted and left the room. Jeremy was at ease now that he was gone. Then he thought, how was he going to explain to the cops how he saw the break-in? What will happen if Sarah finds out? What should I do? Sarah crawled out of her closet rattled. Sarah whipped her head to the door again and scrambled to her hiding place. But the door opened before she could lie low. Jeremy looked on helplessly as he clutched a branch.

The man was back, he grabbed Sarah, and threw her on the bed. He pulled her hair, pushed her down, like a rottweiler with its toy. Her silent cries and her kicks didn't seem to phase the man as he struck her. Jeremy's heart raced, his teeth grated each other. His body jolted towards the window with a stone in his hand. As he ran his arm flung the stone at the window. It shattered, and the man fled out the door. Sarah ran out and jumped through the window. "Jeremy?" Sarah said shakily. "I called the cops. Are you okay?" Assured Jeremy as he got closer to her. "I am fine, why are you in my backyard? How did you know someone broke in? He broke into the side of the house and my neighbors did not even notice. Were you spying on me?" Sarah's shock turned to suspicion way quicker than Jeremy could respond. Jeremy shook his head, "No!" He tried to think of a reason on the spot, "I knew this was going to happen. I knew you were going to be attacked! I tried to tell you after school but I couldn't find you. I called the cops at 10:12 and they said they would be here in ten minutes. But I know they will be five minutes late. So I picked up a stone and threw it. If you don't believe me, I predict the police will be here at 10:27pm." There was a long pause after Jeremy's story. Sarah was still quivering but her face was focused on Jeremy. Her arms folded and she spoke, "Not a minute early, not a minute late." She turned towards the gate leading to the front of the house. She gestured for Jeremy to go first. He opened the gate slowly and checked for the man. The coast was clear. They both went to the front and heard sirens around the corner. Sarah ran to the front and Jeremy sped to catch up. While he was catching up he changed the time to 10:27pm on his phone. Then he showed her his phone. Her eyes widened and she said, “Kippers tomorrow after school.” Jeremy nodded as the police pulled in. They questioned Sarah and Jeremy and investigated. When everything was done Jeremy went home to plan his date at Kippers.

Morning came and everyone was talking about the break-in at Sarah’s house. No one seemed to bother Jeremy so Sarah likely didn’t mention him. I can’t believe she bought it! Maybe it was the shock. Anyways, she’s safe now and I have a date! If I wasn’t there who knows what could’ve been. I’m a hero. I’m her hero. Thought Jeremy. He had a plan to seal his precognitive lie, that he required his friends' assistance. The first two classes passed and it was time for lunch. His friends always gathered at the same place, the second table to the right in the geography room. There was Lucas, Michael, and Patrick sitting at their spot. Jeremy greeted them and started the conversation, “So I got a date with Sarah last night,” Michael started to sniff loudly, “I smell bullshit.” Everyone chuckled except Jeremy. “Look guys I need your help. She thinks I can see the future.” The boys just looked at each other, Patrick sighed. “Dude, you are stalking her, now you are trying to convince her that you have superpowers. Do you think it’s the right time to even go out with her? Her house was broken into. You need help dude.” “I know her house was broken into. I was there.” Jeremy stated. The whole group now looked concerned, Lucas nervously asked, “Did you break in her home?” “No!” Jeremy defended himself, he explained everything that happened last night at Sarah’s, minus seeing Sarah getting changed.

Patrick just shook his head, his face was unimpressed. “This is too far Jeremy. How long will this last? Sarah was most likely scared out of her mind and you took advantage of it. Whatever you need help with, forget it. I tried to play it off, but you kept getting creeper.” Lucas injected, “I’m not sayin’ you should stalk people, but you did call the cops even though you could’ve gotten caught. You should meet up with her. Teller’ the truth.” Jeremy agreed, but then he said, “Guys this is a one-time thing. I bet we’ll laugh about it later. But I think I should keep the future telling going for a bit. If I can’t tell the future, she’ll be pissed, I’ll be arrested, and that’ll be the end for me. So I have a plan, who’s with me.” Jeremy raised his hand, Michael shrugged and raised his. That left Lucas and Patrick out, Patrick glared at Jeremy and left. Lucas got up to follow Patrick then gave the final word, “If you liked her. You wouldn’ be like dis.” That left Jeremy deflated from where he was in the morning.

“Why are you helping me?” Jeremy asked Michael. Michael just shrugged again and answered, “If she’s dumb enough to believe that shit, I think it’s worth the shot. So what’s your master plan Dr. Evil.” “Look this is only temporary I…” Jeremy was interrupted with Michael's hand, “Plan?’ Shoving Michael away Jeremy began to describe the plan. “You have to do what I tell you to. You’ll need your phone to tell the time. Sarah and I are going to be at Kippers at around 3:30-ish, so be there earlier. Don’t let us see you, and wear this.” Jeremy gave Michael a blonde wig and sunglasses then continued. “Since it’s just you, it makes the plan easier, You need to head to the washroom at 3:45 no matter if we’re there or not. Then wait till 4:05 and leave the washroom, stop, check your pockets and go back in. Come back out with your phone in your hand. Make sure the phone can’t be seen when you first come out, also don’t look at us. Can you do that?” Michael gave a mischievous smirk and put out his hand. “I owe you for bailing me out of detention and for those biology test answers. Let’s fucking do this.” Jeremy shook Michael’s hand. After school, Sarah was waiting for Jeremy and they both walked to Kippers. Kippers is your typical coffee shop, with simplistic decor, a warm colour scheme, and little tables with weaved stools. They made it there at 3:40, sure enough, Michael was there with the wig and sunglasses. Jeremy noticed him but Sarah didn’t seem to. The two both sat down after waiting for their drinks. “I just wanted to thank you for last night, I did not get the chance before.” Sarah started the conversation. “Yeah, it’s no problem you were just attacked then, I wasn’t expecting to be thanked,” Jeremy said kindly. “Are you okay by the way?” Sarah only calmly asked, “So is it true that you can see into the future?” Jeremy thought it was weird that she didn’t seem that surprised by it. It was also odd that Sarah avoided the question. He replied, “Yes, it’s true. Do you need more proof? I bet it would be hard to believe.” Sarah then leans in and scans him up and down. “You are right, I do need proof. Show me.” She said. Jeremy felt like a lab rat rather than a date, He was dumbfounded by how analytical Sarah was outside of school.

“So check the time on your phone. What time is it?” Sarah did what Jeremy said and showed him the time. It was 3:57pm. Jeremy then closed his eyes and started predicting, “A blonde guy is going to come out of the washroom at 4:05, and he’ll forget his phone.” Sarah studied the men's washroom door intensively. She really believes me. Jeremy thought to himself as his conscience started to eat away at him. Maybe I should just tell her the truth. No, I’m too far into this, if I tell her now she’ll kill me. “When did you realize you had the ability of precognitive thought?” Sarah questioned without looking away from the washroom door. “I realized it when I started high school, so it'll be a year now. Why did you pick Kippers to be our first date?” Jeremy flirtingly asked. Jeremy’s question made Sarah quickly glare at him for a second. Keeping her professional tone she replied, “What made you think this is a date? So when you call the police for someone, they have you date you afterward?” Now Jeremy’s guilt was hitting harder, he couldn’t answer her, all he could do was apologize. “I’m sorry, I guess I made things awkward didn’t I.” Then Michael came out of the washroom. Sarah looked at her phone and it was 4:05, she kept watching. Michael checked his pockets, acted shocked, then went back in. His acting was a little exaggerated but it seemed to fool Sarah since she was wide-eyed. “Follow me.” Sarah abruptly got up and left the shop with her drink, Jeremy rushed to catch up. Sarah walked behind Kippers and Jeremy followed till she stopped. They were surrounded by trash bins and out of sight. She delicately placed her drink down on a napkin she had in her pocket. All Jeremy saw after that was Sarah’s fist flying at his face. It landed and the wave of pain covered Jeremy's face knocking him back. His face and buttock were now throbbing, he groaned. “What the…” Jeremy didn’t get to finish. “What was that for? That was for stalking me and lying to me. Now you are going to say, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just really like you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. It was only one time I swear. I didn’t know what I was thinking. Please don’t call the cops. Did Patrick tell you what was going on?” Sarah predicted as her blood boiled. Jeremy went pale, she said everything he was thinking down to the T, he asked. “How did you know?”

“Unlike you ungifted, lying, creep, I actually have powers. I can read minds. That is why I believed you at first. I thought maybe there are people like me with powers. I did not think to read anyone's mind when I was home alone that night. I heard the robber when he broke in, but I could read his mind the second time he came in. I did not read your thoughts till you started your little skit with your friend Michael. I saw myself in my underwear in your pig head. Then I read Michael's mind when he came out. He thought I was a stupid bitch and he was right to think so.” Sarah paused and peered down at Jeremy in disgust. She continued, “You are now thinking that you are a pervert that’s full of shit. Right?” Jeremy was just stunned, he just stared down and nodded. “First you will never talk to me again, second you need to get your morals right, and third, you should get better friends. I am not going to call the police, what happened here is not going to be discussed.” Sarah picked up her drink and walked past Jeremy as he got up. “So that’s why she’s good at chess.” Jeremy gingerly realized under his breath.

After recovering for the hit and the fact Sarah has powers, Jeremy went back and noticed Michael waiting. “She looked fucking pissed. Did she find out or did you tell her? I thought you were getting some back there. Man, she fucked up your face!” Michael said. Jeremy didn’t say anything and just kept walking home.


#Welcome to Roundtable Thursday! Writing is so much fun, but it can also be very challenging. Luckily, there are so many other writers out there going through the exact same things! We all have unique skills and areas in which we excel, as well as places we’d like to improve. So I’d like to present a brand new weekly feature. This will be a weekly thread to discuss all things writing! And… to get to know your fellow writers a bit! Each week I will provide a topic and/or a few questions to spark discussion. Feel free to chime into the discussion in the comments, talk about your experiences, ask related questions, etc. You do not have to answer all the questions, but try to stay on-topic! *** #This Week’s Roundtable Discussion Do you share your writing with family and friends? On places like reddit and other platforms it’s easy to hide behind anonymity and a lot of writer’s can be reluctant to share their writing with people they personally know. There might be some niggle in the back of your mind keeping you from sharing it. Will they be supportive? Will they hate it? Will they make any personal connections with it? - So, if you share your writing with people you know, how has the reception been? Was it positive or negative? - If you **don’t** share your writing, why is that? *New to r/ShortStories or joining in the Discussion for the first time? Introduce yourself in the comments! What do you like to write? *You don't have to answer all the questions to join in the chat! #Reminders - **Use the comments below to answer the questions and reply to others’ comments.** - **Please be civil in all your responses and discussion.** There are writers of all levels and skills here and we’re all in different places of our writing journey. Uncivil comments/discussion in any form will not be tolerated. - **Please try to stay on-topic.** If you have suggestions for future questions and topics, you can add them to the stickied comment or send them to me via DM or modmail! *** ###Subreddit News and Happenings - Come practice your micro skills on or experiment with long-form writing on - You can also post serials directly to the sub! Check out for more information.


Standing near the beach Alyssa watched her kids and her husband Ryan playing. A smile was plastered on her lips looking how the kids were having fun and Ryan was freely spending time with them without worries and pressure of work. It has indeed been a long time since they had a vacation. She saw Ryan running towards her leaving the kids to play alone. "What happened?" "Nothing, just missed you" he said as he hugged her. Both admired the setting sun above the roaring sea. "It's been long....hasn't it?" said Ryan. "Yes, really long." "You still won't forgive him?" Ryan said taking Alyssa a bit aback by his sudden question. Since she left her home they never talked about her dad. "What d-do you mean?" "I never actually realized how he must have felt until I became a dad. Jennie and Jay have actually changed me a lot. I became a dad, my kids see me like a hero of their life, just the way you used to see your dad. Now I can feel what dad ego feels like.", a sad smile crept on his face. "Jay made us parents. Our first child, undoubtedly the best son anyone could ever get. He is talented, generous, intelligent and a perfect child. But Jennie became the reason why I still smile even after the toughest days. I am not differentiating but Jennie always makes me feel more alive. I just love how she search for me when she returns from her school, how she waits for me at night just to listen a story from me. I think now I understand what it feels like to be the father of a daughter." They both were smiling looking at each other. "Once you too used to be someone's princess until I stole you from him isn't it? It hurts me when I think that someday someone will take away my princess too. Now I realize, your father wasn't wrong. I would never let any guy lurk around my daughter too. He did wrong by not considering your happiness but he wasn't wrong as a dad. He felt betrayed as a dad. You know a father can make mistake but not a dad. I saw the pain in his eyes today. It's been 10 years. Forgive him, not as my wife but at least as his daughter." Alyssa was not able to utter a single word. Warm tears coming out of her eyes. "Y-you remember what he said to us right, then also you are asking me to forgive him." "But he is your father. Whatever he did that day , he did because he wanted her daughter's man to provide her all the comforts and luxuries he provided her. He wanted her daughter to live like a queen because he also raised you like a princess and being a father, now I can understand what he felt at that time. Whatever I am today, I wasn't the same 10 years back. Maybe the reason behind my success was my desire to show your dad that I can love his daughter more that he thinks.", Ryan said calmly. "Ryan, he clearly said that I was dead for him from the day I left with you and if he saw us anywhere he will kill us right there and you are saying this. I just can't get over his words.", Alyssa said, pain clearly visible on her face. "You know what, I also thought of him wrong, but today in the party we met him after so long and the pain on his face was clear. He really wanted to call you princess, he wanted to meet his grandchildren not as a business partner but as their grandfather. He really love you baby and he want his princess back.", said Ryan, with his eyes glistened. Just then they heard someone clearing his throat behind them and they turned back. There stood Mr. Gonzales with guilt and shame over his face. "Can we t-talk p-princess?" As much as she didn't wanted to, Ryan gave her assured smile to give it a try and went back to play with the kids leaving them alone. "You became such a responsible wife and mother princess I can't believe you are my dau-" She cut him off"because I am not! Remember you said I am dead for you? I am just Mrs. Ryan." Her words pierced his heart like an arrow. "You raised you kids really well. They are really well mannered." "Yes, all the credit goes to Ryan." "How are you princess?", he asked. "Best! My family made it best for me." He then said," I am happy seeing you happy." But she said, " didn't you said that you will kill us right away you will see us Mr. Gonzales." Now he went silent, he doesn't had anything to say her but he said, " Ryan is a good guy. I am really guilty for everything I said to you. I am so glad to you stood for yourself. I am sorry I failed to see your happiness and just to expand my business I wanted you to marry the guy I wanted. But I am really happy seeing you smiling. I was scared that he will not be able to provide you all the luxuries but now I am satisfied, you chose the right guy for you. I just wanted to see you last time and ask for your forgiveness. Even if you don't forgive me but I want to tell you that I don't hold any grudges against you. You will always be my princess. Although you didn't marry a prince but you made someone a king. I wish you all the happiness princess. I love you very much.", with that he left her confused at his statement. After that Ryan came to her,"What happened? What did he said? Did you forgave him?" "He said that, you didn't marry a prince but you made someone a king. What does that means?" Ryan smiled at her words and hugged her. "Let's go" without letting her say anything he took her with him. They dropped the kids at the hotel and went to for a date. After they enjoyed their date they went for shopping. Ryan stood in front of store and then smiled and took her in. "Show us the latest collection of heels." The employee came with the best heels and Ryan selected one. "This looks good, let's try this one." The employee bend down to make her try the heels but he stopped him. "No, no Let me do it.", Ryan said and bent down making Alyssa wear the heels. She tried to stop him but he said "What? Let me do it. 10 years ago someone asked me to do so because he thought you as his princess but today I am doing it as your king and you can't stop me." She was shocked at her words. "No matters how many problems came into our lives, how much poor or rich we became, the destiny proved that I was born to be your man." A small smile crept on Alyssa's face as she said, " choosing you over everything was the best decision of my life. I love you."


"It's dark in here." "Of course it's dark in here, dumb-ass, it's the middle of the night." "I know, shut up. Let's hurry up before someone comes." "Who? The teachers who're patrolling the school grounds during recess? Oh no, Lucy, what shall we ever do?" "Shut up, Tanya, let's go already." \ The two reach the tree. It's dark, yet the cracks in its bark faintly shine with a color constantly changing. This is the tree they can't let the other students come near. One of their friends already died next to it, after she supposedly had a heart attack. Tanya takes the axes out of her bag and hands one to Lucy. L: "Tanya?" T: "Lucy?" L: "I'm starting to have second thoughts about this. Maybe we shouldn't." T: "Have you forgotten what this bitch of a tree did to Sasha?" L: "No! I would never!" T: "Then why back away now?" L: "It's glowing stronger." T: "So?" L: "So I think we should quit it." T: "No, that's a stupid idea." L: "The stupid idea was to come here and risk getting caught!" T: "By who? Who in their damn mind would think to come here? You think the tree would tell anyone?" L: "Well, we did come here. Isn't that saying anything?" T: "No. Now get to where you can swing safely. Don't wanna hit you." Lucy agrees, and steps away from Tanya. They're now at opposite sides of the tree. T: "Ready?" L: "Wish I wasn't." T: "I didn't hear a no." She pauses to scratch something away from her left cheek. T: "Three!" She scratches again. T: "Two!" Lucy winds up. Tanya scratches again. T: "Hold it! What the hell is this?" L: "What happened?" T: "I don't know, something latched on my face probably." L: "Maybe it's the tree?" T: "It's not the damn tree! How can it move?" Lucy takes out her phone and shines a light on Tanya's face. T: "Did you see what it was?" L: "Don't move." T: "What?" L: "Don't move!" Tanya freezes in her spot. Her heartbeat is so strong that even Lucy can hear it. T: "What's on my face?" L: "No..." T: "What the hell is on my face?" L: "It can't be..." T: "Answer me!" L: "But she's dead!" Tanya quickly turns around and falls to the ground. Sasha stands over her body, looking at Lucy. L: "Please... don't..." S: "It's what happens, love. The tree is absolute." Tanya's heartbeat is no more. Lucy, realizing this, cries to the moon. She can no longer hear any heartbeats. The tree glows stronger with every weep. She finally falls to despair and her head drops. "Don't worry, my dear human. I will not kill you." Lucy looks up and screams in terror. T: "The tree is absolute." "I will not kill you." Tanya hugs Lucy, who's now screaming at the top of her lungs. She cannot run away. She cannot hear her heartbeat. "I will not kill you." L: "Please don't kill me!" "I will not kill you." L: "Please!" \ Lucy cannot hear her heartbeat anymore.


It’s been a few weeks since I told the world about my experience in the school. I’ve done many things since then. I grew up, obviously, and I’ve become a horse rancher. Despite my looks, I managed to find a romantic partner too. She was beautiful in every way, and god was she smart… Anyway, it was a normal night 2 nights ago. Me and my wife sat on the porch watching our kids play, it was 8 at night but, since we were on our land and in the middle of nowhere, we weren’t disturbing anyone. We told them they had 10 minutes before they had to take a shower, and 9 minutes later they said they wanted to take a family picture because the stars looked pretty and they thought it would be a good background. I knew this wasn’t true, they weren’t slick, they knew their mom was a photo perfectionist and they would be out for another 10 minutes at the least. But after the first photo, her eyes went wide, she yelled at us to get inside, I thought she just realized what they were doing but she seemed very distressed for something as small as that. The kids went to brush their teeth and she grabbed me by the shoulder before I could follow them. “There’s something out there” “There’s a lot of things out there.” “No, something large, and most likely dangerous.” “I doubt that. The property is fenced in, you know.” Then she showed me the photo she took… And she was right, there was something behind us, all you could see was the glare of its eyes from the camera flash. I told her it was probably a bear but we both knew I didn’t think that, it was too big, and the glare of the eyes were *red*. I propped up a chair against the door, I didn’t think it would do too much against something as large as the thing in the picture. We managed to get the kids to sleep before they realized something was wrong, then we went down to the kitchen and looked at the picture again. Then *we heard it.* I grabbed our shotgun, although I had never shot at something in self defense before, had my wife be ready to open and close the door real quick, and calmed my nerves. I told her to open the door, she opened and I shot 5 times. She closed it after I stopped and immediately put the chair back. I knew I had hit it at least once or twice. I looked out the window, thinking it would be lying there, dying. But it was gone, and then I made the mistake of turning the exterior flood lights on. 8 of them, whatever they were, right outside my house. I looked for about 4 seconds before turning the lights off and slamming the curtains shut. These things weren’t animals that I had ever seen, but they closely resembled wolves, but even larger. They had dark gray fur with a black mane and snow white paws, cute. They were at least 10 feet long, but then there was the head, oh god, the head. They seemed like they were smiling almost, the corners of their mouth reaching back to their ears, teeth and bare jaws showing the entire way. I made a mistake. I alerted them, they were all going to attack now. I sprinted to the garage to get boards, to cover the windows and doors. I covered the downstairs first, and then the upstairs. I thought that if I could barricade them out, we could wait till help arrived. I called 911 once I had finished boarding up all the windows and doors, but there wasn’t any service. The water also cut, so we couldn’t wait it out forever now. Things were quiet for a good while, and then the crying started. Not the kids, but the creatures. It wasn’t crying like a dog, but like a human, it got louder and louder, eventually turning to a wail. By the time it stopped getting louder, it was a sound that wasn’t describable in one word. It sent chills down my spine and made my blood curdle, the kids were awake now. They had been for a while, ever since I shot that gun. And they were terrified, everyone was. The howling stopped, but silence didn’t come either. Scratching, the entire house was filled with the sound of scratching at the windows and doors. All of us went silent to try to find where they were scratching at so we could move away. But it seemed equally loud everywhere we went. So we just took shelter in the middle of the second floor. I had an idea, maybe, just maybe if we were fast enough we could run to the truck and peel out of there. I whispered the idea to my wife, she didn’t like it but agreed it was our best chance. It was 11PM by now, we didn’t know how fast they were, but we agreed that it was better than sitting here and waiting to die. I peeked out the curtain near the front door despite my best judgment. There was a small crack in between the boards I put up, but it was large enough to see there were no creatures on the porch. We ran right behind the kids, the kids had gotten in the truck. I had gotten in the driver’s seat. But by the time my wife was running around the front *it was too late*… The creatures were here, she got swept up by one of them right after she screamed at me to drive away with the kids. I knew I couldn’t do anything, I put the pedal to the metal and shot down the small driveway that led to the highway. They were howling again, but it started as that impossibly loud wailing that we had heard before, and it was getting louder. I looked in the rearview to see the monsters right behind me. I didn’t get to see their eyes at the house, but the eyes were the worst, they were dark mahogany eyes, with bright white pupils, I could never forget them. It’s almost as if they burned into your soul when you see them. I was almost to the main road, I had been driving for what felt like years away from these things. Then the howling stopped and something else began. A calling, for help. *“Jeremy! Help! PLEASE, Jeremy!”* An extremely scratchy voice and inhumanly loud. It almost sounded like my wife, but just a little off. *It* had eaten my wife though. And then I realized the horrible truth, *it was using my wife’s voice*. I got to the main road, and beelined to the city. I didn’t stop speeding until I saw another vehicle and the sound had completely stopped. Once we were in the city, I drove to my Mom’s house, and tried to tell her what happened. The kids were too shocked to even cry about their mother’s death. I couldn’t form a full sentence without having to take a breath because of the hyperventilation I had been experiencing. The next morning, the kids had slept very little, at least they had slept. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the horrible calls of the monster, using my wife’s voice to lure me back to the evil thing. The burning eyes, the never ending smile that they always held, it was all fresh in my mind. My mom called the cops, and they investigated the property. *Nothing was found*. I don’t mean evidence of the creatures, or my wife getting ripped apart. But anything at all. According to their reports, the road was overgrown with brush and other plant life. When they finally got to where the house should’ve been, they found a pile of rotting wood and nothing else. No tire marks, no pawprints, no anything. It was like the property had been launched 100 years in the future and no one went there in that time. If anyone remembers attending a party or something of the lines at 71098 Lakes Drive, please. Tell me. No one seems to remember being at that house except for me and my kids, even my mom says I never lived in the country and have always lived with her. No one will listen, no matter what I say to them. I wrote this record just in case I don’t get to verbally retell this story. Why wouldn’t I be able to verbally tell the story again? You ask. *Because I can hear them again.


I open my eyes and I see an all too familiar sight. My white padded room with one light bulb hanging above. My legs are broken and cast while they hang above me. I have been sick in my mind for a very long time, but today is a new day. To my left are monitors that read my vitals and currently indicate that I am physically stable. To my right is a plastic cup of water and two pieces of bread on a padded table. I’m too dazed to eat, I feel as if I have awoken from an eternal sleep as the things around me feel like the things in my head. I have been in this room for what feels like several lifetimes, but I know the real prison is my own self, containing the evils that have plagued me like all illness all the time. I have a feeling however that forever ends today. The doctor entered my room and informed me that my casts are ready to be removed on my legs, the reason for them being there still remains a mystery to me. I take my meal and eat while several male nurses in protective gear come to remove the casts, those who weren't cutting had tranquilizers at the ready. While confused, I continued to eat and soon enough the casts were off and the nurses were gone. I stare at my bare legs and see whole patches of yellow skin that was once blue and swollen now healed from whatever destroyed them. The doctor comes in again with an armored assistant and asks if I am interested in a new experimental medication that has the possibility of curing the hell in my head. He says we can start today, and hands me the bottle and leaves. I take two with no water. Five minutes. Nothing. Two more. Ten minutes. Nothing. \*two more\* I am alone in the room and yet I hear many voices. \*take two more\*. I hear it again telling me, begging me. Maybe just two more. I do as it tells me. The walls around are melting, yes they're melting to the floor. What reality is this? \*take it all\*. What will become of me? \*you will become what man was, is, and always will be…an animal. true terror that no god has ever seen, for you will become the god that all vulgar creatures will bow. we are the serpent, this pill is your apple, and you are getting hungry.\* My hand moves not by my doing, but by whatever thing foul or fair above me. I do as I am told. My vision turns a shade bloody red, and my eyes are truly open! There it is, I see it! Never has evil been shivered so much in fear at what I see in front of me. \*you are the black goat, the one sent by worldly powers to tear this world in two by your claws. all flesh will fall at the sight of you and no kingdom of this world will overcome the rage you unleash upon it. with your mighty horns may you rip the world apart until they are reduced to bare nubs, may you consume until you are left to gum what is left, may your screams be heard until you are reduced to aching whispers, and may you march in darkness until you are left to slither on the world that remains.\* I shall. I take the single light bulb that hangs above and shatter it on the ground. In darkness I screamed until a curious nurse came to inspect. He enters slowly and calls my name. I ambush him from behind the door and slash his throat with the glass. So brutal and so swift was my hand that his last words were left to mere sounds of wind. I close the door to mask the unholy preparations I make for my rampage. The guards notice the trail of blood leading to my room and prepare to breach. They enter and are left in a nauseous confusion as my once white room now a maroon confinement stands shockingly before them. \*now\* I pounce from above and sink my claws into the chest of the strongest man there who fell to my feet…heartless. I take the two on my left by their legs and use them to smash the four on my right. I pummel them all until there is no solid left as I crush the heads of the weaklings fallen at my feet in violent strength. One remains and he stands at the end of the room. I stand stronger, a beast no longer man, covered in fur once black now a deep crimson and I move toward him. The man takes his weapon aimed at me as he shakes at the sight of otherworldly fear. Whatever torture I would have brought upon him will remain unknown as the man turned the weapon on himself while I was only three steps close. \*now eat, for I have provided\* I shall. I exit the room and lay waste to all the poor souls who remained in my godless sight. Floor number one, floor number two, three, four, five, six. Six, six was the medication warehouse. I fill a bag with as many bottles as it can hold. I retreated to my room as advised by the morning star. He instructed me to commit evil so heinous that no one man could destroy it, and to be the bridge between evil of this world and the next. I climb to the top of the asylum and already I see the waves of soldiers entering the gates and at the mere sight of me some begin to cry. The thought of God was unthinkable in a time like this. They assume position below me as I stand mighty above them. I go to take my final bites of the life giving bits of the darkness below, but on the bottle I notice it peeling. I remove the false label and read “sugar pills”. I have been in a constant battle with my inner and outer self, and this was the excuse it needed to escape. I knew that my time was up and the voices in my head became muffled as my mind raced toward the end. I decided that no hand will take me other than my own. So I look over the edge of the roof and see my inevitable doom. I close my eyes and take a step. \*your doing is now undone, but darkness remains forever. rest now for your time is over, in my cold arms may you suffer for all time. wake again as i cast you back to earth just as i was, and may you continue this pain for as long as pain can be felt\* I shall. Evil was the cold hand that gave me the strength to escape my own self, but it cannot save me from this. I open my eyes and I see an all too familiar sight. My white padded room with one light bulb hanging above. My legs are broken and cast while they hang above me. I have been sick in my mind for a very long time, but today is a new day.


#Hello r/Shortstories! I’m back again to celebrate our third writer completing their serial on the . It has been a pleasure to be able to help inspire each of you week to week and provide a place for your writing to grow and evolve. And when one of you brings your story to a close, I am both sad to see the wonderful world end and proud of your accomplishment. This week, let's take a moment to say to u/EdsMusings for his completion of *The Twilight of Gods* on Serial Sunday.   ***   #The Twilight of Gods - Written by u/EdsMusings If you haven’t yet read his serial, set aside some time to check it out. You can find all the links below, as well as on his personal subreddit, . **A brief synopsis from Ed:** When the end of the world approaches, Lif, Thor and Loki have to confront their own fate. But when they start preparing for it, they realize their fates are not that far apart from each other. But how long can they delay the inevitable? And is it really the end of the world? - - - - - - - - - - - - -   ***   #A Chat with u/EdsMusings about Serial Writing So, let’s take a few minutes to chat with Ed about his experiences writing a serial. ##**What have you learned throughout the serial writing process?** I learned that I am capable of doing bigger projects and not immediately quitting. I think that mostly comes from the community. Each week, a lot of writers put hard work into their serial. And that idea gives you the push to do the same. ##**What did you enjoy most about writing this?** Twilight of Gods is very much based on mythology. Like, if you'd read the Volùspa, the text I based it on, you'd see a lot of similarities. The thing I enjoyed most was trying to come up with ways to twist around the mythology. And I think that can be seen mostly in how I wrote Loki. He's more unhinged and has kind of lost that sly cunningness that's so typical for him, although you still kind of see it in some chapters. ##**What was the biggest challenge you faced and how did you overcome it?** Like I said, having to write weekly was something I wasn't really looking forward to. It got hard to put writing in my quite packed schedule and that made me stress quite a bit when I had delayed the writing until 2 hours before campfire began. I allowed myself some leeway later on by not forcing myself to write every week. Sometimes, it was just because I couldn't find a fitting story for the theme, and sometimes, I just had a hard time writing. ##**What advice would you give to writers who are thinking about writing a serial for the first time?** I'd probably spam the gif of Shia Labeouf yelling "do it!" until they're convinced. But in all seriousness, it's a leap of faith. You gotta believe that it's gonna work out 'cause I can assure you, when you take that leap, there will be people down there who will catch you.   ***   #Thanks! Ed, thank you for taking the time to share a bit about your experience. I love seeing how each writer’s journey differs, and absorbing the knowledge they have to share with us. This is a wonderful place to improve and grow, as well as meet some awesome people. I wish you the best of luck on your future writing endeavors. Maybe we’ll see you around Serial Sunday again! Until then, have .   ***   ###Subreddit News - We’ve recently updated our subreddit rules. Please take a moment to or take a look at our sidebar. - Try your hand at serial writing with - Sharpen your micro-fic skills by participating in our brand new feature, - Have you ever wanted to write a story with another writer? Check out our brand new weekly feature on r/WritingPrompts - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


Lin woke up one early ´morn, and saw the sun hit the window with a glowing glare. A brilliant tone of light from the spheres above. And this glare, this very gaze, the eye from the window was a silly salute to the dawn. A poetic heritage this Midsummer day. Lin turned around in bed, still sleepy. Still not wanting the day to chase her to yet another work. No, she was not a workaholic. As a matter of fact her work at Samhall, a state-owned company, was a place for handicapped people. Handicapped both physically and mentally. But the sun gave no care of sickness or of disease. Lin turned around yet in another clumsy manner. Her body did not want to go to work. Very well. But the sun sneaked behind the curtain and made her feel the relief of light itself, as she saw the twinkling rainbow drips on the dew from the window. Glittering all over the place. Colours of the radiant sun that talked about the new day´s beginning. Oh how she wished she could explain what a sun could do. It gave summer a new fresh start. A season with its own values. No, she was certainly not a workaholic at Samhall, although she could handle all paperwork with a shift hand. And that was just about it. She stretched out like a cat. Legs between sheets. Sheets that became whiter from the hitting light of the sun… Finally she got up. Took a shower. Brushed her teeth. Rituals of the dawn. Rituals as old as that. Rituals that were so common she paid no notice of them anylonger. But the sun was determined to wake her up, it was stubborn about getting the new day into order and balance. The balancing point of the solstice. She slowly got her sleepy mind to think it over. The balancing point made a cross on heaven. Four different point on the spheres above that made Midsummer´s feast a ritual when queens had to make friends with the thralls during the Viking era. And the thrall women could make love with the king so that nine months later brave warriors were born into all families. Although odd enogh, Lin hated war, but still liked to drink a cup of vodka. The cup for an old tradition. Also she hated to dance like the frogs. Cause frogs, when kissed at the nights of Midsummer could turn out to be princes. Oh how she hated the very idea of meeting some handsome young prince , who would give her – of his status? A highborn boy would give her – what the heck? ! Silly tradition just because of solstice´s balancing order of the sun´s wheel on heaven. Grrr, no more f-cks to give! No more love if warriors of the clan came to kill her best friends. Grrr. The sun´s wheel of heaven! Such a silly joke! Herring and vodka! Silly, nothing else than silly. But? How about getting dressed for work. Samhall here she comes. Clad in colours of the rainbow… She took the bus. The sun rose higher, hitting the buildings with its glare. Its one eye touched upon the whole city to make everybody wake up. And lots of them did. Children were not at school. Some people still went to work. Lin one among them. At work her spiritual friend had already arrived. Now he sat down at the desk, in front of piled up paperwork. He was on a strike of his own, as usual. The dawn had no reason to let out his spirit if it was about work. He thought the job mean. He refused to do the work. He asked Lin if they could go out to smoke a cigarette or two. They did so. Sat down on two garden-chairs. Sat there gazing up at the sun. The company was gonna give them a Midsummer´s plate of herring that day, because they could be worth it. And handing over a present for the workers vacation. Something Lin did not need. Anyhow. Lin had no Midsummer feelings. Did not know how to have them. Had been a bit lonely in her youth. Not knowing two many people. So she said to herself that because of that tradition of drinking the hell out of themselves, she could not care less. Did not like to drink anymore. Herring she could eat. Nice food. At dinner time the catering firm came around with the workers plate of food. Coffee and cake afterwards. They sat indoors. The sun smiled through the windows in that huge hall. Lin could pretend it was their own Viking hall. Loads of space. And the same kind of tradition with jokes about sex. Viking tradition, see. And that lonely lovely spirit of sacrifice to the nature. Must be from a heathen tradition. In her dream-world Lin saw horses hanging from the tree of Mankind. The pigs slaughtered to give food to the highest god, Oden. Oden must have been connected to the highest spirit, although Balder was more Christ-like and kind and mild. He was to become Man´s sacrifice because of death. The nature mourned his funeral. Where was his spirit now? Inside the sun? Sun smiling gently, harsh but gently. Like a touch from the high worlds of folklore. How about it, Lin? But Lin had began to ride her inner stream of consciousness, like riding on the thread of weaving web of the nornes. Those Female spirit who cared about Mankind´s destiny. Weaving a web of life. And like death could tear apart the web of future if they did not pay tribute to the gods. That meant that the web of death needed to sacrifice animals. Or Jesus Christ? Or Oden himself? Or Balder? Lin took a piece of herring in to her mouth. Chewed on it. Drank some lemonade. Had her coffee afterwards. Her friend of spirit was sort of nagging with a work-mate. Was sort of in love with Lin. And she had told him about the wheel of the sun. And about her poetry. That the highest god, Oden, wanted men to become warriors and tradesmen, and gave the duty of spirit to the priestess. She had to know about the ceremony of Midsummer. Although it was silly. She wanted to escape it. Wanted to go with another fresh start. From where? The new cross of a new solstice beginning? A new Messias? Where from? Where to? And as the sun stood high on the middle of heaven´s round each corner of the wheel shaped a cross. The cross of the solstice circle. Circling round and round in eternal dance from the past in to the future. The web of life was shaped by the sun, the planets and the moon. And as the herring on Lin´s plate was uneaten but still fresh she thought that everything was now back to order. The full circle should end in another cycle of six months. Midsummer was in opposition to Christmas day. Two points of the sun´s wheel. Only a priestess of the Vikings was allowed by Oden to wake up the spirit of – secrets? As the hall finished their plates and coffee and their cakes the music began. Traditional Swedish songs. Folklore that began to fall into distrust because they were thought of being too commercial nowadays. Lin smiled. Commercial? As the sun would care about it? But then again, the tradesmen of the Vikings had been on routes all over Europe. Where the tradition of Midsummer came from had to do with the sun. And the sun was all over the planet to bring light, love and unity. The one and only. Weaving weaving weaving the web of rays...over and over again! And at a second thought Lin came back to an old conclusion. She did care about the heathen tradition. And had heard that Jesus Christ was taking on the burden of the four solstices...Maybe, perhaps...and then the son was webbed into the sun...


THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR READING AND ANY FEEDBACK. Edit: I couldn’t find a list explaining abbreviations in brackets. I made a guess FN meant fiction. This is not a fantasy story. Or is it?/r/ Across from our fourth-floor unit is our one-legged neighbor on his balcony, perched by a small black metal grill. I don’t know his name, so I will call him Bob. With a yellowed and weathered crutch, he pivots from one side of the covered cement to the other. The lower-middle class backyard. His blonde, hay-like hair receding from his frameless glasses. Eyes as blue as the paint of the community pool below our units. He yells to someone inside, “Hey, Rocket, can you grab me the salt?” Moments later and without a word, a pale arm reaches out of the apartment with a salt shaker. “Thanks”. Slouched on a puffy cushion atop a wicker chair, shoulders forward over parted knees, I watch Bob to my right from my own cement slice of fresh air, iPhone in hand. My unshowered black hair falls as clumps in front of my eyes, like thick palm tree leaves frame waves at the beach. I pound invisible keystrokes into Google search. “Can employers access your private accounts when they run a social media check?” “What makes you fail a background check?” “What is sexually inappropriate content?” “Rocket, can you find the sesame oil for the salmon?” I see Bob hold the frame of the balcony door as he leans his head into his apartment. A train goes by down the too-close tracks. A hand appears to pass a dark bottle. “Thanks, Rocket.” Eyes back to iPhone. Search results provide little comfort when the motivation to look is anxiety. Never once have I Google’d a concern better queried to professionals and thought, I’m going to feel better after this. And that is not because Google is designed to terrify, but because I will hone in on the worst possible search result, the one that justifies my worry. “OK,” I turn to Graham through the open balcony door to my left, “apparently employers can’t use anything posted over seven years.” Some simple mental math. “Oh, that’s just perfect. I was the worst from 2013 to 2015. I’m going to be unemployed. No one will understand and I won’t have a job.” I lean against the black metal railing, the sharp edges cut into my tanned skin. Bob brushes sesame oil against a dead fish. A siren blares from the center of town, is carried through the thick July air and, saturated by it, arrives warbled and dull. The pond beyond the train tracks is slime green with algae. Entire ecosystems layered like birthday cake. Humanity a fork that hunts the sugary cream cheese frosting jackpot, that scrapes the carrot cake structure to the edge of the plate, just a pile of crumbs. A husband might be expected to calm his wife as she spirals, but not after she has gone down the same rabbit hole four times the same day, the same hour. An endless echo of doubt that results in a cacophony of catastrophe. Graham is inside on the couch. His limber legs, one over the other. His eyes widen and his thumb pulls the news up, up into the ether on his Android. His exhale a sigh that says, “Whatever I say right now is going to be fuel to some fire that burns inside your head that was set a long, long time ago, that you refuse to extinguish, that my love and support cannot extinguish, that you walk into when bored and that you blame for the blisters on your feet.” I stare at him. Wearing a Manchester United shirt, his black beauty marks scattered like a series of volcanic islands across his pale skin. Thick black eyebrows a bird in flight, eyes so big eyelashes so long. His long fingers bony. “Graham, I’m freaking out.” His long neck bends back, eyes toward the ceiling, back of his head rests on the grey fabric couch. He looks at me from the bottom of his eyes. I jump as if an idea has landed in my lap. And it has. A glorious new idea! One more vein to pump poison into until it collapses. “I’m calling them.” I bring the phone up to my ear. “You are calling who?” “A background check agency. One of the ones that has published most articles on why it’s so important employers scrutinize not just quality of experience, but quality of character.” “What are you going to ask them?” I’ll ask them to pacify the malignant worry. Code the neural network inside my head with inputs that process information without bias and outputs that don’t derange my environment. All information is new information. All information is new information. All information is new information. My eyes follow the sound of metal on concrete. “Shit.” Bob balances on one leg, his right hand holds the railing, he does yoga. Downward bending war veteran. “Rocket, I dropped the knife.” Bob grunts. He has the sullied knife in hand and hops toward a chair to sit. A lone breeze hits us both, and the obese summer air is lifted. “Rocket? Rocket can you come here?” Bob looks defeated, the tip of the knife about to touch the floor again, barely held between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Del, what are you going to ask these people when you call?” The breeze seemed to mute all other things. The train that had been inches away from view, a journey that would take it east across my line of sight, faded to silence before it could mimic the roar of a plane. The road behind the other side of the building, the side that completed the “U” shape of our complex, the chalice, holding the pool as a sacred serum which we sat around like pilgrims and worshiped the sun, made no sound. I could not close my eyes and trace the path of commuters. The children below, silent film actors. The water that splashed as they kicked and flailed, stage decoration in a vacuum. “Rocket, can you please come HERE.” Rocket is Bob’s wife, maybe. But whatever he is, he is not her first long-term partner. There is a 12ish year-old boy that comes around, her son. He spends his time there watching Bob barbeque spiced and marinated dead things. Bob prefers books to a Kindle, a landline to a mobile phone, a drive to Target with his metal leg installed over Amazon. The son likes video games and Bob will spend the time it takes to roast ribs at war with the idea. Bob does not care if childhood is now defined by continuous immersion in alternate, false realities. He does not preach children should be grateful for grass and both legs to run along it. Bob spends the time it takes to roast ribs to impart his hate for the seclusion modern convenience enforces on us all. “You just sit on your ass buying things from The Steam instead of walking yourself down to The Gamestop.” This always followed by some version of, “go tell your Mother to get me...” Graham places his phone in his lap and leans toward me. “Del.” And what about Rocket? I think of their apartment, where Rocket sits for the brief moments she is allowed. Before she is summoned to provide the next needed thing. The unit line they have is two-bedroom. Does she escape to the corner farthest from the balcony? I imagine she has a lone chair just at that spot. She placed a basket next to her chair and filled it with skeins of yarn - a color for every time a stitch has been interrupted - that she added basket after basket, so many baskets that her chair is a tomb. She has been knitting the same sock for years. “ROCKET!” “Del?” I shrug. My reflection in the sliding balcony door glass confronts me. Unplucked eyebrows an acute reminder of my priorities, the dirty glass unable to spare me the clarity. I click the hyperlinked phone number and dial across the continent to a 415-area code. My right foot taps a balcony covered in flecks of cigarette ash, fresh basil and parsley, flower petals, a Stella Artois bottle cap, things still present from the previous night’s storm and drink. Graham stares. I point to the phone and yell-whisper, “IT'S RINGING. IT'S GOING STRAIGHT TO A PERSON!” My nails are under my teeth and Graham’s mouth is agape, with a slight turn up at the right. He thinks I’m so funny, ha ha ha ha. “Hello? Hi. This is probably super weird but I was wondering if you could explain how your service works.” “I DROPPED THE KNIFE, ROCKET.” “No, I am a potential employee.” “...DROPPED IT ON THE FLOOR, ROCKET.” “I understand you don’t typically speak with job seekers but that doesn’t mean you can’t.” “I NEED THE OTHER CHEF’S KNIFE, ROCKET.” “Please. Just a few questions, nothing specific.” “ROCKET, I NEED YOU.” “...do you use some unavailable to the public software to view private or deactivated accounts?” “ROCKET, I NEED THE CHEF’S KNIFE.” “...but surely there’s a way around a private account. What about if I was @’d on Twitter?” “THE KNIFE IN THE DRAWER.” “...or a retweet of me saying something...” “THE KNIFE. IN THE DRAWER. ROCKET, I NEED THE KNIFE IN THE DRAWER BY THE OVEN.” “...so to confirm, you can only report back on publicly shared, active content...” “DAMNIT, ROCKET. I HAVE ONE FUCKING LEG.” I end the call and turn to Graham whose eyes are on Bob as he disappears inside his apartment. “You know who doesn’t have to worry about passing a social media check? The President.” Graham looks at me. “You don’t have to worry either. You think too much.” Too much? What if the world were to fall apart and no one looked at each moment with the scrutiny required to see it coming? All a bunch of somethings ending in ruin. My constant rationalization for being abso-fucking-lutely consumed by anything that could, potentially, if- looked-at-this-way, end in crisis. “I hate that ever even had a Twitter account.” “We met on Twitter.” “But what if I fail this background check?” “You won’t.” “But what if I do?” “Not going to happen.” “You can’t know that for certain.” “No, I can’t know every possible outcome of everything you worry about.” “See, it might happen.” Graham’s eyes close and his jaw clenches. I stand up and stomp into the apartment. I make a show of getting a beer out of the fridge. I yank open a drawer and bang things about, grab the bottle opener. From a posture of exasperation, Graham says, “It’s 10am.” “Well, you’re not helping.” “There is nothing to help with. All this panic and things will be fine.” But it doesn’t matter. I am faced with the unknown. I am vulnerable. I took a risk to get myself a job out of the city, the mania, the 12 hours days and two hour commute; to start a life that I want. That allows me to be with him. Be present. I stand with the cold beer in my hands, in the tiny kitchen. I drink the beer to leave reality and not be present. The old appliances left by the previous owner, the dishwasher we have to replace. I tip the bottle to my lips. Again. And again. Because I am not in my kitchen, I am lost in my mind, on a strip of land just shy of the rocky shore. I stand here every day and watch the blue ocean be pulled forward and away by the moon above me. I watch the water crash and chip away, and the strip of land gets a little narrower, the shore a bit farther. My thoughts fall about me as messages in a million bottles, every honest need for help lost in the waves. I don’t know how to get to land, how to feel safe. The days unfold and an email arrives while I stand on the balcony, American Spirit cigarette at my lips. I have passed all of the background checks. Before I give Graham a chance to hold me and say, “See, all is well,” I have permits, hard hats, and a crew at work to construct my next labyrinth of panic. Bob is at his grill, he yells inside for teriyaki sauce. Rocket is in her chair, as out of earshot as she can be.


I wondered if they knew. They looked so happy, like in that moment, they were infinite. I wondered if they knew it wouldn't last for very long. If they did, they didn’t show it. They reveled in the moment. They were okay that something was going on now. Noisy children, dogs and laughter. Human beings don’t fascinate me. At least they don’t anymore. We’re predictable creatures, all of the time. I knew how this was going to end. I was too blind to accept it. Flickering images. Memories I should let go of are the ones I cling to the most. Is it loneliness if you choose to be alone? Probably not. I’m choosing to be alone. I’m choosing to sit on this park bench and observe. I don’t observe because I’m fascinated. I observe because I want to see if the pattern changes. I wonder if they know happiness doesn’t last forever. If they do, they don’t show it. They’re so consumed by the now. Maybe they do, but they choose to be happy anyway. I want to smash the invisible walls I can’t see into oblivion. I want it to disappear. Sometimes I want to disappear, but this time I want it to. I think maybe today is the day for human interaction, to be fascinated again at the prospect of happiness, but then I think again, maybe it isn’t. The sun is shining brightly, way too brightly because it’ll be gone in approximately four hours and return the next day. It’s too bright for something so determined to disappear in the evening. When I was younger, I used to think it was beautiful watching the sun rise and set because I knew it would be there tomorrow. Now I feel tricked because it disappears and thinks it can show up the next day. It’s been 166 days since I had any proper form of human interaction. Maybe if I do the math, it’ll help. Maybe it’d be just another equation, except it isn’t. Approximately 5 and a half months since he left. 166 days since I ever felt so in love, never again. If only they knew love doesn’t last forever. If they do, they don’t show it. Couples are on picnics together, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. Just by looking at them, I can tell which is a first date and which isn’t. The guy and the girl near the pond are on their first date. He’s shy, refuses to meet her eyes. I want to walk over there and tell him to look at her, that teenage girls like being looked at, but I don’t want to seem like a creep. Instead, my book is open in front of me just in case and I’m analyzing the situation in my head. The date probably won’t go well. I’m at least 85% sure. He’s way too nervous. She’s out of his league. They look like they’ve been best friends for a while. He’s way too deep in the friend zone to get out now. Maybe if he knew he was stuck there, he’d give up. Maybe he does know, and he decides to give it a try because if he doesn’t, he’ll never know. Beyond the gates of the park, pedestrians are crossing the street. People are bumping into each other, buying flowers and ice cream at different stands. It’s too hot for ice cream, it’ll melt and the flowers will wither in less than five days. They have to know that. Yet they buy it anyway. Maybe they don’t care. They get to enjoy the cold feeling of the ice cream on their tongues on a hot day and the delicate flowers in their hands before they disappear, so what does it matter if they get to enjoy it only for right now. Theo was right. You can be surrounded, but still feel alone. Working is important. It’s good to be successful definitely and to be accomplished, but what good is it when you have no one to share your accomplishments with? He told me I would drive myself insane, but he never left. He stayed. He stayed until 166 days ago. I want to be angry, but I’m not. I knew how it would end. I had prepared myself for the day he would leave, but clearly not enough. I notice everything, even the smallest detail, but I don’t notice that the bench creaks. I don’t smell his cologne. I don’t see his sneakers until I look down. “What are you writing?” he asks. He doesn’t ask my name. His question doesn’t make sense, yet he’s so focused on asking me this, he hasn’t bothered to ask my name first. I want to ask him if he’s stupid because I’m not holding a pen, it’s a novel. I don’t ask if he’s stupid because he seems so sure of his question. “Come again?” I ask him. “What are you writing in your mind?” he asks this time. He noticed me staring off into space. He noticed I wasn’t reading even though the pages were been flipped at the right time. It’s such a dumb way to ask a question. He easily could have asked, “What are you thinking about?” But if he had asked that way, I would have given a conventional answer. The conversation would have ended. I wouldn’t have been thinking about it so much. I wouldn’t have pyscho-analyzed the question the way I’m doing now. I don’t want him to know I’m fascinated. I don’t want him to know that I’m glad he noticed me. I don’t want him to know no one has since 166 days ago. I want him to be fascinated. I don’t answer the question. Instead, I ask one of my own. “Do you believe in love?” He notices I didn’t answer his question, but he says nothing. He just goes with it. He wants to make conversation. First attempt in 166 days. This isn’t looking too bad. “I believe in the idea of it. I don’t believe you end up with everyone you fall in love with. I definitely don’t believe it’s everything we think it is, but yes, I believe in it.” At anyone, I think I would have rolled my eyes. I almost don’t remember Theo while I’m speaking to him. It’s a breath of fresh air. I feel refreshed, almost. “Well, I don’t. I think we’re too selfish to know what genuine love is.” I do think that, at least most of the time. I’m not thinking it now, so I don’t know why I say it. The words hang in the air between us. I’m sure he thinks I’m a loon. I blew it. I expect him to get up and move somewhere far from me. He doesn’t. He laughs. I know he’s laughing, but I’m not paying attention to the sound. I know he’s laughing because I see his mouth moving. I see his eyes twinkle. It illuminates his entire face and I know he’s laughing at me, but I smile. It’s too contagious. “What about love at first sight?” he asks. He enjoys asking dumb questions, I’m sure of it. If I don’t believe in love, does he expect me to believe in that? “No,” I don’t believe in love at first sight. Maybe infatuation, but not love. You can’t love someone you know nothing about. “Good, I don’t either.” That shocks me slightly. I wanted him to have a different opinion, maybe I wanted him to prove me wrong. “I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in ‘Koi No Yokan’,” he says. I’m fascinated now. If there was ever a doubt about that, it’s gone. “It’s an untranslatable Japanese phrase. It’s basically the premonition of love. It’s the feeling when you first meet someone that you will inevitably fall in love with them.” When he says that, he looks directly at me with his eyes that look too dark to be brown. It’s the kind of beauty that turns one moment into a personal eternity. When he’s done talking, my cheeks are hot. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. I’m grateful that he doesn’t. ‘Koi No Yokan’. I know I’m going to remember that. The park is becoming more crowded, but I’m not upset anymore. Maybe it’s good to live in the moment sometimes. Maybe everyone does have that voice that reminds them that things may not last very long, but they choose to ignore it. You don’t have to let it consume you. You don’t have to let your happiness revolve around one person either. I want to be happy. Even if it doesn’t last an eternity. Loving is important. Even if it doesn’t last an eternity. Because it’s short-lived doesn’t mean it never happened. The teenagers are still laying on the picnic blanket. I thought they’d be gone by now. Their hands are entwined and her head is on his shoulder. She's still out of his league. Maybe they'll remember this ten years from now, or maybe they won't. For now, I’d say the date was a success. The almost stranger who I’ve had the longest conversation with in 5 and a half months looks at me and smiles, “My name’s Sebastian.” I smile too. “I’m Andrea.”


BLUE CHRISTMAS Susan W. Hudson Annie was baffled by her mother’s decision to make all the Christmas decorations blue this year. Annie loved her mother very much. Annie knew that she was smart and pretty; she got that from her mother. Annie’s mother, Marie, had year-after-year decorated the house and the tree with beloved ornaments from years past. The theme was always red, white, green, and gold. Many of the items were hand made by her children and had been lovingly preserved over the years. After the mother abandoned all the traditional ornaments and replaced them with blue baubles, Annie came in to view the result. It was not abysmal, but certainly different. One ornament caught Annie’s eye, and she couldn’t look away. The ornament held inside a young woman skating in a figure-eight configuration in a small rink, over and over. Artificial snow showered down on her. She skated on and on as long as the battery survived. Annie thought that was the saddest thing she has ever seen. She stared incessantly at the ornament.

On the far side of the ornament, a black dot appeared. As Annie glared at the ornament, the dot grew bigger until it was almost the same size as the young skater. It took on the form of a man, dressed all in black and wearing a black hat. Annie stared at the man, and the man beckoned for her to come inside.

Being totally mesmerized by the scene, she did. She tentatively entered into the ornament. The man motioned for her to come closer. He took the skater by one arm and indicated to Annie that he wanted her to take the other. The man took one of the skaters' hands and Annie took the other. Together they pulled the skater from her monotonous route. The skater wobbled on her ice skates over to the other side of the ornament with them. With the man taking the lead, they all went through the far side of the ornament, dusted off the artificial snow, and looked up. They were on Fifth Avenue in New York City. They made their way to a place with a huge sign touting the name Macy’s. They peered through the mighty glass windows. Almost everything displayed there was red, white, green, or gold. Annie spotted another blue snow globe with other skaters trapped inside. One was a woman and the other her male partner. “I hope I can help you someday,” Annie muttered to the skaters. Annie shivered. The man was wearing a black wool coat over his suit. The skater was still wearing her white wool sweater, blue wool skirt, and blue scarf. Annie had left her warm home in just leggings and a lightweight shirt. Annie deduced that they would somehow have to get her a jacket. And, the skater was still wobbling on her ice skates, so something had to be done about that.

The man clearly knew his way around New York City and this mammoth store. He buzzed through the store to the section that sold women’s jackets. Annie picked out a warm looking fleece-lined bright blue jacket. The man went over to the nice lady who had helped them find the item they needed. He whispered something in her ear, and the jacket was theirs. Next on the list was something suitable for the skater’s feet. She was still hobbling along on the ice skates. She found a nice pair of blue boots warmly lined and just her size. She also picked out, with Annie’s help, a pair of popular brand sneakers.

The man spoke to the clerk. The shoes were theirs. Annie and the man helped the skater into the beautiful boots and held her as she found her balance while getting acquainted with them. Then they found a nice little blue wheelie-type suitcase, a pair of pajamas, several pairs of leggings, and tops and socks for the skater. And, of course, they had to find her just the right pair of jeans. The man again worked his magic and the girls packed the suitcase with casual-wear items for the skater. She was in awe of her new friends and her new wardrobe, but she carefully tucked her old clothes into the suitcase as well. Led, again, by the man, they went back inside the ornament. He became smaller and smaller and finally waved goodbye to Annie and the skater. Annie and the skater looked at each other. They grabbed the wheelie and burst through the front of the ornament. Annie called out, “Mom, a friend of mine from school is here. Can she spend the night?” “Sure,” her mother said. “What is her name?” “Um, Macy,” Annie replied. “Oh, just like my favorite store in New York City,” the mother exclaimed! “Mom,” Annie called out. “Yes,”

mother said. “This ornament is broken. Can I put it in the trash?” “Of course,” her mother replied. “Oh, Hi, Macy.” The mother said while doing a double-take. Macy and Annie could almost have been twins with their long blonde hair and blue eyes. They both had the small-featured valentine-shaped face. The mother caught her breath and proceeded to explain that their normal theme for Christmas was red, white, green, and gold. “Something,” she explained, “just compelled me to change over to blue this year.” “Macy, what is your favorite color,” she asked. “Blue,” the skater muttered. “Mine too,” said the mother. “Just like Annie’s eyes. She got them from her father who left us earlier this year.” That explained a lot to Annie. She, too, missed her dad. He had been taken away by cancer way too young. Things began to come into focus for her. But still, her main concern was her new friend, Macy. She knew she had saved her from a life of boredom. But what could she do next? When the mother went back into the kitchen, Annie took the ornament off the tree and placed it on the side table. The girls took the wheelie upstairs and set it on the spare twin bed in Annie’s room. “You can sleep in that bed tonight.

I’ll get you another blanket in case you get cold,” Annie told Macy.

Annie and Macy headed back down the stairs just as the mother cheerfully sang out “dinner.” The mother had set an extra plate.

The conversation was light. The mother immediately sank back into the depression that had engulfed her for most of the past year. Annie chatted incessantly. The mother asked Macy some mundane questions, and Annie answered most of them.

“You’re awfully quiet,” the mother questioned Macy. Macy replied, “yes.” Then, again, Annie jumped in. “That’s what I love about her; she listens to me without giving advice or complaining.” After dinner, the girls helped with the clean-up and settled down to watch “A Charlie Brown Christmas” - Macy for the first time, Annie, the 10th or so. The mother was still in the kitchen, making lists and awaiting the onslaught tomorrow of Annie’s twin older brothers arriving from their separate colleges. The girls were tired and went to bed early. They were both tucked in by the mother and fell asleep quickly. Annie slept late. She stretched and opened her eyes to sunlight.

Macy was not in her bed. She was nowhere to be found. The mother was excited and distracted by the arrival of one of the twins. The atmosphere was jolly.

Annie went downstairs and went immediately to the ornament on the side table. The skater was back inside, dressed in jeans and a bright blue jacket. She was ensconced in her figure-eight route. She was wearing her blue scarf. Annie looked around and saw that all the Christmas decorations were the usual and beloved red, white, green, and gold. She put the blue skater ornament back onto the tree. She ran to greet her big brother who had just arrived. Her mother looked almost happy.


It was almost two years ago,

March 28th, when I found myself onboarding the Z216 overnight train. Xian -

the ancient capital of China, a pearl on the Silk Road, was awaiting. It's been 7 months since I've been here, and yet, China was nowhere to be found. Where were the

crimson temples on holy mountains, merging with the dragons of gold? Where were the gardens of balance and faith? Why music no longer felt like the wind, floating underneath you, taking you towards your true self? The elhu did not belong in the cities, it's voice was overtaken by the sound of destruction. Glass and steel giants devoured everything along their way. The temples, the gardens, the homes of their ancestors. There was no rest for their greatest conquest. Theirs was not the sound of creation, but the world crying for help, in loss of its heritage, of it's identity, of its wealth. On another loud and crowded train I found myself, chasing freedom, chasing peace, yet unable to break free from the grips of chaos, of destruction. We are told that peace can be found everywhere, for me, it was impossible to find it on that train. I was sitting near the window, trying to press myself as close as I could towards it. With every inch trying to disappear into its cold existence. Nonetheless, it was hard to ignore the disgust I was feeling from looking out, towards what my dreams had turned into. Gray, repetitive, competing with the mountains and stomping on humanity. Yet, peace could be found even in times of restlessness, or so I chose to believe. With every gentle breath, I distanced myself from the window, observing the people around me. Emerging myself into the sound of music was challenging, for the sounds of conversation and burst of emotion, overpowered technology. Pickled chicken legs, with a questionable scent, continuously being spat out into the ever growing plastic waste. The incredible warmness and curiosity of people, accompanied by persistent glazes, often made boundaries more challenging to create. Yet all was miniscule, compared to the announcements which did not seem to stop, for they with great enthusiasm, overtook all sound. Chaos was inside me and chaos was outside. I grew to believe that one's relationship with their surroundings is influenced by their state of mind. Indeed, my surroundings created a restlessness within, yet was the restlessness one of refusing defeat? I could not surrender to China becoming another memorial of cultural identity loss. I refused to believe that the steel giants will spread across all lands, until the mountains are nowhere to be seen. Until all is cold. My desire to dwell into misery was overtaken by hunger. As I enjoyed my dinner, I found myself sharing meals and conversations. Conversations with words neither side could understand, yet pleasant memories were made, and family pictures were taken. At midnight the dark sky covered up the atrocities made in disguise, miles after miles, there stood the giants, with no life.

Early Friday morning I arrived. A city like no other, for it was with modernity which honoured it's past. The elhu sang in the gardens of the Giant Goose Pagoda. Fountains, statues, shops and houses spread across narrow roads. One after the other - non overshadowing the Great Wall. That is - in parts of the city, yet it was more than I had seen.

Comforted I felt within its ancient walls, no longer an ant, finding its way home, feeling lost. A human again I was, my surroundings reflected my nature. I could see the gray roofs of the brick houses, and only a few steps would take to cross a street. At night, I could look into people's lit homes, and comfort would warmly take me in.

A great adventure was ahead of me, the ancient paintings are what I wanted to see. It was 5am, on a Monday, when I took an empty train. To a land, far outside the city, a land the metal giants haven't yet claimed. A small village I arrived at, watched over by one of the holy five - Hua Shan - the Western Mountain. Mount Hua, my eyes tear when I think of your beauty, your magesticity, your gentle embrace. For I will never forget my first climb, alone on my path, I witnessed wonders of human faith.  A climb like no other, for Hua was no mountain, but a true giant of steep rock, standing high, protecting all. As I reached her peak , the sun was growing weak. A crowd was on every step, with no peace surrounding the temple of crimson red. Patience and time was what I needed, yet the last bus was soon leaving. Sitting I found myself, on a stone, reaching towards it's edge, witnessing what life can create. Children with parents as their guide, friends standing side by side, loved ones hand in hand, honoring their ancestral land. Trees emerging out of the rocks, reaching further towards their Gods. The small red cloths, a prayer flag they are called; inscribed with hope, were gems on the crown Hua wore.

The sun had merged with the mountains, the sky was light, yet heavy at first sight. I was there, alone, all the paths were empty, all I had was a moment for a single song. As I stood there, on the edge of the cliff, with ancient temples on each side, decorated in red light, I was in a dream-like state of mind. I saw the paintings, they were in front of my eyes, a dream they were no longer. The elhu was singing with joy, with desire to live, to survive, to surpass time and human greed. Hua Shan, I looked at you for the last time, my heart full of fear, my eyes full of tears. I took a deep breath. I wanted to remember forever your wealth.

A forest of green mountains far beyond what I could see. Together, they formed waves, and held you in their warm embrace. Peace was not found on your mountain top, for peace was not yet within me. Yet faith was, strength was, admiration of your existence was. When I took my last glance, a gentle smile appeared on my face, as my eyes reflected the mountains

last light of the day. I was alone, a woman, a stranger, standing with a purpose, to fight for my true home.


**Content Warning! Before reading please know this short story has themes of self harm, death, depression/medication. Please read at your own discretion, and know this is a work of fiction. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 800-273-8255 Help is always available. I looked around my Aunt’s empty guest bedroom. There was quite literally nothing in the room save for a small, twin sized bed and a dresser. I smoothed the comforter on the bed and sat atop the untouched blanket. I took a deep breath and smelled the clean air in the room- it reminded me nothing of home. I didn’t feel sad about moving, the only thing Klarksburg had to offer was my mom, and now that she’s gone there’s no point in being trapped there any longer. I heard voices and footsteps coming up the stairs as my aunt and uncle rounded the corner to come into the guest room. They were carrying a large chest- my only ‘suitcase’, containing all of my possessions. They sat the heavy chest down with a thud. Aunt Suzie brushed her hands together, “Whoo! All in a days work, huh? Get yourself settled in honey, then we’ll assess what you have and don’t have, and we’ll take a trip to the mall in a few days, alright? Uncle Kenny and I are gonna go start on dinner, holler if ya need anything, darlin’!” She said as she laid a gentle yet reassuring hand on my shoulder. She kissed my head and walked to leave the room, uncle Kenny winked at me while leaning on the door jamb. Once aunt Suzie left the room, he followed behind her, and pulled my door shut. I took a moment to breathe, and squeezed my eyes shut. “Okay Lea. Everything is fine. Breathe. Things will feel normal soon.” I stood from the bed, and kneeled in front of my chest, noting how rough the carpet felt against my knees. It reminded me of being a little kid, knees pressed against the hot sidewalk while I drew chalk-masterpieces. My mom would stand behind me ooh-ing and ah-ing in ‘amazement’ in order to encourage me- maybe I’d grow to become an artist, she couldn’t crush my dreams- she’d said once I was older and asked about the false encouragement. I shook my head as if to be physically shaking away the memory, and opened my chest to begin unpacking.

A few hours and one slightly uncomfortable family dinner later, I had my pajamas on ready to climb into bed when there was a gentle knock at my door. I quietly invited them in, the door slowly opened and my aunt suzie’s small frame replaced the closed door. She came in and closed the door gently behind her. “Hey junebug. I just wanted to come check in on you before bed, and give you a hug. Talk to ya a little. How are you doin’, bug? Really?” The bed dipped slightly as she sat next to me, turned a bit to be facing me. I hadn’t been asked how I was since the day after the incident, I felt my eyes lightly well with tears. “I- I um. I really appreciate you guys taking me in aunt Suz. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you guys weren’t there.” Memories from that night flashed through my mind, inciting the pain all over again. I looked up to meet my aunt’s eyes, she met my glance with not sympathy but empathy. After all, it was her sister. I wasn’t the only one struggling. “Listen sweets, I just want you to know this is your home now. We’re here for you. Any need, any question, you’ve got it. Your mom told me about a month ago you have a girlfriend back home? We’ll help facilitate you seeing her however you need, junebug.” Hearing my aunt say this caught me by surprise and I burst out laughing, it was clear by her face that she wasn’t expecting my reaction. “Oh, aunt Suzie I really appreciate that, but that was just my mom being goofy. We have- uh, had- a neighbor girl my age, we were good friends and my mom liked to tease that we’d get married one day. But..that was before things got bad. The neighbor girl’s parents stopped letting us be friends when mom took a turn for the worse.” I watched my aunt’s face droop in sadness as I spoke. She then quickly grabbed me up in a tight hug, “I am so, so sorry sweetie. You never should’ve had to go through any of this..but you know how hard losing your dad was for your mom.” I nodded along with her words, she reassured me again that I was more than welcome to come get them if I needed anything through the night. She kissed the top of my head and left my room. I laid back in my bed to sleep but as the pattern has been since the incident, I had to relive those moments over and over before I could get any sort of sleep.

My dad was in the armed forces, so we did a lot of moving throughout my childhood. We moved to Klarksburg when I was 14 years old. We’d been there for a year when my dad had to leave. It was a month before I turned 16 when we heard the knock at our door. I was sat at the kitchen table doing homework, my mom went to answer the door. I heard low murmurs and then the most blood-curdling scream I’d ever heard. My heart sunk and I immediately knew what happened. I ran to the door and saw the two uniformed men holding a folded flag with solemn faces, I crumbled to the floor and held my mother as she wept. Because my dad was often enlisted, I didn’t really know him, and my mom was my best friend. But my parents were highschool sweethearts and totally, grossly in love. After my dad died, my mom’s mental health plummeted. I couldn’t blame her, she’d lost her best friend. I started picking up the house chores, and taking care of myself. Mom spent most of her days in bed with the curtains drawn, medicating herself until she was numb. I just did everything I could to keep her alive. I kept her water glasses filled, I re-filled her prescriptions, and picked them up, I spoon-fed her oatmeal and soup, easy things to keep down that her medication wouldn’t cause her to puke up. On particularly bad days when she would sob so loudly it felt as if the walls shook, I laid in bed with her and held her quivering body through the night. But the night that changed everything was different. She’d gotten up out of bed that day, for the first time in weeks, other than to use the bathroom. She came downstairs while I was eating dinner and doing homework. She looked like a zombie, her face sunken in, and her frame small and frail; but she gave me a weak smile. She slowly walked over to me, sat next to me at the table and asked me how my day had been. I felt my eyes fill with happy tears to hear my best friend’s voice. I’d lost all my friends with my mom’s mental health decline and the loss of my dad. I had to take care of her and the house so I had no time for any fun, and no one wanted to come over, they said ‘the house felt too sad’. We had a bit of small talk before she headed back to her room. That night I slept in her bed with her. It was about two AM when I heard the tub running. I rolled over in mom’s bed to see her side of the bed unoccupied, with a small trail of tiny blood droplets. I assumed she’d maybe gotten a nose bleed, but couldn’t understand why the tub was running. Concerned, I jumped out of bed and ran to the door. I knocked a few times, twisted the locked doorknob and heard no answer so I called out, “Mom? Mom are you okay? What are you doing?” There was no answer, and I began to panic. I knocked harder and louder when I felt wetness seeping through my socks. I looked down and saw water flowing under the door, and then pink began swirling through the water. It was then that I knew something was wrong. I tried to slam the door open with my shoulder, to no avail. I grabbed a hammer from my dad’s toolbox which was left perfectly untouched under his side of the bed, and smashed the door as hard as I could, eventually breaking it. I broke through the door and stepped into the flooded bathroom, and saw my mom laying in the tub, passed out, with her wrists slashed open. I screamed in horror, and immediately began crying and screaming her name. I ran to the side of the tub and tried to shake her awake, her skin was hot from the water but her face was cold to the touch. After shaking her and seeing she wouldn’t wake up, I called 911. They came in and took care of everything. She survived after major surgery to save the nerves in her wrist, but they deemed her mentally unsound and incapable of caring for me and herself. I was allowed to visit her the day after she was admitted. As I entered the room, seeing her brought tears to my eyes. I’d never seen my mom so vulnerable, so broken, the light in her eyes was completely gone. She looked up at me slowly as I entered the room, she gave me a weak smile, “Lea..I’m glad to see you. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry you had to see me that way I just...I thought things would be better. I thought with me gone, you’d have a chance at happiness. I’m sorry.” At that moment I felt such anger toward her, “You thought you were helping?! You’re all I have! I have no friends, no family close. I can’t even get a job because I have to be at home caring for you all the time. I know losing dad was hard for you, but you brought me into this world, you already abandoned me by never leaving your room, and now you wanna abandon me completely? Why can’t you just love me the way a normal mom does? Why are you so selfish?!” I yelled at her through my tears, and I ran out of the room. And every night since then, I’ve had to relive the events of this past year over and over before I can sleep.

I woke up exhausted that morning to Aunt Suzie opening my door with a plate of pancakes and bacon. She’d chosen me an outfit for the day, the sun was streaming through the windows, and the blankets smelled clean even after a restless night. That morning I felt a level of relief I hadn’t felt in months, but I also felt a level of guilt I’d never felt before. I had the knowledge that my mom was somewhere in a room full of soft edges, where she was practically spoon-fed medication all day long, forced into therapy sessions lit by florescent lights, and monitored by nurses in sterile, white, scrubs. Meanwhile I sat in a comfy room, on an even comfier bed, and was treated like a queen. I guess the saying about everybody handling grief differently really wasn’t kidding.