I anchored Magic in a little cove that was bordered by coco palms and fern over a black sand beach. It was one of those perfect beach scenes that I dreamt about as a child and now I was here. I got the dinghy in the water faster than ever with the thought that maybe the cove might disappear. I had my rum and a sandwich in my backpack to celebrate a small delight at finding this place. Before I touched the sand I had a sense of being in that dream; that I wasn’t really alive yet but still comfortably in my cot under our tree in our backyard. But, I knew I was here. The sand between my toes. The warm water over my feet. I tied off the dinghy to a palm next to a tiny trail that lead into the bush. It is truly amazing to step into a place you’ve never been before, and yet not only know that you’ve been there before but strangely, though not startling, that I recognised people along this path and that they recognised me showing  welcoming nods. The trail led to a small village and the people seemed to stroll in a cadenced grace of motion. They were in a mix of complexions, all dressed in loose whites going about their business with a general expression of alertness that I interpreted as something about to happen. I noted again that the clothing they wore was in various stages of cleanliness or age. But they all wore white without anything contrasting. White shorts, long pants, skirts, sarongs, dresses, all white. Even the children wore white, though mostly stained from games and play. There was a laughter about the place, even in direction giving or conversation that made me smile. My first thoughts were that this was a religious community of some sort. My next thoughts were shocked by my name being repeated in greeting. ‘Afernoon, Cop’n Piktorne’, a little girl, bowing from the head in passing, said merrily. ‘Good Afternoon, Capitan Pickthorne’, an older man said raising an open palm and bowing slightly. A string of small fish were dangling from his other hand as he passed along. A group of children ran across my path giggling at some pursuit in which they were engaged. The cobbler making sandals, the woman selling vegetables, the people sitting under the shade of a round twig thatched roof talking all reminded me of people I thought, no, I was sure with whom I was familiar. My head heated. The sun was relentless. I went over to the shade where a group sat talking under a thatched roof. ‘Hablan Ingles, Señores?’ I asked standing in the sun in front of their smiling faces. ‘Why yes,’ a white-whiskered man responded, nodding to me and giving me his full attention with a curious stare and parted lips, ‘we do, Capitan Pickthorne.’ ‘Do I know you, sir?’ I asked directly. ‘Why yes, you do, Capitan,’ he smiled quizzically, ‘you know all of us, maybe you... have forgotten us, but... but time eventually chafes the untruths.’ He invited me into the shade and introduced me, or it seemed he was reintroducing me to the group who were seated on stiff straight back thatch chairs in a loose semi-circle. One man out of the group of seven arrested my attention with his smiling eyes. He was introduced as Capitan Alejandro Grande. I was informed that Capitan Alejandro was captain/owner of a trading sloop and a great dancer. The others, all men at least in their fifties and the soft mix of skin colours, turned out to also be great dancers with a couple being introduced as both great musicians as well as great dancers. ‘Capitan Pickthorne,’ Capitan Alejandro spoke, ‘why do you not see the village... then please return to this shady spot... we still have refreshments awaiting your return.’ They all smiled in a warm excited manner at me and in agreement with the captain. I dug in my pack and handed Captain Alejandro my rum bottle. They all beamed at the gesture and some grunted laughs as older men sometimes do. The village passageway softly curled as a snail’s shell, the apex being the older men’s shaded spot. I walked along the homes, each raised a few feet from the earth on mahogany trunks. They were well constructed huts or palapas of thatch roofed, most contained a single rooms with divisions and were white washed thatch and daub rounded structures. A smaller model was also raised above the ground for food storage. Each property was spaced at least 12 meters apart. Vegetables greened the borders of the buildings to the mixing with a neighbour’s growth. Orderly rows of greens, spinach, chilis, tomatoes, yams, zucchini, various beans, berries, ranging trees of mango, papaya, tamarind, sweet and sour sop, and banana palms waved to the slight of breezes, dwarf coconut trees formed the actual property lines. The properties were neat, a rubbish fire here and there. Many of the people seemed to be waiting for me. They stood in family poses in front of their homes, each welcoming into their property and their homes. I went into the first three more out of courtesy than curiosity. They were very simple inside, with one wall dividing  a comfortable cooking and eating area with sleeping spaces. The thatched twig sidings, painted white, provided shade from the sun, and allowed a breeze to pass through the gaps in the mud daubed thatch work. Being elevated provided a coolness to the floors where they had laid grass mats which seemed to direct air upward to my feet. Their choices of mattresses or thick cotton mats, chairs of fat pillows, curtains or shutters were the only distinctions I could detect. Generally each home was an external duplicate of the others. This was a very organised community. My slightly developed curiosity waned after the third one and I only token glanced into others that had a different entrance design or windows... something that would draw my immediate attention. By the end of the passage I was drenched in sweat, the birds screamed too loudly, the children were too impulsive, the sky was too white, the smiles somehow too loud. My shirt was taken off gently. I was sponge washed, towel dried. A white shirt was slipped over my head and extended arms.. A simple shirt with a slit in the top for my head and of a soft cotton fabric for my comfort. My shorts and underpants were taken off and I was sponged again and dried. Loose white cotton trousers were pulled on me and belted firmly in place by a thick leather belt with a large silver rectangular buckle. A wide brimmed hat was placed on my head, its swooping brim sheltered my shoulders and head from the sun. I adjusted the fit, feeling refreshed. A drink of clear liquid was handed me in a half coconut shell and I gulped it down. All of this bathing and clothing was accomplished with happy chatter, even jokes and laughter. I did not feel I was in any way being ridiculed. It felt as though the people were simply at work making light of what happened to them on the way there. I thanked those who had washed and clothed me and walked over to the village border of rice fields. The smell of the tall grasses overwhelmed me. I was in a complete state of smiling. Probably if I were on a city street I would have been labelled a fool grinning for no apparent reason. There, I simply joined my hosts who were mostly smiling at something or leading up to a smile or just coming off one. And it was not the kind of smile that you show at a cocktail party or because of listening to a comedian, or a good poet... it was just some kind of happiness inside that created the feeling and set the features. Strange one, I thought, you look for reasons to smile to be happy and you never find a consistent one... you find yourself happy and you feel you have to explain it. Poof, I said to myself, I can’t think of the whys or the feeling will go poof... this is it is all. The drumming started and became stronger, the melody more defined, a doo dee doo bop doo dee doo bop. I half stumbled, half trotted around back through the passage way, looking probably like a Tarot Fool and just like one not caring through an innocence in feelings that lightened my chest and straightened my back and pulled me toward the low sky. I felt that the clouds sent invisible fingers that pulled or pushed me. I was there but not. I was a passenger in my own body. At the shaded hut of the older men my meandering stopped. I did not see them. I could not anything until I entered and the darkness dissolved to show a room not unlike my family’s room with a rounded couch, with a small cocktail table in front and an opened book lay on the table. But, there was an elevated open fire pit that sent a stream of smoke upward with a sweet smell on one side of a centre pole that supported the roof. Mats and pillows lay strewn upon a light cotton rug. Kitchen utensils were hung neatly along a wall. A long iron bar stood upright, implanted in a hole in the rug near the pit. Books lined a curving four shelved bookcase. A scorpion ran across my path. The scorpion was awash in a ray of sunlight, crouched openly near the pole as if hiding. My feet were dusted from the walk and my ankles had sweat streaks marked brown in the dust on my dried skin. I looked at the palms of my hands as though they were new to me. Soiled dark in their sharply defined creases. Small and large mounds adding emphasis to the muscle underneath. Ready for any work, chore or pleasure that needed the contact for the touch I wanted to give. Around the palm and the light hued flesh of my fingertips there was a glow of golden richness that was tanned deeply. I looked around me at the smiling and grinning faces of the older men and others and a growing rumble of a chant. I looked at tall rice stalks waving through the window, gold-headed, green-bladed, the sun at it’s last rays laid on the bristles encasing the rice heads. Turning back again a great woman stood before me in the darkness of the poled hut. I started to understand some myriad of associations affecting me. But, it was as though other knowledges were passing me by. The great woman stood in front of me and sprayed me with liquid air. I inhaled as much as I could. ‘We are the clowns,’ she said to me and to white swaying figures around me, ‘the true buffoons of the Almighty Lords. They play with us and if we are aware of the game it is then possible to piece together some of the rules. The Lords might want you to play consciously, and then they will make the rules available... only the rules will be in their language and you will have to make a game of translating or absorbing their language. But you know their language is not to be interpreted, only absorbed.’ My heart was pounding rapidly, drowning out the drum-sea waving rhythms. Grains of light were rising speckled along the pole’s path into the darkness of the tent. I floated higher, feeling presences brushing through and about my body. ‘The cowardliness’, a voice within me softly spoke, ‘in us is not a false one. One that says we should find that spot before we get too old and settle upon that spot until we die a natural death, that is after living a natural life in that one spot.’ The darkness lightened into browns and golds that separated each fibre of the thatched roof. I was again with my feet on the earth, the ground pulsated the rhythm of my heart. ‘We are cowardly’, the voice resumed as I defined each golden hued palm braiding, ‘in that march toward the depth in our real being. Many other levels come our way and reached, only then can we absorb enough to be on our way to the grand threshold.’ I was smoking a black pipe, a top hat nudged, unbalanced on my head. I had a long black skirt on. It had big white dots. I had a tuxedo tailed jacket over my bare chest. My cane, which I swirled eloquently overhead, was the colour of my skin tipped with glowing silver. I wanted money that the people gave me in bills and coins which I stuffed greedily into my pockets. I wanted a bottle which appeared in my hand, I swallowed and sprayed air on the smoke pit and into adjoining mouths. People became clear. I could identify facial features, individual gestures, rings, bracelets then they became a swirling mass once more... except for one. The great woman danced for me. Her eyes were closed and she was lovely. Her body undulated pulling at my loins. I twirled my stick above us and circled her bringing her urgent body to mine, slipping past her, pulling her to me, slipping past. People threw coins and bills in the air and at my feet. She was racked with sensual spasms that lifted her off one foot, almost falling she would stomp down that foot to gain the other foot and again tilt to falling, then the other way she would go. My cane was pointing first this way, then that and she would follow to the wild beat of my heart. I stopped her, willed her still, willed her back bent head just above the ground. I lifted the skirt of her dress and the soft layers of her petticoats. Her lushness was thrust toward me. I opened my loose fly and placed my hardness upon her clitoris, pulling backward and forward., rubbing it with my urgency. She shook. I inserted slowly to the full and moved into an exploding darkness of dull luminescence. Instead of feeling spent, emptying , I felt as though I was pulling out her juices with me filling. She was on the ground asleep. I was twirling my cane, comets trailed the tips. I was happy, like a child who was an adult. The great woman again danced in front of me.

The great woman was now dressed in billowy white blouse and trousers and had jumped up to then down from the ceiling. She danced before me with a concerned expression on her smooth face. A primary blue sash cut into her blouse and pants joining them to a narrow waist. Her long raven hair was matted, streaming black seaweed. She pointed to my crotch and my protruding organ. I quickly tucked it back in and closed my fly, my passions suddenly sapped. I was tired, barely able to keep my eyes open. My cane was gone and I was again dressed in loose whites. I felt ashamed of the wild nastiness I had enacted. I was ashamed in front of all these people as witness. But, the drums still paced and my heart again throbbed replacing the drumbeat with my own cadence. I smelled the sea but could not see it, knowing that I was well inland. I looked into the great woman’s eyes, unable to speak but willing my concern about being landlocked to her. She smiled. ‘Trouble is a voyage by land’, I heard a woman’s from behind me. I turned and saw nobody, turned back and the great woman was gone. I was alone on my cot under our tree.


(WP) The Golden Years She was awoken by the phone ringing shrilly. Normally, she and Henry were in bed by 9:00 PM, at the latest. But the night before had been long and strenuous. She wondered if they were getting too old for this gig. She refused to get a cell phone; she nor her husband, Henry, could figure out how the darn things worked. No, they were perfectly fine with a landline, thank you very much. Eleanor was greeted by a mad cacophony of voices, and she found herself smiling. “Happy 75th birthday, Mom!” Her daughter, Tessa, chirped into the phone. She could hear her grandchildren in the background, squabbling. “We have a surprise for you and Daddy later. Is it okay if we bring the kids?” “Of course, you can bring them!” Eleanor replied, laughing. “You know your father and I, the more the merrier.” Henry was already out of bed, and Eleanor finished up the conversation with her daughter. “Timothy and his kids are coming also. We’ll see you later, Mom! We love you!” Eleanor put the phone back into its cradle, putting her feet in a pair of baby blue slippers. “Henry! The children are coming over later to see us! What are you up to?” She found her husband in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. There was a bowl of oatmeal already sitting on the table, studded with raisins and bananas. Sitting beside it on a saucer was a cupcake, frosted with the number 75 in the icing. “I was making breakfast for my favorite person,” Henry told her, smiling so widely his dark eyes crinkled up at the corners. “Everyone deserves to be made breakfast on their birthday. Especially their 75th!” Eleanor found herself blushing. Really, she was too old for all of this fuss. But she couldn’t deny she was secretly pleased. She sat down and ate the cupcake first, relishing the sweetness. Normally, she ate healthy, all the time, but she figured that since it was her birthday, she would make an exception. “I asked for the day off,” Henry told her, sitting across from her and eating his cereal. “I don’t know if we’ll actually get it, but it was worth a shot.” He shrugged. At a year younger than Eleanor, he was still spry and fit. After all, their job demanded it. And family or not, there were very few breaks. They both enjoyed their jobs, especially in their prime, but she found herself wondering, once again, if they should’ve hung up their capes a few years ago. What about their retirement? “Thank you, Henry,” Eleanor said, and he beamed in reply. “I love you, Ellie.” \*\* Soon, the house was abuzz with the sounds of shrieking children, crying, and laughter. Eleanor didn’t mind. With her and Henry, it was too quiet, even for her. Tessa and Timothy were in the kitchen, putting several wrapped gifts on the table. Tessa was sipping a cup of tea, and Tim was nursing a beer. They were talking, while their spouses focused on wrangling the children. Everyone insisted that Eleanor not lift a finger; her children had even brought her lunch from her favorite café. She sat at the table with her food, eating contentedly, lulled by the controlled chaos around her. Then the phone rang, and Henry answered it. Immediately, Eleanor could tell it wasn’t good news. “Yes. Yes, sir. Okay, sir, we’ll be right there.” He hung up, and looked at Eleanor. “We’ve got a problem at work.” She had a feeling he’d been about to say that. But saving the world never stopped, not even for an old woman’s birthday.


Katrina watches as the daylight vanishes from the surface of the earth. Her balcony gave an amazing view of the mountains, which she loved seeing the sun shine upon them as it rose. Knowing that the light shining meant it was a new day. New chances, new opportunities. It signifies hope. No matter how long or cold the night is, the shining light gives warmth and an end to that long night. Katrina thought sunsets were beautiful too but felt as though sunsets were grim and dark omen. That it signified an end. She headed back inside and got herself ready for bed. Katrina is washing her face in the bathroom when she hears Ring Ring…. Ring Ring… Katrina runs and picks up the phone. The number is one she feels is familiar, but can't determine who it is. “Hello?” she says, sounding confused. “Hey, Katrina? It’s Joey from Biology 109.” Joey says. Katrina perks up, she remembers how sweet and nice he was to her. “Joey! How have you been?! And please, call me Kat.” She says slowly walking back to the balcony. “I’ve been well! I just can't believe how quick the time flew by! How have you been? What have you been up to since graduation? Last I heard you were working for WelldyneRx.” He says. “Yes!” Kat says, sitting down on the chair. She quickly gets up and does a little run to get a blanket. “The past 2 years there have been amazing and they’ve given me a pay raise already! What about you?” Joey goes silent. “Joey?” Kat says concerned. “Are you there?” Joey finally speaks up. “I-I’m here Kat.” He says hesitantly. “These past two years have been hard but things are finally getting better.” Kat looks up at the sky. She can’t see much but she sees it’s dark. “I’m sorry to hear that, Joe. Mind if I ask what was wrong?” “I have been in a dark place lately. I had lost my job with the pharmaceutical company I worked for. I lost my fiance. I lost a lot of my close friends. I struggled for a bit but with my family’s support, they showed me the light.” Joey replies. Kat is shocked. “Oh, Joey I’m so sorry. I am always here if you need anything!” She says. “Actually, that's why I had called.” Joe says hesitantly. A bright light shines in the corner of Kat’s eye. She looks up at the sky and this time finds it’s the moon. “Wow,” She says outloud without realizing. “Too much at once?''Joey says. “Oh no, not at all Joey! I just didn’t think life could be so harsh,” She says. “It can be indeed.” Joey says, laughing softly. “So I, uh, was wondering.” He pauses “Wow. The stars are absolutely beautiful tonight. Can you see them Kat?” Kat looks up. “Nope. Just the empty void of the universe.” she says with a laugh. “Do you have any outside lights on?” Joey asks. “I do, should I turn them off?” she asks. “Yes!! And then in a couple of minutes the stars will start to shine brightly for you too!” Joey explains. Kat, who is already skeptical of Joey, gets up and turns the outside light off. She texts her upstairs neighbor and asks them to do the same. “Done. Now I wait.” Kat says. “Awesome!” Joey says. There is an awkward pause for a couple of seconds. “What did you want to talk about Joey?” Kat asks. “I just wanted to ask you something.” He says. Joey takes a pause before he asks his question. “It’s a few questions actually. What were your thoughts on me? Like, when we took classes together?” He says nervously. “Oh, I thought you were a super sweet guy who was always pushing himself and others to be better.'' She says. “I also thought you were an amazing party host.” Kat teases. Joey lets out a laugh. “I did throw a couple of good parties,” he says jokingly. “How’s that sky looking?” Kat looks up. “Oh wow!! I see the little lights! That's amazing!!” She said, sounding surprised. She stares in awe at the small but bright lights in the sky. They’re a faint light but they’re captivating. “Kat? Kat? Are you there?” Joey asks, sounding concerned. Kat hears plates clattering on his end of the line. “Yeah, I’m still here. Just in awe a bit,” she laughs softly. “Did you just finish dinner or something? I hear plates clattering over there.” “Oh uh.” Joey pauses mid sentence. “Yes. I just had some friends over and that’s actually what made me think of you.” Kat shifts in her seat. Suddenly, the phone disconnects. “Thank god.” Kat says softly. She gets up and heads back into the house. She heads to the front door and makes sure it’s locked. She peeks through the window facing the shore. She sees the darkness of the night sky, the unknown part of what’s to come. “Only 12 hours till sunrise.” She says with a smile. She heads to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee for tomorrow when her phone begins to ring. She picks it up without looking at the name. “Hey Kat!” Joey says. Kat grimaces. “Sorry about that! Bad service in the woods.” Joey finishes, letting out a laugh. Kat makes her way back to the balcony. “Haha! I wondered what happened to you!” Kat jokes. “What were your other questions?” She puts her feet up on the ottoman. “I was going to ask what you were doing next Friday night. I’m throwing a small gathering for people from our friend group.” Joey responds. Kat sits up and places her feet on the floor. “Oh my gosh! Did you invite Jamie?!” Kat says excitedly. Jamie was the only person Kat was upset that they lost touch with each other after their group graduated. “Oh, you didn’t hear?” Joey asks. His tone changed. “How do those stars look?” He asks Kat, trying to change the topic. Kat glances up quickly and looks back at the mountain, dark and gloomy. She then responds, “No I didn’t hear. And the stars look cool.” “Kat, look at the stars. The moon is out too. Full moon tonight.” Joey responds. Kat does a double take toward the sky. She stares at the sky, the stars shining ever so brightly. “Wow,” Kat says, gaping at the beauty of it all. “This is beautiful Joey.” “Yes. Yes it is. This is what Jamie said to do when sharing the news.” Joey responds. “Sharing what news?” Kat asks concerned. “Is Jamie okay?” “Jamie passed away after she was in a car crash.” Joey says sadly. “She passed away a month ago. She was unreachable after graduation because she was exploring the world. She had explored all 7 continents and sailed the 7 seas. She had been skydiving and zip lining on several journeys. Jamie wanted everyone to look to the stars to remember her and her story. And to be reminded that life is short, go out and enjoy it.” Kat begins to cry. She looks to the stars. Remembers the wonderful memories she had with Jamie. “Joey, how long have you known?” Kat finally asks, between sobs. “I just found out myself. At the dinner, that’s what it was about,” He responds. “They tried to send you an invite but I guess you never got one. Jamie’s brother told us.” “Are you still at the dinner?” Kat asks. “Yes, would you like to be on speaker?” Joey responds. “I’d love for that.” Kat responds gazing at the stars still. Her and the group talk for a couple more hours. They reminisce about times with one another and how much time has gone by. When they finally hang up, Kat looks at the time and realizes it’s only 3 hours till sunrise and that it was Saturday. She decided to stay up to watch the stars a little longer. Kat then starts talking to the stars as if Jamie were there. Telling Jamie how inspired she feels, Kat decides to take a couple months off of work to go off and adventure on her own. The stars begin to fade away, and Kat see’s the sky get bright again. She wanders through the house, grabs her coffee, and heads over to the window. She watches the sunrise with a new representation in mind for night. The sunset still represents an ending but the stars are the memories of what ended, what is no longer. She feels comfort and joy in knowing the thought of the sunset representing an ending and a sunrise a beginning. The thought of darkness isn’t so scary anymore. She enjoys the sunrise whilst drinking her cup of coffee. The rising sun is her new beginning. Her new start to a life she will enjoy.


Mindfulness vs. Mindlessness The room is a cool green, minty, or aquamarine, a colour which encourages the atmosphere of comfort and relaxation which, I believe, because I am told, is central to any mindfulness therapy. We are told to close our eyes and think about our bodies in relation to the chair, the floor, the ceiling, the window; anything really, except the other people in the room: those others (why are they here?) whose eyes dart about, who shift uneasily, who avoid eye contact. We are asked to imagine that we are walking beside a river, to imagine the sound it makes and the effect that this has upon us. O.K. A river...erm.. 'sparkles'. No. That's what water looks like when the sun shines on it. We are supposed to be thinking about walking beside and listening to a cool, gently- flowing river...and nothing else. This is the essence of Mindfulness. I surreptitiously glance at my phone and look for 'noises water makes'. Google obliges. ' A brook or stream or river babbles or ripples or even burbles. 'Burbles'... The word 'burble' was first used in the 1300's, and it probably comes from an imitation of the sound a rippling, bubbling brook makes.' I look up and catch a grimace (not a frown, just a glance of quickly-hidden disapproval) from our therapist, and I guiltily slip the phone back into my pocket and close my eyes...concentrate. On not concentrating on anything. Why didn't anyone tell me it's hard, really hard? I have been sent here to write an article for a magazine about natural health. Apparently, mindfulness is the key to lowering stress levels, getting to know our pain, connecting better, improving our focus, and being kinder to ourselves. Mindfulness may lessen the emotional experience of pain.... If you find, as many of us do they say, that you are 'stuck' in a cycle of wanting things not to be as they appear to be, you can realize that now is the time for you to be kind to yourself, to love and accept yourself. However, acceptance does not mean that you have to be happy all the time, that you have to become a hedonist and abandon your principles. You need to be willing to see things as they truly are in the present. You need to be open to and accept whatever you are feeling, thinking or seeing. This is the way forward, towards healing, and growth. I reach for my phone again (how am I going to get through this hour?) This time I type (in my pocket. Very proud of this skill...) 'How does mindfulness help?' The answer: 'With the correct application of mindfulness, specifically, the connections between the fear-responsive amygdala and rest of the brain weaken, while those between the emotionally-regulating prefrontal cortex and rest of the brain are strengthened......these changes suggest that mindfulness lessens reactive and fearful responses and enhances thoughtful appraisal of events .” But...aren't “reactive and fearful responses” useful survival techniques? When a giant hyena, a cave bear or cave lion or even a giant, predatory kangaroo loomed, burbling and slathering, out of the prehistoric mists, wasn't it precisely these responses (namely fear, followed by running away) that ensured the survival of the species homo sapiens? I drag myself back to the present. I do my best to be present. I'm perfectly willing to give it a try, if all I have to do is think about nothing but the noises a river makes when it burbles. However, I never dreamt it would be so difficult. Actually, I have never, to my knowledge, had any mental health issues. I'm just a little bit proud to state that I thrive under stress. Stress (such as that which is put upon a violin string) tones the mind, instead of letting it get flabby through under-use. I don't really get the part where you are supposed to think of nothing. When a thought comes into your head, you are supposed to accept it courteously, then let it go. One wonders...Why? 'Mindfulness is the basic human ability to be fully present, aware of where we are and what we are doing. Apparently, the ability to be 'mindful' is something we all naturally possess: we just have to tap into it, suspend judgment, approaching our experience (of nothing?) with warmth and kindness to ourselves and others. 'To be fully mindful, we need to learn how to disregard what is going on around us. You are being mindful when you bring awareness only to what you are directly experiencing through your senses, here and now.' Plucking up all my courage, when we are invited to share our first experiences of the practice of mindfulness, I venture a question: “Erm, excuse me … but is it not a little... er, mind-numbing? And, I might add, impossible? I can't think of 'nothing'. Nature abhors a vacuum.” Our mentor fixes me with a crinkly-eyed and disciplined smile, and responds with the tiniest hint of condescension (or is that the impression just 'me', I ask,.. a trick of the mind?) He answers. “Might I say that our next session will lead us towards the power of meditation Meditation is a close relation of, or, might I say, a descendant of mindfulness. It is exploration. It is not a fixed destination. Your head doesn’t become vacuumed free of thought, totally undistracted. It becomes a special place where every moment is momentous, every consequence has consequences, every event is eventful. When we meditate, we venture into the workings of our minds: our emotions, our sensations, our thoughts. For example, we take time to pause and breathe when the phone rings instead of answering it. Today, we have taken the first steps towards this freedom from the oppression of the apparently urgent...” I suddenly feel ashamed and convinced of the sincerity of our crinkly-eyed mentor. He is genuinely helpful to many of those who hide their sadness in our complicated and perplexing world. I thank him, and, clutching my phone, I gratefully plunge out of the room, the silent room, into the vibrant world of bustling, noisy, multicultural and cosmopolitan London: resilient, aggressive, kindly: a world of museums, rivers and bridges, boats, birds, concerts, cakes and ice-cream. I decide to experience, directly, through my senses, here and now, all that is on offer.


It's almost seven in the morning. Stephan's lying on his bed with his eyes on his alarm. He's been awake for almost thirty minutes for now. He's just been staring at the alarm clock since then. He needs to be at his new work at ten o'clock. It's his second day as a call connector in Bangalore police department control room. The alarm starts ringing. Stephan sighs and gets off his bed. He goes to his kitchen and prepares his coffee. He walks towards the balcony with his coffee mug to watch the streets. He sees his neighbor Brad mowing his lawn. Both Stephan and Brad wave at each other and continue with their work. Stephan gets back in. On his way to kitchen Stephan passes through a window located beside his bed. There was an old warehouse located behind Stephan's house which was visible through that window. He was terrified of it because the warehouse was full of bats. Long time ago when he was a teenager his father threw his new phone into the warehouse because he was angry that Stephan was spending more time with it. When Stephan went inside it to get back his phone he was terrified by all the bats hanging through the ceiling. So he never went there again. Years passed and time's changed but Stephan always had his little fear towards the warehouse. Stephan looks at the clock and it's almost nine. He starts hurrying because he can't be late for work. He skips his breakfast and put on his clothes. He wears his shoes and floods towards the door to get out going. He locks the door from outside and starts walking but, suddenly he remembers something and decides to go back. He runs towards the door again and opens it. He goes in and takes his cellphone which he had forgotten. He comes outside and locks the door again and starts walking towards the street corner.

Brad still mowing his lawn shouts laughingly " Late again, huh? ".  Stephan - "You wish ".  Both of them smile at each other and Stephan moves away. In the corner of the street Stephan sits waiting for his bus. Stephan looks at his wrist watch to know how late he is. Suddenly he hears a thud behind him. He looks back frightened. He sees a white old RV truck parking in front of the old warehouse. The driver gets off the vehicle and looks around, he sees Stephan staring at him with a complex expression on his face.

The driver- " It's cool if I park my truck here for a while, right? "  Stephan -" You don't seem familiar".  The driver - "No I'm not sir, I'm just here to deliver a shipment".

Stephan senses the bus arriving.

Stephan (smilingly) - "Enjoy the city"  Stephan gets on the bus and takes a seat. On the way Stephan starts to think of his work. He never wanted to work as a call connector. He had applied for the post of a police officer trice and he had failed each time. When he got the offer to work in the control room, he took the job because he knew that it was the only way he could work for the police. Working for police ment a world to Stephan as he thought that it was the bravest job. He was heartbroken when he failed all the tests but he believed this job was his new chance. That was before yesterday. Yesterday was Stephan's first day at work and he saw the absolute reality of how police actually works. He was very disappointed and disheartened by the fact that his seniors were so lazy. He started to drift towards his past life but he suddenly notices that his stop has arrived. He gets off the bus and walks in the Bangalore PD building and takes the elevator. The control room is situated in the seventh floor of the building. As he reaches his floor he takes a view at the scene of his work place. "Disgusting" he thinks to himself by looking at the computers and telephones that are in the room. He walks towards his chamber and plugs his cellphone in for charging.

Gretta his co-worker sits on the chamber behind Stephan's and says "We have a problem ". Stephan looks annoyingly at Gretta and says " Now don't tell me that Captain Ribbon is mad at me because I'm seven minutes late".  Gretta stares blank at Stephan's face and says laughingly "No, Laura was caught drunk yesterday in working hours".

Stephan -" Laura? you mean the clerk?".  Gretta - "Yes, and Captain's really mad at her. She might get fired".  Stephan - "Well, good for her".

Both Gretta and Stephan gets on their work. Every worker in the station starts getting calls. Calls of the whole city emergency affairs. They get call for every irregularities in the city including sewage, electricity, burglary, fire or anything. The employees often get tired at the end of the day by connecting tons of calls. Stephan puts his telephone down exhausted. He looks at the wall clock at the office. It's almost five in the noon. It's the end of the shift. He sighs and looks over at Gretta. She's still attending someone's call. Stephan checks over his personal phone and starts packing up. Suddenly his telephone starts to ring. Stephan gets annoyed. He looks at the clock. It's not five yet. He grunts and sits back in his chair.

He picks the call and says in an annoyed tone "100, W h at's your emergency ?". He hears a disturbance in the call.  "Hello, this is 100 what's your emergency please? ". Now he hears nothing. Just a plain silence. Stephan says loudly "Hello?". He again hears some disturbance in the call. He decides to disconnect the call but as soon as he was about to take the telephone off his ears, he hears a girl screaming "Help". Stephan is shocked. He gets pushed back by the anxiety. His quick panic catches Gretta's attention. She moves over to him. Stephan lashes out at the telephone " Hello? Can you hear me? hello". By that time the call had been disconnected from the other side. Stephan looks at Gretta with a confused face. He looks back at his telephone and tries to take out the call history in panic.

Gretta - " Dude, what happened?". Stephan still looking for the history, explains what happened.  Gretta laughs hysterically and says "Welcome to Bangalore PD".  Stephan angrily stares at her and says "What? ".

Gretta - " It might just be some teenagers trying to pullout a prank on us. Last week Tyler got some similar call and he sent a Officer Louis and his whole team to a location. Then they were told it was just a prank by a bunch of teenagers".

Stephan shockingly asks "What happened then? ".

Gretta - "Well, The pranksters were arrested and then they were bailed out by their rich parents. Captain was really mad at Tyler because he fell for a prank. Stephan still out of his breath says "Well that didn't sound like a prank to me. I could sense it". He looks at his telephone and says "Why wouldn't the history show up in this trash? ".

Gretta points towards the clock and says " The shift has ended dude, the call history is saved in the servers. You can't get them out now. Only authoritarians have access to the server".

Stephan shouts "What the hell?". Gretta says while calming him " Calm down buddy and don't shout, we both get fired if Captain hears any of this". Stephan says " I swear that sounded true. What if someone really needs help?".

Gretta answers "It's your second day at work. Don't get soo tensed. The shift is over. Everyone's leaving the building. Probably you should too". Gretta walks towards the elevator and leaves.

Stephan is still sitting in his chamber. He's still shocked with that tone of voice he heard from the call. Captain Ribbon walks in and sees Stephan sitting in his chamber.

"Why are you still here? " Captain asks. Stephan stutteringly replies " I'm uhh working for over shift Captain". Stephan regrets saying that soon after he says that. Captain just stares at him for a moment.

Captain- "Well, looks like its only you and Ms. Laura here tonight. Have a good night ". Captain Ribbon walks into his office and leaves with his briefcase.

Stephan sits down on his chair with his hands up and eyes closed. Disgusted with himself he chants "I'm an idiot, I'm an idiot". Laura on the other side of the room laughs hysterically and says " Why would you do something so dumb?". Stephan angrily replies "Speaking of dumb, aren't you supposed to be fired?". Laura- "I am getting fired. But I have to work two shifts today to make it for paycheck".  Stephan feels sorry for her and says "I'm sorry".

Laura says smilingly "It's okay. I didn't think it was rude".

Stephan asks her " Why would you drink alcohol in the working hours?".

Laura - "Cuz I'm addicted. Do you have any problem with that young man? ". Stephan- " Do I look like I do?".

Laura smiles and continues with her work. Stephan looks down and notices that he hasn't been getting any calls since the second shift started.

Stephan - "Hey Laura! why am I not getting any calls now? ". Laura - "Oh! Well that idiot Ribbon has stopped the server at the end of first shift. Nobody's working for the second shift today but you showed up".

Stephan - " What am I supposed to do now?".

Laura - " Well I do the paper work but, if you really wanna work for Te second shift I can open the server again". Stephan freaks out and shouts exited "You have access to the server?".  Laura replies frightened "Jesus Christ, watch your voice. It's just you and me in tears building so don't scream". Laura takes out a inhaler from her bag and takes two puffs.  Stephan moves over to tell other side of the room near Laura's work table. Stephan - "I'm really sorry to freak you out but, do you have access to server? " Laura - "Well, yes but why?". Stephan's eyes fills with happiness and he says "Listen, can you please get me access to the call history of the last shift please?".

Laura smiles hysterically and replies "Well, we'll get fired if we get caught doing that. The call history is not to be manipulated".

Stephan interrupts her and says " Well I don't wanna manupulate it. I just want to note a contact number I received and you are getting fired tomorrow anyhow right?". Laura looks in Stephan's eyes for a moment and says "Alright, here's the access card. If you get caught, you stole from me. Alright? ".

Stephan laughs and says "Deal. Now just one more favor. While I'm in the server cabin, just warn me if anyone comes in the building".

Laura - "Don't you worry about that. At this the of the night, not even ghosts come in this building".

Stephan thanks her and gets inside the server cabin. He swipes the access card and activates the BPD server. He then starts the access computer and opens the call history. He selects his cabin number in the layout to obtain the call records of his system. He gets a spreadsheet on the computer screen showcasing all the calls he got in his first shift today. He tries to find his last recived call but he sees that list is mixed up. So he decides to search for the time of call. He remembers that he saw clock before picking up the call. It was almost five. So he searches for calls from the relative time. He gets four numbers in the time between 4:55 to 5:00. He takes a photo of the numbers through his phone and shuts down the server. He gets out of the server cabin and sees Laura working with her papers. Stephan - " You won't speak about this with the Captain, would you? "  Laura smiles and replies "Not if you buy me a beer sometime".

Stephan smiles at her and leaves the building. Stephan looks the photo he took and tries to call the last number. Stephan knew what to do now. He had a friend in a private networking call centre who he knew could help him. His friend's office was twelve blocks away from the PD building so Stephan started walking faster. Stephan was happy and proud after a long time because he was doing some real police work rater than sitting in front of a computer. Stephan finally reaches his friend's office. He walks in and looks around for his friend. He sees him and calls out "Daniel!".

Daniel hears Stephan's voice and looks at him. He walks near Stephan. Daniel -"What are you doing here in this time?".  Stephan - "Same as you. working". Daniel gives a wierd looks and asks "You're working on field? You're supposed to be connecting calls right? ". Stephan interrupts him and says " I need a favor".

Daniel -"What do you want?".  Stephan -"I need you to track a call for me".  Daniel laughs and says " Dude, you work in a control centre of BPD. You can tap a call faster than us".

Stephan annoyingly says " Yeah. But I wanna track it not tap it. The call's already done ".

Daniel -"Oh, okay. follow me".

Daniel takes Stephan to his office cabin and opens his computer.

Daniel -" Give me the phone number". Stephan opens the photo he took earlier and says "Here, track the last one". Stephan passes the phone to Daniel. Daniel notes the number and runs a check on it.

Daniel - "Alright buddy, now I can only say which tower is the call connecting to".

Stephan with an annoyed look says "Well, what good is that?".

Daniel sighs in dissapointed and says "Well genius, if we find out which tower the network's coming from, we can find out the area the phone's located in". Stephan - " Alright then. Find it". Daniel - " Okay, so. have you tried calling back to this number?"

Stephan says "Obviously. It's switched off".

Daniel -" What's it all about anyway?". Stephan explains the whole story. Daniel's computer makes a noise. Daniel looks towards the monitor and says "Looks like the track is completed. The tower from which the call was connected was 'ZER6' tower which is located in Tangent street". Stephan got even more curious and says "Tangent street, that's my neighbor hood . Where in Tangent street?" Daniel - "Slow down officer. I can't find out anything else about this call because it's an old call and a short one too". Stephan gets depressed by the fact that he can't know anything else but still mocks his friend and says "That was not really a valuable information from you ". Stephan and Daniel laughs and walks towards the door.

Stephan -"Maybe I'll try calling it one more time". Stephan reaches the phone and tries to call the last number again. Stephan -" Daniel can you recite me the last number so I can dial it?" Daniel walks towards his monitor and recites the last phone number.

Stephan shouts "Are you kidding me?". Daniel asks with a confused tone "What?".

Stephan takes out the photo he took in the server and verifies the number. Daniel still confused asks "Dude, what? ". Stephan - "It's my number. The number of the phone my day threw in the warehouse when I was thirteen. But how? ".  Stephan looks at Daniel. Daniel's still confused. Stefan runs towards the door and leaves in a blink. Daniel tries to stop Stephan but he leaves too quickly. Stephan started running towards Tangent street. He knew there was something wrong in the warehouse.

Stephan finally reaches the street corner. He leans forward on his knees to catch is breath. He looks at the warehouse. It looks like a horror house. Although he was terrified of the warehouse he wanted to go in because this mystery was killing his brains. He opened the door of the warehouse and turned his mobile flash on. Some bats flew right in Stephan's face. Stephan fell into the ground terrified. He crawled in keeping his head down. He saw a white thing in the dim light of his phone. As he moved closer, he was shocked by what he saw. He saw the white truck inside the warehouse the same one he saw this morning parked in front of the warehouse. Stephan decided to do what he has to do. He took a metal rod and broke into the RV. There was absolute darkness in there. He turned on the lights and he saw a small girl with his old phone in her hand connected to a charging cable. The girl was bruised and she was unconscious. Stephan called Laura immediately and asked her to inform Captain Ribbon about this. He carried the girl outside and waited for few minutes and then police arrived with an ambulance. Stephan's old phone was taken away as evidence and the driver was caught in the nearby motel. Captain Ribbon comes towards Stephan and says "Overshift huh?".

Stephan looks at Captain's eyes and fearlessly says "Prank calls huh? ".

Both of them stares at each other for a moment and then laughs together. Captain Ribbon - "Good work " He moves towards the ambulance. Stephan gets a call from Daniel.

Daniel - " Dude where are you?".

Stephan -" I figured it".

Daniel -"No you didn't. The call you asked me to track didn't even connect to your telephone during your shift. You just missed the call completely and the number was recorded in the history. The call you picked up was not that one. In the photo you took you can see the timing of the server. It's been setup five minutes early. So the server has been shut down five minutes earlier before you even got the call. So we don't really have the number that you wanted".


Alma Perdida stared at the abstract popcorn ceiling above her. With her arm extended out, she finger-painted the air, trying to connect the popcorn dots. Alma was waiting for a figure to reveal itself. Twirling her fingers, she finally lined up a shape to which she thought resembled a face. Smirking and releasing a small breath of triumph, Alma sat up from her squeaky twin sized mattress.

Alma made her way into her bathroom --- a whole three steps to the right of her bed. As she flipped on the bathroom light, the mirror revealed dark bags under her eyes and quite a messy bun. Alma stared at herself for a solid minute. She skimmed her cheeks for clogged pores and glared at the mole that made its home above her left eyebrow. Intoxicated with her negative body image, she sighed and reached towards the cabinet for her medication. As her fingers grazed the prescription bottle, a bing came from her phone. Alma left the bathroom and looked at the notification. The screen read, “Happy Birthday Onawa! A Gift from Your Local Coffee Shop!” A grin grew across Alma’s face. It was not her birthday today, but she decided she would accept the gift of a free coffee on behalf of Onawa. Alma slid on a pair of sandals, grabbed a soft brown jacket from the floor and headed out of her cramped studio apartment.

As Alma made her way down Fugue Avenue, she scanned the street, and happily watched the people around her. She glanced at the store to her right for a brief millisecond, and before her attention was focused back to the street, her gaze returned to the store window. Alma stopped walking and curiously looked through the glass. There was a middle aged woman staring back at her from inside the store. The lady was in a strange outfit --- a fancy coat, pink pajama pants, and flip-flops. Her hair resembled a bird’s nest --- coarse with stray hairs everywhere coming out of a bun. Alma was confused as to who let the lady leave the house looking like that. She waved at the lady awkwardly, and the lady waved back at the same instance. Alma smirked at the timing of their wave, and turned back to the sidewalk ahead of her. The coffee shop was two stores away. This was Alma’s first time ever going to the shop, since she does not drink coffee. As she opened the door, a familiar sounding whimsical alarm went off. Alma quickly scanned the shop. There were three mirrors on each wall, with typical coffee shop art hanging in between. From behind the coffee shop’s counter, there was a young man named Guia, who wore a 5 o’clock shadow. It was Guia’s one month long attempt to grow facial hair, as he was trying to get rid of his notorious baby-face. “Good morning, Onawa! Happy Birthday!” exclaimed Guia.

Was it possible that Onawa came to claim her birthday beverage at the same time as Alma? She looked behind herself, but there was no one else entering the shop. Alma was confused, but pretended to know the young worker. She smiled back at the baby-faced man and stared at the menu. The mocha latte seemed to pop out at her, but she was unsure what that drink was. “Typical mocha latte?”

Alma’s eyes widened. This worker must be a mind reader of some sort. She nodded to the mocha latte suggestion. Guia grinned and began to make the birthday drink. As Alma was waiting for her beverage, she glanced along the coffee shop walls and she was surprised that her eyes met someone. Another customer must have walked in, but Alma did not recall hearing the whimsical alarm. She must have been preoccupied with the menu at the new customer’s time of arrival.

The new customer had a mole that was hard to miss on their brow. Alma tried not to stare at it for courtesy reasons, but the mole stared back at her. Bird nest styled buns must be of a new style, because the customer was wearing one. Strangely, the customer had on a brown coat with pink pajama pants and flip-flops... It was the same lady that Alma encountered through the store window.

Alma was trying her best not to be rude and stare, but she could not help to judge the lady. What was bothersome, was that anytime Alma looked away, the stranger would look away too. It was as if the stranger was mirroring her movements. “Fancying our new mirrors? We thought we could give the shop a more modern vibe... By the way, here is your latte! I added 3 pumps of sugar free vanilla--- just how you like it, Onawa.” Guia handed Alma the latte. Alma slowly grabbed the drink. The worker must have been mistaken; she was not looking at a mirror, she was looking at the stranger --- and she had no idea what 3 pumps of sugar free vanilla meant.

Alma turned away from Guia and once again caught eyes with the mirroring stranger. The lady now had a drink in her hand. Alma wondered if the stranger had a drink this whole time. Maybe she overlooked the beverage due to the crazy outfit of the stranger. Alma looked away from the stranger, making eye contact with only the ground, and walked quickly to the shop door.

Leaving the stranger behind her, Alma took a sharp right turn and started walking. She noticed that people were staring at her, but she did not understand why. She nervously took a sip of her latte. Her taste buds rejoiced and she had a sense of familiarity. The latte was a perfect choice for her “birthday” beverage.

Ignoring the weird stares, Alma came across a bench which faced an empty store building that was recently a boutique. As Alma made her way to the bench, her eyes met a reflection in the store window. With her mouth wide open, she could not believe what she saw. Was it just a coincidence, or was she being followed? Alma was looking at the stranger once again, and the stranger was looking right back, mocking her with the gaping mouth.

“Are you following me?” remarked Alma blatantly. The stranger did not respond, but still mirrored her movements. Alma’s heart fluttered. She made her way closer to the stranger, and the stranger walked towards her. Alma’s sandals got caught beneath her, making her trip and hit the ground at an abrupt pace. After realizing that she tripped on her sandal, she looked right and left for the stranger, but the stranger was gone... Alma saw that a sandal was a couple feet away from her. It flung off of her foot during her journey to the ground. While she stared at her exposed foot, her eyes made their focus to her legs. She was wearing pink pajama pants. Strange, because Alma did not remember putting them on.

Alma flinched as something was poking her. She slid off her fancy brown jacket and noticed that she had a name tag on. It became unpinned and was softly stabbing her chest. She ripped off the name tag and blankly stared at the name. It read: ONAWA.

Alma shuddered and flung the name tag, which conveniently landed in a puddle. With instant regret, Alma folded herself over to fetch the name tag. She wanted to make sure she read it right. As she reached for the name tag, Alma peaked at her reflection. In the puddle, the stranger looked back at her, with the monstrous bun, the mole, and bags under both eyes. The reflection was not a stranger at all. It was Alma...who was in fact Onawa. Onawa let out a shriek, as she was unaware that she was suffering a psychological episode of dissociative fugue.


"Welcome to Valentine Password, the game show in which couples compete for the length of one dinner. Three couples are given a free dinner at a fancy restaurant, but they are unaware of hidden cameras throughout the establishment. If either one in the couple says a series of three password phrases, they'll win an all-expenses paid trip to Bora Bora. Let's get to know tonight's couples." "Couple number one has been dating for two and a half years; they met on a dating website called "The Magic Touch," and they're presently looking for apartments where they might move in together; meet Carl and Becky." "Couple number two has been married for five years and have been together for eleven years; they have no children but a cat named Calisto that they adore; one is a lawyer, and the other is an unemployed actor; meet Jeff and Simon." "Couple number three has been together for forty years and will be celebrating their 32nd wedding anniversary next month; they met in middle school and have two children together; meet Dan and Alice." "The Valentine's Passwords for tonight are "thinking," "lucky," and "I love you." A couple will receive a point if one of them says a phrase. They win the trip if they say all three! Let us join the dinner that is already underway," said the host. Carl and Becky are sitting in a restaurant, staring into each other's eyes. They don't even notice the waiter has brought them some bread to snack on. "Something happened today that totally made me think of you," DING, Becky continued, "Jennifer, at work, got flowers for lunch from her new boyfriend; I remember when you did that for me on my birthday." "That's funny, sweetie; I'm the luckiest man alive to have you at my side." DING "That was unexpected; Carl and Becky have taken a surprisingly strong lead, gaining two points in one conversation. Let's check in on couple number two, shall we?" Said the host. Jeff and Simon have already placed their orders and are settling in. "I am completely stumped by this case today; an office manager was found with $10,000 from his office and was arrested for stealing, but he said he didn't steal the money." "Why are you stumped?" "He's a pillar in his community; why would he leave it in her car for all to see, and how did the secretary know he was the one who took the money?" "It reminds me of The Crucible, a play I once performed in, in which a man has an affair with the maid and is set up for a crime by his mistress when she is fired. I'd examine the secretary." "An affair, I didn't think of that. I'm lucky you were in that play!" DING "Couple number two is off to the races, so they get one point. Let's have a look at couple number three," said the host. Dan and Alice haven't said anything to each other since they arrived, and they're now finishing their soup and bread. "Oh no, the main course is about to arrive, and Dan and Alice have barely spoken. What's this? It looks like Dan might be about to say something…." "Pass the salt?" "Welp, it appears that Dan and Alice will have difficulty winning that trip; they have 0 points, and the dinner is just about halfway through. Let us return to Carl and Becky and see if they can get that last point," said the host. Carl and Becky are now eating their main course when all of a sudden; Carl receives a call on his cell phone. Becky gets sight of the screen, which reads, "Angela." "Who is that?" "It isn't anyone. Just someone I work with." "How come you've never brought her up before?" "It's never come up, and she's new there anyway." "Why don't you take the call? Are you afraid to pick up the phone in front of me? Are you scared of what she'll say?" "We're eating dinner; I'm not going to answer the phone while we're eating." "Call her back; it must be very important if she's calling after hours." "Can't we simply eat? I swear you're insane; you get jealous over the smallest things that mean nothing!" "Call her back, Carl!" "I'm not calling her back!" Becky throws her napkin on the table. "I need to go the bathroom," Becky says as she storms off. "Uh oh, with only one point to earn to win the trip, Carl and Becky have hit a little snag in the game. Let's check in with couple number two once again," said the host. Jeff and Simon have now got their main course, Jeff is eating a steak, and Simon is eating chicken. "This chicken is quite excellent. When I was in A Streetcar Named Desire, they served me this horrible dry chicken during the dinner party scene. If they had given me this chicken, I wouldn't have minded so much." "Uh-huh." "You know, the community theater is bringing back A Streetcar Named Desire next season; I feel like I could still play Stanley; maybe I should audition." "Uh-huh." "You don't think I should audition?" "I never said that." "You never encourage my acting; do you want me to work as a store clerk or something?" "I didn't say that, either." "You didn't have to; every time I talk about my career, I know precisely what you're thinking." "Are you going to tell me what I'm thinking now?" "What are you thinking then?" "You have to be real sometimes, too. You haven't had any parts in over a year, you can't reach your agent, and the last time you were paid to perform was in a toothpaste commercial over two years ago." "I don't want to talk about this anymore; just eat your steak." "That's quite a turn of events for Jeff and Simon. They scored a point very fast during the dinner, but they also encountered a major hurdle in winning that trip. Let's check in with Alice and Dan once more," said the host. Alice and Dan also have their entrees and eat quietly, enjoying their meal and soaking in the ambiance. Dan finished his Bolognese and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "How was it, hun." "It was good, yours?" "A little gamey." "Oh." "Well, that conversation is riveting; let's check back in with Carl and Becky," the host said. "I'm going to take an Uber to my sister's house tonight; feel free to invite over anyone you want!" "You're insane; I thought we were watching the rest of that Netflix documentary?" "I don't know, why don't you call your whore and watch it with her!" "Yikes, what started out as such a promising dinner for Carl and Becky has turned into an utter disaster. Let's check in with Jeff and Simon, my odds-on favorites to win the trip, now," said the host. "You know what, the next time I perform, I just want you to stay at home and not think about it." "Great, next time you're cast as an audience member in an infomercial, I'll pass!" "That was one time!" "I think that's it for couple number two; yet another promising night has ended in disaster. I suppose we can check in with Dan and Alice; perhaps they can earn a point by accident," said the host. Dan and Alice finish their meal, and Dan pulls out his wallet to leave a tip. They stand up from the table without saying anything. Dan helps Alice by putting on her jacket; then Dan puts on his coat. "We were lucky to win this dinner; it was nice." DING "I was thinking to myself, you deserve a nice evening out." DING "Thank you, hun. I love ya." "I love you too, always and forever!" DING "Oh my god! In an upset that hasn't been seen since the "Miracle on Ice" in the 1980 Olympics, Dan and Alice have won the trip to Bora Bora! A couple that said no more than 15 words to each other the entire dinner won the game! It simply goes to show that after you've been together long enough, sometimes a few words are all you need.


Somewhere in the backwoods of Arkansas, thirty miles southwest of Hot Springs rests a quiet little town called Glenwood. Not much happens here, according to most peoples knowledge. However, this collection of short stories is not about your run of the mill common folk, and believe me they are just as real as they are surrealistically absurd. Most of these tales are the sum of highly intelligent and morally ambiguous individuals fueled by drugs, alcohol, and a strange sense of chaotic pack mentality, and I being fortunate and sober enough to bear testimony to these bizarre events. But don’t get me wrong, I am no innocent bystander amidst the chaos. Often times if you were brave enough you could find me somewhere in the fray, adding my own unique color to the sea of ambiguity. Due to some disconnect with the ways of the world, and their unwillingness to bend in the wake of society’s ever changing whims, they often found themselves in too deep and over their heads, but managing by some miracle to come out on top smelling like a rose. EARLY LESSONS. It is my belief there are three major events in a young boy’s life that let him know he is coming into his own as a man. 1 Losing your virginity. As a man the loss of your innocence marks you as an accomplished individual in the eyes of your peers. To the naive late bloomers you appear as a caterpillar that has emerged from a cocoon of wisdom with some other-worldly knowledge that you can’t acquire without firsthand experience. 2 Getting behind the wheel of a car alone. Nothing is more thrilling than the first few inches of pavement passing precariously between you and the barely functioning, half ton metal death machine, and the realization of the power you wield while careening down the black top. 3 The ultimate lesson. The third and probably most important, albeit least recognized event, is the epiphany that the people responsible for bringing you into this world do not have the infallible wisdom they believe themselves to possess. This tale being the nature of the third This story fell into my lap one mild fall evening after the whiskey had once again dampened our lips and freed our tongues from the chains of modesty. Cigarette smoke hung in the still night air like a looming fog, and the porch lights soft ambiance provided a contrast to the grating uproar that had begun around the small plastic table rattling dangerously around the wooden porch, threatening to spill the last of the ever dwindling manna that kept us in good spirits. Then suddenly a victor rose above the noise to claim his rightful crown as the evening’s story teller, and sole witness to the epic stupidity that befell him as a child. D. See, was a young boy around the age of five during this event. His father began a short drive home from a gentleman’s softball game. The 1973 Pontiac Ventura II had its wing vent open while the engine rumbled out in a low loping tone, barely minding the speed limit.Then out of nowhere, a thud emanated from the driver side wing vent, causing a generous application of the brakes. D. Sees’ father flipped on the cab lights to investigate the back seat before the vehicle managed to come to a complete stop. To his surprise a moderately sized screech owl had the misfortune of being sucked into the cars’ wing vents, and hurled into the back seat, where it lay dazed from the impact. Now any rational man would simply toss the creature out and keep driving, but that was far from what happened. For reasons known only to Mr. See, he captured the creature in his softball mitt and spent the rest of the drive home trying to figure out a way to profit from his new found avian friend. It wasn't until he had placed the poor feathery bastard in a cage and achieved a full night sleep did his long unforeseen dreams of being a falconer come to full fruition. Nearly by reflex I interjected in the face of the blatant ignorance that would soon come to pass. “You can’t be serious?” My glassy eyed cohort turned to me in his stupor, but the gleam in the back of his vision revealed the utmost sincerity with his reply. “I’m serious as cancer buddy.” A roar of laughter ensued from the crowd. “So what happened next?” Came an impatient slur from another intoxicated crew member on the edge of his seat. “I’m getting to that.” D. See said with some unusual clarity as he poured another shot to build dramatic tension. D. See kicked back the whiskey with ease, and then released a refreshing sigh, slapping the shot glass onto the table. “Roll me a fat one while I talk.” The group obliged, bringing forth the tribes designated joint crafter to work his dexterous magic into the item their temporary chieftain coveted so dearly. “Now where was I again?” D. See leaned back in his chair with a finger over pursed lips as his eyes fell back to that distant haze of nostalgia. Mr. See awoke that morning with a gleam in his eyes as radiant as the dawning sun. With the glee of a child on Christmas morning he hurried off to his work shed to prepare his “falconing attire.” This included the following: Bailing twine, an apron, and elbow length welding gloves that looked more like gauntlets. After securing the gauntlets with bailing twine Mr. See, was ready to begin training. The owl was ready too. It had spent the entire night stewing on the fact it had been flung into a cage that sat in the back of a rundown school bus, for reasons it could only begin to guess at. The owl heard the approach of Mr. See, and knew the plan it had concocted to make its daring escape were moments from inception. Mr. See opened the back door to the school bus and gingerly flipped the latch to the owls’ cage. The thing made no attempt to resist but kept a keen eye on Mr. See as it was lifted out of the wired prison. The owl made a quick assessment of the surroundings looking left, then right, then back to Mr. See, who was beside himself at this point. Then the creature unleashed its wild rage upon its captor all at once. It craned its neck around and bit through the welding glove with the force of a sledgehammer, latching itself to Mr. Sees’ thumb. The man howled in pain and tried to release the offending critter, wanting nothing more to do with it, but the thing refused to let go. Mr. See bolted through his front yard, arms flailing wildly, with the screeching bird in tow. At that point Mr. See found himself next to a large oak tree, and proceeded to beat the little bastard senseless against it until the enraged animal released his thumb. Finally, the owl unhinged its vice like grip and flopped to the ground where it shook off the daze. The owl ruffled its feathers as a last act of defiance before it flew off into the morning sunrise, leaving D. Sees father to lick his wounds.


Ten-year-old Hamesh sat at a table in his grandmother Bibi’s kitchen. He was reading one of Bibi’s books on magic, a subject Hamesh’s parents never allowed him to discuss while he was home. “Bibi is a powerful and wise sorceress,” they told him, “but her power comes from the Old World, which even she knows is dying. There is a reason she did not teach magic to her children.” Bibi didn’t teach magic to Hamesh either, but she did let him read her tomes and patiently answered his questions. He knew never to tell his parents about what he learned during his visits to Bibi’s cottage in the enchanted forest, but this silence with his parents was worth the treasure of the times he spent with his grandmother. Bibi, who always looked much livelier in her cottage than she did when visiting Hamesh’s home, was preparing dinner at the oven while Hamesh read. He was reading about a rare lizard whose scales could be used to fashion impenetrable armor when heard a wooden spoon clatter on the floor. “Bibi!” Hamesh cried, dropping his book and racing to his fallen grandmother. The old woman clutched her chest. “I must rest,” she whispered as Hamesh led her to the bedroom. “I’ll run to town and get a doctor,” Hamesh said after he put her to bed. “No,” she commanded. “I know what sickness ails me, and it can’t be healed by any human medicine. There is only one cure – you must find moldunberries in the forest.” “Moldunberries,” Hamesh whispered. Earlier that evening he had read about the miraculous healing properties of these berries. “Where do I find them?” The old woman shook her head. “I have seen moldunberries in this forest so I know there must be a bush somewhere, but I’ve never found it. Only the woodland creatures know where it is, and they are too scared of my power to reveal their secrets to me. But you… yes, you.” Bibi smiled at Hamesh. “They won’t be afraid of a small boy like you. You must convince them to tell you where to find the moldunberry bush.” “How could I do that?” Hamesh asked. His grandmother’s books hadn’t told him how to talk with animals. “It’s impossible!” “You’ve been listening to your parents too long,” the old woman said as she patted Hamesh on the head. “Listen to the voices of the woodland creatures and allow them to speak. The words will come to you.” Bibi shuddered and pulled the blankets up to her chin. “You must go, now. Find the moldunberries, before it is too late for me.” The boy stepped back from the bed, afraid yet somehow certain his grandmother was correct. Had he not read about wonderous powers in her tomes? Learned about potions that could give strength to the feeble and speed to the halt? Spells that could allow men to fly like birds or swim with dolphins? Herbs and roots that could make men fall in love or heal a broken heart? If Bibi could do all the things in this book, as Hamesh’s parents had attested, why should he doubt her if she believed Hamesh could accomplish this task? Taking a pouch from the kitchen, Hamesh went into the forest. He walked until he came to the log of a fallen tree, the top portion scarred by a lightning strike during a storm the previous night. On top of the log was a squirrel, running down one end to the other. On hearing Hamesh approach the squirrel turned to the boy and chittered loudly, but did not run. Hamesh stopped and closed his eyes. He remembered from his grandmother’s book that each creature in the woods had a secret name. He then began to chant: Squirrel, master of tall trees, tell me your name, so that I may speak with you “I am Scurry,” the squirrel told him. “And who are you?” “I am a boy who seeks to cure his sick grandmother. She needs moldunberries, but I don’t know where to find the bush that bears them. Do you know where I can find it?” “I would help you,” replied Scurry, “but I must help my family. We had been storing nuts in a drey on one of this tree’s branches before the tree was struck by lightning last night. My family and I were able to escape, but when the tree fell it landed on top of our drey. Our food is now gone, and we must find more before we perish.” The boy looked at the fallen tree. One of its branches had broken off during its collapse and lay nearby on the forest floor. One end of the branch had split into a jagged point, resembling a spear. “Scurry, I can help you recover your family’s store of nuts from under this tree.” “Impossible!” cried Scurry. “The strongest man in the world couldn’t move this tree on his own, much less a boy like you!” “I shall move this tree,” said Hamesh, “and then you shall tell me how to find the moldunberry bush.” The boy lifted the branch, carrying it to the fallen tree. He then dug the spear-pointed end of the branch deep into the dirt beneath the log and pressed his shoulder into the underside of the branch’s other end. Pushing forward, the boy used the branch as a lever that rolled the fallen tree aside. “The drey!” exclaimed Scurry. “And my family’s store of nuts! You have saved us, boy.” “And I must now save my grandmother. Tell me, Scurry, where to find the berries.” “I will tell you,” said Scurry, “though I wish I had better news for you. The moldunberry bush is guarded by a bear who will slay anyone who enters his lair. Turn around, boy, for your grandmother is doomed, as you shall surely be if you continue this foolish quest.” “I can’t let my grandmother die,” Hamesh protested. “There must be some way to get to the bush without being killed by the bear.” Scurry thought a moment. “I’ve heard that the rabbits in the fields adjoining these woods can grab moldunberries from the bush without being captured by the bear. Go seek them.” Hamesh thanked Scurry for his help, then ran off. Hamesh then came onto a large meadow, where he found a colony of rabbits. All but one turned and fled into the high grass as Hamesh approached. The boy stopped and chanted: Rabbit, master of broad fields, tell me your name, so that I may speak with you “I am Burrow,” the rabbit told him. “And who are you?” “I am a boy who needs to steal moldunberries from the bear so that I can heal my grandmother’s sickness. But I don’t know where to find the bear, or how to stop him from killing me.” “Even if I told you our secret, it would do you no good,” Burrow replied indignantly. “Only we rabbits are able to defeat the bear.” “If I beat you in a footrace, will you tell me?” “Impossible!” said Burrow. “The fastest man in the world can’t outrace me, much less a boy like you!” “I shall beat you to the river,” said Hamesh, “and then you shall tell me how to defeat the bear.” With a laugh, Burrow raced ahead of Hamesh. Both Burrow and Hamesh knew the fastest way to the river was through the woods, but the trees that had fallen during the storm blocked Burrow’s path. The rabbit was delayed as it had to go around, climb over, or slither under the obstacles. The boy, on the other hand, was able to leap between the fallen logs without once breaking his stride. When he reached the river he turned and balled his fists into his hip, waiting for Burrow to arrive. “You are a swift lad, and clever,” Burrow said. “But you lack the speed and wit to defeat the bear.” “But I must save my grandmother,” Hamesh demanded. “Tell me, Burrow, how you defeat the bear.” “The bear is fast and powerful, but not smart,” Burrow explained. “My people force him to chase us, and we struggle to stay outside the reach of his terrible claws. Fortunately, we are small and difficult to catch, and the bear’s strength eventually fails him. He then naps, and that is when we take from the moldunberry bush. But you are too large, boy, and the bear will have no problem catching you. Turn around, for your grandmother is doomed, as you shall surely be if you continue this foolish quest.” “Tell me where to find the bear,” Hamesh demanded. “I shall honor my promise,” Burrow explained. “Follow this river upstream until you come to twin boulders. Go west from the boulders for half of a league until you see a barren hill. Under that hill is a cave with the bear and his berries.” Hamesh thanked Burrow for his help, and began walking upstream beside the river. Hamesh found the twin boulders and headed west. The forest grew darker with each step he took, but in the twilight he was able to find the barren hill. Hamesh then heard an awful growling, and knew he had arrived at the right place. A massive black bear rumbled to the entrance of a cave. Hamesh closed his eyes and chanted: Bear, mightiest beast of the forest, tell me your name, so that I may speak with you “I will not tell you my name,” the bear replied, “for I am hungry, and shall eat you now for my supper!” The bear charged at Hamesh, who ran away with all his speed. Yet the boy knew the bear was faster and would certainly catch Hamesh before it grew tired and needed to nap. Hamesh thought of the magic he had learned in his grandmother’s books… surely he must have read of some spell that could help him escape the bear. “Grumble rumble stumble!” yelled the bear. “I’ll cut off your head and cook it in the oven, boy!” “I’m hungry too,” said a small voice from the bear’s cave. Hamesh looked back, and saw Scurry nibbling on a berry. “These moldunberries are delicious!” “Grumble rumble stumble!” yelled the bear. “I’ll tear your tail off and boil it in a stew, squirrel!” The bear charged at Scurry, who climbed up a tree and out of the fearsome creature’s reach. “Now there’s a sight,” proclaimed another small voice. Hamesh looked and saw Burrow perched on top of a rock. “A boastful bear, defeated by the smallest of creatures.” “Grumble rumble stumble!” yelled the bear. “I’ll rip your ears off and fry them in a pan, rabbit!” The bear charged at Burrow, who was just fast enough to stay out of his reach. Hamesh rested and laughed as he saw the bear’s gait slow with weariness. “Be gone from me,” the bear finally said to Burrow. “You’re too small for my supper anyway. I’d rather feast on this boy!” The bear chased after Hamesh again, but the boy knew now that the creature did not have enough energy left to capture him. “Grumble… rumble… stumble…” the bear moaned. It was now walking, head hanging low. “A squirrel, a rabbit, and a boy, defeating a bear. It is –” the bear fell to the ground – “impossible.” And then the bear’s eyes closed. “Hurry!” Burrow cried, running up beside Hamesh. “The bear will not long slumber.” Scurry met them at the cave’s entrance and led them to the moldunberry bush. After Hamesh filled his pouch with moldunberries he gathered more for Scurry and Burrow. “We have food enough to feed our families through winter,” the animals said when they were finished. “Thank you, boy.” “My name is Hamesh,” he told the creatures. “And thanks to you, my grandmother will be well.” The journey back to Bibi’s house was long, and Hamesh had more adventures before he finally stepped back into the cottage. His grandmother was still lying in bed, her face pale as she slept uneasily. Hamesh shook her shoulder. “Bibi,” the boy whispered. “Wake up. It’s Hamesh. And I’ve done what you’ve asked.” He took one of the moldunberries from the pouch and placed it on his grandmother’s dry lips. Bibi’s eyes opened, and her lips drew the moldunberry into her mouth. She then crushed the berry with her teeth, and Hamesh could smell the sweetness of the juice that coated his grandmother’s tongue. “You’ve done well, my boy,” Bibi said, color returning to her face. “You’ve done very well.”


trigger warning- death Miriam sat in her car and waited for the shock to wear off. She’d always known it was a possibility that the family she worked, for would decide to send their youngest child to that awful academic preschool down the street, but to be told it was a certainty felt like a slap in the face. Why couldn’t parents understand the harm that occurred in those types of school environments? Nothing about formal learning in preschool is necessary for later success. Play is enough. Miriam thought of sweet little Brody, and tried to picture him at that horrible school. It was gut wrenching to imagine his happy, free spirited self being forced to conform. Instead of climbing trees and skipping rocks, he’d be sitting at a desk, tracing endless worksheets. He would be forced to accept just one right answer, where he was used to finding many possibilities. Brody would be working for gold stars, or rather red stars, because those terrible teachers graded each worksheet with red pen. His learning should come from internal motivation, and not from the promise of a red star. Most baffling of all, Brody would be trading fresh air and sunshine for a classroom that smelled of mildew. She always wondered why all those wealthy families were willing to overlook the obvious mold problem in the building, just so they could say their child attended Silver Years. Why were they all so giddy about sending their children to a place that sounds more like a retirement home than a preschool? Young children are designed to learn through play. Science supports this notion. Play is enough. Of course, it wasn’t all the parents’ fault. Silver Years preyed on the false parental fears that their child will show up to kindergarten already behind in life. That just isn’t possible. Children are unique, and they develop at different rates. Kindergarten is a beginning. There is no way to be behind at a beginning. Children shouldn’t be assessed in this manner, anyway. Children are supposed to play. Play is enough. Miriam was disappointed in herself for letting Brody down. She had worked so hard to provide him with the childhood he deserved, while simultaneously trying to educate his parents on why play is so vital to development. She had been one of his primary caregivers from the time he was 2 weeks old, and truth be told, spent the most time with him out of anyone, every week, for the last 4 years. Miriam made it a point to immerse him in nature right from the start. Now, at nearly 5 years old, he could identify all of the common local birds by song and sight. He was thrilled each time he found deer tracks, and was fascinated by the little bones he could extract from owl pellets. Brody loved to go into the woods, and just be. He didn’t need anyone to tell him how to play or what to do. He was a master at entertaining himself, and inventing his own games. He was observant, and empathetic. Brody adored worms, slugs, and beetles. He was strong, physically, and mentally. He didn’t give up easily. Brody knew how to stand up for himself, and also how to be fair with others. He could write all of the letters of the alphabet, and knew what sounds they made. He was even beginning to learn sight words. He developed these skills purely through play, because play is enough. Miriam had been the family’s nanny when their third child had been a student at Silver Years. She remembered how Chloe had cried and pleaded with her parents not to make her go for the entire first 6 months of the school year. Chloe had to be bribed with treats at the end of each week if she went without fuss, and even then it was a lot of work getting her out the door. Miriam remembered how much Chloe’s physical endurance had suffered while she attended that school. She was pale, with sunken in eyes, and tired easily. She had been 4 years old and should have been a bundle of endless energy, but she was weak from sitting on her butt at a desk day after day, week after week. She should have been outside, moving her body. She should have been playing, because play is enough. Miriam opened the door and vomited onto the snowy street. She couldn’t bear the thought of that happening to her sweet Brody. Why hadn’t she done more to stop this? Why hadn’t she better articulated that all a child needs to be kindergarten ready is plenty of play? How had she failed so terribly in spreading the message that play is enough?

Miriam shifted her car into drive. Acting on autopilot, she pressed the gas and the car began to roll down the hill. Miriam was so deep in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice that her headlights were off. Her mind was racing. It was true that parents who chose academic preschools for their young children thought they were giving them a leg up. They were doing what they felt was best. Miriam couldn’t just let it go though, because she knew that all of the research showed that there are no long term benefits to early academic training. Children who go to academic preschools score higher on tests, initially, in kindergarten (who cares! Kids should not be tested in kindergarten!), but by 3rd grade, there’s no difference in scores, and by 6th grade, those who attended academic preschools tended to score lower on tests, and have more behavior issues. Boys, of course, struggled the most, and Miriam was watching this pan out with Brody’s 11 year old twin brothers. The older boys are not motivated to do much of anything. They were already burnt out from years of high pressure formal learning, especially because they started that when they should have been playing. The twins were afraid to try anything new if they thought they might fail. They were strict rule followers, to the extent that it was a detriment. They had zero ability to be flexible in their thinking. If the twins had been allowed to play in their preschool years, they would be better off than they are now. Miriam knew this in the depths of her soul, because play is enough. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to stay on as the family’s nanny come fall. They had offered to pay her for full time hours, and allow her to have a few paid hours off during the school day, but Miriam didn’t know if she could go through with it. Having received no raises in over 2 years, she was extremely underpaid as it was. She didn’t want to watch Brody turn into a worksheet tracing robot. She didn’t want to be broke, AND miserable. Her heart ached to think of Brody’s absence in her daily life if she were to quit her job, but dropping him off and picking him up from that dreadful school 5 days a week wasn’t something she wanted, either. Play is enough. Miriam shook her head in disgust. When will parents learn that play is enough? She turned onto Main Street. Lost in her despair, Miriam blew right past a stop sign. A pickup truck going 60mph t-boned her car, killing her on impact. As emergency crews arrived on the scene, the first thing they heard was a clip of the podcast Miriam had been listening to, stuck on a loop. The host repeated one sentence over and over again: “Play is enough!”


It’s been months of tracking and they finally caught up to him. Xanthan and Montauk advance ahead of the group in pursuit of the hooded man. “Montauk wait up!!! Don’t go in alone” Xanthan exclaimed. “We need to hurry, we can’t keep letting him get away!” Montauk responded with his focus straight ahead after the hooded man. Xanthan has never seen Montauk this determined, this tunneled vision. All that mattered to him at this moment was catching this man. They are chasing him through a dense forest. There is tight vegetation on the ground with a maze of tall trees surrounding them with thick branches that slapped them across the face as they ran. The moonlight is barely able to seep though. Xanthan can only see nothing the Montauks back as he strides ahead of him, and he soon loses him. Xanthan can feel something is off, but Montauk was using all his energy to chase this mysterious man down. Whatever the case Xanthan wanted to be sure to be by his side. Montauk ran enough to eventually exit the bunch of trees only to be meet with a steep rock formation. He snaps his head up to see the hooded man already on top, staring back down, as if he was waiting for Montauk to catch up. Their eyes meet, and then the hooded man continues his escape. Montauk now seems more determined than ever and starts to leap with great superhuman height up the mountain, all while Xanthan struggles to keep up. Montauk reaches the summit, but the chase was over. The man is there waiting, bathing in the moonlight with his hooded cloak dancing in the cool night breeze. “What is this? Why? Why are you here?” Montauk ask. The man answers with a question “Do you know where we are? We are where the stars touch the earth. Where reality fades and the only thing left is the eternal breath of the universe.” Montauk, with nothing but regret and anger filling his eyes, glares at the man. The man continues “You know where this is…” Montauks glare does not break, and he makes up his mind to advance forward to confront the man, but his first step leads him to a different dimension. He is transported to an all black void, with nothing around but the slight shimmer of a endless puddle beneath his feet. The puddle casts a perfect inverse image. He is stunned for a small moment, then the hooded man’s voice echoes behind him, “Please Gabriel, we can’t keep doing this to ourselves” “Don’t call me that!” Montauks snaps back “I didn’t do this to myself! You did, and it has haunted me ever since. And know that I have you here, I will end this.” Montauk runs up to the man, which disrupts the reflections beneath him, and grabs his collar, but he dissolved into smoke. This angers Montauk and he frantically looks around, eyes darting across the void. Then he hears a slight whimper, and focuses his attention and sees a young boy on the ground with his head in his knees crying. Montauk lowers his guard and walks up to the side of the boy. The boy continues his soft cry. He hesitates on how he wanted to talk to the young boy, but he doesn’t want the boy to keep crying so he ask him, “what’s wrong? Do you know where you are?” The boy looks up, with his big eyes watery and nose red, “I’m lost…” the boy responded “I was playing with my brothers and sisters, but I went too far out and got lost. I tried finding my way back but i couldn’t find my way back.” The boy rubs his eyes, and Montauk decides to join the young boy and sit beside him. With his big burly shoulders in contrast to the boys tiny frame, with both their reflections extending beneath them. “I gave up on trying to find my way back so I just stopped, and hoped that my family will find me. If I stay still and they look at all the usual hiding spots they’ll eventually find me right.” Montauk can do nothing but listen, and his eyes begin to fill with emotion, but not of sadness, but of despair and emptiness. What he has been blinded with for as long as he can remember. “It’s cold and I’m getting scared they may never find me.” The boy looks at Montauk and they both share eye contact, both their eyes being two sides of the same coin. “Did they stop looking?” The boy asking Montauk directly Montauk didn’t have an immediate answer, which lead the boy to fall back into his arms. Montauk reaches out to place his hand on the boys shoulder. He hesitates about half way through, but continued to establish a physical connection with the boy. The boy looks back at Montauk, and Montauk finally has an answer for the boy. “I don’t know where you siblings are, or where we are… but I found you. I can help you look for them if that’s what you would like? I will make sure I get us outta here” The boy wipes his tears from his cheek and sniffs his nose and simply nodes. Their reflections at another glance become inverse of eachother, with the Man casting the boys and the boy casting the mans. They both stand up and Montauk holds the boys hand as they walk towards the dark abyss. Neither one of them knowing what lies ahead, or behind, but knowing that they will do it together.