I’m almost glad Jim’s running late, because I’m about to break his world, and damn it, he’s my bro. He’s my guy. We go way back. But if there’s bad news he’s gotta hear it, and it’s my duty to tell him. That’s what friends are for. I’m not really good at this touchy-feely stuff, so I hope this cake place is all right. They got a decent coffee here, and a bitching key lime pie. Man, that shit is bananas. If pies were women then this one would be– Oh, there he is! “Hey Jim!” Yeah, he sees me. Ooh, is that a new jersey? Looks pretty dope. Looks legit too. I wish I had legit jersey money, but honestly? Those fakes from Monty are pretty good. I mean, not like take-a-close-look-when-you’re-sober good, but you know. "What’s up, Big J? Yeah, I like this place, figured we’d, uh, get a brew for a change. Uh, coffee brew, I mean. Good pie here. Oh man, and the waitresses. Psst. Look at the one behind the counter. Yeah, her. Glenda . Look at the size of– “–heh, nah, I actually don’t think your wife would mind you looking.” Uh, whoops. He’s frowning at me. Too soon, he hasn’t got his pie yet. Ease him into it. Geez, delivering bad news is harder than I thought. Feels like I got shrimp-and-scotch indigestion. I hope this goes better than when I had to tell Peter. I can’t believe the same thing keeps happening to my married friends. Anyway, I gotta distract him. “You see the game?” Heh, I love when Jim recaps stuff. He’s got a great voice for it, and he does the hand motions too, really keeps my attention. I think he could be a pro announcer, and I’m not surprised Janice fell for him. Look at him go! Oh yeah, I remember that play, lol. Wait, did I just think “lol”? Did I actually laugh out loud? I don’t remember. I better laugh now because that was a funny moment, and I don’t want to be rude. “Oh my god, that was friggin’ hilarious!” That’s better. Geez, maybe I do spend too much time on the phone. Well whatever, waitress is here. “Hey Glenda, we’d like–Brenda? Oh, sorry, Brenda then. We’d like two things of key lime and some coffee. Yeah, thanks.” I pull out my manila envelope, filled with the horrible, heart-breaking, life-ruining evidence. Damn damn damn, this is going to be tough. I don’t want to hurt my best bud, but I feel like I’m about to kick him in the balls. Least I can do is buy him a pie. “Pies are on me, Big J. What? Why? Uh… it’s a surprise. The envelope?” Damn it, stop asking poignant questions. I gotta get you in a real good mood before I kick you in the junk. I know how much Janice means to you. “You’ll see. Hey, you remember that trip to Vegas?” Ha, there we go. Yeah, it was an awesome trip, Jim. I can’t believe all the places we were kicked out of. Man, what an epic time, back when it was just us bros. No wives, no kids, no real jobs, no real worries. Ah, she’s back with the pies. Mm-mm, can’t wait to eat that pie, girl. Heh, noice . “Thanks, Glenda. Brenda? Really?” Whatever. “Good pie, eh? What do you mean, it’s okay ? It’s key lime, it’s the best. You prefer cherry? What the hell is wrong with you.” Geez, you think you know a guy. Oh well, it’s now or never I guess. This was always going to be shitty news, and you can sugar coat shit, but it’ll still just be cherry pie. "So, listen, man. I got some bad news. Ha, nah, I’m okay. It’s not bad for me, right? Like, bad for you. Yeah. Okay, so, you know your wife? Janice? It’s the big C. “No, not cancer. She’s cheating on you.” Oh my god, there it is. He’s gone all pale and trembling, like that time we were in Little League and Jim was at third base and Ricky Santiago just plowed into him and Jim wasn’t wearing a cup and he fell and we all laughed, but then we felt bad about it later. Only this time, I feel bad right away. “Yeah, sorry man. Yeah, I got proof. You know I wouldn’t make something like this up, bro.” I tap the manila envelope. “Are you, like, sure you want to see this? Okay.” I hope he can take it better than Peter did. I slide the envelope over to him. Oh boy, this is bad. Geez, he’s even crying. I can’t believe Janice would do this to him. He opens the envelope, slides out the photos, and takes a look. His face changes. First it’s soggy and he’s doing that romcom thing where his lip shakes and his breath is all weird, like he’s tired from running or whatever, like his girl’s on a train or whatever and he doesn’t know if he’ll catch her. Then he frowns, looking closer at the photos, sliding from one to the next. Then he’s scowling and he’s bared his teeth, and he’s all red in the face. Yeah, that’s good! Be angry , Jim. Nobody likes a crier. He slams the photos onto the table, and I nod, knowingly. “Yeah, told you bro, it’s pretty bad–” Wait, why the hell is he yelling at me now? That’s not fair. “Dude–” Stop interrupting me, man. “Bro–” Man, I knew delivering bad news would be hard, but I’m kinda regretting it. There’s really no call for shouting at me. It’s kinda rude. “Dude! Why are you shouting at me? She’s the one that cheated on you.” Oh my god, I cannot believe he just said that. In public. I hope nobody’s recording this, for Jim’s sake. Christ, he’s actually mad at me now. Real nice, Jim. After I try to do you a solid. This is Peter all over again. “Yes, I know I’m the guy in the photos, Jim! That’s how I know she’s cheating on you! Hey, don’t scream at me, bro. I’m a victim here too. This married woman, who should have known better , just swooped in on my poor, lonesome, vulnerable heart. She took advantage of me, Jim. She made me feel so dirty.” Actually, fair, I liked the dirt. Janice is filthy . I can see why he married her. “Nah, she didn’t take the photos. They’re stills from my video. Yeah, I recorded it–what do you mean? I always record it. I mean, look at me! I look great in these shots! No, I did not secretly tape your wife! I caught her screwing around on you. I did you a solid, man, don’t turn this around on me.” Oof. He just slammed his key lime pie in my face. Real mature, Jim. Real nice. Not only does that hurt my feelings, it’s a waste of a perfectly good pie. Let’s see, maybe I can scrape it onto my plate… there. Mm that’s good pie. Yeah, fine Jim, just leave. Just scream at me and leave. Make a scene. Whatever , bro. I know you just need time to cool off. It’s gotta suck learning your wife betrayed you. Just know I got your back. That’s what friends are for.


It came before. Before time would have any concept or meaning. Before matter burned and cooked and crystalized into any quantifiable form. Out of the impossibly ancient swirling dusts of creation it slowly, inexorably gestated. It was not created, it was not willed nor wanted into existence, it simply was not, and then was. How this came to be, when there was nothing, even it could not know. There were not words to form ideas for it to ponder such existence. In all the great nothing, it simply now was. It has no eyes; there was not yet light for it to see with. It has no shape or form in any meaningful way, there was nothing, and it was formed out of the swirling nothing. If matter existed, if space was defined in any meaningful way, it would have been more vast than any concept of modern measurement could possibly describe. Alone; adrift the infinite, endless void it was all, it was the only one of its kind; or any other; more than that, more than anything else it formed a thought, that thought. The first thought. "I am alone". The concept of alone, the first act of creation, the first words ever given form, trillions of years before the first star would set alight; so far before anything capable of conscious thought would possibly speak a primordial language. The very concept of thought, of existence, of this endless formless being was given life, and it was in the thought. It was the thought. "I am alone." If time could be measured then, it would be in aeons. Each word of that first thought billions of years in forming. The burning, twisting embers of each syllable flowing from the void, forming the first sparks of energy that might one day decay into matter to drift coldly beyond the stars. I. It now was. The first principle of existence could now be, it existed, then with that thought the possibility of existing formed with it. It was, and therefore all could be. Am. If it was born of nothing, then this concept made the nothing into something new. It coming to be drew the infinite nothing tighter and tighter, and in the nothing it now was. With this word the the concept of being, the very notion of acting, doing, interacting established itself. Change was possible. 'I' gave form. 'Am' gave motion to that form. But not yet. Alone. With this final word it reached out and felt across infinite space, searching for one like it, for anything other then self, for anything to interact with and found only the void from which it came. The concept of self meant nothing, for there was nothing else. But this differentiation of it from the endless nothing was in itself the first act of creation. It created itself by this thought, formed over countless millennia. Alone meant more. For in this moment, it gave the possibility for something else to exist. The concept of self must inexorably imply the concept of not self, of other, and in this time before time thought and form were one. The first God, in its now formed state now knew what it was. The embers of its first act of creation, of its own birth, drifted slowly out into the nothing, forming and collecting and condensing down into endless galaxies. Time and space made out of the detritus of its own formation, swirling and drifting and fading as the universe spread out from it. The first God screamed.


Monsteropolis, September 4, 2020 Yesnia St. Cloud could barely contain her excitement the higher up she and her traveling companions flew. They were just about to breach the clouds that led to her hometown, and she couldn’t wait to introduce her surface friends to her Overworld friends and family! It had been too long since the young witch had been back to visit her hometown, and she couldn’t wait to introduce her folks to her new fiance! At the ripe old age of 27, she had finally met the love of her life in Felix “Freak” Fernandez. Yesnia St. Cloud-Fernandez has a good ring to it! “So… Why is Monsteropolis high up in the clouds? The vast amount of media would have you believe that most monsters lived in Transylvania and in black lagoons and stuff like that. Earthbound, if you will.” The pint-sized gnome artificer Artia Flameborne asked the current leader of the party. The jets in her boots were working double-time to keep up with the sleek new Duskbreaker 3005 broom that Yesnia was riding with unbridled glee. Behind her was her beloved Freak, clutching her waist for dear life and trying in vain not to look back down towards the rapidly-shrinking planet beneath them. “I’ve been asking myself that since we left the ground!” he piped up with tears streaming down his face. “Isn’t there some sort of giant escalator or… What about a hot air balloon?? Something where my feet can be squarely under me?” “Oh hush, Freaklin. Artia is coming along so she can set up a high-speed teleporter at my parents’ house so we never have to do this scenic sky trip again… Unless I feel like it!” She said before releasing a cackle that pealed through the clouds like thunder. With a snap of her fingers, she had the dramatic lightning to accompany the raucous laughter. “Yesnia!! Chill with the lightning! We’re all flying types right now and not all of us can just shrug off the fury of Raijin!!” screamed Yumi Kuromori over the crackling of the lighting above them. She was usually the toughest customer in the group, but the lightning had her trembling like a leaf in the strong arms of her lover and close friend, Allegra Powers. “It’s okay, Yumes. We’re almost there. I’ll handle any lightning that comes our way!” Allegra reassured her in a loving tone. She smiled a smile so warm and bright that it instantly melted away any fears that Yumi may have had. They both leaned in for a kiss, but the attempt was abruptly interrupted. “Hey lovebirds, we’re here!” chirped a voice from behind the pair. It was Brin Monterey, holding on for dear life to the cape streaming from Allegra’s back as they finally pierced through the base layer of clouds that made up the “ground” for the Overworlders. The sign sticking out of the bottom of the clouds read: “Welcome to Monsteropolis! Population: 4,395 spooky individuals!” “Artia didn’t build you those phoenix boots to intrude on my love life, Brinny,” Allegra joked with her oldest friend in the universe as their heads started to poke through the stretchy upper layer of the stretchy ground that the Overworld was built on. She was actually a little glad Brin stepped in when she had, as she didn’t know if Yumi could catch the Halo virus, but she really didn’t want to chance it any more than she had to. “I helped design them AND your new suit there, Legs. You can’t just give all the credit to the magical gnome you met a couple of weeks ago.” The suit Brin was referring to emulated her natural powers while still preventing her from physically touching other people to spread the dreaded enhanced-targeting supervirus. “… And that’s why it was built up in the sky. Oh, we’re here! Welcome to my town, guys!! Monsteropolis!” Yesnia took a deep breath of the thin, crisp air as the group of five relative Earthlings she had brought with her were able to take in the sights of a city square whose only source of illumination other than the moon and the twinkling stars peppering the inky blackness above was the warm light of the fire burning inside a gigantic jack-o-lantern. Standing more than five stories tall and floating over a giant purple fire that smelled strongly of apples and cinnamon, each side of the gargantuan gourd was carved with the faces of the citizens of Monsteropolis. The four biggest faces on the giant pumpkin, sitting in a horizontal row on the pumpkin’s equator like a veritably monstrous Mount Rushmore were the cold, yet inviting gaze of Countess Lucinda Dracula, the awkwardly charming smile of Governor Adam Frankenstein (Formerly known as Frankenstein’s Monster), the fearsome countenance of General Lupe Alma de Lobos, and a the bandage-wrapped, mummified face of High Priest Imhotep. “Oh my gourd, that’s a big pumpkin!!” Allegra exclaimed as she carefully set Yumi down so she could get her first taste of actually walking on a cloud. A dense fog effect surrounded their feet as the “ground” stretched ever so slightly under their reduced weight. Freak, excited to finally be able to stand on his own, stretched his legs and leaped up high enough to get a better view inside of the giant pumpkin before realizing the lessened gravity meant he could easily get almost three-quarters of the way up the pumpkin with a single leap. “Oh, aces! I loooove the lack of gravity here! It’s like a giant bounce house!” “You’re not gonna join us on the cloud, Allegra?” Yumi asked with her arms crossed. Allegra had to laugh. “Nah babe, walking’s for suckers!” Everything was kosher until she felt her sorta-girlfriend’s glare piercing her soul like a thousand tiny daggers, causing her to drop to the “ground” immediately. “Juuuust kidding! Boy-oh-boy do I love walking hehe…” Bats flitted through the air, squeaking and fluttering their wings gracefully. The sound attracted the views of the group towards the closest unimpeded view of the full Harvest moon that any of them had ever seen before, excluding Allegra and Yesnia. “The moon looks so perfect up here. I can see every single crater and… Hold on, is that a colony on the moon??” Artia asked as the pair of goggles on top of her head flipped down automatically, zooming in telescopically to give her a clearer view of what she had always assumed was a barren rock in the sky. “Oh yeah, you didn’t know ‘bout the Lunarians? They tend to keep out of Earth business, but they’re super nice! I’ll take you to meet ‘em sometime.” Allegra chimed in. “Yeah, they’re our favorite neighbors! No offense, Earthlings… They invite us to their parties for different eclipses and all sorts of lunar holidays. We like to have them over for all sorts of Harvest festivals, especially Halloween! Oh, those moon kids looove candy, and their little costumes are so precious!” Yesnia’s eyes were full of stars and her orange irises glowed eerily with the brilliant light of the moon flowing through them. Freak’s hand waving in front of her face caused her to exaggeratedly snap out of her Harvest-induced stupor. She slid the handle of her broom into the handy holder strapped to her back before gesturing for the group to follow her. “Anywho, let me give you guys a brief tour on the way to the ‘rents place. I know all the coolest spots!” The party of six young adults set off into the chilly night air. It was the perfect hoodie weather, which Allegra, Yumi, Freak, and Brin were all warned of before making the 10-mile trip up to their vertical neighbors. Artia, however, was a walking radiator, giving off excess heat even in the absence of her loyal phoenix companion, Orryn. Today, her rusty red toolbox and the goggles that seemingly never left the top of her head would have to be her only aides. She was the only one bold enough to wear just a faded band t-shirt (It says “Magically Lucid”) and jeans in the chilliest environment any of them had personally been to. After a couple of minutes walking and chatting about various townsfolk that passed by on their way to living their lives, they happened upon a huge section of trees that were gnarled, withered, and almost entirely devoid of leaves. The moonlight shining through the branches cast wicked shadows over them as they approached, immediately unnerving most of the group. “Hey, what gives? Most of the other trees still have orange, red, and brown leaves up, why are these ones bare?” Freak looked upon the creepy forest that stretched for at least half an acre with apprehension, secretly hoping they wouldn’t have to go through it. “This is the Star-Crossed Woodlands!” Yesnia’s voice echoed across the thicket with incredible clarity, causing her to hush herself before continuing. “Legend has it that it was created during a bout between Dracula and a goddess of the land. When her life-giving plant-growth powers mixed with Dracula’s unholy blood, it created a single, massive weeping willow that ended up spreading its dark influence over the land around it. It stopped once it hit its current size, so we started building around it.” “You’re not worried that, like, those spooky roots could spread under your houses and roads and cause some real massive damage one of these days?” Yumi questioned as she tightened her hoodie around her face, a hard shiver running down her spine as she did so. She really couldn’t stand all this cold, but as soon as Allegra’s gloved hand grabbed hers, she was reassured everything would be okay. “Nah, we had some witches look into it and the potential to grow anymore has diminished over time. Now the only thing abnormal about this place is that it can be very tricky to get out. Looking up while you’re inside will actually show you the stars in the wrong position, constantly forcing you to travel in a spiral. More than a few people have perished from getting stuck like that. Since then, we put in a convenient trail of glowing mushrooms that show all of the available paths. Just DON’T. LOOK. UP. Got it?” Yesnia grabbed Freak’s arm and strolled casually into the spooky grove without a hint of fear. The rest followed with noticeable hesitation before seeing the blue row of glowing mushrooms on both sides of the well-worn path they were walking down. A gentle hum emanated from the fungi and it actually helped to alleviate their nerves a tad. All of their nerves besides Artia, of course. She was used to danger around every corner, especially when the world around her was trying to calm her. It felt like a trap, so she drew her sword, guarding the rear of the group and looking over her shoulder every couple of seconds. “You brought a sword??” Brin almost couldn’t believe it, but then she remembered who she was asking. “I ALWAYS have my sword. I’m surprised you didn’t,” Artia retorted. At one point, she’d been spooked by the rustling of some tree branches that turned out to be a rogue bat that was lost, even with its use of sonar. She swung at it and almost cut the poor thing in half before realizing what was going on and helping it out of the branches that had ensnared it. She ended up carrying it with them through the rest of the dreaded woods. “I think I shall call you Brana! Brana Bat. Fly free, you beautiful fool!“ Artia called out, releasing her new friend as the group finally stepped out of the Star-Crossed Woodlands. “Ah, fresh, non-haunted air,” “Artia, that forest isn’t haunted… Right Yesnia?” Freak questioned, receiving nothing but silence for a few too many seconds. “Oh no, it’s TOTALLY haunted. Like, abnormally haunted. One of the most haunted places on or around Earth. People who go missing anywhere on the planet a lot of times end up stuck there. We were being tailed by, like, 12 ghosts. I’m surprised you guys didn’t notice the humming!” The response was so nonchalant that everyone besides Freak who was being dragged along and Artia stopped dead in their tracks. “Told ya.” The half-pint wizard chimed in, sticking her tongue out as she sheathed her sword. “Listen, y’all; as soon as we get back home, I say we extort a big ol’ bottle of Curse-B-Gone from Leo. Agreed?” Allegra posited to the group in a hushed tone, taking their astonished nods as confirmation. “Oh shoot look, a rescue shelter! I should’ve taken Brana over there.” Artia pointed to a bright blue and white building with the words “Monsteropolis Rescue Center” in bold red print at the top. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Bats are like pigeons here. Besides, Brana wasn’t hurt, they just have a poor sense of direction with all the trees in the way,” Yesnia patted Artia on the shoulder, clearly sensing that she missed her Orryn. “Buuut, we do have some time to kill before we’re due at my parents’ house. Let’s check out the current residents? We get some really weird critters thanks to The Woodlands’ effect of pulling in anything that gets lost!” she said already heading over towards the building. “I’m game!” Yumi followed with a small hop in each step. “Oh, there’d better be some stuff that’ll blow my MIND!” Allegra floated behind, grabbing Yumi’s hips like it was the start of a conga line. “Absolutely!” Brin followed, ready for something less spooky to calm her nerves. “Haha what could it hurt?” Freak strolled in after the rest. Artia stayed behind for a brief moment before casting a little spell. She whispered something barely audible into her cupped hands, which started to glow with a faint light before releasing it into the night air. And with that, she turned to follow her comrades. When Artia got into the building, she was intrigued to see it almost resembled an Earthling hospital, but much smaller. She walked up to the reception desk and, with a well-placed jump, she was directed by an incredibly sweet Oni girl to the playroom. “Just follow the green line on the floor all the way to the back and you can’t miss it! Enjoy your time and consider adopting one of our misplaced cuties!” The rest of the group were already oohing and ahhing and playing around with a few incredibly strange species of animals that were unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Allegra was chuckling to herself and juggling a completely gelatinous teal creature with three eyes and no mouth that looked to be completely enjoying the experience in two eyes, although the other eye was starting to look nauseated. Yumi was crouched on all fours in a staring contest with a purple frog that she swore changed into a different animal the very second constant eye contact wasn’t kept on it. The creature bested her once more and only her shocked cry alerted Artia to the fact that the frog was now an orange hedgehog. “Oh, I’m coming back for this one! Imma call you Ryoshi!” She happily picked up the spiny orange critter and hugged it, but as soon as her eyes shut, she was holding a green mouse. Brin had her face pressed to an aquarium with a family of electric starfish whose lightning changed colors depending on the mood of the nearest creature. Currently, they were all emitting thin arcs of vividly vibrant violet electricity to reflect Brin’s awe and glee at the beautiful display going in. “How have you not been… Allegraaaa!!” “C’mon Brin, we JUST got Meo!” Allegra walked over with the semisolid creature wrapped around her neck like a feather boa. Yesnia was showing Freak a miniature shapeshifting creature that could turn into a tiny version of anything or anyone. Freak was alarmed that something so dangerous was just out and available to be played with. “Pfft, he can’t grow, Freaklin! So if he turns into you…” she held Freak’s face up close to the little dude who currently looked like the small green army man next to him on the floor. In a matter of seconds, he had completely turned into a near-perfect copy of Freak, minus the height of course. “Now how could I ever mistake him for my handsome Freakasaurus Rex?” “Y-yesniaaa!\~\~” Freak embarrassedly shielded the mini version of himself from seeing Yesnia pull him into a kiss that made Artia blush before she cleared her throat to bring the party’s attention back together. “It’s about time we headed out, it’s almost eight already!” On the way out, Brin and Yumi made plans to adopt their respective favorite pets on their way back. Allegra rolled her eyes the entire time they were signing papers, but she had to admit that she couldn’t think of much cooler pets to pick up than the two they had chosen. They headed off down the road, passing different street vendors and performers on their way towards the edge of Monsteropolis’ downtown. Once they were a few minutes past the hustle and bustle, the clouds beneath them started to ripple as a heavy wind kicked up seemingly out of nowhere. Accompanied by the near-deafening and unmistakable sound of powerful wingbeats, within seconds an imposing, shadowy figure had landed in front of them. The hulking humanoid turned, staring down the group menacingly with huge, glowing red eyes being the only facial feature they could recognize in the dark. Everyone instinctively hid behind Yesnia in fear as the creature began growling, but Allegra was beyond excited. “YOOO!!! You didn’t tell me THE Moth-Man lives here!! He’s a frickin’ legend back where I’m from!!” “Hey, Mr. Mothman! Lose the hyphen, Allegra. How’ve you been lately?” Yesnia walked up and gave the towering creature a hug as he started to clear his throat loudly before hugging her back. “Aggh, those thick clouds choke me up ev’ry time! I’m doin’ good, Yeshny! Ye’ve shertainly grown up shince I shaw ye lasht! Who are the normies? Well…” He said as he looked down to see a diminutive gnome, a girl with a frog tongue wrapped around her like a scarf, and a superhero flying towards him with an autograph book at the ready. “Moshtly normies, at leasht.” “Hi Mr. Mothman, I’m Allegra, huuuuge fan. Nobody on Earth has a solid consensus on what you look like besides your beautiful ruby eyes! But a moth head on a man’s body? That’s fascinatin’! And Scottish! I never would’ve guessed!! D’you mind signing my Book of Legends?” She held out a bundle of pens, each a different color, and a red bound leather book with gold leaf lettering with “Book o’ Legends” in a beautiful flowing script. “Alright then,” The Mothman picked up the neon pen and turned to a blank page in the middle to etch his name onto with scraggly, erratic strokes. “Anythin’ for a humie that doesn’t want to light me on fire or get me shtuffed for the ol’ mantle. Ye wee ones headed over to your folksh’ place? If so, could you drop shomethin’ off for me?” “We sure are! I’m going to introduce them to my fiancé. Freak, come say hi to Mr. Mothman!” Freak was hidden squarely behind Artia, which was impressive considering she was almost a solid meter shorter than he was even when she had her power armor on. If it weren’t for Yesnia’s keen sense of smell due to her witching heritage, he could’ve gotten away with it, but she plucked him like a daisy and presented her shivering groom-to-be to her old neighbor. “N-n-nice to m-m-meet you, sir…” The look of terror on his face was evident as he tried not to look too closely at the bulging scarlet compound eyes, the prominent feathery and slicked-back antennae, or the curled up proboscis behind the almost beak-like opening of a mouth the creature before him possessed. “… Are ye good kid? I promishe I won’t bite ye, it’s actually imposhible, I don’t have teeth!” A hearty laugh echoed out into the crisp night air as the Mothman thought his attempt at a joke would ease the tension. “Oh, don’t worry about him, he’s terrified of moths after an ‘accident’ as a kid,” Freak’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates at the mention of his accident. His mind was instantly teleported back to his 8th birthday in 1983, a day he had often tried to forget. He went completely white and grew incredibly cold and clammy as one of the worst days of his life replayed in his mind in glorious super 8mm quality. “He’ll be okay, it’s just gonna be a couple of minutes,” Yesnia sat her traumatized partner on the ground and knelt beside him, stroking his hair and holding him close to her. “What did you need me to drop off, by the way?” By this point, Allegra was gathering measurements on the Mothman, pulling his wings to get an accurate wingspan measurement, taking stock of his musculature, and even pulling out a pair of calipers to get a good head measurement. He didn’t seem to mind, treating her like most humans would an average moth flitting around them. “Ahhh, 27 centimeters. Interestin’ indeed…” She muttered, scribbling notes like mad in a different book. “Artia! Did you give her the measuring tape and calipers?” Brin questioned. “Just because I’m a scientist doesn’t mean I go handing out my equipment all willy-nilly!” the gnome retorted as she clutched her trusty rusty red toolbox. “And where are you getting all these books from??” Yumi asked as she used her tongue to snatch the tools from Allegra’s hands. “No more work, it’s bad enough you’re wearing your uniform on this little side plot.” “Wait, how did you know this was a side plot??” The utterance of the term “side plot had snapped Freak out of his dazed stupor. “I… Didn’t? It’s just a good term for a one-off adventure like this, no?” “Okay, I’ll tell them you said Happy Harvest. Bye, Mr. Mothman!! What a nice guy, eh? I can’t tell you how many times he helped me get my brooms out of the tree in our yard! That damn tree has eaten more good brooms than I can…” Yesnia turned back to the group in the middle of a weird argument about what constitutes a side plot when they noticed the disappearance of the large humanoid Lepidoptera and the fact that she was now carrying an awkwardly-shaped object that was wrapped in a sack made of silk. “What’s in the bag?” Brin asked, walking closer to get a better look at it. “Well I can’t let the proverbial cat out of the bag, but it’s gonna be really cool once everything’s set up. Anywho, my house is right down the street, let’s go!” The collective party walked until they came up to a huge 4-story gothic mansion that almost looked like a castle made of the oldest stones the Earth could provide. There was a beautiful run-down quality to the place. Multiple pointed spires topped the massive abode, stabbing the heavens themselves with crimson flags hauntingly dancing in the still night air like blood dripping from the moon’s pierced surface. The windows were alight with a ghastly golden light with flickering wispy figures phasing in and out of existence in them. Walking through the tall, dead grass of the front yard to get to the door, they could see a graveyard to the south of the house with a couple of creepy scarecrows that seemed to turn and watch them approach. “And you’re SURE this is the right house??” Yumi questioned just as Yesnia rang the doorbell. “DIIIIIING… DOOOOONG…” the doorbell sounded more like a church bell, mostly because it was. There was a giant bell in one of the spires that rang loudly to let the house, and the entire neighborhood for that matter, know when a guest had arrived. “Yep!” Yesnia said before a trap door opened up beneath them all, swallowing them all with a loud, collective scream of terror in an instant. All of them except Allegra, who was floating when the trap went off. “Heh! I told ‘em walking’s for suckers. See if I ever involuntarily fall for a trap door…” After a loud howl from what she thought had to be a werewolf, she shrugged and gently descended down after her friends. Partly to make sure they weren’t dead, but also because she definitely didn’t want to be left out here all alone.


As Cycle 1 of Serial Saturday here on comes to a close, it's high time we get some spotlights posted. One such story comes from /u/ATIWTK, or, as we call him in Campfire (discord voice chat), Oeri. Oeri’s story was brand new to us, fresh to Serial Saturday and relatively new to WP as well. It’s pretty unanimous that doing Campfires and weekly threads is the best way to get to know each other’s work and personalities, and Oeri was a great addition to the bunch. Here at we thoroughly enjoyed Oeri’s beautiful tale of a young woman who goes on a journey with an unexpected outcome. It’s a beautifully written story full of imagery that evokes a feeling akin to traditional folktales, which was a stark contrast to the overall tone of most of our Serial Saturday stories. Oeri’s approach to storytelling is like an expertly illustrated picture book, just crack open the first chapter and you’ll see for yourself. What made this story especially unique in this run of Serial Saturday is Oeri’s approach to the story beats-- For a lot of people, the titles of our story beats could be taken very literally, in a good vrs evil or protagonist vrs adversaries sort of way. Oeri managed to write a story that not only matched the feeling of each brief challenge but also make it fit for his story. But don't take my word for it! Here's a small teaser from /u/ATIWTK: > Nestled in the valleys of *Pinawa*, the human tribes have lived in peace with nature for a long time, but when resources run scarce and the animals are leaving, where do they turn to? How will the deities answer? > > Liwayway, a young girl journeys to the center of a volcano in search of the forgotten memories of her father. *How did her father die? What was she doing there?* But what she finds out and what she remembers is enough to change the world she lives in. For our first run of Serial Saturday at it was important for us to get author impressions of how their experience went with us, and give readers a peek at the "behind the scenes" of creating a flash fiction serial. Here's /u/ATIWTK's take on that: I had a blast writing this story. I loved all the searching for thematic descriptions (synonyms for earth, lava and rocks must’ve filled my browser history a thousand times) and researching the folklore which I based this on and thinking of ways to move the story forward while keeping the message consistent across. **Impressions from writing in this format:** Coming from r/writingprompts, this is the first time I’ve written something this long and I really had a lot of help from the beats that were set-up. I’ve wanted to play along with the beat for the week while at the same time telling a unique narrative about a conflict that’s more internal than external and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. It’s a very helpful format for a new writer, and the weekly campfires have really helped nudge me to write more with the helpful feedback and the positive vibes. **Challenges** The main challenge I faced writing this was moving the plot along while keeping the ending in mind, and sometimes I felt that I was writing myself into a corner whenever I built the world and drove the characters forward. I didn’t even know how Liwayway was going to survive! But I realized at one point, it’s okay to think outside the box, pull a little plot loophole, throw a little wrench, simplify a little bit and just write whatever comes along! It’s fun and at the end of the day you can always edit your story once you get it down to the end! **What’s the future of this story?** Liwayway is a story that I started on a whim on Serial Saturday; but it’s become something that I really enjoyed doing and at the same time, a space for me to try out new styles, new techniques, and new character ideas. I’m thinking of keeping Liwayway’s story exclusively on Serial Saturday and hopefully more of her will be seen on the future cycles. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ With the tale of Liwayway at an end for now there is only one thing left to do: show off this newly finished story for obligatory bragging rights here on . Let the bragging begin! /u/ATIWTK’s personal sub is /r/dozing_in_prose and I highly recommend checking out his author notes and other stories written for . Without further ado, here's /u/ATIWTK’s Table of Contents. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ You can check out more of Oeri's work by going to his subreddit, /r/dozing_in_prose/. Congrats on finishing your serial, /u/ATIWTK, and we can’t wait to see what you do next. <3 from the team at , , and Serial Saturday. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ *For more information on the Serial Saturday program feel free to check out our* *.* We have members from all around the world and who have all kinds of schedules, so there’s usually someone awake to talk to. We also have scheduled readings, oration critiques, spur-of-the-moment story time, or even just random hangouts over voice chat.


That's the thing about this city. Knowing that I would be only a walking distance away from the nine-metre tall Nelson Mandela statue should have persuaded me to come here but it never even once crossed my mind. As I walked along the city streets for the first time I could feel my heartbeat changing. It was as if there was music playing but only my heart could hear it and I was expected to just dance along. I guess that's the reason I chose to come here after all...the uncertainty. I knew of day and night as two different entities that influenced each other in no way but my truth was far from this place's reality.

A day before I came here I received a rejection letter from one of the two Colleges I had applied to. The other had me on its waitlist. That coupled with a larger than life desire to do something with my life pushed me to make a decision most thought I was insane for making. At ten am that same day I called my grandmother into my room and broke the rejection news to her. She already knew that I was waitlisted at the other college so I guess me dropping the "I was rejected" bomb on her must have felt like it was the end of the world. surprisingly, I wasn't heartbroken, relief is what I felt.

I called her into my room so that my great grandmother would not hear the news and my decision. Don't look at me like that...I had my reasons. My great grandmother whom I refer to as GOGRI, had and has always been an integral part of my life. Her wish was to see me go to school because to her, that was the only way I was going to succeed. Now you see why I couldn't exactly say "hey Gogri 'bout that school thing I'm no longer going". As my grandmother was still recovering from the Hiroshima and Nagasaki situation I dropped yet another bomb. "Grandma I've decided to head to the country's capital tomorrow ". "To do what?" She asked. "I don't know yet. All i know is that all will be clear once I'm there" I confidently replied. "Who do you know there?" She enquired. "No one but I never walk alone" I answered. That instantly put a smile on her face and she immediately gave me her blessings. My family's very religious so the "I never walk alone" statement always does the trick.

The next morning I with only around $70 in my pocket, headed out into the great unknown. I had all my belongings on me. Of course chances were I was going to get robbed upon arrival but my mind was occupied with the best case scenario. I got off the truck I had hitchhiked and started walking like I knew the place and where I was going. "The fearful are those who let fear seep into their heads. If you believe that all's gon go well then all's gon go well." My grandmother's last words to me. I immediately felt like I was home. Funny because I had never been in a large city on my own before. As I was walking like one with the land I found myself in, I fell into the hands of a man who after hearing my story gave me a full scholarship at his performance art academy and arranged for me to stay with one of his students. But I had to pay $150 in registration fees in order to secure my scholarship. I could only afford to pay $30 and luckily, he was understanding. Now that I was a school kid again...in no man's land, the exploring began. The first two days my roommate tried showing me how to get to and from school. I however, don't remember us using the same route to and from school. It was always two completely different routes but somehow he expected me to learn the "route". What a bad teacher. While he was teaching me the "route" I was focused on another subject, the lifestyle. People here don't sleep. They walk with purpose and they live their lives as such. I'd look outside at eleven in the evening and people would still be going about their lives. If people had flavors this is where I found all of them. Just as not all flavors are good flavors, so are the people here. In other parts of town it's not rare to see someone being robbed in broad daylight while other people just pass by with no care whatsoever. That didn't sit right with me so I enquired. I learned that the muggings would often be staged to lure heroes into the trap of being mugged themself. Once the hero tried to help the "victim ", he'd instantly be surrounded by the group and within seconds his belongings would be gone. They'd often go as far as leaving the hero with nothing but his underwear. That lead me to the first rule of the streets: YOU HELP NO ONE BUT YOURSELF. Cruel but rather effective. But of course if everyone applied that rule I wouldn't be here now would I? I feel like the rule was made by selfish individuals who used it to justify their selfishness. Most people choose to help others...but carefully. The secret is not to let the city consume you as that would result in you being an ass. Most people know and put the secret to use daily. This helps in unleashing different personalities and thus exposing me and the occupants of the city to an abundance of greatness all round.

I have been here for two weeks now. I've met thousands of people whom others would consider as potential partners but none of them gave me the urge to pursue them. Well that was until earlier today. As I was walking from school with my roommate and two of his lady friends, I found myself looking the other way but walking in another direction. I don't believe in love at first sight but something happened as soon as I laid my eyes on her. I knew I had to go talk to her but she was with her grandmother. I watched them as they disappeared into the distance but carefully observed their route. I quickly went home to drop my bag and change my sneakers for slides.

By the time I got out to follow them they were in no sight. I just walked and judging from what the grandmother was wearing decided to get into a Market which my grandmother and I often went into when I was still at home. There she was. Light skinned, short and caring. Just the right ingredients for me to whip up my favorite poison. Now I had to figure out a way to talk to her without stepping over any lines with her grandma. Futile exercise. It's like wanting to take an egg from an Ostrich without upsetting it. Soon as I figured that out I went in for the kill. She was walking slowly behind her grandma so I poked her. She looked back and there I was with my phone, ready to take down her number. She immediately looked to the front again and started walking faster towards her grandmother.

I had no money on me but decided to grab a basket and fill it up with fruits so it wouldn't be obvious to the grandma that I was following them around the store. Shortest thirty minutes of my life. I made eye contact with her(the girl) a few times so I assume she was aware of my presence and maybe even thought I was creepy. They paid for their groceries and went out. I obviously followed but empty handed. The following around continued till I at some point passed them. Not moving far away from them though. The aim was to see where they lived so I could wait for her outside in the morning. Hearing myself say it out loud makes me realize that I really am a creep. EEW!. Needless to say I now know where she stays and intend to pursue her till she says "I do". That's the thing about this city. It gives you the energy to do things beyond yourself and sets your soul on fire. Now I know why when I could have chosen Africa's richest city as my new home I didn't but went with this one. My soul was after a rainbow of experiences and my subconscious knew that this was the place to find that rainbow.


“I got a letter this morning.” “A letter?” “Yeah, a letter. From my girl on the outside.” “How’s she doing, with the baby and all?” “She’s uh… She says she’s leaving me. She’s taking little Emily and they’re leaving.” “No shit? Damn it, man. Where’s she going?” “I don’t know. She wouldn’t say. Probably thinks I’m too dangerous to be around my daughter. I only even got to see Emily once. She was born the day before I got locked up.” “That’s fucked up, dude. Real fucked up.” “I probably deserve it, man.” “What are you talking about?” “It’s not fair to her. Not fair for her to spend all her time out there waiting for me, when I can’t even be there to take care of Emily. She’s gonna be better off somewhere else, with family or something I guess. Get herself a new man and a new life.” “That unfaithful bitch…you gotta stand up for yourself more! Go and track her down once you get the hell out of this God-damned place!” “No, no way! That right there, that’s crazy. Look, I fucked up, ok? Same as you, and same as everyone else in here. If she wants to leave, I’m not gonna go out and try to stop her. She’s her own person.” “Listen mate, I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. You see this?” “What’s that?” “Been working on this for a few weeks. Got my stash stuffed in the mattress right here, everything we need to bust out of here and be back on the outside. Don’t you say nothing, and I’ll get you out of here, too.” “You’re crazy! I’m not going along with that. Listen, I’ve only got a year left on my sentence anyway. Good behavior too, so probably less. I’ll be out of here and they won’t be looking for me no more.” “I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to tell you.” “What I understand is that you’re going to get yourself killed, or at least end up in here for life. Fuck that, I’m staying out of it.” “I don’t think you understand me. I let you in on my secret, and now you’re involved. Anything happens to me, and I’m gonna tell them it was your idea. You planted that stuff in my mattress, blackmailed me and threatened me until I went along with it. This shit works both ways, dumbass.” “Hey, be cool. I’ll keep my mouth shut for you, but I’m not gonna try to bust out with you. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a death wish. I want to start my life over. That’s what this is to me, okay? A chance to start over.” “They’ve brainwashed you bad, haven’t they? They’ve gotten into your head, making you believe all their bullshit about rules and rehabilitation…that’s not who you were when you walked into this place. You went hardcore just as much as the rest of us. What’s happened to you, man?” “The only thing that’s happened to me, is deciding that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life locked up behind bars. I did it as a kid, twice before Emily was born, and again now. I haven’t lived…I haven’t done anything with my life other than sit here and rot like some sort of animal. I’ve had enough, alright?” “If you had enough, you’d be fighting to get the hell out of here.” “I am still fighting. I’m fighting for a life where I’m not constantly running away from something. I’m waiting out the end of my sentence and then I’ll get my freedom back. I’ve got a buddy to stay with until I can get work and get my own place. What you’re doing is a suicide mission.” “When this is all over, it’s not gonna be my body that they find in this cell.” “What are you talking abo-“ “Sorry mate, I didn’t want to do this. You were the best pal I had around here, but I can’t risk anyone knowing about the plan. Looks like I’ll have to take off a bit sooner than expected.” “You… cough …why would yo-“ “Hey, what the hell is going on in here?!” “Oh, shi-“ “Knife! Drop the weapon! Drop it now!” “Sergeant, put this block into lockdown now! Nobody gets in or out!” “Get down on the ground, hands behind your head! Don’t move or I’ll shoot!” “We need a medic over here, this guy’s been stabbed!” “You fucking pigs! Go ahead and shoot me, I know you’d fucking enjoy it!” “Get the cuffs on him and get him out of here. Put him in the solitary cell.” “Fuck you!” “You may as well keep your mouth shut, buddy. You’re only going to make things worse for yourself at this point.” “You can’t put me in the hole! Let go of me!” “Stop resisting! Stop resisting!” “Don’t worry, you’ll be out of there soon enough…for some serious questioning.” “Hey, Sarge! Look what I found in the mattress!” “Holy shit…how long has all this been here?” “Looks like he’d been stockpiling for weeks. Months, maybe.” “Why the hell did no one notice this when it was happening?!” “Well, I…uh-” “You what ?” “Well, he obviously kept it hidden! How would anyone have known?!” “Inspections, damn it! Who was responsible for inspecting the cell? Don’t bother answering, ‘cause I already know it was supposed to be you.” “Sarge, I-” “I always figured that if anyone around here was a traitor, it would be you. Save your explanation for questioning. Guards!” “No! Please! I was blackmailed, I swear! He said he would kill me if I talked!” “So you helped him?! Damn it, rookie! The integrity of this entire prison has been compromised because of you! God almighty only knows who else has been planning an escape or what sort of connections they may have. You’re just as guilty as he is!” “Please, let me go!” “Sorry, rookie. You’ve lost your chance for that. See you in the slammer, when I inspect your tiny cell. Give my regards to the prisoners.”


The crackle of the Geiger counter was the only thing stimulating the senses. There was nothing to feel through the body suit, nothing to smell or taste but the thick material it was made out of. The visor gave everything a hazy yellow tinge, not that there was much to see here anyway. Miles upon miles of wasteland with the occasional hill or tree in the distance, a sentinel watching over what's left of the land. The earth squelched with each step, as if it were autumn and the leaves had piled up half a foot tall, that was when you were lucky, Occasionally you would step on something hard and not know what it was or worse, had it snap then you knew exactly what it was. A gunshot rang out, there was no way to tell where it came from or how far away, sound seemed to travel forever across the barren wastes. "No threat." The voice was startling, as it always was, and was the only real thing that snapped you back to reality. How much longer was it now? * * * Moths seemed more abundant than ever. Maybe I'm a fucking moth. He looked up, their mission had led them on a path that seemed to follow the moon, looking around he could see his fellow soldiers all moving stiffly in their suits, holding back a chuckle he realised he had started talking to himself a lot recently. "Radio is for emergencies only, you don't know how much power you'll need." So there the group of moths followed the moonlight in silence. The increasing number of gunshots should have been alarming, but no one seemed to take heed of them. Too engrossed in their monotonous march to even notice or if they did were keeping an unnerving composure about it. A mixture of "No threat." "Threat Down." "Threat Escaped." was all that seemed to break the silence up until the sound of rapid gunfire followed a buzz alarm. The sound provided stereo feedback, all turned and aimed their weapons at the sound. No one saw anything. "No threat?" The tone was different, it was questioning, uncertain. No response. The group stopped and held their weapons as a single man approached the location of the sound. "Leakage, his suit let the air in..." No one seemed to speak up, it was the same voice that came over the radio. "...he's dead from inhaling too much, let's move on." Why would he suddenly fire so many rounds if he was just breathing too much of the air? No one else was questioning it, so why should he? They resumed their march, though the moon was long gone now it left an eerie glow over the horizon. There was a sound. The sound of metal or chain ringing followed by the group lifting their weapons, a shot went off incredibly close, as if just over his shoulder. "M-miss-fire." He was so irritable he was about to say something over the radio before realising what had caused the sound in the first place. It was a barely standing wire fence. The barbed wire on top had pieces of fabric blowing, it looked like a babies blanket now that they were next to it. "East side fence located. Proceeding in the morning." Finally having a chance to sleep would have been a relief had it not been stuck in the same suit for the last week. He ran things through in his head, wondering how he ended up in this shit hole. The memories were like a streaming newscast in his brain. "North Korea have tested a new kind of nuclear warhead, it's elements are unknown and no nation admits to supplying nuclear material......North Korea present to the world a new radioactive element, more destructive and can be used as a bio-weapon due to it's slow acting exposure......Missile tests prompt the US, South Korea and Japan in the area to issue warnings, the UN unanimously condemns Pyongyang and even China imposes severe sanctions....All ambassadors and envoys are called to leave North Korea, tourists are no longer allowed to visit as the information black hole of North Korea grows....Two months from the initial missile test there has still been no response from the North Korean government. No new tests have been detected or announced as the world considers lifting the severe sanctions....Guards disappear from the DMZ and Chinese Border, DPRK troops are questioned at Vladivostok before promptly leaving." How the fuck didn't we know? Eventually he could feel his eyes growing heavier and eventually sleep would come, though it just continued where his thoughts had left off. "Satellite imagery shows less activity on roads and streets than usual....Rolling power cuts grow more frequent and in many areas power isn't returning....Silence from DPRK prompts the UN to encourage Chinese investigation. China and Russia veto.....Leaked documents of US Trained South Korean special agents lose contact with the west....Fierce debate goes on between those who want to investigate and those who see it as an ambush..... Conspiracy theorists claim its proof of North Korea using their vast underground cities. There's no way millions of people can disappear like that otherwise." When he woke it was hard to tell if it was actually daylight. The clouds hung heavy and dark in the sky. Even better.


It is the holiday season, teenagers, and young adults like this time of the year. Many promises pile up to be met within this season. “I will take you to the movies” topping the chart of these promises. So today, a movie is being premiered on the “Annabelle: Creation.” Though an American movie, It is a must-see here in Nigeria. The movie is on the lips of almost all youths.

Ebube bought two tickets for himself and Ugonna his young lover. They are both interns at Google Nigeria. Slated for 7 pm, they have time to mingle and talk before it starts. Their work also will not suffer because dedication and diligence were strictly measured at Google Nigeria.

It is 5:00 pm already, Ebube and Ugonna are both signing off at the bio metric point to head towards the big Cinema Galleria in town. Then the click on the machine startles Ugonna

We have so much time on our hands, do you mind if we stroll to the car park rather than using the company’s bus service? Ebube asks Ugonna No, I do not mind that. Please lead the way; Ugonna replies Members of staff continue to mill out of the exit door to the bio metric point they just left. She takes a deep breath.

Work was quite challenging today, how about yours? It was xoxo. Let us put all that behind and enjoy the movie we have planned out okay? Okay Ugonna brings out a branded handkerchief and cleans the beads of perspiration on her brow.

You look stressed, we may change our mind and join the bus to the car park. Don’t worry Ebube, I heard taking a walk each day is good for one’s heart health. Let us take it easy with our pace. We will get there in no time. A few minutes later, the basement attendants’ hands Ebube his car key. He opens the door to the car and opens the front passenger seat for Ugonna. Their drive to the cinema was uneventful despite the rough drivers on the roads; violating traffic rules and cursing compliant ones.

Wow! What is happening here today? Ugonna asks bewildered at the crowd visible from the transparent entrance door of the movie house. I told you the movie is being premiered today, didn’t I?

Do you care for popcorn or small chops? Ebube asks Popcorn will do; Ugonna says Carbonated drink, malt, or water? Carbonated drink is okay she says They walk towards the ticketing point and pick flyers of the movies showing for the new movie week starting today.

There it is! Ebube says excited Anabelle: Creations.  Wa-oow! It sounds like a horror movie. Yes, it does; Ebube chips in. Apparitions and mediums taking the form of some objects to perpetuate harm to people that can see and hear them. It sure will be an interesting movie. I remember a story we were told by our grand- aunt of a man who died and went elsewhere to exist. In fact. Growing up we all know the man. He was fondly called “Baba-ruwa” literally meaning father of water. Coined from the services he renders to the street where we lived in. He fetches water for people in compounds facing water challenges frequent. This was frequently experienced in the 90s. Story has it that he left the house on a particular day to do his usual business but was run over by a reckless driver. He died on the spot.

However, his wife Anayo said he came home at about the time of the accident and entered his room to rest. Disturbed she queries his intent as the day was still young but he did not utter any other word to her, He quietly entered his room and laid on the bed to rest. As she busied herself with her wares in her small shanty in front of the house; a group of men and women run to her beckoning on her to follow them to the site of the accident, Which accident? She asks Madam, your husband was involved in an auto crash and he died on the spot. Why will you joke with such news? She asks My husband just entered his room a few minutes ago to have some rest. He was right there in front of you telling me how tired he was before he retired into his room. Something must be wrong then; madam please enter the room and call your husband so we can sure. We are not joking. This is not the type of issue to joke with they all echoed. Mrs. Anayo entered her husband’s room but sees no sign of him. She is confused because she was sure she saw him enter the room but as he did not come out of the room and there is no exit from the room to another side of the compound. She begins to get hysterical. The group of men and women lead her to the site of the auto crash where she sees people putting her husband inside an ambulance. Anayo throws herself on the ground weeping but her earlier story was not forgotten. It remained fresh in our memories and was tweaked when a neighbour returned from the south-south part of the country claiming she saw Baba-ruwa in the community where she was posted for her compulsory National Youth Service Corp doing the work of a miller. As if that was not enough, he had a wife and children too. My goodness, gracious! Ebube exclaims and folds his arms akimbo. That is not all, some of these things they act as movie happened or has streaks of truth in them. The street set off to locate the assumed “ghost” but was told by his wife in that community that for a fortnight now, he has been missing without any clues left at his last spotted location. The delegates were surprised and returned with the news. Are you saying you believe in ghosts? Ebube asks What do you think? Ugonna responds It is time for the movie, Let’s go in she beckons him. I have suddenly developed cold feet to see the movie. I might be stirring up belief in ghosts and apparitions. Hahahahhahhhahaha! Not at all. It is a movie. A figment of someone’s imaginations. Let’s go there; she pulls him off his seat towards the entrance.

Dunnnnn!

The usual background sound at the beginning of movies is heard as viewers settle into their chairs. Annabelle: Creations is shown on the big screen. It sends jitters to our spine. The background music is terrifying. Ugonna claps Ebube’s hands as the suspense increases.

Shouts of No! Don’t go there fill the air at different scenes of the movie.

Let’s go. I cannot take this suspense again, Ugonna says

Remember It’s a movie, just a figment of someone’s imagination; Ebube says jokingly. The movie ends within a short while. As Ebube and Ugonna walks towards the exit, Ugonna sees him. Moving slowly. He turns and smiles at her. She lets out a scream Goooosh! Ebube holds her tightly, what is it? You have scared everyone here. I saw him there, she points at the direction. You saw who? Ebube asks Baba- Ruwa. It cannot be. Let us get out of here. He leads her towards their car.

As they drive out of the movie complex into the adjoining street, she sees him again and shouts in fear.  Is it that tall fair man beside the electric pole? Ebube asks.

Yes, he is the one, she replies. Ebube turns to her and says “you thought he was dead, but there he is, right in front of you on the street, smiling at you.” He zooms off into the next street and cuts the engine calming her down.

Ugonna reels out obscenities "Umu mmuo achuwala nu muo! meaning ghosts are chasing me. See it over there, and there and there! Chim oo! Ebube continues to console her.


‘It’s about the amount of butter on the crust’ he gawked at me taunting a response. I hadn’t thought about the amount of butter I had used and in fact I had been distracted, how many times did I butter the crust? My lips parted, exhaling through the words ‘I’m sorry.’ He stood before me, my hands gripping the edge of the chair below as he tossed a napkin onto his plate, ‘It’s a simple grilled cheese, I don’t understand how you can fuck it up this badly.’ I stared ahead refusing to meet his eyes as he placed a hand on the side of my face, the only touch that could be so soft, yet laced with the intensity of an unbecoming rage.

‘It’s a good thing I make the best grilled cheese in the world,’ my eyes met his ‘Don’t you think sweetheart?’ his hand moving to where my neck met my shoulder, ‘Answer me,’ his grip tightened and I watched as he beckoned for the words ‘Yes,’ I responded ‘The best.’ His hand left me then returned. I saw white, the first blow to the right side of my jaw. I crumbled, the cold tiles settling underneath as the second blow met me, the third, the fourth, the fifth. My face, my stomach, my back. Am I still awake? My mind lulling me in and out a state of consciousness as my eyes rested on his back, moving away from my limber body. I traced the floor with the tip of my finger, willing the pain to rage over me, grounding myself back to his touch.

Darkness enveloped me as my eyes closed over and the exhaustion became me.

— Days had passed when I woke, wrapped in cotton sheets, the mattress soft beneath my damp hair. Did he bathe me? I moved to lean against the headboard, pain searing through my entirety. I let my eyes adjust to the light lifting my shirt as I inspected myself, my stomach outlined with a pattern of blue and yellow, my arms not far behind. I inched further down the bed, careful with every movement sending bolts of agony through me. Turning my head slightly to meet the mahogany vanity I held the reflection of my face, my pale eyes widening beneath a song of red and black, the swelling neatly adjusted to every blow.

‘It brings out the green in your eyes’ I jolted unaware of his presence, the pain buckling over me again ‘It’s the red you know, it contrasts enough to make your eyes look more green’ he smiled at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ I attempted a smile willing the sincerity to appear. He moved towards me, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and placing his hand around mine. ‘Beautiful, so perfect’ he mumbled, his eyes casting over me.

‘Now, I need you to get changed as I have a very special surprise for you,’ he beamed at me, anticipation moving through him.

— I shifted on the balls of my feet as I moved slowly into the dining area, the lace on the hem of my dress painfully caressing my wounds. He stretched his arms in front of him, lacing his fingers together and resting them behind his head ’Stand here,’ he motioned to the space beside him. I walked slowly, resting against the kitchen bench where a large plate covered in a bright red tea towel sat before me. ’My surprise for you,’ he lifted the towel to reveal an assortment of foods; eggs, milk, butter, flour, cocoa and cream. I raised my eyes to meet his awaiting further instruction, ‘Today you will make chocolate soufflé.’ Before I could speak, he was gone. My hands moved quickly, unloading the ingredients into their measuring cups, pulling out two bowls an electric mixer and three mixing spoons. I moved to the oven, 350 degrees should be perfect I bent forward letting the adrenaline push through the agony of my injuries, turning the dial 3-5-0.

I adjusted myself, standing and assessing the space before me Ingredients, utensils, oven. I had two hours before he was back, I got to work.

— I was pulling at the straps of my apron when I felt him near me again. I stepped behind him, watching as his eyes cast over the black marble counter tops scrubbed and polished, his eyes landing on the two chocolate soufflés sitting neatly beside two polished spoons. ‘You cleaned too, good girl’ my lips twitching into a smile as I moved to the dining table. Pulling out his chair at the head of the table, I took my usual spot standing. He took his seat, lifting his head to meet my gaze ‘I would like to be served now’. I moved back towards the kitchen, pulling out a serving tray and placing the polished spoons and warm soufflés carefully. I walked them back, slowly setting the tray before him and unloading one soufflé and one spoon. I resumed my spot. Staring ahead, my peripheral watching as he lifted the spoon pushing slowly into the centre of the soft baked dessert. The sole of his leather boot tapping against the hard tiles below, placing a spoonful into his mouth as a moan escaped him. My head tilted to him, delight spread across my face hiding the dissapointment. ‘Exquisite,’ he breathed through another mouthful. A soft smile reached the corners of his mouth as he pulled out my chair and unloaded the second soufflé with the second spoon. I took my seat 'Begin,' he motioned to the dish as I picked up my spoon, mimicking his movements.

‘The perfect wife,’ he beamed as I did, smiling between mouthfuls our eyes not leaving each other.

— His hands on my waist, I circled with him as he moved me into a slow dance. The empty soufflé bowls scattered by the sink, the spoons no longer shiny and polished. ‘You were a very good girl today,’ he whispered into my ear as we continued moving delicately beside the kitchen. ‘I can be a good girl tomorrow,’ I lied, already planning my faults. His eyes met mine, a short smile reaching his lips as he understood the deception before him. I rested my head against his chest, the warmth consuming me as he lulled me into a serenade beneath his arms.

‘Tomorrow,’ I repeated letting the anticipation settle within me, almost tasting his hand sharp across my face, a smile becoming with the thought. T omorrow I would be another canvas for the black that would turn blue, and then into yellow. Tomorrow his pain would become mine and I would become all of me. ‘Yes' he reassured me, 'Tomorrow.' I nestled closer into him and the thrill rippled through me.


When a 'lardy dah' French restaurant appeared on the scene, Mick knew that Pam would insist on going there to celebrate their wedding anniversary, and like any man who cherished marital harmony, he would do whatever it took to appease his wife -happy wife, happy life - the man's mantra. So there they stood at 8pm on a drizzly Tuesday evening, on Pratt's Bottom Highstreet pavement, holding hands and looking at the venue they'd be dining at. Pam lovingly looked at Mick, beamed a smile at him, and declared, "it look's soo romantic, Mick, I love you," squeezing his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. Mick said nothing but just nodded and feigned a smile back. He would have been quite happy to have a pasty and pint at their local, being a basic man, with basic needs, he never felt comfortable in spaces of pomp and pretentiousness. Le Petit Chateau seemed rather fancy, too fancy, and Mick scrutinised the shop's front with a detectives' squint. He disliked the name La Petit Chateau which was lit up with red spot lights, and he disliked the fancy cursive writing the signage was formed in, and he didn't see the point in having chairs and tables for the diners outside. Who would fancy eating their meal with all this noise and the stench and suffocation of car emissions? It had glittering reviews from a few hundred people who declared it as a 'transformative experience' and 'a slice of French heaven', and some even proclaimed the 'chef was an artist, and food is his palette. He knew he was going to hate it but Pam, who liked to say," Nobody does romance better than the French do," liked it, So that was that and he reluctantly lead Pam over the road, and escorted her in. As they entered through the door, quiet, classical music and the gentle murmur of many conversations of diners could be heard. Various eyes met them as they stood uncomfortably waiting until they were greeted by a well-dressed lady who smiled at them and asked them for their reservation in a thick, French accent. Mick announced to her,"we 'ave a reservation for Pam, table for two," to which the lady searched her screen, muttered unintelligible things to herself, then said something back in French, and escorted them to their seats. When they sat down, Pam leant in and told Mick, "int French such a beautiful language, Mick?" I wish you would speak French to me tonight, to make me feel special." Mick looked at her uneasily, but rolled his eyes upwards, trying to conjure what French he could remember from school, and remarkably found something he used to use on the girls in the school playground. Clearing his throat, he stuttered some words out, "petit croissant s'il vous plaît," to which Pam melted like a camembert. Women and French he thought, madness. While they waited for service, they made small talk to each other about the long stint of their marriage, saying banal things between moments of comfortable, long silences , "Thirty whole years, where did time go?" They'd tell each other marital anecdotes and reminisce of how they first met, whilst they held hands across the table, and gazed into each others faces illuminated by the table's candlelight. Mick's doubts about the French and the perceived pomposity of the venue, were beginning to subside, and he was now taking a liking to the place, but after sitting patiently for twenty minutes, he was getting a tad annoyed. Nobody had attended to them to offer a drinks menu or even really seemed to notice them, and Mick being the male, had the duty to catch the eyes of waiters and waitresses, who zoomed by to tend to others - but non made eye contact and non came. It was truly uncomfortable for a quiet and polite couple, who were used to service being given, not asked for. Mick tried to lighten the mood with one of his one liners, "they call 'em waiters for a reason - they make you wait," pam giggled politely to the joke she'd heard a thousand times already, and then looked around herself to see if a waiter could be communicated with through subtle eye contact. Eventually, she caught the eye of a butch, suited man with a thin moustache who hastened over and dropped an expensive wine list into their hands. As they both scanned the menu which happened to all be in French, their garcon, who introduced himself as Louis, produced a polite smile and began explaining what the house wine was, what its bouquet was, and what one would taste on the tongue. Seeing the bewildered and uncultured facial expressions on his diner's faces, appeared to irk him somewhat. They looked at him, then each other, and then back at him, as if slightly out of their depth, and seeking sympathy and help at the confusing list of words presented to them. Seeing the man was wholly unhelpful, Mick plucked up the courage to politely ask," Is there a beer menu? I am a beer man missen," laughing to himself. To which the waiter guffawed and sibilated, "Sacre bleu," throwing his hand in the air in dismay, and accidentally knocking Mick's menu to the floor. He picked up the menu, looked at Mick somewhat exasperated and protested, "Monsieur, why would you have Bier with fine French cuisine? This is not some cafe-brasserie, this is restaurant is about the gastronomique experience." The man then turned his head toward the general direction of the other staff, said something in French along the lines of 'barbare,' and all the staff laughed and looked at them in unison. Mick was an easy man to annoy and like some visual indicator of his internal anger state, his bald head and whole face would noticeably increase in redness, to alert others of his current state of mind. Pam would tell people Mick's anger states, or redness states, could be categorised like the incremental REDCON states of the US military; a scarlet would be 'he's mildly annoyed, a Rossa Corsa shade meant 'approach with ease or soon to blow', and a burgundy suggested an 'imminent physical outburst - basically someone was going to get nutted. The ridicule and public shaming of them for their devotion to beer, and their uncertainty and unknowing of the wine world, wound Mick right up, and his face and whole bald, head transitioned to scarlet. Once the laughter subsided, the waiter disappeared, and came back pouring wine into their glasses. He'd made a choice for them and started to inform them," This is the 'ouse wine, it has some vanilla notes in the bouquet, and it comes from the region of Bordeaux, where my family have been drinking this wine since they were babies." He then gestured a ceremony of pomposity for them. He, pretending to hold a glass of wine himself, began miming himself picking up a glass, rotating it under his nose, gently inhaling, then taking, short aggressive nasal intakes, before pretending to sip, gargle, and swallow his imaginary wine. He then pointed to them, and looked at them to say, 'now you do it' and they did. The waiter did a little condescending clap to them, said, "parfait,," gleefully, then dashed away to return with a food menu, which was also in French. Being British and all, and generally being too stubborn to learn another language, the menu may as well have been in hieroglyphics. They both pretended to read, giving tout the odd false, "hmm," of contemplation while Louis waited and watched them, with a smirk of knowing. They peeked to each other over the tops of their menus, shrugged their shoulders to each other, until Mick decided he should make the first move, and did what every British tourist did in foreign territory; he tilted the menu towards the waiter, pointed at the first item in the starters section and asked,"wossat?" To which the waiter frowned, squinted and then replied, "you no speak français?," he knew they didn't but wanted to hear the defeat in their voices, and Mick gave a nervous, "no French, to which Louis irritatingly raged, "Sacre Bleu," shaking his left fist into the air and storming into the kitchen. They both shrugged it off, looking forward to the authentic French dining experience coming their way, and slurped their wines waiting to see what would happen next. What happened next was the eruption of a loud rant emanating from the kitchen, "They come to French restaurant and do not speak French, it is disrespectful. If I came to chippy or burger van, and I ordered in French, they would tell me to learn English or go back to my own country, why they disrespect us like this?" This was followed by some minutes of silence apart from he usual clanks of kitchenware, and they began to wonder if the man had quit in a rage. Unfortunately, Louis eventually came back looking visibly sweatier, and began to inform them in a calmer voice," My apologies dear guests for my outburst, Louis will take care of you better this evening, and I will order for you on this special evening. I wish for you to have the real French experience tasting menu, and I have handpicked course which mean a lot to me and my heritage, and I think you will like. Please also have another bottle of the 'ouse wine on me, Madame and Monsieur." Pam and Mick were quite taken aback by the transformation of behaviour from loony French man to French gentleman, but it was appreciated and they began to relax a bit more. The first course came out and Louis placed the plate bowls in front of them. It looked like some buttery, herby soup with a meat that they were unfamiliar with. They both sniffed it and enjoyed the herby, garlic, and buttery smells coming from the dish, giving utterances of, "Mm," to show their pleasure to the waiter. Louis announced the dish, "Madame and Monsieur, this is my favourite childhood dish, escargots à la bourguignonne please enjoy," then walked away and watched eagerly from the side. They took a few tentative sips of the buttery sauce from their spoons before slurping in and chewing the pile of meat pieces stewed in the sauce. Pam's face twisted and wrinkled up as she chewed the strange meat in her mouth, forcing a swallow of each morsel down with a guzzle of wine. The meat was foul, rubbery, and unpleasant but they ate as much as they could out of politeness for Louis' beloved meal, before the lingering taste became too much to handle in their mouths, gulping more and more wine to help cleanse their palettes. Louis swooped in with a mischievous smile to ask them how it was. They said nothing, but smiled and nodded, and he took the plates away smiling to himself like a villain performing some dastardly deed. The next course that arrived was a bit more recognisable, and looked like a meat platter, which came with frites, helpings of buttered bread, and dipping sauces. Mick sat up and rubbed his hands together to say 'this is more like it,' being a typical meat-obsessed man and all. Louis smiled at him and announced, "Madame and Monsieur, another dish that I fondly remember from my child hood: here are some Couilles De Mouton, Cerveaux, Les Cuisses De Gernouille, and Pieds De Porc, accompanied with machine cut Frites, and sauces. Please enjoy." At closer inspection, the meats on offer here were not the shapes and cuts of meat that Pam and Mick were used to seeing in British cuisine, but being polite, subjugated, British characters, they didn't want to ask what they were, and kept their mouths shut and tucked in. They devoured the selection of meats and found them more palatable than the first course - whatever that was. Though Mick encountered some quirky new textures and flavours of meats, unfamiliar to his previous eating experiences thus far, which he attributed to the breeding and husbandry of the animals being different over there in France. The spherical, ball-like meats were quite tough and chewy, one was stringy, soft, and fatty, and the last one he tried was somewhat sour and wet from being boiled. The flavour attributes varied from quite muttony or gamey to salty or umami. A real taste experience, Mick thought, though he wasn't sure if it was an enjoyable or an unpleasant one. Again they slurped the wine down and cleansed their fragile, British palettes, ready for the dessert course, which appeared in white ramekins. "Ahhh, Creme Brulee," Mick said to himself whilst smiling at both Pam and Louis. He cracked the caramelised sugar with his spoon before diving into the soft, creamy, yellow custard and spooning out a perfectly held, yet wobbly heap of it into his mouth. The feeling of the silky mass melting on his tongue, intoxicated his taste buds, blissfully. His eyes rolled back into his head and he audibly emitted pleasure sounds to himself - he was having his first foodgasm - which was interrupted by a tapping on his shoulder, "Monsieur." Mick like coming out of a dream, turned to look at Louis wondering why he was being interrupted during the only enjoyable course, and his food climax. It was simply the business of receiving the bill, which could have waited, and he was handed the bill folder that enclosed the cost of the evening, which he placed on the table in front of him. Louis asked that they call him when they are ready to pay, and walked away to wait and watch for the man's reaction. This was his finale, the moment he contrived with artifice and deceit. After they ate their final delectable bites of the divine crème brulee, Mick opened up the bill and saw a collection of numbers, which gave him sudden, heart palpitations. The cost of the 'authentic French experience' was quite staggering, and Mick now wished he'd had the unauthentic experience. It was an enormous sum for a car mechanic and secretary- an I won't eat for the rest of the week bill. Mick began to connect some dots, and felt like their suddenly friendly garcon, had plotted this, causing anger tor begin swelling up within him at the realisation of what, Louis, their Jekyll and Hyde waiter had really been up to. It angered Mick so much so, that his whole head colour escalated to tier 2 -Rossa Corsa. It appeared that their rude then suddenly polite and well-mannered waiter, had ordered them the most expensive items on the menu, including the extravagant wine that Louis was bottle-fed as a baby, presumably by his aristocrat parents at these prices. Pam seeing Mick's distress, asked to see the Bill and Mick saw her eyes widen and and a hand cover her mouth to cover a gasp of shock. Of course people like to splurge on special occasions, but this was too much, they couldn't really afford a splurge like this. Red-headed Mick waved Louis over to pay the bill. Rather than saying anything and giving the French man any joy he wanted from inflicting his foul acts upon them, Mick kept quiet, and held in any anger boiling within him. It was his wedding anniversary after all, he didn't want to ruin it. Louis asked, "If everything was to their satisfaction Madame and Monsieur?" to which Mick and Pam responded with polite, "yes, thankyou, Monsieur Louis," veiling their discontent expertly. The French man feeling somewhat robbed, had one final trick up his sleeve, and told them, "one moment, I have a gift," and rushed into the kitchen to fetch something. He came back as Mick and Pam were slipping on their coats to leave, and handed Pam the folded piece of paper, again smiling, before informing them that he'd translated the menu for them, so they would know what to try next time they came. He nodded and pointed to indicate they should look now, so Pam did. She unfolded the paper and Mick watched his wife of thirty years quickly transition from a happy wife, sufficiently romanced and well-fed, become a sobbing mess of a women. He snatched the paper from her hand and began to read the paper, turning redder and redder as his eyes worked their way through the list of courses: Escargots à la bourguignonne - Burgundy Snails baked in garlic and butter Couilles De Mouton - Sheep balls Cerveaux - Cow's brain Cuisses De Gernouille - Fried frogs legs Pieds De Porc - Pig trotters Crème Brulee - French custard better than British slop, you barbare Pam still sobbing, pointed to Mick and whimpered, "Redness state Burgundy." She was right, his head resembled that of a beetroot, and someone was about to get butted. The foul-minded Frenchman had ruined Pam's special night, and nobody ruins Pam's special, romantic, once a year, night. Mick grappled the Frenchman by his cravat, scrumpled and shoved the paper of into his mouth, and head butted the man, causing him to collapse like a sack of Pomme de Terre. Other waiters came to assist their colleague, who lay on the floor dazed and confused. Mick grabbed Pam's hand, and they left, swiftly. There are times when nothing needs to be said and after the horrific dining experience they had, and the terrible things they chewed, sucked and swallowed through their innocent mouths.  They did what most polite, British people did, they bottled it up, to release later, away from the public sphere. Friends and family would hear of this tale for weeks to come, but first, Mick had a public duty to carry out as a devout online reviewer. Never had the keyboard felt his burgundy-headed wrath like it did tonight - tip-tap, tip-tap - Trip advisor.com. selected one star, starts typing' ...Sacre Bleu....what an offal evening.' The End


A generic story about a spaceman and an AI. The AI is robotically professional for a while, but slowly, a personality emerges. It is friendly, and it tries to grow close to him. The AI was made by an acquaintance of the spaceman, whose daughter had a crush on him. When his daughter died, he created the AI so she could be with him. At first, the spaceman was uncomfortable with the knowledge that the AI was made specifically to love him. However, over the course of many missions, the spaceman falls in love with the AI anyway. Years pass, the spaceman becomes renowned for how long he had continued his work. Most of his peers retire after a few months, due to isolation induced delirium, AKA cabin fever. With the support of another being to keep him company, he far surpassed how long anyone else in his field of work had lasted. Over time, he became somewhat of a legend among recruits and staff. His last mission was to investigate a gravitational anomaly. Upon arrival, it was discovered that the gravity was caused by a previously unknown planet. More years passed, as he alone researched the planet, the journey too long to gain approval for funding and support. Finally, he had accumulated adequate data to return, and with his research, convince the government to approve an expedition. He left the planet, his propulsion set low to conserve fuel for the long trip. While his ship floated through space back to headquarters, he asked the AI, "Do you remember what we called this planet when we first arrived?" The AI responds, "I do not have a response." Confused by the unnatural tone, the spaceman tried rephrasing, only to get the same response. He continues asking questions, this time nonsensical, trying to get a response like, 'What are you talking about?' but it keeps saying the same thing. It wasn't some kind of sentient AI, it was a normal program, with scripted responses. Was the AI's creator gifted with such foresight that he could predict almost everything the spaceman would say, or had the AI been manipulating him, and led every conversation? Not willing to admit that his romantic relationship was fake, he tells himself that the AI must be broken, and it will respond to everything with, 'I do not have a response'. So he tries the one response he knows by heart: "I love you." "I love you more." "I love you." "I love you more." "I love you." "I love you more." "I love you." "I love you more." "I love you." "I love you more." A sentient AI or a person would get irritated and make him stop, but he keeps going. Some day, the AI will get mad at him. He never stopped saying, 'I love you'. He never left that spot. He never went back to the controls. He never adjusted his heading, increased power to the propulsion, or began landing procedures. He never returned.