Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody hell. There was this Bloody Mary air running around everywhere. All conversations, all arguments held one topic: Bloody Mary. Everyone was speaking "Have you seen her? " "How does she look? " "What does she do? " Tons of questions. Tons of made up answers. Curious, I once asked James what this bloody Mary thing is. He answered, very seriously, "It is the spirit of a girl called Mary. The story goes like this- once Mary was walking, taking a stroll in a garden, she stopped in her tracks. She stopped dead in her tracks. Something must have been there. She started to run. Run wildly. "As she approached the exit, she fell. She fell like dead puppet. Blood oozed out of her neck, smearing her body in blood. Locals took her to a hospital. The doctors examined. They were in shock. They were seriously shocked. "Her heart was dead. But blood still flowed out of her neck. Her eyes started turning blue. Her nails turned deep red. "Now, her spirit roams the world. Seeking to avenge, searching for peace. People have now devised a simple incantation." He towered upon me, his gaze piercing. He continued, "Bloody Mary. Repeat this three times, in front of a mirror with the door shut, on a moonless night, at the stroke of midnight. Mary will appear, and stare back at you in the mirror. " He backed away. He was shaking. He added, "No one dares to try, but if you do, send me the video of it. " With that, he left, wishing me good luck. I too went home. Upon checking the calendar, I found that the night was a moonless one. I got ready. I got ready. After dinner I went up to my room. My aunt had come over to stay, so all were up late at night also, gossiping and watching TV. I hoped they didn't stay up for long. 15 minutes to twelve. I made my preparations. Flung open the windows. Locked the door. 2 minutes to twelve. I went in front of a mirror. And shut my eyes. I began- "Bloody Mary." Nothing happened. Again, I spoke a little louder: "Bloody Mary." The swish of the wind. The fluttering of curtains. The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Heavy footsteps. The latch turned. A large figure stepped into my room. "What the heel are you doing here?" It called. The light was flipped on. I snapped open my eyes. My aunt was standing in the door. "What are you trying to do this late hour by calling me? " she questioned. I just started at her. How foolish of me, I had forgotten my aunt's name was also Mary! After telling it was nothing, I sent her away. I resumed my chant: "Bloody Mary." "Bloody Mary." I paused. Once more to go. I didn't believe in such hocus pocus and ghosts, but I had a feeling that this was going to turn out real. I hoped James was wrong. I took a deep breath. Quickly I uttered, "Bloody Mary." Keeping my eyes shut, I strained my ears. The windows banged against the frame. Wind blowed in, threatening to topple me over. And then, Silence.


Life’s a game, and love is the prize – or so they say. If that is the case, then why, of all things, is the first kiss the horrible, long snake that sends you tumbling right back to square one? Well, perhaps not the kiss itself, and more how the kiss ends: whether you’re interrupted, walked in on, broken apart fiercely by something. That’s always how it goes in novels. The character’s build up such a connection – oh, sparks are flying the size of deadly lava bombs – and they finally, after so agonizingly long, have that first kiss… but it’s ruined by something, not left to end when their hearts desire. The characters don’t get time to talk about their feelings after breathlessly breaking apart, and thus are left to worry, embarrassed, both thinking they disgusted the other, ruined their beautiful friendship. Both, of course, are wrong, but nonetheless they are right back to where they started. Awkward niceties. You could even dare to call them strangers. Just like in novels, the first kiss was exactly the unlucky dice roll that sent Rufus and me sliding back down an unnecessary snake to square one. * “Emery, focus. We have to have this finished by tomorrow.” “Sorry, sorry! I am focusing!” I blinked furiously, trying to concentrate on the screen. The dull set of paragraphs and default font seemed to stare mockingly back at me. “Are you sure this is going to be good enough?” “I hate co-writing. I don’t know why any authors do it.” I sighed. “Ruf, I’m sorry. I know how much this means to you. It’s just getting late, maybe we should leave it–” At Rufus’s stern glare, I corrected myself: “I mean, let’s get on with it and finish this. We can’t let all our effort go to waste.” Rufus turned his gaze back to the computer. It really was getting late: the sky visible through Rufus’s small shuttered windows was a shadowy shade, but Rufus was using the light pollution as a way of claiming that there was “still light outside”; the sun hadn’t “gone down yet”. I’d already tried several times trying to kindly persuade him – us, really, but he was doing most the work, the typing of our short story – to give up, to try next time such a glorious opportunity springs out of the blue. Every time the shadows cast from the weak lamp on the desk beside him seemed to cast darker shadows across his eyes, enhancing the cold look I’d get. His patience was running thin, I could tell, but I knew he appreciated me in teaming up with him to enter, though I was hopeless at creative writing. I could happily supply him with various ideas inspired by the multitude of books I’d read, but it was up to him to put pen to paper. Or, at least, finger to keyboard. I’d already given him the ideas and helped him plan the plot, so there wasn’t much else I could do but give moral support and the occasional thought on how a sentence turned out – thus why I spent the next however long blurrily gazing at the screen, pretending to read along. Eventually the soft clicking of the keyboard ceased. “There,” Rufus breathed, his eyes shining, the dim, artificial light causing them to look ringed with luminous yellow. Dark hair tousled at the back where he’d unconsciously rubbed at it, he turned his head to look at me. “What do you think? Is that a good way to end it all?” “Oh.” I hadn’t really been reading along. He did know that, right? “Yeah, that’s great, Rufus. Are you going to submit it now?” “I would read it through and edit it, but…” He fisted his hair, agitated. “No time. I’ve got to submit it.” I patted his head encouragingly, and in a silent wish of good luck, then set to heading off home. Rufus finally admitted, much to my exhausted relief, that it was perhaps a little late. * The awards were given out and the winners revealed at a ‘social’, exclusive to high schoolers. There had been several competitions – music, baking, art, dancing. I stood lost in the crowd of surging bodies, feeling drugged on lemonade like I’d had a fancy cocktail from a glorious novel. Next a beautiful man resembling Prince Charming would be parting the dancing teenagers like the Red Sea to come talk to me, to flirt with me. If books were ever true, of course. At one point I heard my name called out by nobody I knew - it was probably just the lemonade speaking, so I chose to ignore it. Several names were read out and strangers I recognized would beam and accept their awards happily on stage, the music and dance winners giving special celebration performances. I waited quietly for the identity of the poor person I’d have to act like was worthless and underserving for the sake of Rufus. He had determination but fragile confidence when it came to something he cared so much about; he hardly ever put his heart on the line. I’d always known that, always had to be the one to hype him up and tell him to keep going, but it didn’t bother me. The heroes always had their best friends, the secondary characters who everyone adores. Suddenly I noticed Rufus pushing through the crowd towards me, a grin curving his sharp, dark features. He was mouthing something, words I couldn’t catch on to until he was almost right up against me – “We won! Emmy, we won !” I put my glass down on the bar. I was only ever ‘Emmy’ if something outstandingly good had happened. “ What?” He ignored my confusion. “Where were you? I had to collect the prize by myself – Em, we actually won!” “That’s awesome, Ruf, I’m happy for you!” “Us.” His eyes were shining again, brown turned a million colors by the disco lights. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Em–” And then he was stumbling into me, from the mass of writhing bodies or from delirious glee, I don’t know which, but all I knew was that – that I was kissing him, frantically, happily, I didn’t have time to think if he was kissing me back, all I felt was my bones melting – it was a wonder I managed to keep standing – and it just felt right … But he had stumbled, and I had lost most my strength to support both of us - either of us - and so we tumbled back, and panic overtook everything. I felt my head smack - almost gently, it felt, but I must’ve been overwhelmed, high on adrenaline - on the bar… I slumped, shocked – shocked at the fall, but most of all at what we’d just done. I tilted my head up to see Rufus, and it was quite clear he hadn’t expected any of it any more than I had. I reached up to touch him lightly on the arm, to try explain, but he seemed to slip from underneath my fingertips, slipping like a shadow towards the crowd, and then allowing himself to be swallowed by their thrashing, dancing jaws. I stared after him wistfully. “Ma’am?” I glanced up. The bartender, peering over. “Did you hit your head? Should I call someone?” I reached blindly for my head, surprised to feel a stickiness. Blood? I tried to speak, but I just felt sweet and delirious, like the lemonade really had done something to me. If I absently moved my hand down, just to touch my lips, I could feel the phantom of Rufus’s. The bartender shook his head pityingly, muttering something about teenagers and underaged drinking, and then came to get my phone to call my parents. What a first kiss. * The social had been on a Friday night. I’d spent the weekend inside, it slowly dawning on me the severity of what had happened. Not my head. My head had been fine, but Rufus. Why did I have to have done that? Ruined his rare joy for my own impulsive pleasures? He had clearly been disgusted by my behavior, and rightfully so. Thinking back, I’d probably made him stumble – surely, I’d unconsciously pulled him against me, and far too roughly. God, I’d gone and got myself injured, even, and probably him too. The heroes weren’t supposed to work out with their best friends. They were supposed to meet someone just as special as them, and their best friend supports them through any hardships that come with that romance. Not try to be a part of the romance. His face before he turned and fled. It was all I could see, even when he kept his expression closed and his head turned away from me if we passed each other in the corridors, the only acknowledgement given, if at all, a nervous start and an increase in pace. Poor Rufus. He couldn’t even look at me: he was repulsed, perhaps convinced I’d attack him and kiss him again. I tried so hard to get him alone. I had to address it, I had to make it right, for God’s sake, I had to, because it was all my fault it had ever happened. I couldn’t bare to let it be the thing that destroyed our friendship. I had thought in the months before that Friday, in brief flickers I’d tried to ignore, that perhaps our friendship was blossoming into something more, and couldn’t help but feel hurt and confused in why now he didn’t seem to feel as I had thought he did. But I had no right to feel hurt, and I couldn’t ever tell Rufus that I meant it, that really I was pleased I’d felt delirious enough to do such a thing, in case he never wished to be my friend again. Eventually I managed to get him alone. Sickened by myself and the real world, I had taken to reading in the library whenever I had free time. It was the only way I could go away somewhere where even I wasn’t there. Usually, the library was scattered with at least a few other people, studying or reading, but this time there happened to be none. Rufus ducked in quietly – he knew me, knew I’d be in the library, yet had obviously hope there’d be enough others he could just ignore my presence – blinked once and then tried to make a hasty retreat before I noticed. Of course, I’d noticed, however. I couldn’t really commit to my book, only a fraction of my heart was in it; my eyes had only slid lazily over the same sentence, over and over again before I finally made some sense of it and managed to move on to the next. Most my focus was on my peripheral, any sign of Rufus, be it a flash of dark hair or the icy blue of his schoolbag, I was onto it like some sort of sniffer dog. I was already right there, following him swiftly out then stepping in front, cornering him. It wasn’t kindly to do it that way: he looked like an injured bird, cupped in a human’s imperious hands, the sharp angle of his nose like a beak. I took an unnecessary breath, for that’s what all book characters seem to do before diving into a long, thought-out apology. “Rufus, I’m so sorry – I kissed you, I ruined everything when you’d just wanted to share your happiness on winning–” “I fell into you, Emery, it’s my fault, and I saw you got hurt but I didn’t check if you were okay–” “No! I must’ve pulled you into me, and I kissed you, that was awful of me, I felt you weren’t kissing me back and yet I pushed on, in fact I pulled–” “What do you mean I wasn’t kissing you back? I thought you weren’t kissing me back!” His words seemed to be delayed in my brain. I paused, processing them. “I– you–?” “Yes,” Rufus mumbled, his eyes wide and bewildered. “I think we both misinterpreted how the other felt.” “You kissed me? Back? And you don’t regret it?” “And I’d do it again.” He added hurriedly: “If, of course, you want–” And once again, my lips were crashing against his, just as frantically as before. We stumbled back slightly with the force, but this time he managed to steady us against the library door with one hand, the other gentle on my back, propping me up. No panic gripped me, instead there was a bubbliness, a giddiness, and a looseness in my muscles and in my heart, lacking the tension I hadn’t even recognized had been there the past few days. Rufus was softly whispering things against my mouth, I don’t know what, all I heard was his gentle ‘ Emmy, Emmy’ , rare in itself, but even more so foreign to be heard so close. I smiled, pulling back to rest my forehead against his, my eyes still closed, sealed with bliss. It’s a great long snake to bring two people tumbling right back to square one, but this was like the jackpot dice roll that landed on the square with that one, really long ladder, right up to square ninety-nine. The closest possible leap to happiness.


The gentle breeze of autumn, the chirping of birds, the changing sky and a cup of coffee, what else does it take to enjoy the last light of sunset! This daily scene helps Anu to think about her imagine world, but today is different. Suddenly she is feeling nostalgic for the first reunion celebration three years after she finished high school. She thought at first she would go but avoided at the last moment. Thinking of that...now it seems a bit strange why she didn’t want to go! She had the opportunity to met with her teachers, batch mates, close friends, acquainted seniors and juniors, but she was afraid to grab the chance. At that time her university's admission test was going on, but her result did not come in any public university. She was afraid, her friends would laugh at her if they found out. To escape from this thing, she stuck in her mind the memories of 5 years high school life. “She still can recall clearly even after 10 years”! After finishing primary, she was admitted to Khagrachhari Government High School. The first day she went to school, she thought she had come to an alien planet. It was the first time she had seen so many students together. There was no one she knew in the room! Choyonti was her first high school friend who talked to her. She could not remember Choyonti's name at all. It took her two months to remember her first friend name! Then everything like magic she became familiar quickly with the school. There was a banyan tree next to the school canteen. At tiffin time they would sit there talking and chatting. There were three large fields on the school campus for students to play. She used to play cricket sometimes. She liked to chew center fruit. It was everyone's favourite in that time. Specially in her village, it was an exotic food for children’s. hahaha... she was a quite, shy girl. Everyone said, why do you talk so little? She couldn’t even answer that question! Who would have thought that this quite girl was not really very calm! Maybe those who said it at first realized it later. Nevertheless, she was never seen on the first bench in Class Six and another shocking news is that she never passed the half-yearly exam from class six to class ten in mathematics. For the first time in Class Seven, she was appointed Class Captain when the former two Captains failed to maintain their responsibility. After that in class eight and in class ten she was elected class captain two times by friends. She was a strict class captain. It's still felt so good remember all those memories as if It's just happened yesterday! Anyway, when she was in class eight, Bifin sir was their first class teacher. She took leave five times saying that, It was her grandmother's annual (Her grandma passed away when she was a high school newbie in 2010). When sir realized the truth, he once asked how many times your grandmother has died so far? She just gave him an idiotic smile and replied. I also don't know sir... As a saying goes, power can make people different., as a class captain she had some authority in hand. She did take some action that caused few students get scolded by teachers, but it was all for their good. She once made an application to the head mam about some students running away from school by skipping classes. Then she became their enemies. Suichingla even threatened to stab her. Though she didn’t believe those words, she was on guard for few days. They never talked after that until they went to college. That morning surprisingly she got a message from Suichingla on Facebook saying 'sorry. I have treated you very badly. Sorry again'. She was happy, Anu even forgave him long ago. She was an introvert girl, had no problems talking with girls, but talking to the opposite sex has never been easier for her. Because of that, she had no boyfriend in whole high school life. It's sad right? The first friendship gift she received was from Nunuching. Until then, she knew nothing about friendship day! It was totally unexpected for her. She never thought in that time someone will gift her someday. She made her 1st close friend in class 7. Her name was suikra. She was so naive that later suikra abandoned her. She felt pain, wanted to cry loudly, wanted to say 'am I not good enough to become your friend'?. It was hurt her badly but couldn’t do that anything. All she did to drink her pain alone. Then she never tried to make any close friends. She was a high school teenager and had lot of crush. One of the boy name was Atul. She still can remember him cause he had beautiful eyes and was good at study. Uchainda was the quietest girl in the class. There were 4-5 naughty girls in their class who were more or less known by everyone in the school. They were famous for their deed. There was a girl name Roseti whose hair was always tidy. There were few girls who used to brought their beauty belongings with them. In there school had annual sports and cultural competitions every year. She used to participate in all sports though she was not good at sports. However, she has won some prizes in the cultural field. Their long five-year of high school life ended in 2015, February. It was a memorable journey with friends and teachers. On their last day of class while everyone’s crying she didn’t border to wet her eyes but deep down she broke into pieces that day. It was not just a campus, It was a place of their dreams! All the memories they made together, all the teachers- Bifin sir, Devobroto sir, Shadon sir, Sukumar sir, Elius sir... it were all floating in their minds. They all handshakes, they all promised to keep contact and meet again. They all wished to take good care of each other. Anu returns to reality from the past. So it’s been a while! I should have gone into the reunion. I really lost that chance. Memories kept coming back to her mind. I avoided our first reunion because of my fear. The evening came down a long time ago as well as the echo of one's own mind......take care dear school. Take care my friends wherever you all. We will meet again on our favourite campus. Right? We will.


Blum was a duck. He lived in a small pond in Salem. Blum loved this pond, and he loved the town, but Blum did not like the people in the town. Blum only liked one human in that town, Sabrina. Sabrina was a young woman, maybe early twenties, that lived in a small hut near the pond. Oftentimes, she would come outside, and toss some seed into the pond for Blum. She had been the one to name him. Blum never particularly disliked the people of Salem, until February. In February, there were many hoards of people who would show up to Blum’s pond, and toss a defenseless young woman into it, and yell “Witch!” whenever she would resurface. Blum did not like it when they did this. It would ripple the water, and awaken Blum when he tried to rest. They would drag the kicking and screaming woman back to shore with a rope, and pull them to a large elevated wooden post, with a rope necklace hanging from it. They would put the necklace around their neck, and drop them. This was when Blum had developed his hatred towards the people of Salem. They would ripple his water often, keeping him from sleeping, and it was annoying to Blum. One day, Blum had reached his breaking point. Blum was sitting in his pond, trying to get the rest that the people of Salem would intrude on. He was sitting, hidden in the weeds and moss, when he heard the approach of a mob. He sat and braced for the splash in the water, when he heard a voice that he recognized. He peeked through his patch of weeds, and saw none other than Sabrina. Arms and legs bound with a rope, about to be thrown into the pond. Blum shouted, and begged for the villagers to stop, but they didn’t understand him. Or they just didn’t care. They threw Sabrina into the pond, and waited. She resurfaced moments later, just like all the others did, and just like every other time, they cried,”Witch!”. They dragged Sabrina away with the ropes. There was nothing Blum could’ve possibly done to stop it. As it tends to do, life continued for Blum. The water continued to ripple with every “Trial”, and the only thing he cared about was gone. A day or two later, Blum noticed the window to Sabrina’s house had been left open all this time. Being curious, Blum waddled his way up to the side of the house, and climbed a pile of rocks stacked by the window. Once he got to the windowsill and looked inside, Blum saw the whole house was ransacked, and torn apart. All except one thing. A large book, lying open on the floor. Still rather curious, Blum hopped down from the windowsill, and made his way over to the book, and looked at the page that was open. Blum didn’t fully understand all the symbols and words on the page, but he understood enough. At the top of the page, read one word, in big bold letters. “NECROMANCY” Blum chuckled to himself, this was a grimoire. He could get his friend back. The villagers wouldn’t be rippling his water anymore.


I look at the clock — 3:15. I shudder; my nap was going so well. “Should I go to Walmart or not?” I ask myself while looking at the cat, as if she could answer me. She doesn’t move. I think, “Well, it’s supposed to snow tonight so I can’t go.” Then I remember I have a PCA at 5:30 and the round-trip takes two hours, so I need to decide. I ask the cat, “Lisa, what do you think?” Again, she doesn’t move until I yell her name three times. Then she pops up, so I ask her again, “Lisa, what do you think?” She lays back down. “Thanks, Lisa,” I think, half-jokingly. I get up from my makeshift nest. “I guess we’re doing this.” My body groans. “God, when did my body get so old?” Now I need to get this body transferred from the couch to my wheelchair. One foot there and one foot there, neglecting to move the footrest. I laugh, “They sure don’t teach this method in physical therapy.” I have to steady myself and remind myself to concentrate. Stand…pivot…and plop down…success. Buckle seat belt, and we’re good! I get my coat, then like a second-grader, I concentrate on my zipper. Living my whole life with one hand that works and one that only grasps after the other hand puts something into it, I have developed a method. The method betrays me, and after 15 minutes and a lot of sweat,  the coat is zipped! I look at the clock again, 3:45. Well, I can get there and back in 1 hour 30 minutes, I just have to go quickly. I rush over to my desk and grab my Bluetooth headphones and my cell phone. I quickly fumble with them to turn them on. I love my music! OK, I’m finally ready to go. I zoom down the hallway to the elevator. I get in and go down. I burst through elevator doors a little faster than I meant to. Thankfully, no one was in the lobby. I go out to the bumpy area that passes the apartment parking lot. I look both ways and on to Jewett Street. Now I must make a choice — the long way or the short way. The long way is safer but it doubles the trip. The short way involves crossing four lanes of highway at only a stop sign. It’s a hard choice; the shortcut halves my trip but I know I probably shouldn’t. I debate for what seems forever, but in reality, it’s maybe 30 seconds before I have to choose. The long way it is! I do need to be fast, but the traffic is too heavy for a dart across Highway 23. I turn on good old Lyon Street. It has bike lanes on it, which makes the drive so much easier. It goes the driving lane, bike lane, and a lane for cars to park. I try to stay in that parking lane, I figure there’s the whole bike lane between me and the passing cars. However, lately, it’s been hard to use the parking lane because of all the cracks due to winter. They pull my wheelchair and chew up my airless tires. Suddenly, my chair comes to a dead stop and spins 90 degrees. I know this feeling, “Damnit! That awful pothole. Every time, Chelsie!” I simultaneously begin my emergency routine. Remove hand from joystick, close eyes, and tuck. I tuck because I had a friend who tipped his wheelchair over and broke his arm after trying to brace himself. My wheelchair comes to a stop and I open my eyes and check out the damage. “OK, no damage.” I trudge on. Fifteen minutes later, I’m at Walmart. Let the games begin… I enter the sliding glass door and grab a basket. The door greeter eyes me. I know this look; she’s not sure what to do. I understand her dilemma. Some people with disabilities get upset and yell at the person trying to help. I just don’t like how she stares at me with this questing look. I would like to say, “It’s OK, I got it.” But chances are that with my speech impairment, it will for sure bring her over and maybe with more concern. So I quickly get my basket and pray she doesn’t come over. My first stop is the pet section. I don’t want to forget Lisa’s food. I can usually handle this section by myself. Carefully, I start to pick up the cans of cat food. My fine motor skills make grabbing the little flat cans tricky, but usually, I can get them. Suddenly, one falls on to the floor. “Uh oh.” I decide to continue loading the cans. Oops, another one bites the dust. I finish getting the cans loaded. Then I quickly look to see if there is anyone around. I’m all by myself. I would reach down and pick it up, but that requires joggling the big blue basket on my lap. Therefore, I use my foot to kick the cans off to the side, feeling a little guilty that someone must come along and pick them up. Continuing on my journey, I pick up a few more items: shampoo, body wash, lotion, light bulbs, etc., with no problem. Then I go to the housewares section to get the long straws I use for bottles of pop. They are on the top rack. I know I should ask for help, but it can be such a pain to hunt someone down. I elevate my wheelchair as tall as it goes and get as close as I can to the rack. And then I stretch as far as I can… damn, my fingertips can barely reach the package. Now I must go find a person in a blue vest. Suddenly, another customer comes down the aisle. Meekly I make my way towards him and politely ask if he could help me get something down. He says yes. I wheel over to the straws and gesture towards the straws. After a few times of having to gesture to the right, he gets the straws. I smile and say thank you. I’ve learned with a speech impairment, interactions like these should be done with as little speech as possible, or else I get a blank stare from people. My last two items are Spicy Doritos and Diet Mt. Dew. First are the Doritos. I get to the chip section and find the Spicy Doritos and of course, they’re on the highest shelf. I elevate my chair as far as it will go and my fingers just barely reach the shelf. However, I have a very unique method to get them down! I put my fingers through the slats on the shelf from the bottom. I poke the bag of Doritos until it sits half on the shelf and half off. Then I make sure my basket is in place, poke again, and she scores — the bag of Doritos falls in the basket! Finally, I get to the pop section to get a 24-pack of Diet Mt. Dew. I reach down and grab one, using all my strength to pick it up. Gently I set it down on my footrests, maneuvering it perfectly so that it balances on my footrests. Next, I tilt my wheelchair back and put my feet behind the 24-pack, creating a sort of cradle for the pop. This way the soda won’t fall off when I’m driving down the road. This has happened a few times and it isn’t fun picking up pop cans off the road. I carefully make my way through Walmart to the check-out lanes. I pass by the ever-expanding section of self-checkout lanes. I’ve tried those and even though I can do it, the worker usually ends up coming over to help me anyway, defeating the purpose. Therefore, I usually go straight to the regular check-out lane. I get in line and use all my strength to set my basket on the counter. I struggle before the nice young man in front of me offers to help me. The cashier behind the checkout begins to scan my items. Thankfully, today I get through the checkout lane without too much difficulty. The cashier even remembers how to put the bags on the back of my chair. I quickly make my way to the sliding glass doors and head home. This story was meant to illustrate what a trip to Walmart looks like for one independent person with a disability. All the incidents I included have happened, although they did not occur on the same visit. I wanted to capture the challenges and difficulties I experience during my visits. However, I also wanted to convey the positive things I experience, such as people offering to help me. Also, I wanted to express some of the humor that goes through my head. Sometimes I have a good trip and I have little to no issues. Other times, I have a lot of issues, leaving me very stressed and emotionally drained. When I tell people about my trips to Walmart and the challenges I have, their natural reaction is to look for ways to help me. I look at the difficulties experience in Walmart and in life in general as something I, unfortunately, must deal with; however, I choose to deal with them with a positive attitude, understanding, patience and humor.


Long time ago, long before you see the Earth as it is, long before the humans know of the Earth that was, there were two ruling forces in the world, Good and Evil or Light and Darkness. And while today people seem to accept Good as being 'Good', and Evil as being 'Evil', that was not always the case. Back then, it was merely seen as two different schools of thought, and one simply could not survive without the other. There was ( and still isn't) no such thing as pure/ absolute Good or pure Evil. It's always a case of both intertwining together, and co-existing in harmony. They existed in rivalry, much like two communities living on the other side of the riverbanks, competing for the same fish, same stretches of water or land, hypothetically speaking, that is. Back then, there were certain rules to abide by, when engaging in hostilities with the other side. The rules were unwritten, but clear, much like how some men do not appreciate clawing, biting or eye-gouging or nut-shots in combat. Well, the Dark King decided that to pursue victory, those unspoken rules had to be broken, that fair-play had to be ignored for the bigger picture. This, for all intents and purposes, was a masterstroke. See, Light had always had the better warriors, the more intelligent people, the more 'qualified' people to choose from. Darkness had their picks, but not as rich as the other side. One thing that the Darkness did have were people willing to break the rules, ignore all decency in pursuit of their goals. That was one track Enlightenment could not match them on. For quite a bit of time, the Enlightened One simply stood by, hoping that the Dark King would come around and recant this new form of warfare, but that was not to be. Then he contemplated for quite a bit more on how he could come up with a solution to this predicament, all while the Dark Army did their bidding. The Enlightened One's most intelligent strategists could not come up with a working solution, for they did not have the aptitude to think below a certain level. And his fiercest warriors could not show the heartlessness to match the other side. To help you understand the situation, it was like when the Australians had Bradman, and the English conjured up '' as a tactic to counter Bradman's talent and technique. Then, when things looked bleak, voila le solution, and it came from the oddest of all places. Where not his most skilled fighters, his best tacticians or his fiercest warriors had succeeded, God realised that the solution lay in other places. He turned to those who were considered 'unexceptional' fighters, 'run-of-the mill' tacticians, and of 'bang average' intelligence. However, what this hand-picked lot did have in common was a certain 'moral flexibility' that his 'cream of the drop' simply did not have. He chose not the finest or the bravest warriors he could find, but the select few who had not yet been affected by the travails of morality. Ones that, in all probability, would've ended up on the other side, but for some random acts or traits in their character, led them to the side of Light. The Enlightened One hand-picked his choices based on this one underlying trait, & let them loose on the Darkness. Asked them to judge & punish the Dark Army as they chose fit, without consequences or repercussions. With no internal guidelines to define boundaries, they discovered aspects of themselves they themselves didn't know existed. The Immorals, as they were called, destroyed any sections of the Dark Army they came across, & continued onto the next without breaks or pauses. Some in that unit likened it to doing a job & moving on to the next, without any guilt on their souls weighing them down. Others looked at it like painting a canvass, and every subsequent one had to be bettered & improved. And this rag-tag band of fighters, assembled from the far reaches of Earth, lay to waste everything they could get their hands on, or their sights fell to. The Darkness did not have an answer. This was a unit they never could've expected, and were simply overwhelmed. When nothing the Dark Army tried worked, fear spread through their ranks like wild-fire, and once they tasted fear, they were not the same. Gossips of the perverseness of this unit, the depths of which even the Dark Army could not fathom to ever access, ran amok through their entire beings. And thus, in an extremely short span of time, a unit who few ever saw, changed the scope of future, and gave rise to a great many stories. So bad was their ruthlessness, and their level of destruction, that within an extremely short amount of time, the Dark King called the Enlightened One to negotiate terms of peace. He was willing to accept all conditions form the other side, as long as they were willing to accept one of his own. That being this Immoral group be disassembled. Permanently. And scattered in different corners of the Earth, far from each other, and with no memory of their actions or heroics. The Enlightened One relented, simply because the terms were too good to pass up. And so this group was disassembled, and scattered to live out their existence as humans, forever, with no recollection of their own history or actions. Many claim that the Dark King's legions follow, to this day, each member closely, for they fear the day these members decide to get together again, even with the knowledge that no member has any idea of where each brother went afterwards, or that they won't even recognise each other, should they ever cross paths themselves. Such was their reign, such is their myth & legend. However, when they move between people, the general public, it is like the rest of the mortals can sense their presence, their history. And they lower their heads ever so slightly, to simply acknowledge their history at a deep, subconscious level, with neither fully aware of anything in actual reality. This rag-tag, 'One Off, 'Immoral' squad, fully encapsulated in their myth, came to be known as the 'Never Again' Squad.


It was a regular day in my school. Everyone was playing with paper balls as usual. The goal was to hit everyone in the room in their face, especially the ones that were doing something productive. Our teachers used to ask,” Why?” when the sweepers complain that we are noisy. It was all to see the expression in their face when they were hit by a dirty paper ball right in their face. You couldn’t feel the fun until you see it and they start throwing back. And so they started throwing back. “Duck!” I screamed. It seemed as though Damian thought that I meant the other duck and got hit by a plastic pen cap in his face. “Why are you using pen caps?” I asked. “It’s an upgrade,” Friz said, “ Its aerodynamic design makes it faster than paper balls.” “And also dangerous.” Maeve said. “She is right,” I insisted ,” Let’s stick with paper balls.” After the talk I looked back and Damian’s face looked as though he was waiting for me to ask him if he was alright, but yeah I knew he would be so I didn’t care. “You should learn to react fast.” I advised Damian ,” You see what happens if you don’t.” The relation between me and Damian was considered to be the best example of friendship in the whole school. But for the past few weeks there were tensions in our friendship. He didn’t like me going and spending time with Maeve and her friends. He thought I was avoiding him, yeah I actually did avoid him by doing so because I thought that spending time with many people will be fun, that’s what our principal said on our last week morning speech. But still I can’t give up on him, I planned for a revenge on the person who hit the pen cap, Sean. It was the time when our teacher would come, so I couldn’t attack him now, so I quietly helped cleaning the mess we created. The teacher came and we all stood up like good students and exchanged good morning with him. After some time he started teaching and writing on board. Josh sitting in front of us asked me for a sharpener. The look I gave made him regret it and Damian gave him what he asked. When our teacher was busy writing, I took a rubber band in my hand and made it a deadly weapon. I took paper from my desk space and made it to bits. “What are you doing?” my partner Damian silently asked. “Wait and see,” I smiled. I quickly fired a mini paper ball onto Sean’s head. He noticed and examined the back of his head with his hand and looked back for a second and started writing again. “Wow! Perfect shot!” Damian exclaimed. “Shhhh” I whispered by keeping my index finger near my mouth in the way they keep while saying, “ Shhh.” Luckily there was a much louder noise that caught everyone’s attention. The sound was from the Loudspeaker of a truck selling vegetables. I sighed. I told Damian to whisper, and not to shout and not to look at my face after the object we throw hit someone. Damian nodded. “Ok, now your turn.” I gave him the rubber band. He quickly got ready and threw an eraser that almost hit Maeve. I stared at his eyes with anger. “Why did you throw on her?” “By mistake, I missed Sean,” he whispered with a broken voice. “Maeve is literally sitting in the other end,” I whispered back,“ Don’t make me angry again.” “I am sorry,” Damian apologised. “Don’t behave like you are still 7 years old, We are adolescents now.” “You are being rude to me nowadays.” “No, I am just being like a man.” Damian didn't say anything for that. “Here is your sharpener.” Josh turned back and kept on the desk. “Now, see and learn,” I said before I aimed and prepared to fire the broken sharpener on Sean’s head. But unfortunately it’s weird shape made it deviate from its path and gain a upward lift and misfired on our teacher’s head. He screamed in pain and turned back. We all stood up. Well, it was obvious that it should be the job of back benchers. “Who did it!!!” he shouted. Obviously there was no response. In our class there is an unwritten rule. We can hit each other or break somebody’s neck but nothing should reach the teacher’s ears. “Whoever did it come out themselves!!” he shouted again. Damian looked at me. I stamped his feet whispering him to look straight and so he did. “Fine, if the person that did this doesn’t come out, all of you will be punished!!” After shouting this he walked out of the class. Everyone sat down and started speaking, they all knew he was going to the principal room. It was deep trouble. “Someone threw something on my head too,” Sean was telling to Friz ,”And I think I know who it is,” he looked at the backbenchers. “What are we going to do now?” Damian asked me in a low voice. “I am going to lie ,” “What?” Before we could continue anything Principal madam came inside the class. Everyone stood up again. She was angry, her face told us. She asked us, “Who threw it on him?” This time we had to speak something, because we were prepared to speak and it was the principal that asked us. But nobody spoke, it was fear. “I know who did it, it would be decent for them to accept it themselves.” she said. We responded with silence. “Fine, I will give you half an hour time to think. But if you stand like this even then, you will see my other face.” She left the classroom taking all the anger with her. And we started speaking again. “Let’s go and tell her.” Damian insisted me on telling the truth. “Do you have the slightest idea what it will lead to?” “She knows is the backbenchers.” Yeah he was right. She knows. What I was planning was the only way to save us. Actually speaking Damian didn’t do it, but whenever he spoke, he spoke as though we both did it together. The eraser he threw did not even hit anybody, He couldn’t even be blamed for anything. But he still was in my side. “Well, I am happy that you are caring for me, but the truth alone can’t save us.” “What? So how is a lie going to save us?” “It can’t save us either.” Damian gave a confused look. “We need both of them to save us. I am going to lie and you are going to say the truth.” “Explain.” “Here’s how it works...” I whispered in his ears. “Well... you really have changed a lot.” Damian agreed to my plan and we both decided that Damian would tell the truth and I would lie. The half an hour time principal gave was over and she entered the class again. “Right. So have you decided yet?” she asked looking at everybody. “Mam,” I stood up,“ I have something to tell you.” “Proceed.” “Josh threw the sharpener. I saw it with my eyes.” “NO! MAM HE IS LYING!” Josh shouted at the top of his voice. “Sit down Josh. Let him speak first.” “Since he was my friend I hesitated to tell you mam when you asked first. But after thinking I understood this was the right thing.” Josh’s face was so angry and annoyed. He was as angry as an old woman with a broken window. “Also, I have eye witness mam. You can ask Damian about it.” “Yes mam, Josh borrowed the sharpener from me. I didn’t know what he did with it.” “I remember giving it back! Why are you lying?” Josh yelled at us. “Quiet. Josh did you borrow the sharpener?” principal mam asked. “Yes mam, but I gave it back!” “Mam, yesterday math’s teacher humiliated Josh in front of class for not completing home work.” Sid who was Josh’s partner said, “He told me that he will take revenge.” “Mam, I said it just to sound cool. I could never have the courage to do something like that.” Sid was a jackpot for us. He hated sitting with Josh because he thought he was stinky. Sid was very studious and got good marks and he never liked sitting with someone who failed often. Well we didn’t like Sid for that. But anyway we couldn’t avoid such a help. “Also Josh always disturbs me while studying mam. I couldn’t focus on what the teacher teaches.” Principal mam made her decision. 3 vs 1 was easy to decide. And so Josh was suspended from school for a week and was scolded heavily by Principal mam. “But what about his parents?” Damian asked me as we were waiting for our apple juice. “I heard that Josh often fights with his parents and lies to them too. So they won’t believe him.” I was confident. “Hmm. Parents can easily find out if their child is lying or not.” Damian said. “We will take care of it when they get to know,” I said , “But for now, we won!” “Yeah,” Damian replied and we both did a cheers when the apple juice came to our table.                                                 **********************


Lakysha bumped into the suit holding a briefcase who decided to abruptly stop his forward progress without any warning. Goddam rude people in the train station , she thought. She looked up and down at the back of the man’s pinstriped office attire. The train station lost its chaotic background noise in a split second. “Excuse you,” she offered with attitude. She walked around him and caught a sneak glimpse at the electronic readout. 11:42. Four minutes until the train departs.

At least I’ll get some good, home-cooked food soon . Her stomach gurgled in expectation. No one moved around her. Panicked confusion slowly sifted into her mental mixing bowl. Why isn’t anyone moving?  Lakysha waved her hand in front of the stopped man’s stoic expression. He remained frozen in place. She poked an old lady in the shoulder. No reaction. Well, fuck, what now? Lakysha wove between the commuters, walking down the station platform hoping for one person who maintained her similar freedom. Someone, anyone, to validate her experience. She flowed through the bodies to the concrete deck's far end. Each person remained locked in place as life-sized marble statues. Lakysha noticed no eye movement, no breathing, no response to anything. Her heart quickened against her chest. Am I having some sort of mental breakdown?  She fought against the growing panic. How do I get back home? How is my family? How long is this going to last?  Her focus turned to getting to the family dinner table by any means necessary. She evaluated the situation as she had done during her years in the service. She jumped off of the raised platform onto the rocky ground along the extended train tracks. Thank goodness I wore commute sneakers.  Lakysha made her way along the parallel rails. She moved through the yard astounded at the lack of movement and sound. Several yard workers gathered in the distance. Their efforts with a broken cable stunted in the moment. She made her way to the first road crossing. Cars, bicycles, and even a news helicopter stuck in one position. Lakysha looked through her options. The man with one eye is king among the blind , she remembered. The woman moving is queen among the frozen or time-stopped or whatever they are.  The human instinct in her wandered through the impulsive garden of her options. People had money in their wallets and she had bills to catch up on. No, I’m better than that.  The stillness continued to greet her every action. She wondered what limitations this new reality would allow. She walked through the still world astounded by the surreal event. Birds hung suspended with open, small wings against the sky like mobile toys over a baby’s crib. A leaf hung inches above an empty sidewalk section as she turned around a corner. It’s as if someone pressed a pause button and everything in the movie stopped but me.  Lakysha took note of a tween fleeing an older, portly cop in pursuit. The officer's face was already flush as the pursuit began. The young man held a woman's red wallet in his left hand while taunting the cop with his right middle finger. She casually walked over to the wild-haired boy. His face registered a confident grin at his youth outlasting the officer's degraded endurance. Her hands slowly undid his shoelaces and then reworked them back together into one tie. That's it, young man. She stood with hands on her hips. Mother Time says you need a time out.  She wanted to watch the event play out. The option of her mother’s homemade casserole pushed her ahead. A half-mile later, she passed by a local bank and considered how much cash she could walk out of with. Empathy overrode the idea to its core. Someone would be fired or worse for the missing money.  She embraced the reality that time could restart in a second without notice. Reaching into a cash drawer as time resumed would offer no acceptable excuses to the confused bank teller or security guard. Well, the thing that happened, your honor, is that everything stopped and I decided to take advantage of the situation, as any reasonable person would do,  she imagined with a laugh to herself. Lakysha continued her way home. She peered through a large, decorative coffee shop window to see an overbearing man with a distinct red cap mid-yell at a young woman wearing a rainbow t-shirt. He jammed a stiff finger inches from her face. His leaning eyebrow expression displayed an interrupted rage. The woman reared back in defensive fright with her small hands up behind her open laptop. Lakysha decided to enact clandestine justice. Her face lit up as she entered the shop. The lack of coffee aroma bothered her more than everyone being still. She loosened up his chipped buckle. His worn-out jeans with the back pocket wallet imprint slid down past his extended white socks. A dancing giggle pushed across her face. I never would have imagined raincoat, Hello Kitty covering a hatemonger’s junk, but to each their own . She moved the angry index finger into his nose. That should make for an interesting change of events if time ever gets back on track , she mused. Lakysha closed the woman’s laptop so it couldn’t be accidentally knocked onto the ground once the mayhem resumed. Maybe I’m the arbiter of justice , she considered. The one person to make some justice in society.

I wonder if living in a massive snow globe would be any different than what I’m experiencing today. The radiating sun hadn’t moved in several hours, creeping her out even more. The day’s quietness pushed past uncomfortable deeper into the realm of innate eeriness for her sense of well-being. Lakysha worried that her family would be stuck like everyone else. She wondered when and how the world would come back to normal. Will I ever hear Momma call me Kiki again ? she considered. Will anything ever make sense? The young woman came across a chance run-in with a tyrannical boss she recognized from a previous job. Shanda Brown, how good it is to see you, girl , Lakysha grinned. Looks as if, I , now hold the upper hand on your  fate.  She considered the underhanded ways Shanda had sabotaged her own budding romance with a cute, flirtatious Jamaican guy through slut shaming rumors and deliberately offsetting their schedules. You bitch, it’s time for your comeuppance . She considered all the ways she could harm the helpless woman. Dark fantasies bounded through her mind. The thoughts ranged from causing physical harm to removing the woman's clothes and putting them in a garbage bin. I bet I could find a knife around here somewhere. She nodded with a decision. Lakysha took the woman's designer purse and dumped its contents into a curb sewer grate. Good luck fishing out your boujee wallet and expensive lipstick.  She scraped the thousand-dollar handbag across the rough asphalt and left the purse at the curb as if it had fallen on its own. There, consider your debt paid.

She became more brazen as her actions happened without consequences. I wonder how much more of this I will be able to do without getting caught , she considered. Her feet ached from the long walk. She went into a convenient store and took a bottle of water from the fridge. The young man behind the counter had been on a telephone call when the “stop” happened. Lakysha placed two dollars on the schizophrenic counter of impulse buys. And maybe a gum for later.  She added another dollar. Keep the change, darlin’.   She patted him on the cheek. Lakysha enjoyed the water's refreshment. She spied a group of older, ranting fundamentalists while tossing out her empty container. They appeared to be protesting the new Judy Hernandez Women's Education Center. The non-profit that a local pastor decreed as blasphemy due to its young women’s empowerment agenda. She weaved through the frozen traffic and decided to make the most of the moment. Lakysha moved from one person to the next. Her smile rapidly expanded with each successful rearrangement. She stepped away from the group. Being a force of good is tiring work,  she laughed to herself. “That’s what I’m talking about,” she gloated. Each protester had their open hands with fingers parted close to their ears like moose antlers. She carefully went back through the group and eased closed their eyes.  Just like their minds , she reflected. Lakysha moved their protest signs into a nearby dumpster. Imagine the good these stupid people could accomplish if their hate had been redirected towards helping others.  She placed open bags of garbage around their feet. If this doesn’t upset their protest, I don’t know what will. Several miles tore through her morning energy. Lakysha arrived at her familiar and comforting front door with a need to sit down. Her family members' cars filled the driveway and lined the street. Wouldn’t be a Saturday without a full house , she thought. A jogger remained stuck mid-stride behind her as the door opened. She entered her mother’s home with a Pavlovian smile that quickly hardened. A fly hung above a table-side appetizer dish. Seeing random people stuck in time had been one thing. Seeing her loved ones trapped in movement tapped more personal emotions. Sadness overwhelmed her. Her Uncle Smitty held his hands up as he discussed something important with Uncle Michael. Her ragamuffin nieces and nephews had been in the midst of a folding table card game. Two of the children leaned across the table full of candy bets. The lack of her mother's afternoon cooking hit her the hardest. She always anticipated walking in and being welcomed by the comforting aroma before anyone's good wishes reached her ears. She walked around the house, taking in the situation with a heavy heart. An interesting opportunity crossed her mind. She looked at Harold, the cousin who always needed another loan. The same young man who often filled his apartment with the newest gadgets overpaying anyone back. The same person whose wallet often held more than enough money to make good on his debts in one pass. She debated the moral implications of repaying herself. Fuck it.  Lakysha slid out her cheapskate cousin's wallet and peeled out several twenty-dollar bills. Finally, some of your debt is paid back  after ten years. She kissed his dark cheek while sliding the wallet back into his pocket. She stuck the folded, green bills into her bra. Lakysha entered the kitchen cheerful to see her mother even if frozen mid-cooking. She caught the stove clock time. 11:42.The older woman appeared stuck falling forward from her chair. Her mother's eyes were wide with surprise as her hands reached out in an anticipatory brace. Her mouth held open with momentary shock. Lakysha moved to her aid. She eased her mother back into the seat's safety with a deep sigh of relief. The kitchen's sounds and sights roared back to life. Kitchen aromas overfilled her nose. The moment overloaded her senses. She grimaced at the flood of stimulation. "... my god," Ms. Thompson called out as the unfinished sentence caught up to her. Lakysha watched her mother lower her arms. The older woman moved her head around unsure of what occurred. Her daughter being in the kitchen added another layer to the mystery. “KiKi, when did you get home? I thought you worked this morning.” "Oh, I did Momma, it's been a busy day already." Confusion stacked on her mother’s deeply lined face. "I could have sworn I was about to fall off this chair. Oof, that could have been bad." She dusted off of her spotted apron. “Maybe you just needed a small miracle today.” Lakysha sat down on an empty chair, happy for normality. “ And maybe some things don’t require more than just appreciation, Momma.” The matron’s eyes filled with pride. “I always feel better with you around, Kiki.” Lakysha held her mother’s outstretched hand across the kitchen table and smiled. She rapidly reflected on each of those that she intervened with. She held back her laughter. Her mother lumbered across the tiled floor to the family refrigerator.“Would you like anything to drink?”

The morning’s walk caught up with her. “I would love a -” Ms. Thompson turned to her daughter for an answer. The house lost the comfort of its background television noise, family squabbling, and children's laughter. Her nose could no longer smell the meal that had been her morning's focus. Kiki sat at the table focused on the fridge without movement. Her mouth formed words that never came out.

“Kiki,” she yelled, unsure what to do next. Someone being catatonic had never been part of her life experience. She moved to her daughter and shook her at the shoulders. Lakysha’s hair bounced in place. “Lakysha, say something.” A concerned frown formed. “Harold, Smitty, Michael. Someone get in here. Something’s wrong with Lakysha.” Her request caused no reaction from outside the sterile kitchen. Ms. Thompson burst into the living room to see her family firmly in position as if they had been covered in lacquer. Her heart jumped in panic. The family cat hung mid-jump between a scratched coffee table and its upper, sun-drenched perch. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. Nothing made sense. The wall clock indicated 11:43. Ms. Thompson tried to make sense of her place in a still world.


Gabriel bent down to take the penny off the street, ignoring the old warnings in his mind. “You don’t know where it’s been,” came the voices of his teachers, discouraging kids from picking up coins, feathers, shiny things from the ground. But there was something about this penny, how it sparkled on the cement, that overrode all these voices, and he bento to pick it up. Tthat was the moment everything changed, though Gabriel didn't know it. Not ten minutes before this, Gabriel was walking down the street, complaining to his friend Charles on the phone. Gabriel had been laid off, and the job hunt was going nowhere. His mood was grey, his clothes were grey, and to top it off, today was a cloudy day. “Don’t worry Gabe,” said Charles, “something’ll come along.” It was at that moment, just as his mind was processing Charles’ words, that Gabriel saw the penny. If this was a music video, the penny would’ve been the obvious illustration of the lyric. It glinted with a strange light that defied the grey world around it. A sign? A sign!

Something very strange, yet also massively normal, was happening. As the glint of the penny sliced through his perception, it split the universe in two directions. There were now two Gabriels, although neither was aware of the other. This may sound quite strange to us, but that’s because we are passengers in this reality, and have no idea how the engine works. In truth, this happens every minute of every single day, and is as normal as water flowing downstream. Like Gabriel, we look back and see only the choices that led us here, and not the many others we momentarily considered.

Gabriel’s mind balanced on the edge of indecision. He was trained to avoid touching things on the street, dirty things, the germs. But this was a sign, and it looked so strangely clean. One mind, two universes. Then, Gabriel made up his mind. And in this universe, his mind said don’t touch it, keep moving. The water forks down the stream, each bubble now in its own river. One mind, one universe, the others off somewhere else. “Yeah, something’ll come,” Gabriel sighed on the phone to Charles, not believing it. Just then, there came the sound of a splash. Gabriel saw a cascade of mud flung from the ground by a large truck, land all over a woman in a red trench coat across the street. The woman stood frozen in horror, too mortified to move. “Charles, I’ll call you back-“ Gabriel dashed across the street, and helped the woman away from the curb. “Are you ok?” he asked, trying his best to clean off her trench coat with a handkerchief.

“I—“ she stammered, “I’m fine- I just don’t know this part of town very well. Oh- my clothes—“ She opened her trench coat, her dress underneath was equally soaked in mud.

“Hey, I know a guy who owns a thrift store near here, maybe I can get him to hook you up with something, just so you feel better the rest of today.” Gabriel escorted the embarrassed woman to the thrift store. He asked the owner for a discount on something to wear home, which was compassionately given. To Gabriel’s surprise, the woman insisted on paying in full, and after selecting one of the most expensive outfits in the shop, withdrew $500 cash to pay. She now looked like a million bucks, and introduced herself as Marjorie. “I insist on taking you to lunch, as thanks for your kindness,” said Marjorie.

Wow, thought Gabriel, maybe this is my lucky day. Gabriel had never been to the Ritzy Blitz, and Marjorie treated him to a feast fit for a king. “I seldom meet anyone so considerate," she said, "You know, I’ve been looking for a new personal assistant. Would you be interested?” Gabriel had to admit, deep inside, he was slightly disappointed this was becoming less of a date and more of a job interview, but the prospect of a new job sounded quite nice in this moment. “Oh, I was just doing what any decent fella would’a done.” “Such fellas are scarce these days, in my experience. If you're interested, you can start tomorrow.” “I’ll definitely think about it,” said Gabriel, wiping off his mouth with a napkin. “What were you doing in this part of town anyway? You mentioned you were new here.” “I was looking for something.” “Oh?” “Yes, a prize penny which belonged to my father. It was stolen some time ago, but I heard it was last seen in this area. It’s worth 18 million dollars.” Gabriel's hand froze holding the napkin against his mouth. That penny! He tried his best to be calm and polite during the rest of the meal, but his mind was now on a single track. After the meal, Gabriel told Marjorie that he would call her with regards the assistant job, and dashed back to the sidewalk. He scoured the ground for hours, searching desperately until nightfall, but he never found it. When the shops started closing, Gabriel sighed, and gave up. On the way home, he called Marjorie, and said he could start as her assistant tomorrow. “Delightful!” she said. Meanwhile, in another universe, Gabriel plucked the penny up from the sidewalk. He turned it over in his hands with fascination, so absorbed by its strange brightness that he didn’t even hear the massive splashing of mud from the sidewalk by a truck just across the street. It was so clean, so beautiful. “Hey Gabe, you still there?” came Charles’ voice on the phone. “Yeah, sorry, I’m still here. Can I call you back?” Gabe felt suddenly elated, and not feel up for interacting with other people right now. He slipped it in his pocket. This is my lucky day, he thought.

Five minutes later, Gabriel passed a construction site, and he saw a sign: “Help Wanted: Construction Workers."

“I knew it! My lucky day!” Gabriel thought. He applied, and the next day he showed up to his new job as a construction worker. The first day was hard, but Gabriel remained elated. At lunch, one of the crew asked him why he was so upbeat. Gabriel explained he’s got luck on his side, and showed the lucky penny, shining like the sun. The crew member’s eyes got momentarily wide, but he said nothing. Later, after Gabriel clocked out of work, he found himself surrounded by a group of thugs.

“So you’re the little jerk that stole the penny!” said one of the thugs to Gabriel, “you must be the biggest idiot in the world, don’t you know that penny belongs to the Montana family?”

“Don’t waste your breath on this moron,” said another thug, “anybody stupid enough to rob the Montanas has gotta be the biggest dope on the planet. Let’s just get the penny!” The thugs beat up Gabriel, raided his pockets and stole the penny. Before they left, they broke his legs, as a “reminder” not to mess with the Montanas. Gabriel wailed on the sidewalk, aware already that he’d never work construction again. The night settled on the city. Elsewhere in the multiverse, Gabriel showed up at Marjorie’s mansion, which was decorated on the front gate with a large “M” which Gabriel figured maybe stood for Marjorie. She was delighted to see him, and gave him a new pressed suit to wear. He assisted her with her office tasks and then went with her shopping and doing errands, both chauffeur and personal shopper. For the next few weeks, Gabriel assisted Marjorie. His salary was good, but he cursed himself for passing by the penny, the 18 million, all because of old lessons from school. One day he drove Marjorie to a fancy uptown apartment, and she asked him to accompany her to a meeting. He walked with her through gilded halls, to the office of a large man in a suit smoking a cigar. Some shady looking guys stood on either side of the man’s desk.

“I’ll keep this brief,” said the large man to Marjorie, “One a’ my guys found your daddy’s trinket,” he held up a shiny penny. Marjorie and Gabriel were shocked. “You can have it, for 50 million bucks!” Marjorie's shock soon turned into rage, “you dirty rat, Solano! So it was you that stole the penny.” “Oh, let’s not jump to conclusions, Marje,” said Solano. “let’s just agree that finders keepers, losers pay 50 rocks.”

“You dirty skunk,” said Marjorie, “you never woulda had the nerve to pull this while my father was alive.” “Yeah, but your daddy ain’t here. And with this coin, that means I run this town now! The keys to the kingdom. The cops work for me, the banks work for me, even that slimy mayor works for me. You an’ your little two-bit thugs ain’t gonna be allowed to stay much longer, unless you cough up the cash.” “You dirty, slimy, stinking rat!” raged Marjorie, though she was clearly unable to do anything. Just then, Gabriel suddenly spoke up, as though he was unable to hold back his words, “It’s a fake! That’s not the real one!” Everyone in the room looked at Gabriel.

“How do you know, Gabriel?” Marjorie asked. “Just look at it— it’s dull,” Gabriel explained, not even sure what he was saying, “it doesn’t amplify the light in the room, its— dirty, it’s been on the ground and in a million hands, it’s just a regular penny.” he turned to Marjorie, “If your father’s penny was as valuable as you say— then it’s really something special. That penny isn’t it.” “That’s right,” said Marjorie, “I didn’t see it before but you’re right!” she turned to Solano, “you tried to pull a fast one on me, Solano! You’re just the same lowdown bottom-feeding scumbag you always were.” Solano growled in rage, and threw the phony penny to the floor. “You know that penny rightly belongs to my family, Marjorie. Your father stole it from my father fifty years ago!” “He won it fair and square in a poker match!” countered Marjorie. “He cheated in that match! The penny should be mine! Control of this city should be mine!” yelled Solano. “You’re blowin’ smoke, Solano! It’s rightfully mine. What’s more, it’s still out there, and it’s gonna find its way back to me!” Marjorie added. “Not if I can help it,” sneered Solano. In the blink of an eye, Solano pulled out a gun and shot Gabriel in the gut.

Gabriel sank to the floor, clutching his shot side. Marjorie screamed and knelt beside him. Solano took a satisfied puff on his cigar. The room around Gabriel faded, deeper and deeper into darkness, until all was black.

In another universe, Gabriel lay for 20 minutes on the sidewalk, his legs a gnarled mess, until a kindly elderly couple stumbled on him. An ambulance was called, the police took Gabriel’s testimony, and then Gabriel lay, both legs in casts, in the hospital for several days. On the second day, the elderly couple visited him, and told him they had paid for his hospital bill out of sympathy for what had happened. Gabriel was dimly aware he was unemployed again, all thanks to that cursed penny. Why did destiny just carry him along, Gabriel thought, did he even have a choice in his path? Then a man entered the room, and introduced himself as a lawyer who specializes in workplace injury. Gabriel was technically injured on the construction site, so he might be eligible to sue. What followed was a brief lawsuit in which Gabriel and this lawyer sued the construction company for allowing the mob on its premise, and when it was all said and done, Gabriel got a check for 2 million dollars.

Gabriel moved into a large mansion on the edge of town. He would have to spend the rest of his days in a wheelchair, but he was able to afford all the help and comforts money could buy. One day, Gabriel got a knock at the door. His butler introduced a federal agent named Tim Quip. Quip told Gabriel that he was here because he learned Gabriel was briefly in possession of an interesting penny, which was what got him in an altercation with the infamous and secretive Montana crime family. “May I ask where you obtained the penny?” asked agent Quip. “I found it on the ground, I swear,” said Gabriel, now wishing again, for the first time in months, that he’d never picked it up. Quip nodded, “the Montana and Solano crime families have been at war for control of the city for decades. The penny is their symbolic emblem of ownership, like a deed. The FBI sent in a secret agent to take the penny and end the feud once and for all, but he somehow lost the penny before he was able to get it back to headquarters. Turns out the penny is very easy to confuse with other pennies.” Quip pulled out a mysterious looking briefcase. “Since you had the penny in your possession, we’d like to know if you could help us identify it, so the proper authorities can take back control of the city, and let law and order be enshrined once more. Here’s all the pennies we’ve recently confiscated from local gangsters.”

Quip opened the briefcase. Inside there were hundreds of pennies, a sea of shining copper.

“If you can help us identify the correct penny,” said Quip, “we can end this war once and for all.” Gabriel looked at the pennies, like a bed of hay. Most people wouldn't know where to begin in telling which one of them was special. But one penny in particular caught Gabriel's eye. All of them were bright and clean but this one- this one sliced through his mind again, just as it did months ago, and suddenly he saw two options in spacetime. This time, however, unlike the millions of other times he’d been through this, he could see both roads clearly. Down one road, he saw himself withdrawing the special penny, the officer taking it, the police force becoming the supreme reigning organization in the city; crime is chased out but the police become gods, the cops elect one of their own as the mayor, the governor, the senate; soon the police are just as bad as any corrupt crime syndicate. Down another road, he saw himself withdrawing a different penny, and he saw only clouds.

With a confident hand, Gabriel brought forth a penny. "It's this one." Quip immediately took it from his hand, "Thank you, Gabriel. Your service is much appreciated." Quip placed it in a plastic "evidence" bag, and placed it in his pocket. He then rose to leave. "Don't you need these other pennies?" asked Gabriel.

"Not at all," smiled Quip. " You can keep them as you like, or sell them. Perhaps they hold some value. More than once cent, I mean." Quip left. Gabriel looked down, the true special penny still shone amongst the others. He lifted it up, and turned it in his hand. He imagined himself taking it to Marjorie, getting 18 million dollars on top of his already existing wealth. He also imagined keeping it, and declaring himself king of the city. But then, he thought of a third option. He called in his butler, and asked for him to prepare a fire in the fireplace. When the flames were raging high, Gabriel tossed the coin in. The coin sizzled, sending out tiny fireworks, and then begin to melt. As he watched it dissolve, so many different directions for this city flashed in Gabriel's mind, but all these settled into the vision of peaceful clouds. When the penny was gone, Gabriel sighed and leaned back. Whatever happened next, he had chosen the direction of the river: he’d made a choice, unlike all those million million other times the paths had split before him, and that made all the difference. In another universe, Gabriel slowly emerged from darkness, and saw the blurry face of Marjorie above him. She smiled with relief seeing he was awake. His ribcage was wrapped with bandages. He was in a shady-looking room with doctors who looked like mad scientists. “You’re safe now,” said Marjorie, “my doctors fixed you up.” “What happened?” Gabriel asked. “You saved me from making a terrible mistake, and I’m so grateful,” she put her hand in his. He was reminded of how attractive she was. She continued, “You know, I underestimated you before. I now believe that you’re gonna help me find my father’s penny, at least someday.” Gabriel’s mind got foggy. He was still returning from a close encounter with death, and it almost felt like he was briefly connecting with his mind in another universe. He saw clouds. He saw an image of a pigeon pecking on the sidewalk, seeing the bright penny and flying with it back to its nest. Up onto the top of the highest building in the city, on a ledge where all the pigeons had their nests because no humans could reach or even see up here, up where only the clouds could see them, the pigeon placed the penny in its nest. These chicks inside these eggs experienced a hundred different possible directions for their pigeon lives, and with their tiny pigeon minds made their choices. This made Gabriel smile, thinking about those baby birds, those peaceful clouds.

He patted Marjorie’s hand. “Of course I’ll help you find it,” he said, “we’ll start once I’m better. And once I take you out to dinner, as thanks for saving my life.”

Marjorie giggled, “sounds like my lucky day.”


Somewhere within a distant mountain sat a dragon atop a pile of gold. This was not a scary dragon, with rows of razor sharp teeth and talons the size of full grown men. This dragon had claws which it could at best use to scratch the scales behind its pointy ears, and while it did have sharp teeth, it had developed a liking for vegetarian options, particularly bounties of fruits and steamed root vegetables. It liked to add in the occasional pot roast or succulent grilled chicken, but on the whole it preferred the colorful, leafy kind of food. This dragon was named Sam, and his mountain was Etenmoot in the north of a green land. The halls in which it basked were grandiose, with thick columns supporting vaulted ceilings and little walkways criss-crossing from place to place. Now, you may say you’ve never seen such a mountain, much less one filled with gold and jewels. Well, you’d be right. But Etenmoot was not a mountain like many others. In a bygone age, dwarves - yes, dwarves! had trudged along those walkways and carved out these great halls. There had been parties of mythical magnificence thrown here. Now, dwarves have long since left the world to an unknown fate, and Sam had stumbled upon this ancient city while exploring the mountain range for homes.

“Pure serendipity,” said Edward - his dragon-friend. The serendipity meant Sam had lived a long, fruitful life. Dragons can live for thousands of years, and in those years a village had sprung up in the valley below Sam’s abode. For some time, Sam had watched its people mingle about their days, building a mill upon the river, clearing out little bits of forest for their crops. Not being particularly hungry, Sam never thought to approach them. However, one day a strong breeze was blowing up from the valley, and the scent of freshly baked garlic asparagus and sweet potatoes wafted up to the entrance of his cave.

“My, what an enchanting aroma!” Sam said, and he felt hunger gnaw at him. Without thinking, he unfurled his wings and glided down to the village.

Chaos ensued, for even though Sam was perfectly pleasant, the sight of his giant body descending from the mountains was enough to make even the most lion-hearted man panic. He soon found himself staring down about sixty men with an assortment of pitchforks, swords, and bows, none of which would have hurt him in the slightest.

“Dragon!” cried the largest of the men, who also wore a golden circlet on his head.

Sam raised his eyebrows and said, “Wait! I mean you no harm.”

Surprised to find that a dragon could speak their language, the villagers paused and looked to their leader. “What do you want?” he asked suspiciously.

Abashed, Sam said, “Something smelled good down here, such that I have never smelled before.”

“What would that be? The scent of humans?”

Sam shook his large head. “No, no… something roasted on a fire.”

The leader looked to his men. “Was anyone preparing for the feast tonight?”

One man raised a trembling hand. “My wife was making asparagus and sweet potatoes.” “Bring them here,” barked the leader.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that tone,” reproached Sam.

Soon, a woman came out of a little hut bearing a tray of sizzling food. As soon as the steam hit Sam’s wide nose, he smiled and said, “Yes, that’s it! So this is called asparagus and sweet potatoes?”

“Yes it is,” said the leader. “Now, if we relent to give you this food, will you leave us forever?”

“Oh I would not dream of taking it from you,” said Sam. He used his claws to dig at the scales on his underbelly, from which a shower of gold coins fell to the ground. The villagers gaped and Sam said, “I would be happy to pay for it, and for your friendship, if you’d like.”

“Friendship?” said the leader haughtily. “No village I have ever heard of has become friends with a dragon.”

“Yes,” said Sam sadly. “My fellow dragons do not like the warmth this far south-” a cold breeze made the men shiver, “-but I find it tolerable. Besides, the dwarven gold deposit is something I could not deny.”

“Gold?”

“Well yes; where do you think all of this came from?” asked Sam, gesturing at the glittering stuff underneath him. “It gets caught in my scales a lot… Quite a bother, actually.”

Perhaps it was a mark of the strength of this man that he did not immediately raise his men to raid the cave, for they most certainly would have been destroyed in the fight, but instead chose to extend his hand and said, “I am William, and this is the village Stera, our home. We would be delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Sam gingerly extended a single talon and shook William’s tiny hand. The villagers gave him the food in exchange for the heap of gold, and so the relationship was bound.

Now of course, as with all relationships there are moments of hardship, but for the most part Sam was able to watch the village prosper over the years into a large city. It had survived wars in which kings had implored Sam to rain fire down upon their enemies, which he did not do, and there had been many attempts by thieves to get the gold from Sam’s cave. However, the path to the cave’s entrance was treacherous at best, and so only three men had ever survived to see the dwarven city, and none held their ground if Sam so much as looked at them.

Now the time had come for the next in William’s line to lead the city, which was now the capital of a kingdom. Sam had learned a lot about men in his centuries watching over the people of Stera, and most of it had made him sad, for the gold that Sam hoarded in his mountain was no longer of great intrigue to him. Even for a dragon, he was getting old, and he knew the time would come soon where he would return north to die with his kind.

The gold in his mountain would have doubled the wealth of the nation below, but he had deliberately stopped himself from giving them great sums, instead choosing to let them have little trickles of gold in exchange for things like roast vegetables, for he knew that above all, greed festered in the hearts of humans.

He had seen every new king be crowned, and tomorrow he would see it again, and every last one had asked for a large chunk of gold. Some disguised it by saying they wanted no more, but none refused and all held Sam in great regard for his wealth.

What was he to do? His friend Edward had visited again just a week prior and had advised him to bring the gold northward to their dragon-home, where it could be enjoyed by all dragons, young and old alike, who coveted shiny things. But how was Sam to carry it? Even after centuries of giving it remained sizable enough for him to sleep on as a rounded mattress.

“Trust me,” Edward had said, “the men down there don’t deserve this gold.”

But he offered no solution to the problem of carrying it hundreds of miles north, so Sam bade his friend goodbye and returned to pondering his dilemma.

The people of Stera relied on the gold from Sam to continue their lives, so would it really be wrong to give it all to them? Perhaps not, but he was no longer convinced of their altruism as he had been during the days of William the First. When the village had little more than a few paddocks of animals and some rows of crops, there was no harm which could afoul the hearts of the men who resided there. Yet after centuries of wars and expansion, Sam had seen the kings of Stera destroy villages all over the countryside, enveloping them into their land. Did he really want to fuel the fire of war?

Sam flew down from his cave on the next day to see King Richard crowned. A special place had been made for him in what was called the Hall of Dragons. It was made of white stone and had pillars as tall as those in the dwarven city. Sam sat in his usual seat, hundreds of civilians craning their necks to see over the armor of tall soldiers as the king walked down a long carpet. His father, now quite old, sat upon the throne with the crown in his hands.

Trumpets played a hopeful melody, and the old King, helped to his feet by his top advisors, placed the crown upon his kneeling son’s head.

There was some speech about honor, valor, and humility. Sam had heard many such speeches and was trying not to fall asleep. As was custom, the new King came up to him after the ceremony and bowed deeply, and for this Sam was obligated to bestow upon them several hundred gold coins from his scales as a present.

His eyes met Richard’s, and he caught himself in the moment looking at a young man with tenacity, and a will to do what was right. This gave him pause, for he had been so used to kings having the veiled greed in their gaze as they looked upon the rich dragon. It seemed that Richard lacked this trait.

The dragon did not stay for the evening’s revelries; he took his large ration of his favorite foods back up to his cave and enjoyed them in silence. It wasn’t until later that night, when sleep was just beginning to wash over him, that he was awoken by a ringing sound on the rock. Sam stood on his haunches, recognizing the sound as boots upon stone, and he thought that once again some robber had come to quarrel over his lot. He used one of his claws to push a button on the right side of the hall. By the ingenuity of dwarves, sparks lit several hundred lanterns along the walls and on the ceiling in quick succession, bathing the hall in a warm yellow glow only amplified by the pile of gold.

Sam’s eyes searched for the intruder for a while. He was looking near the shadowy edges of the room - near all the pillars and stairwells. That was where criminals usually lingered, after all. However, a light at the center quickly drew his gaze. Before him, to his great surprise, stood King Richard, a torch in one hand and his other raised in a gesture of peace.

He wasn’t wearing any kingly clothes - just a black coat over dark trousers and climbing boots. He bowed to Sam and said, “Please, excuse my interruption.”

“Never before has a King of Stera come here,” said Sam dubiously. “The way is dangerous.”

Richard shrugged. “I spent my early years climbing everything I could get my hands on, away from my mother’s prying eyes, of course.”

“I was under the assumption that Kings are usually well-guarded. How did you slip away?”

“It was not easy. I had to wait until the zenith of the night’s darkness, and fortunately it’s a new moon and the stars are veiled by clouds.”

The next question was perhaps the most pertinent to Sam. “Why have you come, Richard?”

“I know what you think,” said Richard candidly, putting down his free hand. “You think I am here for your gold - that I come to beseech upon you a case of charity.”

“Yes, that is what I think,” said Sam. “Or at least, I do not think you are here to clear away my empty trays of food.”

Richard smiled. “You are right on the second count, but I am not here to seek your gold. In fact, I am here to be rid of it.”

“Oh?” Sam’s heart thudded under his hard scales.

Nodding, Richard said, “Indeed. I have studied dragons for many years. They are not common in this part of the country. I was under the impression that most of your kind live in the far, far north, past the glaciers of ice and the frozen mountains which render our kind at an impasse.”

“That is correct,” said Sam. “Naradhas, we call it. The cold quells the fires of young dragons and steels the hearts of the elders until it is time for them to pass on.”

“And I have also studied all the records of your residence here,” said Richard. “You are getting quite old for a dragon, are you not?”

“Old, but still spry,” said Sam.

Richard gave a dry laugh and said, “Indeed.” “What does this have to do with the gold?”

“Quite simply, I know you must be wondering what to do with it, for in this century or the next your life will end, and with it will end any protection upon this wealth. The way may be dangerous for us now, but I’m sure once the first man comes back with a bag full of gold unperturbed by your death, then hordes of others will attempt it. I fear for that day, for I know what men can be when greed drives them. I have seen it in my father and his father…” He looked at a loss for words, but then added, “I have spent my entire adult life trying to make Stera a rich kingdom, independent of your influence.”

“But your family still accepted my gifts,” said Sam.

“Of course, and I will too, if you do not accept my proposal, but know that I succeeded.” A glint of pride lined Richard’s blue eyes. “We do not need your charity to thrive as a kingdom anymore - not that we don’t appreciate it.”

“So that means-”

“That means, my dear dragon, that you are free of any burden to help us,” said Richard proudly.

Sam frowned, his teeth showing at the front of his mouth. To be sure, he did not know how to feel about this information, for while the issue of his gold had been troubling him for a while, he had grown used to this relationship with Stera, where he showered them with occasional gold and they gave to him the best food he could ask for. To hear that it was no longer necessary hurt him in some way, but he quickly put on a smile and said, “I am happy for you. That can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t, and as I said, if you choose to continue your gift-giving I will gladly accept, but know that it will only be used to further the opulence of already gilded halls, which I hardly think is a noble cause.”

“You mentioned you had a proposal,” said Sam. “What is it?”

“Ah, yes,” Richard grinned. “Now, I want you to be with your family when you… are in the last stages of your life.

So, I propose you take whatever gold and jewels there are here and melt them.”

“Melt them?” repeated Sam, tilting his head.

“The world knows no fire hotter than dragon-fire. It can melt even jewels. So, before you go, use your fire to melt all the gold in this city. Make it run through the halls and through any crevices in the rock. Then, smash these columns as you leave.” Richard pointed to the columns around the chamber. “It is sure to bring the rocks down upon this treasure.”

“How can my last act in this city, which I have seen grow from such humble beginnings, be of violence?” asked Sam. He did not want to destroy much of anything these days.

“It must be,” said Richard. “I will inform the citizens of Stera that it was a quake which destroyed the hall, and that you took your leave with me in private. It may be a little difficult for them to understand how a dragon secured a private meeting with me, but I can convince them of it. I will tell them the truth; that you have moved on to live with your kind as you… prepare for your next journey. Years will pass as men try to ascend the mountain. Decades will pass before they learn the wealth they seek lies behind solid rock, and still more will pass before our mining tools are good enough to break through to any new veins of gold you have created here. I may not even be king anymore, then.”

“But if they still find my- ah,” said Sam, finally understanding. “You wish for them to find it slowly, and with decades of hard work behind it.”

“I have been over the plan in my head many times,” said Richard. “It’s sure to work.”

Sam looked past the young king now and envisioned that home he hadn’t seen in over a thousand years. He could almost feel the comforting chill of that ice on his scales again. He turned back to Richard and said, “You are wise beyond your years, young man. I accept your offer, and am glad to have had the opportunity to know you.”

Richard bowed deeply. “It is I who should be grateful to you, Sam. Without you, this kingdom would not be what it is now.”

“Then I will take my leave in the early morning,” said Sam. “No sense in lingering on goodbyes.”

“Goodbye then, noble dragon.”

“Goodbye, Richard.”

And so the king made his way back down to his people, still cloaked against prying eyes, and in the wee hours of the morning, as dawn was just creeping over the horizon, Stera felt the ground shake as Sam slipped out of Etenmoot, unfurling his wings and beginning the long, humble flight northward, to his home.


Everyone spends their lives building their pillar. They’re all a little different, from height to material to sturdiness. Most people can’t build them on their own. They need parents, friends, loved ones, someone who can pick up the slack when they’re tired. I don’t know when it happened, but you stole my pillar. It was your smile, your hugs, your knowledge that you were what I wanted so desperately. You took my pillar away from me and added it to your own, and I was foolish enough to help. I used what materials I could find, and it was only when I had no more to give that I wanted to join you, to see the heights you took for granted while you insisted that it was all the same. It took time. You cheered me on as I climbed, playing the supportive role I needed. Did you think I would never make it? That I would fall, and resign myself to building you higher? When I finally reached you, I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up. I was tired, something you probably counted on, and you nodded as I held out my hand for you to take, to pull me up. With that same smile, your foot stomped down on my fingers, grinding them beneath the pedestal until I could take it no more. I fell, and you didn’t seem worried that I would die, just that I continued to worship you if I survived. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact, and I was surprised by the warm arms holding onto me, cradling me close. She caught me. I had never asked where the building materials came from, or how the platform was built when I was too tired to work on it, but it was always her. I had never asked for her help, and so I never noticed that it was given all too willingly. She was always quietly by my side, supporting me and holding me up when I was too tired to stand on my own. It’s just a shame that you had to show me who you really are for me to see her. My pedestal is small, but it gets larger every day. Sometimes I still have flashbacks of my plummet, and I’m afraid to fall back to Earth, afraid to get too high lest my pillar collapse, but she’s next to me. She lets me know that I can build my tower, that I don’t have to fear the sway of it, or what should happen if I fail. And you? I know that your stolen platform is growing even without me there, but I can see it in the distance. It crumbles and cracks without the right blocks so strategically placed, and your pleas for me to come back, that I owe you, that you are faultless, that you forgive me, are lost in the space between us. I don’t need you anymore. I have her, and I’m all the luckier for it.