Bernadette was pissed. She grabbed her hair in both hands. Sweeping it back in a fluid motion, she snagged a hair tie off her wrist and bound it out of her way. In quick succession she pulled the hatch shut, adjusted her safety harness, and fired up the Flyer; its twin turbines whined and came to life. As the engines powered up, the craft gently rose a few centimeters off the roof of her complex. Her injuries still ached, but she ignored the pain. She slammed the gear retraction button, stumpy landing gear folded in under the craft. She turned the steering yoke hard to the left, artfully manipulating the yoke and pedals. The nose of the craft rose, and it turned ninety degrees. Leaning into the turn she finessed the throttle, and the little ship tore off into the night sky. “I’ve had enough of this sonofabitch,” she said angrily. The craft rolled slightly right. Turning northwest she began following course to the target area 250 klicks away. En route she took a little time to plan her attack. The trip was short, and she had rushed through her plan. Normally she was methodical in her preparations, but this guy had angered her for the last time and she had to end him. She flew at high altitude in a wide arc aimed to the west of the target, the craft in whisper mode as she went. At 200 klicks out she switched to stealth mode. The flyer went deathly quiet and slipped off any radar screens that had been observing her transit. Her little, highly modified ship had a skipjack transponder that was feeding false information to the ground. Because the skipjack lied, ground controllers observing her flight would believe the small vessel had finished a short hop flight. It was decidedly illegal, but then again, so was her entire profession. In-bound now, at 100 clicks from her enemy she put the craft into cloak mode. All exterior running lights went out, her profile vanished from the night sky. The ship was silent and invisible to all observers, electronic or otherwise. Approaching 50 clicks to the target, she dropped out of the clouds. The little flyer zoomed quietly down to just below treetop level and she did a too-quick scan as she slowed her approach. She loosened the harness a bit as she had been straining forward with rage the entire trip and it was cutting into her shoulders. His towering flagship building appeared ahead, looming menacingly over the city; it was an homage to his ego. Bernadette slowed her approach further, eventually drifting to within 20 meters of the glass-fronted 6 th floor of the skyscraper. She took a moment to pause and recon the surroundings. It was late, there were no flyers or ground cars parked in the lot below her. In the lot’s dim lights, nothing moved. She turned her attention to the task at hand. Thumbing a couple controls on the yoke she drifted slightly closer to the building’s glass face. In a moment the little ship began climbing the 500-meter height of the immense building. The ship stayed level with the ground, and she watched its reflection as it sailed upward. She intended to fly straight up the side and silently pop onto the roof. After disembarking she would enter the little access building at the top, then it was a quick trip one flight down to his Penthouse apartment. If her hasty plan worked well, it meant that she would not have been detected by building defenses. All was quiet, the building AI had not noticed her. Her tiny ship’s mods were very expensively and carefully crafted to allow her to arrive undetected just about anywhere she wished. She gripped the yoke fiercely; her anger had not subsided. She teased the controls and the ship rose more rapidly. At speed, it was a very short hop up the building and over the edge of the roof. She intended to land, dismount, and rush to the Penthouse. Fate, ever the clever bitch, had other plans. As the ship peaked and bounded over the edge it bumped straight into a larger craft parked atop the building. The lightweight flyer rammed nose first into the bigger ship, then bounced upward and spun about uncontrolled. It slammed back down to the roof and skidded sideways; its right side thudded into the fuselage of the bigger craft. The tail smashed into the other ship with a tearing sound. It lurched viciously and careened backwards across the roof, ripping a gaping hole in the corner of the access shed on the far side. Ship and shed had sustained major damage. Onboard, alarms screamed. So much for surprise. The starboard engine nacelle had taken the brunt of the hit. That engine shrieked and spat metal through a gash in the hull. The ship, now crippled, labored to stay aloft but finally gave up and slammed to the roof. The ship’s AI announced, “Critical damage to airframe. Vessel unsalvageable.” Bernadette’s teeth had slammed together in the crash. She tasted blood. Rattled, she flipped the yoke aside, popped the harness off, and bolted out through the hatch. As she threw herself onto the ground, she tucked and rolled. This eased some of the impact, but she felt her left shoulder pop as she hit the roof hard. She scrambled to her feet, smelling the fuel spurting out from some artery in her damaged craft. Spitting blood and tooth fragments, she grabbed her injured shoulder and skittered across the roof. Behind her the ship said, “AI upload commencing, abandoning vessel.” Her best hope now was to use the larger ship for cover. As she ran, she glanced back, and the expected thing happened. The door to the little roof shed slammed open and a man appeared backlit in the doorway. It was him; he had a gun. “Shit,” she muttered as she sped up to put the large craft between herself and his gun. “This went to hell quickly.” Crouching now behind the front of the vehicle she noticed skid marks caused when her ship bumped into it. It sat canted sideways away from the little building and the landing gear were bent. It was larger, but sleeker and lower-slung than her ship. The dented nose provided enough cover if she stayed low. Edging carefully out from behind the ship, she looked down the hull. She could see that the end of the stubby winglet that had stabbed her ship to death was barely damaged. She spat blood as she muttered, “So fucking stupid of me.” Her words came out slurred; her jaw ached; she suspected she had broken it. Across the roof, ass-end against the building, her ship belched smoke. Its fuel was now spurting onto the surface like an arterial bleed. The man in the doorway ignored the little dying craft and called out across the expanse. “Goddam it,” he shouted, “Whoever you are, I’m gonna kill you for this.” Bernadette recognized the voice. It was Marcus, her intended target, and soon-to-be dead former fiancée. He shouted again, “You’re an amateur and a hothead, only an idiot would try something like this without checking the roof approach first.” He was partly right. Her anger had gotten the best of her. She had rushed over and popped up crudely to try to take out the best hitman in the country. She ranked right behind him, although you could not tell it from this little cockup. It was, simply put, without elegance. Unworthy of the second-best assassin. “Idiot,” she muttered. She cooled her temper and calmed herself. Slowing her breathing she took stock of her injuries. ‘Hands and fingers, knees and toes’ went her mental checklist. It was a joke she had learned from her father, inventorying her injuries with a little child’s rhyme helped her focus. Blood ran down her face and neck. She grabbed her injured arm, and with a hard yank popped her shoulder back into place. “Look, you can’t get away,” Marcus intoned, “Your flyer is wrecked, and it’s a long drop to the ground. And, well, I have a gun.” He was bragging, certain that whoever was on his roof was toast. “We’re gonna have to cooperate to work this out. Can we just talk, ok?” Bernadette realized his tactic immediately: lull the enemy into a false sense of hope by seeming to be perfectly reasonable. Then vaporize them the second they step out from behind cover. “Okay, think fast, find the advantage,” she whispered. “I’m hurt, pinned down, and he’s armed.” She patted her hip for her blaster. It was still in its holster. At least she hadn’t lost it in the chaos. Relieved, she whispered, “So am I, good. But I don’t think I can outshoot him. He’s always been a little faster.” She peeked out from behind the nose of the craft, certain he would not fire. He wouldn’t risk further damage to his beloved flyer. As long as she stayed low and hidden behind it, she was safe. A glimpse around the craft told her three things: His gun was at the ready, her ship was dying and aflame, and he was far too close to it. As if the tiny ship understood all that, it let out a loud scream as the damaged starboard engine began to tear itself apart. She stepped out from the safety of the flyer and there was a loud bang. The starboard engine died loudly. With another bang its turbine tore through the nacelle, launching itself just over Marcus’ head. It surprised him and he ducked. Finally noticing her coming around the front of his flyer, he called out her name in shock, “Bernadette? I thought I…” a third bang distracted him. More engine debris tore through the little flyer. This time ripping through the port engine. Marcus startled, ducked once more. Before he could fully register what was going on, she raised her blaster and fired, not at him, but at her little ship. Bernadette threw herself down and watched the show. Marcus’ eyes grew wide as he realized that he was already dead. The small flyer erupted into a massive ball of flame, smoke, and shrapnel. Marcus was slammed against the shed and torn apart before he could finish his thought, "...killed you." As the fireball rose and smoke billowed, pieces of the little ship and Marcus began raining down on the rooftop. She grinned through broken front teeth. “So much for you, you bastard,” she said. Sitting up now she gathered her thoughts. In a moment she rose up from the rooftop, dusted herself off and put together a contingency escape plan. Coming around the side of the large flyer she hastily checked to see how badly damaged it was. The tip of the winglet was dented and there were some scorch marks from the blast. She could see no holes from the shrapnel thrown by the explosion. Looking back at her wrecked craft she said, “Goodbye little girl,” and opened the hatch before her and clambered inside. After a quick survey of the controls, she fired up the craft and rose from the deck. It was larger and much heavier, which had made all the difference in the initial collision. But it was very similar to her own ship. Standardized controls and armaments made all the difference in this case. She eased it over the side and spun it about, angling the stern away from the building. Looking over the mess she had made, she was glad there wouldn’t be enough left of him to fit in a coffee mug. She backed away and began descending the tower rapidly. She flicked a switch on the yoke and the twin AU/G-350 phase canons on either side of the cockpit roared to life. The ship dropped lower and lower; the 350s tore the building into two ragged halves. She said to herself as she held the trigger, “Burn it down, Bernadette.”


Jackson is driving through an affluent area of the suburbs. Someone had told them that his ex-girlfriend had moved in with an older man and had given him the address. He located the street and is now crawling along at less than five miles per hour while talking on the phone with his friend Connor. "I think I see it; it's the brick one on the right," Jackson says. "If she catches you stalking like this, she'll get a goddamn restraining order," Connor warns. As the car approaches the enormous brick house, which is valued at about a million dollars, Jackson slows down even further to see if he can peer through the window. "Bro, this place is huge; I can see someone watching TV through the first-floor window," Jackson says. "You've got to get out of there; they'll notice someone driving by their house peeking in their windows," Connor says. "Relax, her car isn't even there; she's probably still doing yoga on Thursday nights," Jackson says. "Still, you don't think that guy is going to notice you, take your plate or something, you're in a rich neighborhood, they got community watch and stuff," Connor says. "I want to see what this guy looks like; I'm thinking about knocking on his door and pretending to be from the gas company or something," Jackson says. "Last time I checked, gas company employees don't wear Panera polos," Connor says. "I'm not that stupid; I'll throw my hoodie over it," Jackson says. "Look, I don't want to put a damper on your Oceans 11 plan here, but people from the gas company don't generally show up in a Honda Civic, with no credentials and wearing a hoodie," Connor says. Jackson begins to make his way into the intersection, past the brick house. Jackson stretches his neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who stole his ex-girlfriend. Suddenly, there's a crash! Jackson had run a stop sign and collided with another car. "Damn, I got into a car accident right in front of my ex-girlfriend's new house," Jackson says. "You've got to get out of there before she comes home, bro. She'll have you arrested if she sees you stalking on top of what occurred at the bar over the weekend," Connor says. "I know, I know, I was only driving a couple of miles per hour; how bad could it be? Let me handle this, and I'll call you back," Jackson says as he ends the call. Jackson notices Philomena, who is in her mid-to-late-sixties, inspecting her front grill. Philomena sobs, "Oh, my Lancer, my Lancer, my Mitsubishi Lancer." Jackson takes a deep breath as he prepares to get out; however, Philomena notices him and quickly walks to his car. "Hey, Lightning McQueen," Filomena says, "you went straight past the stop sign and hit my Lancer; the front end is completely smashed." Jackson exits his car and walks up to the front of her Mitsubishi Lancer. Jackson points to the grill and says, "First of all, I was only driving like three miles per hour, and second of all, there is no damage on the front of your car." "You see spider cracks, spider cracks, it may look like nothing now, but trust me, three months from now, and I'll have a grill that looks like a mosaic painting," Philomena says. "This is absurd; your car has no damage, lady. So, are we going to exchange information or what?" Jackson says, attempting to expedite the process. "I don't like the tone of your voice; you're the one who hit me. And you know what, I might have grazed my forearm on the steering wheel. I believe you fractured my ulna, ouch, paramedic, 911, please alert my loved ones that my ulna bone has been shattered!" Philomena yells, drawing the neighbors' attention. Jackson is becoming frustrated and keeps returning his gaze to the brick house. Because of the accident and Philomena's cries, neighbors have begun to congregate. "Why are you creeping down the road in this neighborhood? This is a cul-de-sac neighborhood, one way in, one way out," Philomena says. "I know someone who lives here; I was looking for their address," Jackson says. "A likely scenario is that you are checking out the place with the intention of returning later with your friends to do a GTA V. I know you're a type, I'm calling the police," Philomena says. Philomena pulls out her flip phone. "Hello there, police. My name is Philomena Jordan, and I'm calling from Bayview Estates, a wealthy cul-de-sac off Route 7. I have a young criminal here who is attempting to perform a GTA V," Philomena says. "You're going to get it now... what, oh okay, I'll hold. The police put me on hold, but when they come back, then you're in for it," Philomena says. A man emerges from the brick house. Jackson is completely engrossed because the man is much older than he expected. "Why do you keep staring towards the Smith house? Is that the house you want to vandalize?" Filomena asks. "Did you say the Smith house? Do they have a daughter?" Jackson asks. "Yeah, Cassandra, or Sandra, or Darlene, I can't remember. But I'm not going to sit back and let you rob that poor family," Filomena says. "No, I used to date Andrea, their daughter. We had a falling out, and all I wanted to do was catch a glimpse of her; I guess I miss her," Jackson says. "Do you mean you're here for love?" Philomena says. "I know I'm not supposed to be doing this; I actually saw her at a bar over the weekend. I didn't know she was going to be there with her friends, and when I went to go talk to her, they left," Jackson says. "That's a harmless mistake; what's the big deal?" Philomena asks. "I couldn't stop myself; I followed them out to the parking lot and chased her to her friend's car; they raced away afraid," Jackson says. Jackson's phone then beeps, indicating that he has received a text message. It comes from Connor. "Bro, I just noticed Andrea coming up Route 7; she's only about 5 minutes away; you need to get out of there!" "Andrea is almost home; if she sees me, it'll be over for good. She'll almost certainly file a restraining order against me," Jackson says. Philomena looks at her car before returning her attention to Jackson, who appears terrified. Philomena closes the phone. "You seem like a nice guy, but you need to give Andrea some space. You know what they say: if you love something, let it go; if it returns, it's yours; if it doesn't, it wasn't meant to be. Why don't you leave before she gets home?" Philomena says. "What about your spider cracks and ulna bone?" Jackson asks. "The police have never taken me seriously since I reported those seagulls for pooping in public. Anyway, it's not that bad; between you and me, my Michael Bublé CD went between the seats, and I may have been trying to get it out before the crash. But if they ask, I'll never admit that to the police!" Philomena says. Jackson smiles. "Thank you," Jackson says as he returns to his car. "Good luck," Philomena says. Jackson drives away from the brick house, waving. Philomena returns to her Mitsubishi Lancer as Andrea pulls into the driveway. Andrea glances around at all the bystanders and asks her father. "What's going on?" "Filomena hit something else with her car," he says. "Those Michael Bublé albums are more dangerous than they'll admit.


It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same.

Veronica had left home at 18 years old and never looked back.

She traveled as far away as she could, taking a full time job as a waitress in a greasy spoon.

Rented her first apartment, a room above a tattoo parlor in town.

Not even missing Jake, the boy next door, her first boyfriend, first and only love was enough to bring her back.

Now, at 42 years old she’s standing in front of the house her mother left her.

Heartbroken and regretful for not keeping in touch with her mother all these years and this is what she had left of her.

The house where it all happened.

The house where she grew up too quickly and for the wrong reasons.

She felt eyes on her and looked to the left.

There stood a young boy, he was about 13, maybe 14 years old.

She knew those eyes.

No, she thought to herself, can’t be.

She smiled at him and he waved to her.

He walked over and said, “Hello Miss, are you Miss Wendy’s daughter?”.

“Yes”, Veronica replied.

“I’m Henry, me, my sister Maddie and my dad live next door right there”, he said as he pointed to the house where Jake had lived.

“Oh, how lovely - it’s nice to meet you Henry”.

“Nice to meet you too Miss, if you need any help just knock on the door, Dad likes to help people.”

“Thank you Henry”

“Bye Miss!” And she watched as Henry walked up the stairs and into the house that she had practically lived in throughout her childhood and adolescence.

Veronica walked through the old house.

Everything was covered in cloth to keep from getting dusty.

Through a private investigator she had been notified of her mother’s passing 5 months ago.

A heart attack she was told.

Her mother’s attorney would be reading the will to her later in the week, but he had suggested she come to see the house.

The memories came rushing back.

Trying to tell her mother what happened, her mother not believing it.

Her mother chose HIM over Veronica.

She saw no other way out than to leave and never come back.

HE did this to her and her mother.

She had no relationship with her mother because of HIM.

Twenty four years earlier . . .

Veronica and Jake had graduated from high school that week.

They were so excited to be planning the next four years of their lives together.

Both choosing to go away to school - together.

Of course it meant saying goodbye to the only home each of them knew their entire lives but it was worth it.

Veronica and Jake had been inseparable since they first met 12 years ago when Jake’s family moved in next door.

They were each other’s first boyfriend/girlfriend.

They hadn’t done more than a little touching and some major kissing, but Jake wasn’t in a hurry.

He knew Veronica would be his forever so why rush it?

That night he kissed her goodbye at the door and said, “In the morning, we’ll go get some donuts and coffee, k Ron?”.

Veronica replied, “Sounds good to me”.

As he walked away, Veronica watched him.

I’m so lucky, she thought to herself.

She entered the quiet house.

She figured her Mom and Derrick were already in their room, watching tv or sleeping.

She undressed quietly in her room and walked across the hall into the bathroom with her robe on.

She turned on the water, took off her robe and stood under the warm drops of water.

As she started to wash her hair, she heard the door open.

“Mom?” She said.

Before Veronica knew what was happening, Derrick got into the shower with her.

He was drunk, drunker than she’d ever seen.

He put his hand over her mouth and told her to keep quiet.

Derrick took something from her that she had been saving for Jake.

She would never be the same.

The bruises on her arms were visible as she looked at herself in the mirror.

She couldn’t go meet Jake for donuts like this.

She called him and cancelled saying she wasn’t feeling well.

He understood, Jake always understood.

That’s the kind of boyfriend he was.

Veronica heard her mom say goodbye to Derrick.

She went down the stairs with tears in her eyes.

When her mother turned and saw the bruises, she asked Veronica what happened to her.

Veronica told her mother, in detail, EVERY detail about the night before with Derrick in the shower.

Her mother called her a liar and told her if she was going to be a filthy liar to get out.

They shouted hateful things to each other.

Veronica packed all she could in a suitcase, including all the cash she had in the house, and ran out.

Never stopping to look back, never thinking she could rely on anyone, after all, Derrick was Jake’s uncle.

Veronica sighed and went about her business checking on each room.

In her old room, she found it to be exactly as it was the day she left.

The bed was unmade.

Posters of boy bands on the walls.

On the top of her dresser sat a photo of her and Jake at prom.

It was as if no one had entered this room since she ran away.

She began going through things in the house, deciding what to keep, what to throw away, and what to list at the estate sale.

After a few hours of this she heard a knocking on the front door.

Veronica made her way down the stairs and when she opened the door, there stood the boy, well now the man who had taken her heart all those years ago.

“Ronnie”, he said, “Henry told me you were here but I had to see it for myself.

I can’t believe it’s you.

Why are you back now?”

Veronica sighed and held back tears.

Jake couldn’t have known what happened to her all those years ago.

How Derrick had taken what she promised him.

How she thought at the time no one would believe her, when her own mother didn’t.

“Jake I came because I had to take care of things here, I wanted to reach out to you so many times over the years, but I . . .” “Yeah well that 18 year old kid you left behind was heart broken over you for years.

Took me a long time but I met someone, fell in love, got married, had kids, you know all the things you promised you’d do with me!

Why the fuck did you leave me like that?

No explanation?

Your poor mother - she felt abandoned.

Then when it all came out about how Derrick had raped those girls, your mother really needed you Ronnie - why the hell didn’t you come back then?”

“Wait, what are you talking about?

Derrick - I mean what did you say he did?

I didn’t keep in touch with my mother.

I had no idea.

Derrick, he, he raped me too.

That’s why I left like that.

I told my mother and she didn’t believe me.

I figured you wouldn’t either, he was your uncle.

I’ve suffered too, I lost my mother then and I lost her now.”

Jake just shook his head.

“You should have told me Ronnie, I would have believed you.

We had NO secrets between us!

All I knew was that the girl I loved, the girl I was supposed to spend my forever with was gone and I couldn’t find you.

I thought maybe you’d be at the university.

My parents insisted I still go.

I went, I asked at the office for you.

They said you’d never showed up.

I didn’t know what to think.

I went to classes and worked for four years without ever going to a party.

Without ever enjoying my time there.

Then I met Sarah and we fell in love, well, she fell in love, I couldn’t because my heart was tattered.

She loved me enough for us both and we created a life together.

We had two children together.

Then two years ago, Sarah was coming home from parent teacher conferences, there was black ice, the car skidded and she went into a tree.

I had to bury my wife.

The mother of my children.

So excuse me for not caring about your excuses 24 years too fucking late!”

He slammed the door and left.

Later that night Ronnie heard some laughing outside.

She went to the front door and watched as Henry, who she assumed was Maddie, and Jake walked passed her house laughing about something.

She made sure they didn’t see her.

Veronica decided to leave Jake alone and get on with the sale of her mother’s things.

The next day, Veronica had an appointment with her mother’s attorney.

She showed up to the address and had noticed a familiar car parked in the lot.

Shaking her head, she walked into the office building.

The receptionist led her down a long corridor to an office.

Inside she was met by Mr. Rathburn, her mother’s attorney.

To her surprise, Jake was there as well.

She asked why and Mr. Rathburn said that Jake was also named in her mother’s will.

The reading began, both Jake and Veronica were shocked to hear her mother’s wishes.

Veronica was to live in the house for one year from the reading of the will.

In that year, she was to invite Jake over no less than twice a week for a meal.

Once with his children, once alone.

During this time, Jake was also going to be paid above his normal rate to fix up the house and get it ready to sell it when the year was up, splitting the money from the sale.

Veronica was stunned.

She’d assumed she would have to be here for a week at most to get things settled.

Now, in order to inherit what her mother was leaving her, she’d have to stay here, and spend time with Jake!

What was her mother thinking?

Jake stood up, “Well, Wendy certainly has a sense of humor huh?

I don’t want my children around her.”

Mr. Rathburn replied, “I’m sorry Jake but these are Wendy’s wishes, she put in a clause that if either of you don’t do what is requested I am to sell the house as is and give the profits to Derrick’s son, Paul.”

“My cousin is as big of a louse as his father”, Jake yelled, “What the fuck!”

Veronica stood and walked over to Jake, looked him in the eyes and said, “I’m willing to uproot my life so we can both get what my mother wanted us to have, we can do this Jake.

I promise I won’t be inappropriate when it comes to your children.”

Jake shook his head.

“Yeah ok, fine.

So, how do we do this?

How do we ‘prove’ we’re getting together for a meal twice a week?”

“Wendy thought of everything - either myself or my associate Quinn will be checking up with you.

All you have to do is send us a date and time of your meal and one of us will show up.

You won’t know exactly when we’ll be there so Wendy’s thought is that you’ll have to go through with it.”

After they signed the required paperwork, Jake and Veronica walked out together.

“So, would you like to come over tonight for dinner?

I’m not much of a cook, I know how to order pizza”, Veronica said smiling.

“Sure, we’ll be there around 6 if that’s ok?

Henry has a tutoring session right after school and Maddie has swim practice.

Oh, and no anchovies on the pizza, ok?”

Veronica shook her head and smiled.

As she drove away, she couldn’t help but think that this was going to turn out to be a good thing in her life. One year later . . . The for sale sign on the lawn was just placed when a young couple driving by stopped.

The young woman got out, clearly pregnant, but not ready to give birth.

“Hello, umm my husband and I have been looking for a home in this neighborhood, do you mind if we come in and take a look around?”

“Come on in”, Jake replied.

The couple explained that they had been looking for a house now that she was pregnant with twins.

They loved the neighborhood but couldn’t find what they needed in their price range.

Jake listened quietly.

He heard a car horn outside and smiled, knowing it was Ronnie coming home with Henry.

In the year they had grown closer, and last month told his kids, Ronnie and Jake were getting married.

Ronnie came in and gave Jake a look.

“This is Eddie and Hannah, they were driving by when I put the for sale sign on the lawn.”

“So nice to meet you”, Ronnie said.

Something inside her told her these were the people who were meant to buy her mother’s home.

They were starting a family of their own and could fill this house with happy memories.

Ronnie and Jake gave them a fair price and the young couple soon moved in.

Six months later they celebrated Ronnie and Jake’s wedding.

Maddie has been maid of honor for her new step mother, and Henry was best man for his father.

Ronnie had reconnected with friends she had lost long ago and they were all in attendance on the happiest day of her life.

Jake loved her, wanted a future with her, and that was all that mattered.

THE END


The 3,000 ton ship slowly inched its way to an impossibly small dock.

Chloe’s face was pressed so hard against the tiny round window that her cheekbone was aching. She had slept the entire second leg of the journey and missed the change in waterscape.

Down below, she could see chunks of ice floating in the blue water. She had never seen water this shade of blue before.

She leapt out of her twin bed, her blanket cascading to the floor. Dashing around the tiny cabin, Chloe dressed in her thermal gear as quickly as possible. She pulled on her thick wool socks, laced up her boots, and did a quick look in the mirror to adjust her hair under the knit hat. Finally, she pinned her ID badge to the front of her parka identifying her as Chloe Davis, research assistant - intern . It was time to get to work. As she stepped out onto the main deck, the moment was overwhelming. The air immediately bit her face. She stood for a moment taking everything in, trying not to forget a detail.

The sky seemed lower, the air seemed thinner, and every sound seemed to be more significant than any sound she had heard before. Cracking ice, water sloshing, people laughing, shouting, talking. For a moment, she almost thought there was something wrong with her vision. If not for the colors in the flag flying down by the dock, she would have thought she had gone colorblind. Everything was a shade of gray. A quick glance down at the colors in her mitten reassured her. At the bottom of the exit ramp she paused. Looking down at her boots, she took a deep breath.

“This is it, Chloe. This is what you’ve worked so hard for.”

Slowly, she stepped onto the dock, took a few steps along the wet surface, and then sank her foot down into the arctic land.

She smiled. She pulled her hat further down her ears and started towards the trailhead.

* “MOMMAAA,” the tiny girl called, tears in her voice.

Chloe glanced over from the stove where she was stirring that night's macaroni and cheese. Her daughter had been more sensitive lately, and tonight was no exception. The girl reached for Chloe so she bent down and brought her into her arms.

“Momma, when will you leave?” This was the question that had been on repeat ever since she had told her daughter where she was going.

The answers were well rehearsed by now.

“I’m going to the North Pole, my sweet girl!” “Why?” “Well, to walk in the snow, and take pictures of polar bears!” “How come?” “To help the earth.” “What’s wrong with it? How come you have to go? Will Santa be there?” She had wondered the same thing for months now. Wondered about each choice she had made since deciding to study biology, to leave school, to go back to school, to apply for the internship, to move across the country, to uproot her family…to leave her family.

But she had to do this. This is what she was meant to do. Being a mother is what you’re meant to do. She pushed the painful thoughts aside.

It was only 3 months. She had to do this.

She had to go. As they sat at the table eating dinner, Chloe tried to remember every single detail about the evening. How her daughter's hair lay across her face. How her teeth looked as she chewed her food. The size of her hand, how it held her fork, the way she kicked her feet as she ate.

Next to her, her partner sat watching Chloe closely. They chatted about the days’ events, the plans they had while Chloe was gone. They chatted about what the weather would be like when she returned. Chloe continued to field questions from her daughter, hoping that when she returned home, she would have something to show her daughter that would make her proud.

Gratitude swelled in her chest. In the morning, everything would look different.

Everything would be different.

* After weeks of returning to her cabin feeling defeated, cold and exhausted, Chloe’s guilt began to rise. What was she doing here? They were getting nowhere. How much more could she take? Her data was underwhelming and the landscape was harsher than the guides had predicted. There was hardly a bird in the sky, let alone bears.

Chloe thought about the idea of returning home to her family having accomplished nothing. How could she face them? Later, as Chloe sat crouched in the snow with a lens pointing right at the bear, it all made sense. Right before her eyes. It was all happening. It suddenly occurred to her. She had done nothing to earn the right to be here , and yet there she was. Others' choices would bring them sorrow and despair; dead ends and regret. Not this.

How did she end up here? In this moment, watching the rarest of moments with people she hardly knew.

In an instant, Chloe understood.

She frantically snapped photo after photo; one tiny bear emerged, then its sibling, then another, and then…a fourth. This was unprecedented.

Beside her she could hear her colleagues shallow breathing as they took in the moment as well. The mother emerged behind her fourth cub and they all made their descent to the bottom of the mountain. After what felt like a lifetime, the cubs and their mother were out of sight. Chloe still couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. Four cubs? This was positive. This was a win for the earth. A win for her. She gathered up her equipment and began the return hike to base.

Back at basecamp, she checked on her water samples and was relieved to finally see some progress in her data. Instant relief swept through her.

That night in her cabin, she opened her journal to document the day. As she sat down she caught a glimpse through the window. She saw some of her colleagues down at camp gathered around a small fire pit. One of the older crew members was dressed as Santa Claus.

Chloe couldn’t wait to tell her daughter.


THE SURVIVOR He was tall, dark, and handsome with a cute schoolboy smile and Stacie felt her heart leap in her chest like some schoolgirl with her first crush. They had met on one of those dating sites and had their first meeting at a coffee shop several days before. It had gone well, very well and Stacie had carried her cell phone around in her pocket for the next twenty-five and a half hours anxiously waiting for his call. The call finally came and Stacie did her happy dance before picking up her cell and greeting him with a casualness that belied her unsteady hands and quickly beating heart. They made arrangements to meet again that weekend, and Stacie could hardly wait. remembering the magical time they had spent together at that coffee shop. Over coffee, they had discussed movies and books, favourite foods and colours. It was amazing how much they had in common. Even their taste in music was very similar.

They talked about how they would rather have a picnic rather than a fine dining experience, how they were both sporty and loved outdoor activities, and would rather go camping than go to a crowded resort. She told him how she loved competitive game shows like Survivor, and it would be her dream to actually play the game. They both loved adventure games, cosplay, and hiking.  Stacie and Eric spoke each night on the phone before bed and Stacie counted down the hours until they had their first official date. She thought it was so romantic of him to choose to go to the Devil’s Peak Hiking Trail for a picnic dinner followed by a hike up to the Devil's Peak Ridge to watch the sunset. He was obviously a kindred spirit and perhaps, just perhaps, her future soul mate. She had never met anyone who seemed to have so much in common with her. Every time she told him one of her favourite things he would be so excited because he too enjoyed that as well   Devil’s Peak was a very popular hiking trail and was definitely on her bucket list. It was quite remote so she had never gone there to hike. She knew there were several trails ranging from trails for the novice hiker as well as trails for the more advanced hikers,

the start to each trail was purported to be wide and covered with crushed rock, and handrails on the tricky slopes. There were well-marked trails for families with young children or for seniors. He alluded to the fact that maybe on another occasion they could take one of the more difficult trails that required more stamina and skill as hikers or perhaps because she liked excitement they would try bungee jumping from the old abandoned railway trestle that crossed the wide river below.

They met each other in the parking lot at the entrance to the park. It was well mapped out and they checked the wooden welcome board that was next to the parking lot. It showed a map of the various trials and marked out which trails had what level of difficulty. It showed the picnic area which was next to the children's playground at the foot of the trail. Together they chose their trail and studied all the features of their selected route. They started with the picnic, Eric had selected all her favourite foods,

he knew what her favourites were because it was one of the many topics that they had talked about. He had gone to a lot of trouble over the picnic. She could tell that the wicker picnic basket was new as it still had some of the packaging inside which he quickly whisked away. The dinner was stored in special containers to keep the meal at a warm temperature. There was chicken pasta alfredo, sweet kale salad with poppyseed dressing, cheesy bread,

green grapes, and a large slice of cherry cheesecake for dessert. With a flourish, he pulled a bottle of champagne and two wine glasses out of the basket. They laughed and giggled throughout the meal, Stacie feeling like a princess by all the special treatment and she felt heady when she considered all the trouble that Eric had gone to to make this such a special date. He had downloaded some of her favourite songs on his cell phone and played them quietly during their picnic dinner. Everything seemed planned down to the last detail, even as far as the pale blue sweater that he wore, her favourite colour. Upon finishing their dinner, he disposed of their garbage in the cans provided by the park for that purpose and tucked the leftovers back in the picnic basket, then put them back in his Lexus. She felt a trifle understated as she drove a small Kia but it was exciting to date a man who could obviously afford the finer things in life. Her last relationship had been one with a man who quibbled over every last cent he spent on her. She didn't mind going Dutch when they went out for meals but found that when they went out for meals or movies he more than frequently “conveniently” left his wallet in his other pants and she ended up paying for both their meal and entertainment. She was somewhat relieved when he was offered a job in Europe and she had, in fact, encouraged him to take it.  While Eric returned the picnic basket to the car, Stacie wandered over to the playground, grabbed hold of the turnabout carousel, and gave it a couple of big spins. As a child, she had spent many happy hours at the playground near her house, spinning on the playground merry-go-round. She leaped on as it whirled around and held her arms wide as the wind rushed through her hair. She put her foot out and helped build up momentum and watched as Eric came slowly across the parking lot and picnic area towards the park. The park was now empty, families having left to take their tired children home to bed. “Look at you, spinning around like crazy.” “I’m fearless, she stated. “Are you?” he laughed, “well, we will see about that.”  Then he pulled a gift box out of his pocket and held it out to Stacie as she whirled by. She missed grabbing it the first two times she whirled by but snatched it up on her third pass by him.” Having obtained her prize she leapt off the spinner and landed solidly on her feet. “Agile as a cat, I like that.”  “You don't need to buy me presents, it's not like it’s my birthday.” “No, no, it's nothing expensive. Just a little something I thought you might like. When we were talking on the phone the other day, you were saying that you weren't really into expensive jewelry and usually wore things like beads rather than gems. I came across this necklace and thought you might like it.”  Stacie hastily opened the gift. There nestled inside was a beaded necklace. “Oh, that's so sweet but you didn't have to do that. I don’t think I recognize all the types of beads in it.”  She quickly donned the necklace and thanked Eric for his thoughtfulness. A little embarrassed by his gift, she went over to the swings and sat down, and started swinging gently, pumping her feet steadily.

He joined her, standing behind her, and he started to push her higher.  He pushed her gently at first as she pumped with her strong legs, and then he started to push her higher. “That’s high enough now,”

she told him, but he continued pushing hard. “ Eric, that's high enough. He continued to push her on the swing, he pushed her almost to the point where the swing went over the top bar and dropped down the other side in a wide arc. “ Eric,” she said loudly, “stop, please. Stop! I don't like this.” He pulled her abruptly to a stop. When the swing stopped its frantic jerking, Stacie got off shakily, she turned to Eric, her face pale and wan. “I don't like heights.”

She remembered all the kindnesses he had shown her today, and taking a deep breath she held her tongue.  Eric seemed disappointed. “ Not so fearless now eh? Okay, let's go on that hike, shall we? You told me at the coffee shop that you like to play games and that the show “Survivor” is your favourite game show and you wished that you could play the game too. Well, here's your chance.

Let's play.

We‘ll start our game when we reach the lookout at the top, the outlook that we saw on the trail map, and if we hurry we should get to the top of the ridge in time to see the sunset.

We’ll take a rest there. The sunset should be spectacular.

I can’t wait till we get to the top and share the moment together. Oh, and look, see I bought this for the way down,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight.” “ Just one flashlight? You didn’t bring one for me either?” He flashed his famous smile.” We’ll only need one.” Stacie smiled softly, thinking about a romantic descent from the ridge hand in hand or better yet, arm in arm.  They walked side by side up the base of the trail. Stacie was quiet, Eric's insensitivity to her request to stop pushing her on the swing was bothering her. But she was drawn to Eric, some type of weird chemical magic was happening between them and she hadn’t figured it out yet.

Stacie only half listened to Eric’s rambling as they started to climb higher;

as agreed, they stopped halfway up to check out a gorge that had an outlook area. “Careful,” he said, “that barrier doesn't look very secure. We wouldn't want you falling off the trail now, would we?” He took her hand and they started up the trail again. He was very solicitous, Stacie thought, and caring except for that incident with the swing. She thought about how he had made so much effort with their date and decided that she was really making too much about the little episode. It was just that she was very nervous about heights. OK, paranoid would be a better word but one doesn't air one's dirty laundry on the first date does one?  The trail began to get narrower and steeper and conversation dwindled as they both climbed upwards. Stacie could feel Eric's eyes on her as she now climbed in front of him. At last, they reached the top and cleared the treeline. A flickering light on a lamp post and the metal railing were the only unnatural items in the natural setting. Together they walked to the edge of the ridge. They stood hand in hand in front of the railing and watched as the glorious sunset held them enthralled. The colours of the sky were spectacular. The sunset was magical and romantic and as they moved forward to the rail, Stacie held tightly to the railing with both hands, she briefly glanced down into the valley below and got a quick glance of the jagged rocks, the rocky cliff, and the winding river far below. She took a step back and glanced outward rather than downward. This was better, one could see to the other side of the gorge, in the dimming light. The trees were beginning to look like they were in shadows as the sun sunk deeper. Stacie’s heart thumped in her chest. She felt mesmerized by the view, bewitched by Eric’s closeness, and what might happen next. When the sun was only a whisper above the horizon, Eric turned to her and gathered her slowly into his arms, and kissed her. His kiss was tentative,

soft, and exploratory and she met him openly  She could feel his heart racing against her chest, his breathing ragged as he held her tightly against him. His arms wrapped around her tighter and he kissed her deeply, she closed her eyes and kissed him back, caught up in the romance of the sunset, the warm night and the intoxicating aroma of his cologne.  Suddenly she was lifted off her feet and he carried her, a step or two towards the precipes. She felt the railing at her back and screamed long and loud as he bent her backward over the rail. The flickering light revealed his once boyish grin which now seemed feral and dangerous, his lips pulled back over his teeth, like a jungle cat toying with their prey. Her long legs flailed about and she hung on to him for dear life. He bent her backward further and further over the railing and she continued to cling to his body as he tried to dislodge her hands. “So Stacie, I guess you aren’t the only one who likes games. I like games too. I like them deadly. How do you like this game so far?” he asked. His arms moved to grasp her windpipe and squeeze. “ Am I a worthy opponent?

When I play, I always play to win.”

She gasped for air. “Looks like you are going to be the first one leaving the game. Too bad, I really did like you.”  Her kicking feet finally connected to a sensitive part of his body and he straightened in pain and fell back a step from the railing. Once in an upright position and no longer dangling over the gorge, she broke free and raced to where she thought the entrance to the trail began. It was fully dark now, and there was no moon visible in the sky.

The only light that Stacie could see from this high vantage point was the feeble light that illuminated the lookout. She found the entrance to the trail and started down as fast as she could manage. She could hear Eric cursing and yelling. She fell twice on the rough trail and soon she could no longer see the light behind her. Eric had his flashlight in hand and was following her down the trail. He wasn't quiet but then there was no need for him to be quiet as there were only the two of them on the mountainside. He had the advantage, he had light and he had speed and strength, she knew just how strong he was as he had lifted her easily when he tried to throw her over the cliff. She heard him behind her, gaining on her rapidly and when she glanced behind her she could see the glimmer of his flashlight bouncing down the trail. She knew that she had to make it down the trail and to her car before he caught up with her. It was her only hope. The trail was widening now and she could feel the crushed gravel under her feet, she must be near the lower lookout. She tripped and fell feeling the gravel dig into her hands and knees. She could hear him, closer, closer. She left the pathway and made her way down the mountain,

through the dense undergrowth. Stacie suddenly realized that he too had left the pathway and was closing in fast. She glanced down and realized that there was a soft luminous glow from the beads that Eric had gifted her with earlier. They were acting as a beacon and Eric was following the subdued light right to her.

He was the hunter and she was the hunted.

The Survivor game had turned into a deadly challenge. She tripped and lay on the cool forest floor, she ripped the necklace off her neck and threw it under a nearby bush. She raised herself to her feet and turned to run, but he was upon her. He scooped her up like a child and dragged her kicking and screaming back to the path.

 “Just for your information,” he said loudly over her screams, “I hate picnics, and I hate cosplay and hiking. You, like every woman I know, are so unbelievably gullible and deserve everything you get.”  He dragged her back to the trail, they were at the lookout over the lower gorge. She fought him, fought hard but he clearly had the advantage. At one point he held her by the throat and she could feel his hands, those giant hands crushing her windpipe. She brought her hands up between his hands and then quickly spread them wide and downward, releasing his hold. She fell to the ground, landing on her back, Eric towered above her, and he came forward, his arms grabbing for her. She planted her feet firmly in his middle and pushed with all her might. He reeled back towards the wooden railing and with a crash it broke in two. His arms made windmill motions in the air but his large body was fighting gravity and he fell over the edge.

Silence and a deeper silence filled the night. Stacie raised herself, struggling to her feet, and cautiously approached the edge by the broken railing. Far below she could see a pinpoint of light from the fallen flashlight. It lit up the body of Eric, crumpled and still on the rocks below. Her voice was rough and ragged as she commented, “Looks like I’m not the first one to leave the game after all Eric. I would have to say I won the game. I am the survivor.” Stacie staggered back and made her way down the trail as quickly as she could to her car. She pulled her keys out of her pocket and got in the car, she took off with a roaster trail of gravel towards the park exit.


First time posting a story publicly just for fun.. Here we go. *"Oh, what a day!" a man says as he sits down on the bench, "it’s after midnight, a bit late isn't it?" The man states looking at the teen sitting next to him. Broken from her daze the girl looks at him and replies "Oh, uh yeah I just needed a minute". Without breaking the focus of packing his pipe with tobacco the man says, "I'm Gus". Watching as the almost hypnotized girl replies " Hi I'm Liz". "What brings you out at such a late hour Liz? To the park of all places" Gus asks as he laughs and lights his pipe. "I mean, your parents must be worried?" Gus continues. Liz folds her arms, looks at the ground as she uses her foot to draw in the mud and says "with how much they are fighting, I doubt they even know I'm gone. Which does not even make sense, they aren’t together anymore". “Oh my, that’s never pleasant” Gus says as he looks up to the sky. Curious to the claim Gus asks, "Why do you say that?". Liz looks at him and says reaching for her bag "let's just say I haven't really been noticed lately by either of them, hence the reason I am here right now". She Pulls a bent cigarette out and puts it between her lips. As she goes to light the cigarette Gus takes it from her lips "These are bad for you". Irritated, Liz snaps back "you're one to talk, you're smoking a pipe". Gus laughs "I know it doesn’t seem fair, does it?", "fair has nothing to do with it" Liz says with a smirk on her face. "You know why I am here, so what brings you out here tonight Gus?" Liz asks. Gus stares off into the distance for a moment then says, "I have been coming to this bench for seven years, ever since the night I lost my granddaughter". Liz feels a lump form in her throat, a tear escapes as she plays with her lighter. After a moment of trying to figure out what to say, all Liz could think to say is "I'm sorry". Gus gives a reassuring smile then says, "I return to this spot every year, Sometimes I swear I can still hear her". Gus says before taking a long hit of his pipe. "What happened? If I may ask" Liz says in a slight mumble. Slightly choked up, Gus says "She was kidnapped" Gus says as a somber mood overtakes him. "Someone grabbed her from this bench while I had my back turned during a city festival in the park”. Gus runs his thumb on the rim of his old, yet polished pipe and says, “her name is Sarah, today is her birthday, she is fifteen". With a lack of words, Liz seems to only let out a melancholy "oh, I'm sorry". “I have never lost hope, even though everyone else have given up, saying she is most likely dead” Gus continues as he puts the pipe to his mouth. “Excuse my manners Liz, but how old are you?” Gus asks as he strikes a match, lighting his pipe. “Sixteen and a half” Liz says as she continues to play with her lighter. Gus nods and says “ah, around my granddaughters age”. After a moment Gus gets a thought and says “you’re sixteen and smoking? Oh my”. Liz shrugs and says “well what do you expect? I walk on eggshells around the house, smoking is my stress relief, and the park is my escape”. Gus nods and hands Liz back the cigarette and says, “I don’t blame you, sounds tense”. Liz straightens out the cigarette and lights it, “thanks Gus” Liz says blowing smoke out of her nose. Gus is silent for a moment then looks at Liz and says, “would you like to take a lap around the park on the path?”. Liz nods and cuts out her cigarette “sure Gus, it’ll give me time to let the smell of smoke air out of my clothes”. The two stand up and make their way to the well-lit path that circles the park. Gus and Liz walk for another hour. As Liz listens to Gus describe Sara, Liz notices Gus’s mood change and look like a heavy weight has been lifted off his chest. Towards the end of the walk, Gus looks at Liz and says, “thank you for listening to me ramble, may I hug you?”. Caught off guard, Liz says “um” immediately Gus interjects “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as creepy or anything”. “No, you are okay and yes Gus I’m sure we could both use that hug”. The two hug and say goodbye and goodnight and go their separate ways. Some months pass and the two strangers, who’s paths crossed one night on a park bench instantly clicked. when a beautiful day to spend at the park Liz wakes up and goes about her morning routine. Once ready for the day, Liz decides to go for a walk and ends up at the park. She decides to put her headphones in and heads down the path that she and Gus walked the night they met. About twenty minutes into the walk, Liz sees an opening to a pond with ducks that were not visible the night of their walk. So Liz decides to go sit on a rock near the pond. After a short time, Liz hears a familiar voice say, “hey there stranger” and turns around quickly to see Gus standing there in the grass a few feet away. Liz smiles and says excitedly “oh my gosh! I didn’t think I would run into you again”. Gus chuckles and says and lets out a laugh “well here we are, how have you been Liz?”. Liz looks out at the pond and ducks in the distance, “well a good thing is my parents have not argued as much lately” Liz says as she pulls out a cigarette. Gus notices the pressure and stands her up and hugs Liz. “Why the stress? Isn’t it nice to not have to be tensed and stress?” Gus asks as he pulls out a tissue from his pocket and wipes her tears away. Liz nods and says “yes, it is nice, but my dad left and now they’re getting divorced”. Gus is taken back by what Liz says and replies “I am so sorry, I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have asked”. Liz giggles and says “how could you have known? We haven't talked in a while”. Gus nods in agreement with Liz. Gus signals to the bench they first met at, and Liz says, “oh yeah, let’s move over there”. As they sit down, Gus asks “how long has it been since we last spoke”. Liz looks at him and says “well, I’m about to turn seventeen and I have my drivers permit”. Gus pats her shoulder and says, “that is great, you have been busy”. Liz smiles and asks, “what about you?”. Gus’s smile and mood changes from happy to sad as he tells Liz the news. Gus tears up and says, “they found Sara, but before I could get to the hospital she passed away, Sara told a nurse to tell me that she is in a better place and that she doesn’t blame me”. Liz's heart drops and she starts to tear up along with Gus and all she could muster up to say is “oh shit”. Gus with a lump in his throat, and a shaky voice just nods for there are no words he himself can muster up. The two sit in silence for what seems like hours, neither able to break the silence until Liz’s phone goes off. “I have to take this” Liz says as she stands up and walks a few feet away. After a brief conversation Liz returns to the bench. “I’m sorry” Liz says looking at the ground. Gus speaks up and says, “no need to apologize, it’s quite alright”. Just then they are approached by a guy holding a stack of papers, “hello folks, I would like to invite you to the city festival in the park”. Gus reaches out for the paper that is held out in front of him, and Liz can see his hand shaking and gets the paper for Gus. Liz notices that Gus’s breathing is increased and sees his hands shaking, and tears pouring down his face, so she turns to the man with the flier's thanks him and gets him to quickly leave. Liz turns her attention back to Gus and she walks over to him and rubs his back. Knowing he is having an anxiety attack due to her having anxiety too and knowing how it feels, Liz reaches into her bag and grabs her anxiety meds and the one of the waters she packed and hands it to Gus. Almost immediately Gus hands Liz the pill back to Liz and says, “I don’t take pills”. Liz says, “Are you sure?” before putting the pill back in the bottle. Gus nods and Liz puts the pill back. Liz sits next to Gus and rubs his back while she says, “you are safe” and “I am here and won't leave”. Gus does not speak but nods, for the next little while they sit there silently. Liz consoling a man that she met one time and barely knows. Liz puts those thoughts aside and realizes Gus’s breathing has returned to normal and he is not shaking as bad. In a mellow calm tone Liz says “hey, let’s walk around a little bit, a change of scenery. They get up and start walking and after a few minutes, Gus turns to Liz and says, “thank you”. Liz smiles and answers back “I have panic attacks at least twice a week, so if I can help someone else through theirs, I don’t mind”. Gus looks at Liz and asks, “you do?”, Liz nods and Gus continues “it sucks”. “Huh you can say that again, I hate having to take meds just to feel numb from it all” Liz says as she swings a stick she picked up along their walk. Confused, Gus asks “what do you mean numb to it all?”. Liz smirks and says, “I used to self-harm, with how much my mom and dad used to argue it became an escape that let me have control of something in my life". Gus tears up again and hugs Liz saying, “Oh my dear I’m sorry you got to the point that you turned to harming yourself, do your parents know?”. Liz shakes her head and says “no, I don’t think they would care much if they did”. At this point Gus is shook to his core, Liz continues “yep as long as I smile around them and live in my jacket, they assume I am happy and fine”. Liz sees how this is affecting Gus, so she ends the conversation with “but I am doing better now”. As they came to the end of the trail, Gus looks at his watch and says, “oh I best be going, but I do hope our paths cross again”. Liz smiles and says, “same here Gus” and heads home. Arriving back at home, Liz is met by her dad standing by his car saying “where the hell have you been? Your mother went to work so I’ve been waiting in my car for hours I thought about leaving”. Liz thinks and remembers that she was supposed to go to her dads for the weekend. “I’m sorry dad I completely forgot” Liz says pulling out her house key “give me a few minutes and I’ll be ready to go”. As Liz packs her bags she starts thinking about the past times of staying with her dad, remembering the lack of effort from her dad when it comes to getting to know her. When Liz returns home, she goes straight to the park to see if Gus was around so she has someone who seems to put in effort and cares enough to ask how she is doing. As Liz approaches the bench where she and Gus met, she notices that the bench has been replaced. “Wow a new bench, Gus will love this” Liz thinks to herself as she sits down. After a while of sitting on the bench and concluding that Gus must not be coming today or that she has already missed him, For the first time Liz notices a raised piece of metal and screws pressing on her back. As she stands up and turns around, she looks at the shiny plaque on the bench that reads “In Loving Memory of Gus Fitzgerald”. It takes a moment to register, but when she realizes what has happened her eyes start to tear up. “What? No, this can’t be real” Liz says in a chocked-up voice. Just then an elderly lady walks up tissue in hand and sniffling. “Are you okay?” Liz says to the lady. Without word, the lady nods and places a rose on the bench and proceeds to walk away. The rest of the day was spent in silence as Liz sat and remembered the brief encounter with Gus Fitzgerald.


*Computer report my message to the command base* – I prompted the ship. “Message recording starting…*say send message once completed.*” buzzed the robotic voice of the freighter ship. *My name is Operator Din. I am a Freight Manager on the small freighter Atlas.* *Our mission is a secondary resupply of Beta colony. Unfortunately, we have experienced significant ship failures. I am sadly the last survivor of this tragedy and I will soon meet my end. I hope you can gain some insight of what happened here and please, can my final words be relayed to my wife? I had promised her that I would be back in a year.* My voice whimpered and I broke down into tears as I said those words. My body is in a lot a pain and I can barely move following the events that led me to this closed off compartment of the ship. I mustered some courage and continued my message. *The ship was operating optimally as relayed by our ship captain. We were on track. He had even joked through the intercom about how mundane the trip was, as it was his fifth time supplying the third biggest colony.* I chuckled and coughed a little blood at this moment. *We all believed him to be honest.* *Anyway. The strangeness started at lunch time. Being a small ship, we were all in the mess hall with the operating crew. The captain was telling us a story about the peaks of Athernon, a floating mountain on the Beta Planet. He said that he would take us all on a trip during refuel break…That’s not going to happen given our current situation*, I muttered sarcastically. *The ship’s hull started to make a deafening screech sound. Bang, Bang, ZRRRRR. It was really loud that, we all had our hands to our ears, blocking the sound.* *After that, we were all thrown towards the back wall as the ship came to an abrupt halt. Gravity had turned off and we all went tumbling at great speed to the back of the mess hall. Thump! We hit it. I luckily was saved by the cushioning of the couch in the corner. Mitchell and Mo, floating infront of me with bubbles of red covering their face. I could see bits of brain hurtling towards the ceiling due to the impact trajectory. I had managed to stop moving by holding the couch handle that I hit.* *Next thing I heard, is Amy’s scream. It is bone chilling. I am still in a haze from the bump. The scream however brought my hearing back fully and I hear – head towards the back compartment, hurry!. It was the captain and his co-pilot yelling at us to go to the back cabins. I managed to get myself composed enough that I propelled myself through Mitchell and Mo, to reach Amy, grab her hands to maneuver ourselves to the cabins as per the captains’ instructions. As I complete my thrust, I see in the corner of my eyes, the captain and his crew hurtling towards the front of the ship. That is the last I see of them as the next sequence of events, led me to be by myself, here in this closed off cabin, hurt and by myself, sending this final message.* My arm, numb before, came back alive momentarily. I turned to look at it in agony. Broken at the elbow nub. Frozen from the coldness of space. I let out a heavy scream. It feels good. The pain subsides again. I recompose myself grimly and continue. *I took a second thrust, holding the still hysterical Amy at the end of my arm and lunged towards the back cabin. I am flying. I just get through the door of the cabin when I feel a huge pull, hear what sounded like an big icicle crack, then a woosh with the cabin door closing behind me. I am suddenly again pushed towards the walls of the cabin due to gravitational changes. I have not realized in that moment that the ship had broken into pieces when I reached the cabin’s final door. Amy’s screams had a gone silent in that moment and she had taken my arm with her into the coldness of space. The harsh temperature of space had cauterized my arm. I cannot feel it anymore. I am cold and in pain. I am slightly hazy from the second impact.* *So, yeah, this is what happened to the crew. Luckily you guys can design great ships. I still have power on here and so can send my message. The computer and communications array is still on. So here it is, what happened to Freighter Ship Atlas. I cannot say much for the captain and the pilots but that is me right here, most probably the only one alive.* *I can say it with certainty because of the window in this cabin. I just see a lot of debris infront of me. The other thing I see, is something phenomenal. I think it’s a black hole. It looks like the one from that old classical movie Interstellar. Ha, I call dibs on naming it,* I humored to myself as a coping mechanism. My voice has started to get parched from the coldness of my body. I can feel myself getting weaker. Again, I pulled myself together to finish my message. *Riley.* I said in a moment of calm. *Can we make sure to name this black hole by that name, it’ll be very much appreciated? I am nearly finished. This final part of the recording is for my wife, so can we it be released to her as well as my last paycheck.* I am crying right now. I can see drips of bloody tears gather infront of my face. I continue my message with great pain and sadness. *On Earth right now, it is 10pm. My wife is currently possibly heading to bed after a long days work. She is a doctor at the medical facility near home. I could not get the chance to call her today. The sequence of events were so fast. One thing and another. Again and Again. I’m sorry Riley. I wish I had gotten the chance to see your face one last time. I want to enjoy being in your arms one last time. I desire your lips against mine one more time.* *Alas, I am here. In a quadrant of space, light years away from your warm embrace. I will soon feel the cold of space. I read once that it is painless. That I will not feel a thing. I will experience the emptiness. I will cease. Take care of yourself. I am sorry about breaking our promise. I am sorry for my search of the most perfect view. I wish I could see you one more time. I wish I could have realized that sitting across the couch, looking at you, is the grandest view of them all. I love you….* Tears continue to collect infront of me. I use my last vocal efforts to say. *send message –* I prompted the ship. Message sent to main base, it replied. As I get weaker and drift towards my inevitable doom, I thought to myself. *Didn’t the captain say he did this trip a few times, so where did this celestial object come from?* It was a mystery for a moment until I remembered a vague story by a lesser known physicist on Earth that I hiked with. He had postulated the theory that blinking black holes exists alongside the well accepted one of travelling black holes. I start to drift in an out of consciousness. One second I’m thinking of Riley, the next my fate. The final thought I have before I fade into black is of this magnificent celestial body that stumbled into my path. My journey ends with immense regret but a grand view nonetheless.


"It doesn't count if you're already planning your defeat." Reema from the kitchen shouted over Vidhya. Vidhya was all ready to quit the hearing. She had decided to sign off the petition she filed to save her home. The day was of the final court hearing. Whereas in intense surrounding Vidhya forgot her diet, life and smile. While sitting in the dining. Reema stood inside the kitchen. While preparing Lemonade, she was blubbering her thoughts to make Vidhya realised her faults. But in last she stooped at the only question she wants to ask-

"Is this the right decision?" Vidhya breathed idle and confronted her dilemma. “I lost my parents when I was 15 and 16, respectively, and I was left alone with my other nine siblings. I later dropped out of school due to financial instability in the family. Our home being in a region where girl-child marriage is commonly practiced, I literally ran away from home joining my elder sister for my safety after two men came to ask for my hand in marriage. One of them was a drunkard driver. But later, with the pace of time. My marriage got fixed with My husband who owned an empire in the state. He had as much wealth to run his whole life in butter voyage. I found happiness but a cage of not doing anything because of the ease of everything in person. I got our children at tender age of life, and those were the best years of my life... a happening life I had. But there is always a guilt I had, of not doing anything of my own." Reema interrupted her in the middle and told her - "So this is the time for doing something of your own. You are not alone, every lady who is here had the same story you are carrying. Sometimes judging ourselves is much easier than others. And you are doing the same. Reema passed Vidhya the glass of lemonade, she was preparing. However, like this lemonade Vidhya, "you are the water, and you are balancing the taste of sour lemon and sweet sugar but as moving with time you forgot your taste. The power you had. You had power of hydration, neutrality and energy of your own but you are lacking it. As like water you are only trying to neutralizing your surroundings and system but not trying to hydrate the system in your surroundings which get lost. And here Your son is playing sugar, who already over imposed his essence to won. Whereas sometimes the sourness of society you are fearing from is over imposed at yourself. But you are not done yet, Vidhya. Age is only a number. And you are enough capable to give a try for your evolution

And trust me the decision of defeat you're making; will make a regret to you. quitting is not worthy. You will be not fighting with your son in the court Vidhya, You are fighting against injustice, unworthy and bad deeds. But before Reema completed her words, Matrika banged-in the room where they two were having their words. She knew what was both discussing. But innocently she threw her stone, turned over Vidhya and said - "It's okay if you are thinking of defeat. It was all our destiny to lose our family, then home and now this. As a woman, I always waited for respect but when my husband threw me out and my children didn't made me feel worthy. I found out the most important thing a woman need is Self-respect. Whatever she sacrificed her whole life either for their parents, then husband and later children will be no matter at some time. But only the tag of Capable, Working and Empowered matters.

I never tried to build my tag as Working, Capable and Empowered because I thought there's enough I sacrificed. But I was actually struggling myself in my whole life, yet either way." Reema, again continued her point -

"I believe if I tell someone my story, I can empower a person through my story might be 5%, but It will do." Vidhya assented at Reema's point of opinion. And headed for preparation of case further. At five in the evening, they got alarmed of "the Court of Empyrean Justice". Grim Reaper took Vidhya's son to the next realm. And in the front of lord of justice.

Lord again dropped his question- "Who was responsible for the barging down of Vidhya's Old-age home?" Where Vidhya's spouse showed his support to her and ladies were too sat in the bowl. Vidhya threw her words, whereas turning towards God she told every spirit sitting around. She was trying to control the emotion of revisiting her troubled past, Vidhya stopped, looked down and shaked her head as if to send the memories away. While clearing throat she continued, Lord! "I've committed my life to help women. I urge everyone working for women's health to make thoughtful evidence-based decisions and to take action to promote successful interventions like the midwifery mode of care to reduce maternal and neonatal mortality and morbidity. I started an Old-age home for giving those a shelter who couldn't claim a place for there of own." Earlier, I was willing to make them comfortable in their very own home. I tried to make.But running away was like jumping out of the frying pan into the fire since it was in my hiding place where we encountered the miserable- macabre massacre by reputed businessman along with my own son for a piece of land. It was painful, although it is painful and will a question -

"why are humans forgetting their humanity?" Vidhya fought with every evidence of her loyalty and she was fighting against what she faced because of his own son in the earth. She was not fighting for claiming her win. She was fighting for her first try. Whether the result will be on her side or not. But for the very first time, Vidhya as a spirit claimed her tag "Empowered Woman".


The first time he saw the kid was at the Battle of N’ray. Well, he called him a kid. He was barely a decade younger and had one foot into adulthood—all gangly and tall like a newborn giraffe—but he seemed like a kid. Had that same wide-eyed look of worship when he pulled him from the burning rubble and forced the flames away with his Blessing. He raised his voice over the shouts of battle. “Kid, there’s a clear path to the aid camp. I’ll cover you, so get going.” He turned, to re-wade into the fight. A hand tugged his sleeve. “Borrow,” the kid murmured. “Can I…” He glanced at the kid again. Scruffy, dirty, a haggard look in the eyes that you didn’t get overnight. Probably an orphan. Or was one now, anyway. He pulled a silver pendant from under his armor, shoved it in the kid’s hands. “Don’t have money on me, but this should sell for a pretty penny. Get some food, get away from the war, find a job.” On a whim, he ruffled the kid’s hair. “You’ve got a good look to you. You’ll do fine.” Then he left the kid behind. What he thought was for good. The second time he saw the kid was a few years later. Another battlefield—a dead one this time, filled with deadmen and a soon-to-be-dead-man with a broken leg and broken ribs and a broken spirit, wondering if it was worth it to write a letter to his family in his final moments. Wondering if it would ever find its way back to his mother and his brother and the woman he'd loved since twelve but had always been too scared to tell. The hand of death came for him while he was wondering. He closed his eyes, wished he could say goodbye—but why was it warm? A weight dropped around his neck. A silver pendant he thought he’d never see again. “I didn’t need a whole pendant,” said a vaguely familiar voice. The voice was deeper than he remembered, but it was the same kid. The look in the eyes hadn't changed. “Just wanted a coin or two. Do you have any change, by the way? I still owe a quarter to the guy I was penny-gambling with yesterday and I’m out of coins.” “How…?” he whispered, his dry voice soft and cracking. _How did you find me?_ “Oof, you’re heavy. How, you ask? Well, the sneaky bastard said he’d teach me to play cards and proceeded to make me lose every game. I swear he’s cheating, but, well, I’ve still gotta pay up.” He chuckled. Took a slow, limping, painful step with his good leg. “Right pocket. The bag with the clover.” The kid grinned. “You’re a lifesaver.” Then he must have passed out, because the next thing he knew he was in a hospital tent and the kid was nowhere in sight. "You have some guardian angel," the medic told him. "The one who brought you in said he was only passing by when he found you. How the hell someone ended up passing by a _battlefield_ is beyond me, but the higher ups aren't complaining. He saved a fire Blessing, after all. We need all the help we can get when the enemy crawled out from a volcano." And so it went. The kid kept showing up. Always in the nick of time, always when he felt death's cold breath on his neck. Always with the thing he'd borrowed last. Always needing some other trinket, for some reason or another. "Are you following me?" he'd asked the third time it happened, handing over the requested pocket knife. The kid snorted, tying off a tourniquet. "Who the hell would want to follow you? Every time I see you, you're half dead or well on your way there. No, I like my life where it is, thank you very much." He paused. “Did you ever ask out that girl?” “What girl?” “The one who made you the handkerchief I borrowed last time. You accidentally left a letter in there. It seemed important.” Another pause, and he hurried to amend himself. “I didn’t read much of it, just enough to see whose it was. Thought it might have been one of my buddy’s.” Silence, in which the bandages wrapped thicker. “No,” he whispered. “I haven’t.” “You should. She obviously likes you enough to send you three pages of dense script and a handkerchief. The worst she can do is hand you the ‘brother’ card, right?” The number of encounters grew, grew until he needed two hands to count them, then three, and then he stopped counting. But he never learned the kid’s name. He was regretting that now. “Come on, kid, stay with me,” he begged. "You're too young to die." The kid laughed. It made the blood seep faster. "And you're not?" It had been strange this time. He hadn’t been half-dead, nor in any real danger of dying. A scouting mission, not even in the war zone: safe, easy, peaceful. So he was surprised when he came face to face with the kid. Well, not really a kid anymore. Hadn’t been for years. But his eyes never changed from what he’d seen in the rubble that day. He’d probably call him ‘kid’ till the day he died. “You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you in one piece before,” the kid joked. “Anyway, here’s the string from last time. It’s a bit worse for wear, but it did the trick.” He accepted it, already used to the strangeness of the exchange, of the kid’s weird insistence on returning even the most worthless of items. He rolled his eyes, wondering what the kid would ask for this time. As a result, he almost missed the hissing ball of fire barreling towards them. Normally, you’d move away from this kind of thing, wouldn’t you? But this kid, this idiot of a kid had moved _closer_, shifting towards the center of the projectile. He flung up a hand, pushed his Blessing against the fire and forced it back where it came. But he couldn’t do anything about the arrow hidden in its belly. Couldn’t do anything as it embedded into the kid’s back. As the kid stumbled, muttered “Well I guess that explains it, then.” As he realized that if the kid hadn’t been there, that arrow would be in his heart. The kid coughed, and a stream of red left his mouth. Improbably, he grinned. “If anyone’s too young to die, it’s you. You haven’t even asked out your crush yet. By any chance, do you have a—" "No, you need a _doctor_, not a button or needle or whatever damn thing you're trying to borrow this time. We need—" "My Blessing," the kid interrupted. "My Blessing is that I can always return what I borrow." "But—" "_Always,_" he emphasized. He coughed again in the heavy silence. "So while I'm still in this world, do you mind lending me a pen? I lost—" "Shut up, you bratty kid. Forget whatever dumb, contrived reason you've made up. I've got a charcoal, take it or leave it." "I'll take it." His hand curled around the worn out stick of charcoal. A brief silence. Suddenly the kid’s wound didn’t seem so terrible anymore. There was blood, yes, but it seemed more like someone else’s blood. The wound didn’t weep so thickly. “So uh, about that doctor. I think I may need it after all.


The ghost of the mysterious dead woman sobbed in the guest bedroom, but Rico ignored it to the best of his ability. He felt sorry for her, whoever she was. Whatever her troubles were. He often wondered, what could be so sad? She cried heart wrenching sobs of inconsolable grief every single day, for hours on end. He wasn’t frightened of her, just pitying, at this point. She never did anything worse than pour any alcohol he bought down the sink drain while he was at work, for some reason. He had given up on trying to keep a bottle of wine in the apartment. He searched for the cast iron skillet, but it wasn’t in the kitchen. She had taken it, again. He went to the guest bedroom and knocked on the door. The crying abruptly ceased. He entered. The room was frigid, but empty. A search turned up the skillet on the floor underneath the bed. “I’m sorry, but I use this skillet every morning to make bacon and egg hash. Please stop taking it and hiding it from me.” He returned to the kitchen, washed the skillet, and made breakfast, in a routine that was becoming normal to him. He ate, did the dishes, and went to work. That evening, a girl he’d dated for a while texted him that her roommates were driving her insane, asking to come over. He reluctantly told her about the ghost, knowing from experience with his friends and family that there was a 50/50 chance that she would either think he was crazy, or want to come over immediately to experience the haunting for herself. “Can I come over now?” She texted. “Yes, but I promise you’re just going to flip out and leave.” He replied, with the certainty of having an apartment none of his relatives would visit now. She knocked on the door twenty minutes later. She had barely stepped into the apartment when she heard the ghost. “Oh my God!” She exclaimed. “I can hear it!” She backed towards the door in sudden panic. “She doesn’t do anything except cry, pretty much,” he tried to explain, “nothing bad will happen if you stay.” “No way!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry, but I am never talking to you again. I can’t come here, and you’re sure not ever coming to my apartment and bringing that thing with you. You’re nice, but I have to go!” She left. He sighed. He’d try to talk to her when she’d had time to calm down. He thought: move to the city, Rico. Pretty much the whole family lives there - you’ll see everybody all the time. You’ll have much better job prospects. You’ll meet so many women… Not for the first time, he wondered about the identity of this spirit who was keeping everyone away. With the limited knowledge he had of ghosts from horror movies he supposed she must’ve died here, but how long ago? The apartment he lived in was new – he was the first person to live there. He’d been able to find out that the area had been rezoned residential recently, and that formerly the site of his building was a drag queen dress and accessory store. He hadn’t been able to find out anything pre-dating that. He had ten months left on his ironclad lease, and breaking it wasn’t an option. He was going to have to continue to tolerate the specter. Other than the ghost, it was a perfect apartment. It was a mostly level fifteen-minute walk from his job, affordable enough that he’d even been able to get two bedrooms (which he now found amusing), was spacious for the price, and had a well-maintained building laundry room downstairs. He decided to try something different. He went to his book case in the living room and got his Bible, settling in the recliner in the living room to read aloud. Psalms 42:11: “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed? Put your hope in God.” Rico continued with scriptures from his past. Jerimiah 6:16: “*Stand* at the *crossroads* and *look*; *ask* for the *ancient paths*, *ask* where the *good way* is, and walk in it, and *you will* find rest." He continued with verses and stories he felt were in any way relevant, feeling a bit silly, but doing his best. He had no idea what effect, if any, this was having on the ghost. The apartment was silent for the rest of the night. That night, he dreamed feverishly. He awoke in the morning with a start, sitting up straight. Reading the Bible had caused the ghost to invade his dreams. He wasn’t sure if she was responding negatively, or positively. There was something about a medium sized, pale brick house, with color appearing to be projected on it like a planetarium light show, changing in a kaleidoscope he couldn’t process as it undulated across a spectrum of every color he’d ever seen. There had been ancient trees in a row in front of the house going all the way down the street, swept up in a strong wind that seemed to be carrying him, helplessly paralyzed and levitating, across the landscape. There was the feeling that he’d been through an entire night of odd experiences. And there had been her, with him. A presence, a vague form beside him, but he couldn’t turn his head. She had been urgently telling him something. Upon waking, he only remembered a few moments of this experience. Within a few minutes of waking up, he only remembered the presence of the ghost in his dream, and that there had been weird colors. He had no idea what to make of it. While he was at work, his sister called. She’d gotten fired from her job because she stopped dating her boss, and needed a place to stay. She’d been renting a room informally from a friend, but money burned a hole in her pocket, and now she was reduced to her last paycheck. Everything she owned was stuffed in her SUV. She’d needed to stay with him before when she got fired from her last job for getting arrested after going ninety-six miles per hour in her company car, and another time when she’d quit without savings or another job lined up because her coworker annoyed her by playing talk radio too loudly. His sister was the reason he had gotten a two-bedroom apartment. She knew through the family grapevine about his situation, but didn’t care. “I’m as brave as you,” she told him on the phone, “I can deal with it, if you’ve been living there for months.” “A lot of people have told me they won’t be scared, and then they all are.” “I really need a place to stay. I’m so glad you’re letting me stay with you, thank you. I can put up with a ghost if it means having a roof over my head.” “All right…” “I’ll be over after you get home from work.” Beatriz arrived after he’d eaten dinner, her gloomy expression contrasting the cheerful neon pink of her duffel bag. She’d managed to get a parking spot on the street nearby. They watched TV and talked for hours, and Rico learned more than he ever wanted to know about her failed relationship. He was angry at her former boss, but annoyed with her continual poor decisions, and had no problem expressing this to her. She needed to hear it from someone. He expected her to be upset with him, but she was so exhausted she simply accepted his criticism and said that she knew she needed to try harder to keep jobs, and that everyone had faults they needed to work on. They left it at that. He offered to let her sleep in his room, and sleep on the couch himself, but she declined. She didn’t mind sleeping in the living room. He went to sleep around nine-thirty because he had to get up early for work, and she got on her laptop to apply for jobs. He woke up when Beatriz screamed five hours later. He rushed to the living room, where she was stood hyperventilating and staring at the ajar guest bedroom door. “I saw her!’ She exclaimed. “She was carrying something heavy she could’ve used to kill me!” “What did she look like?” Rico asked. “Like a scary effing ghost!” She practically yelled. “Was this something she was carrying my skillet? She steals that pretty much every night. She wasn’t going to use it as a weapon, she just hides it in the guest room.” “Yes! She could kill someone with that thing! And she was super scary! I don’t know. I don’t think I can stay here, if she’s running around with things she could hit you with like that. I think I’m going to sleep in my car until I get a job. I just can’t sleep here! That’s so scary.” “Calm down, it’s ok. I should’ve warned you about the skillet. That happens all the time. But tell me what she looked like - I’ve never seen her.” “I’m getting out of here! I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you what I’ve figured out. Maybe one of my friends will let me stay with them, or maybe I can afford to stay in a motel or something for a little while. Bye.” She had been stuffing all her scattered belongings into her bag. She zipped it up and was out the door thirty seconds later. “That’s it.” He said to the spirit, not knowing if she was listening or not. “Either you pay rent, or figure out other arrangements.” He went back to bed, and tried to go to sleep. The ghost started crying. He unplugged his cell phone, went to the door of the guest room, and recorded her crying for a few minutes. The next day, he composed an email to the closest Catholic priest, including the recording of the ghost crying. That was all he knew to do with his limited horror movie education. Within three hours, the priest replied. He wanted to come over Tuesday afternoon. Tuesday morning, Rico told the ghost that the priest was coming at three o’clock. He was startled to feel her hug him.


It was dawn, and the sun was just about to rise. The wintery dew, over the leaves, made it look much more beautiful than it really should have been and the lake just reflected the reddish glow of the sunlight. “ Don’t you think it is beautiful? The morning sunlight and us, together, apart from the mayhem of mankind?” Emma sighed. “ Boy, you can be so poetic and philosophical, that it can nearly knock someone off guard if one was not used to it already,” Arthur said in amazement. They were both holding hands, sitting quietly near the lake and speaking nothing. Arthur made an attempt to get up, but Emma pulled him down by his sleeves and spoke, “You do not move until I ask you to.” “Sure, I will pee in the lake then, and hope that it adds warmth and more colour to the water, probably a much better golden tint!” Arthur commented sarcastically and pulled his hand free of Emma’s grip. “Very well then, you are permitted, get going, young man, the plants need some water. I hope you pee enough to help them quench their thirst.”

Arthur ran and came back a few minutes later. “How about we get back into the shade and then think of what we have to eat through the day. I mean we could fish for one, or maybe you know pluck down wild berries that we don’t know about, but can read from a book?” “Sure!” ⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪ They were in the woods when they heard the dry leaves rustling behind them. Arthur turned with sheer alertness, but Emma was pretty casual about all this. She carelessly spoke, “ Don’t worry Arthur, that was probably the sound of other campers searching for food, nothing else.”

“No Emma, it isn’t. If it was so, then the rustling shouldn’t have stopped as soon as I turned. There is something that doesn’t want us here. “Don’t be paranoid, It can be anyth…” Emma was hushed by Arthur. There was a sound of crunching gravel behind them. Arthur went for his shoe and pulled out a camping knife. Emma was too surprised to say anything, so Arthur used the silence to study the sounds. The thing, whatever it was, started to sound close to them. The woods were of no help. The sound started to echo around them and it became impossible to guess the correct direction. Emma now started to freak out. She asked in a low, trembling whisper, “Any Idea what it can be?” “Honestly, not at all. But I am guessing it is nothing humane, so better to stay alert always.” Arthur answered with a slight doubt. The sound now was quicker. It felt like a hoofbeat. Emma stepped front, “ Arthur, I will not let anything happen to you. Whatever it is, will have to fight me first to get to you. I have lost enough, and now, no one. You are the closest thing I have to a family.” “What do you mean that I am the closest thing to a family to you?” Arthur asked baffled. “Not now. It is not the time. We have to save you.” “Save me? No, I have to save you! I love you, Emma like I have loved no one else.” Arthur begged Emma. This time it was Emma, who was thrown off guard. The thing was very close to them and was running. Arthur threw the knife at the most random direction just out of frustration and fell to his feet immediately. It was too much for him to take in in such a short span. He could see Emma rushing to his side. His vision was blurred, but he could make out a burly brownish figure coming close to them. And his eyes closed. ⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪ When Arthur finally woke up, it was dark outside. He could see a cave ceiling over him. He was still dizzy from the fall. He tried to get up, but his legs felt like jelly and butterflies were racing in his stomach. He wrapped himself with a white cotton sheet close to him and moved out. He was in a different place than he remembered. He paced slowly for a while and soon figured out that he was in a very dense part of the forest and that he was too weak to run away on his own.

He walked back toward the cave and found Emma sitting on the rock just outside the entrance. He tried to shout her name, but all it came out was a feeble squeak, but Emma heard that nevertheless. She walked toward him with a wide smile on her face. Arthur tried to smile back, but even his face muscles were exhausted. Emma hugged him and he felt a sudden surge of energy through him and he felt better. He tried to speak, but Emma hushed him silent. Emma seemed to glow from a mysterious light that came from within her. “You did great, oh brave one. What you saw in the forest was my mother as a deer. I have been doing this for a while now. I befriend strongmen like yourself and then bring them to this part of the forest. You see, this is my final resting place. My only last wish was to find a man who could bear the curse of a spirit’s love. My curse was to watch my mother set her hand on my lover and she was the deer you saw.” Arthur was too amazed to say anything so all he could do was to nod along. Emma held his hand and all he could sense was a delicate touch, just like snow. He tried to hold her closer but she seemed to dissolve into the air. “Emma, please I love you. Don’t leave, not now. Please.” Arthur cried and tried to hold her, but all was futile. Emma shed a tear and touched Arthur’s face. “My mother is Nyx, brave one. She cursed me that I will lose all men I fall in love with, but she never said about this part, or maybe I never heard,” She said with a weak chuckle, “I always was too depressed thinking about myself, but what I never realised that this part was going to be even more painful. Brave one, I love you too. Hail and farewell, dearly beloved.” And then she dissolved into a faint light of blue. ⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪⧪ Arthur was sitting by the lake, reminiscing the last moments of his time with Emma. He was looking at the lake, reflecting the peaceful moon. Arthur could not help but think about the last time he held her, and… He lay down on the cold grass and closed his eyes, and then he was in his lightest dream, just as Emma, floating into eternal peace.