When Tom sat down for Thanksgiving dinner with his mom, he knew it was going to be a long meal. For the past three years, he had always managed to find an excuse not to come. This year, however, he had messed up by one: teaching his mom how to use Facebook when she had pestered him about it, and two: by posting how excited he was for the long Thanksgiving weekend and how he had zero plans. "That's great to hear, sweetie! Can't wait to see you for Thanksgiving dinner!" his mom had commented, with lots of heart emoticons at the end.    He had shown up later in the evening since he couldn't stand the thought of having to prepare Thanksgiving dinner with her since this would be their first Thanksgiving since the burnt turkey incident two years ago. He used getting stuck in traffic and forgetting his wallet at home as his excuse, and since Tom lived an hour away, it was a feasible excuse. "How are things at work, Tom?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "They're fine, Mom. I guess," said Tom, shoveling some of the slices of white turkey meat onto his plate. "Aren't you going to help yourself to some green beans?" said Mary, nudging the steaming bowl of green beans towards him. A long exasperated sigh escaped from Tom as he threw his head back, resting it on the back of his chair. "I don't want to eat any freaking vegetables. I already ate vegetables today." "When?" she said. Picking up his knife and fork, Tom stuffed turkey into his mouth, avoiding eye contact before giving an exaggerated shrug. "I dhunno, ghud. At lwunch owh whatever." "Don't speak with your mouth full," said Mary. Tom sighed. "I'm sorry, god damn." "Language." "I'm friggin' forty-two years old. Why can't I frickin' swear?" "It's impolite." "Oh my god." "Do you want dessert or not?" said Mary. "Yeah, I do." "Then eat more green beans and behave yourself." Snatching the bowl from his mom, Tom piled more green beans onto his plate, scowling. He played with the green beans on his plate, rolling them around, and when he got bored of that, smooshed down his mashed potatoes. Mary sighed. "I take it work has been stressful. Though I wouldn't know since you never call." "No, Mom. Being an accountant at a cat food company is never stressful. Whatever gave you that idea?"  	"Don't take that tone with me." Tom looked at the glowing red numbers on the microwave clock. Barely three minutes had passed. "It's fine. I don't really want to talk about it." Neither of them spoke, the only sound being the silverware that scrapped clanked against the cheap, white, glass Ikea plates. All of the aromas from the warm, steaming food made the air feel stuffy, suffocating. Another look at the clock and only one minute had passed. 6:02. "How are things going with that girl you're dating?" "It's fine. I guess." " Why didn't you bring her to dinner?" "I don't want to talk about it, okay?" "But-" "I said I didn't want to talk about it. God!" "I just want to know what's going on." "Why?" "I'm sorry, sweetie, but you never tell me anything. I mean, I can't even remember the last time we had Thanksgiving-" "Oh, c'mon. Like you don't remember the last time we had Thanksgiving together. Like anyone could forget that friggin' shit show." "I told you no swearing." "I said friggin'!" His mother pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, a faint murmur escaping from her lips. Tom knew that she was counting to ten, a common thing she did when Tom did something that infuriated her, like the time he broke one of her glass animals. It had been a bear or an elephant or something. He had been ten, so it was hard to remember. But he did remember her slumping down into the leather recliner by the TV, closing her eyes and counting before even saying a word to him. The glow from the TV set had turned the broken shards into tiny stars on the beech floor. Something about it drove him crazy.  At least his dad had taken him out for ice cream that night to 'give his mother some space.' Before his mom could finish counting, Tom stood up, his chair scraping across the linoleum floor. "Whelp, that was a great meal, Mom. Thanks for everything. So glad I came." His mother, breathing out the last number, turned to him with a look of absolute calm on her face. Her mouth even twitched up to a little half-smile that didn't reach her eyes, that condescending smile triggering more frustrating memories from childhood. "She broke up with you, didn't she?" Tom scoffed. "No, what, she...no." She sighed, putting her hand to her chest. "I'm so sorry, Tom."

"Sorry about what? There's nothing to be sorry about. She didn't, I mean we didn't...ugh, whatever, forget it. Fine, we broke up. Happy?" "Ah, well, that explains things, doesn't it?" "Explains what?" "Why you're acting like such a baby," she said. Groaning, Tom stood up, grabbed his plate still piled high with green beans now soaked and mixed with gravy, and brought it to the sink. His mom remained silent as he washed the mini Thanksgiving feast down the drain, though Tom knew that this wouldn't last. He could practically hear the gears in her head turning as she tried to think of a tactful way to get more information out of him. "So...was it-" Having washed the last of it down the sink, Tom turned on the garbage disposal, giving himself five more seconds of blissful peace as the loud mechanical whir drowned out his mom's voice. He would have let it go until he was out the front door and safe in his car again if that were remotely possible. Once he switched it off, he sighed again before facing his mother. "What was that?" "I said, was it mutual?" "I don't really want to talk about it." "So it wasn't?" "Mom," Tom groaned. "She seemed so sweet from the photos you posted. I wish I had gotten to meet her." "We only dated for six months." "Still." Something in his mom's tone made Tom stop washing dishes. Mary didn't move, choosing instead to stare at her plate, still holding the one scoop of mashed potatoes and slice of dark meat that had been on her plate since the start of the lovely meal they had been sharing. "I wish you would include me more, but I get it." "Mom..." "I'm not as fun and easy to get along with as your dad was." The sound of a single drop of water escaping from the faucet head and landing in the sink echoed in Tom's ears. "And after last Thanksgiving-" "Mom, don't-" "No, if I hadn't burnt the turkey-" "That's not-" "You wouldn't have had your little outburst." "Mom, no, none of that was your fault. I was...I was just still upset." "And if your dad had been here, he wouldn't have-"  	"We broke up yesterday, okay?" "What?" Tom sighed as he sat next to his mom, still not looking her in the eye as he studied the lattice pattern of the rug that laid under their kitchen table. "We broke up just yesterday. So, it's still a bit fresh." Tom swallowed a ball of saliva. "And I lost my job a few hours after that, so, yeah, not feeling super great right now. Especially since I broke up with Jenna since she wanted to move to Phoenix because of her job, and the only reason I didn't go with her is that I didn't want to leave my job. And, of course, we had a big fight about it, so yeah. That bridge is burned." His mom sighed. "And this all happened yesterday?" "Yeah, and I guess I'm still processing it. It still too fresh. And, well, frig, you know me. I'm not good at dealing with this kind of stuff. You know?" Getting up from her chair, Mary went to her son and wrapped her arms around him. "It's okay not to feel a hundred percent." "And with my job, shit, I just don't know what I'm going to do."  Tom gritted his teeth together, swallowing his emotions as he hugged his mom back. They stayed like that until Tom leaned back in his chair, his mother mirroring him. He had a feeling she would have stayed with him like that for as long as he needed. "I'm going to start putting stuff away," she said, standing up. "I'll help you," said Tom. Walking past the small island in the middle of the kitchen, Tom opened the cupboard and took out a bunch of different Tupperware containers. His mom brought over the bowl of green beans and the giant platter of turkey over to the island, and together they began the long, arduous task of scooping and putting away the remains of their Thanksgiving meal. "Sorry," said Tom, as he put the last of the dark meat away. "For what?" "For swearing." Mary shook her head, still smiling to herself. "And...for the last two Thanksgivings." "Tom-" "I was embarrassed about what happened two years ago. Dad had just died, and I just couldn't take it. And last year, I was still embarrassed about it. I thought I could maybe manage this year, but I-" "It's okay, Tom. You don't need to pretend around me. You should know that." "I..." Tom closed his eyes, counting to ten as he fought back the sting of tears he felt coming. If his mom noticed, she didn't say anything. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the last of the green beans had been put away, his mom over by the sink washing the bowl. "Thanks, Mom." She turned to him, smiling. "How about some pie?"


I remember the day she was born. She was so small, so vulnerable. She looked so beautiful in her crib, her mother always fretting about if she was comfortable. The day she was born was the day I swore to protect her no matter what. I remember when she went to her first day of school. I stayed with her all day, of course it was in spirit. When she went into the classroom for the first time she was crying because we had to leave, but when she came home she was a ball of laughter and sunshine. Her first day of school is when I swore to always keep her that little ball of sunshine. I remember the days when she would come home obsessing over a boy, all the wedding details being spilt so fast I wasn’t able to keep up, or when she came home and stayed in her room for hours jamming out to a new band. Some of the best days were when she was with her friends, she laughed and smiled like the time she came homegrown school for the first time, she was weird in her own amazing way. Those random days were when I swore she could always be herself around me, no matter what. I remember the day she changed too. She came home with empty eyes and a hollow voice saying she was fine. I went and sat with her for hours just in case she wanted to talk. All she said was that she was just tired. That day I swore to always be there if she ever needed to talk. As vividly as the good days, I remember the worst day of our family. I heard the water, which was unusual as she should have already left for school and her mother had already showered. I walked towards the bathroom, my socks becoming soaked as I got to the door. A red tinge the the water flooding out from under the door, so I raced in and saw her in the bath, tears staining her face with scars that were no longer invisible on her arms. I called for her mother, yelling as loud as I could. When her mother came in, she started bawling, before grabbing the phone to call an ambulance while I sat there comforting her. The paramedics came and took her to the hospital. That day I swore to always be by her side no matter what. I remember the day she came back, and all the days after it. She lashed out, almost relapsed a few times but she was on her way to being better. She did more activities, even if some days it was harder to get out of bed. She tried though for us, her friends and for herself. That day I swore that she could always lean on me for help, whenever she needed me. I remember the first day of therapy. She was reluctant and would only go if I went with her. So I did. We were in the waiting room for ten minutes before we got called in. The therapist seemed nice, a good presence radiating off him. She seemed comfortable early on in the session but didn’t talk about her problems. The first few I continued to go with her but after about the fifth session she went by herself. She would come home afterwards, and talk about a certain suggestion or something he did that helped. One day he shot her with foam bullets when she spoke about herself negatively. She said that made her feel so much better. That day I swore to always let her talk about whatever she wanted to keep the dark thoughts away. I remember the day she became herself again. Her hair was up, and she was wearing a singlet, showing off the scars she was always self conscious about, and shorts. But that wasn’t the big indicator. What really told me she was back was how excited she was when she found out she got into her dream university.

She was dancing around the room, smiling, laughing, squealing, just like she used too. She called her friends around to celebrate with them. They all screamed before putting on songs from when they were growing up. She was laughing so hard she was breathless and her voice cracked as she and her friends tried to hit the high notes. As I observed her, it was as if I could see the black cloud that had engulfed her, lighten to a grey. That day I swore to keep making that cloud lighter and lighter. I remember the days she spent packing. Sorting all her belongings into three bags. She was going to live at the dormitories at the university. She had days where she would scream in excitement and there were days where she would panic about if she was ready for that much of a change. When those days came around, her mother would sit her down and tell her that aside from love, few activities seem to provide us as much happiness as going travelling: taking off for somewhere else, somewhere far from home, a place with more interesting weather, customs and landscapes. They laughed about the weather part, the school was only two hours away. That quote seemed to get her through so much. That day I swore to always provide her with the same amount of love that I knew she would feel for travelling. I remember the day she left for university. All smiles and nervous excitement, as if she was right back in kindergarten. She promised to call if things ever got bad again before giving us one last hug before leaving us behind, driving to her new life. That was the day I swore to always support her, no matter how much distance was between us.

I remember the day she came home too. She had tears in her eyes, as she hugged me, muttering sweet nothings in my ear. She asked her mother how long I had left, a sob wracking her body when she heard I wouldn’t make it through the night.

I realised that this was the day that all my promises were going to be broken. I closed my eyes, imagining all the days I wish I had the chance to remember. The wedding day she had planned since the age of thirteen, the kids she had already chosen names for, and even the house I knew she had already mentally decorated. But I knew I would never be able to see these days come to pass. I accepted that when it started to hurt too much to be normal. I opened my eyes again when I felt her hand stroking my head, I could hear her talking as well. She was saying how much she loved me, to the moon and back, how much she will miss me and our amazing time together, how proud of me she is that I kept fighting, until the end and how thankful she is for my constant support. As I closed my eyes for the last time, I heard her sob out one last sentence in a wobbly voice. “You are a good boy, the best dog ever.”


The corpse was right where I left it, half-buried in the snow six miles north-east of base camp. Even through my tinted visor, the glare of the sun on Antarctic snow practically blocked out the terrain, and I had to squint to see three meters in front of me. Unfortunately, that didn’t obscure the frozen arcs of vermilion blood on the ground, or the fact that the body lacked a head. “What the fuck is this, Barton?” Nilsen asked me. I couldn’t form words. I’d never seen a dead person in real life; maybe a few body bags, the odd morgue, but nothing nearly as visceral or as raw as this. I swallowed bile. The acrid tang of last night’s rations burned my throat and made my eyes stream. “I don’t know, sir. Sorry—Nilsen. I found it—them—this morning on a hike.” “Well, it is clearly a Russian,” he said, gesturing to a blurred mass of black text on the corpse’s chest. “Demidov is not an American surname.” I blinked away tears and the body’s nameplate, black text on a bright orange background, was thrown into focus. Padded under thick, ice-spattered layers, the body was essentially androgynous. Without the face peeking out from under the parka’s hood, there was no means of identifying the body any further. Whatever had torn the hapless Russian’s head off had done a remarkably clean job; the wound was neat and even, with barely a tear on the skin below the cut-off point. The only sign of violence was a loose tear in the material around the parka’s collar. The fluorescent orange fabric had frayed and come apart from the outer lining, as if somebody had tried to rip the collar off. Bloodstained, it lay spread on the snow, a cruel facsimile of the national flags that ringed our own research outpost. “Probably from Vostok,” Nilsen continued. “They are the closest base to us. Still, travelling fifty miles in this cold? They must have frozen or starved to death days ago. It’s a miracle they made it so far.” “They must’ve been fucking desperate,” I muttered. “There’s no way anyone would’ve left a snowmobile behind unless—” “Unless there was no other option.” He glanced at me, eyes invisible behind his goggles. Neither of us dared mention the blood or the absence of Demidov’s head above the nape of their neck: the first human being we’d encountered aside from ourselves in seven months, and they turn up dead and mutilated in a snowdrift. There are bad omens, and then there’s just a great big middle finger from the universe. I stared out at the endless expanse of white, unwilling to glance at the corpse. “Should we take the, um, body back? Y’know, to study or something?” “Unless it’s a magic troll in disguise that will somehow deliver another year’s worth of food,” Nilsen replied bitterly, “then there’s no point, is there?” “Should we bury them? I think—” “Let the snow take care of it. If that corpse freezes in the ice cap, it’ll outlast the rest of us.” “Nilsen—” “When I give an order, I expect you to call me sir,” he interrupted brusquely, his Danish accent sharpening the vowels. I knew that arguing would be hopeless. Nilsen didn’t exercise his authority as base commander often, but when he did, there was no such thing as a rebuttal. He trudged back to the snowmobile, not waiting for a reply. Predictable. Nilsen was totally unreasonable in one of his taciturn moods, not that I could really blame him. Everyone who remained had their coping mechanisms. Fettes drank her way through what little was left of the alcohol stores. Lindwall wrote three emails a day to her wife: they ended up in the unsent tray every time, but she kept going, letter after letter. Waites poked and prodded at the radio, hoping that against all logic and reason, a voice would finally reply to his increasingly frantic hails. I went for my hikes, trekking further and further each time. Nobody minded. In fact, I think they’d all be secretly glad if I ended up getting lost and ending up like poor Demidov. Anything to stretch out their supplies and stave off the inevitable. In any other age, any other situation, the discovery of a headless corpse at the South Pole would’ve been a legend. Now it was simply a tiring annoyance, another thing to keep us awake during the endless daylight of the Antarctic summer.


 The storm engulfed the valley. It unsheathed its wrath on the Glen below; mercilessly. Arrochar, the valley of the two lochs, hidden among the Trossachs mountains. The village bared the angriest malice of the Scottish weather.  The young boy stood at the bank of Loch Lomond, his gaze fixed on the towering mountain that pierced into the clouds. His breath held, listening to the melody of the storm. The roaring skies that bellowed thunder from its belly, the wind’s howl echoed through the Munros, and the waves crashed its jaw on the bay. Mostly he'd hear nothing out of the ordinary. But still, he listened carefully to catch the song in the storm. HER song.  He traced over the empty gap on his boot where his sgian-dubh once rested. His grip tightened around a marble conch shell, wondering if its owner would return. Many full moons faded since that evening. He waited out every storm since then, listening for her voice, reminiscing that fateful evening... *****  Angus clawed his way up the mountain, his frail hands struggling to catch grip on the waterlogged gravel. He could hear his older brother calling out from far below; his voice fading with each rock he’d scale over, slowly ascending into the mist. He had to lose his brother off his trail. He knew he’d be dragged back home if Fraser ever caught up. He couldn’t bear to face his bullies having failed his challenge.  Bring back a stone from the cairn at the mountain summit, they said, and show them the so-called might of the MacFarlane clan. Perhaps then he’d be released from their torment. Their taunts echoed piercingly in his head. He didn't know what he feared more. The never-ending jeers of his failure, the battering winds that could fling him away with one swift blow, or the unearthly creatures that hunted unsuspecting travellers who’d strayed from their path.  “Kelpies haunt the foord by your direction, an’ nighted trav’llers are aluur’d to their destruction”. He knew the stories were only made to scare children away from danger. He couldn’t let silly folklore scare him anymore. Though he could not help but wonder if the legends were true. The tales of a shape-shifting water horse, who’d lure men with alluring beauty, only to feast upon their victims. The storm raged violently. The heavy gust edged him towards the drop. His heel off the ledge, gripping down with his toes and worn fingernails. He glanced down at the bottomless death he avoided; very narrowly. He traced the rocky path with his eyes, but it faded into the mist. The summit remained shrouded among the clouds. That was when he heard it. An ominous melody in the wind. Something was out there. Though the mist rendered his vision shorter than his arm’s reach, he sensed something tracing his movements. He reached down for his sgian-dubh and took arms. The fragile stone blade shuddered under his numb, blue grip. He cursed his father for believing him to be too young to wield a real blade. Slowly, he etched forwards, darting his eyes in every corner of his fading surroundings.  Left. There was no mistaking it, something dashed across his left. The wind had come to a sudden halt, and the rain had silenced. He held his breath, listening to every leaf rustle, and every raindrop. He could hear the song getting louder and closer. Its breath was on his neck. He slowly turned his head to the tree beside him.  There it stood, behind the twisting dead tree that clawed out its branches. He kept his gaze on the red eyes, glaring hungrily at him. The mist faded to reveal the creature hidden within. A stallion with blood-red eyes piercing into his soul. It gills ripped across its neck, and its fangs poised like daggers. Its black body was a dark abyss, consuming the fading remnants of light.  The wind howled in fear at the creature’s presence. Its blow swept Angus over the cliffside. He clawed into the rocky ledge, desperately climbing away from the bottomless void beneath him. The creature bellowed a haunting cry and hurdled towards the mountain edge. The rock shifted under Angus’s weight and pelted onto his forehead. His senses withering as he plummeted down. The final traces of light reaching his eyes watched the blurred creature shoot its hooves down to reach for his arm. As his vision faded from red to black, to nothingness.

*****

"Angus! Angus!" Fraser yelled with all his might, yet his dim cries were no match against the roaring wind and the canon firing raindrops. He cursed the other village boys for constantly tormenting his poor wee brother. He had a right mind to wheech them off the mountain summit. That would show them to challenge the might of the MacFarlane clan.  Nightfall was fast approaching. It was difficult enough to make his way through the shrouding mist, but the darkness would render it impossible. He was drenched, blistered and bruised. Yet the thought of his younger brother's lifeless body overwhelmed his sense of pain, as he continued the chase. He knew better than to let his fear fall prey to silly folklore of the unearthly creatures dwelling in the mountains. He knew they were only tales to scare the children away from harm. Yet he could not shake the lingering unease lurking within him. Perhaps it was the way the wind seemed to whistle back and forth to itself, as if it were communicating. Or perhaps it was the way the mist that had engulfed him, creating the sense that he was being watched...

*****

 The eruption of lightning jolted Angus awake. He gasped for air, coughing uncontrollably. He could hear the waves of the loch crashing onto the harbour bay. Just how far had he fallen? Was he dead? His vision sharpened back to him slowly.  He found himself shielded away from the spearing storm within the mouth of a shallow cave. His stone blade placed delicately next to him was enough to work out he hadn’t fallen here by accident. Someone, or rather, something had brought him here. Carefully, he picked up his blade and scanned the cave.  He turned towards the song coming from within. The flash of lightning revealed the pale, ghostly face, watching him from the shadows. He poised his blade at the creature, waves of terror flooded his veins, as he shook uncontrollably in terror and agony. "Show yourself!" he demanded. Desperately praying his squeaky childish voice was threatening enough to scare it away  "I've been told to never reveal myself to a man" it replied with a playful tone.  Angus lowered his blade in defeat and sorrow. He sat back on the rock, tucking himself into a ball. "Then you have nought to worry about", he said with a melancholic sigh, "I'm not a man. I never will be one, just a wee runt who cannae fend for himself". The pale face gave a beaming smile that lit up the cave, as it slowly rose from the shadows.  Angus watched in awe as the girl emerged from the rocks and skipped towards him. His face helplessly reddened at her beauty, mesmerised by her heavenly choral voice and the sweet melody she sang. Her ebony hair glistened with the fading light of the evening. Her smile radiated through the shadowing mist like a beacon, with a row of pearls glimmering in her mouth. But above all else, it was her ruby eyes that charmed a spell over Angus's heart. But the spell broke just as quickly as Angus backed away wide-eyed in fear at the sight of her hooves.  He cowered back with his blade trembling in his hand, pointed dead at the girl. "You...you’re a Kelpie! You’re a man-eating Kelpie ain’t ya!"  "That's right!" she said, the same smile still beaming ear to ear  "I won't let you eat me!" he closed his eyes and swung his blade in frenzy. "I'll fight you to the death I will!" She gently placed her hand on his and lowered his weapon. "Father was right about men, nothing but war on their minds" she tutted, and gently placed his hand over his bandaged forehead. "Don't you think if I wanted to eat you, I would have by now?"  Angus slumped back on the cave floor in shame and confusion. "So why have you kept me alive then if not to eat me?", he asked, looking into the girl’s piercing ruby gaze, as if disappointed in not having the worth to even be eaten. The girl sat beside him and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't enjoy the taste really. I prefer deer, fish or sheep really. Men are nutritious for us, but you all simply taste sweaty and horrible to me.”   Angus let out a small chuckle but stopped abruptly at the sharp pain on his forehead. “Hope you don’t mind” she began, “but I had to rip off a bit of that cloth you’re wearing to stop you bleeding to death.” He stared miserably at the muddy, shredded remains of his kilt. The regal red and emerald tartan of the MacFarlane clan soiled brown. He deserved it, he thought. Better left to rot in the earth than soil the name of a mighty clan with his measly existence. “Cheer up!” You’re alive, aren’t you? You’re lucky that it was me who found you and not one of the others. They love the taste of man meat. Storms like these are when we go to hunt. We hide ourselves in the mist, hunting for dwelling travellers who’ve lost their way in the mountains. We’re always hidden away, so we forever remain only a myth, unknown to the world on the truth of our existence.” The girl kicked her feet in the air and continued to sing, tuning her melody with the whistling of the wind. Angus was mesmerised by every note she sang. He closed his eyes, hypnotised by her soothing song, he felt his pain slowly ebb away. “What’s that song you keep singing?” he asked when she finally finished. She placed an arm around him and returned a sly expression, as she leaned close to whisper into his ear. “It’s our hunting song. It’s what we sing when we’ve found a prey to feast on, our signal to call upon the others to ambush our victim.”  Angus froze, his heart stopped dead. He gazed into the creatures menacing eyes, as she revealed a row of teeth, each as sharp a dagger. She couldn’t hold back anymore. She threw her head back and burst out into laughter. “Sorry,” she croaked, struggling to catch breath between laughter, “couldn't resist! Don’t worry, the others can’t hear me. At least, not without this.” She revealed a marble conch shell, glimmering in the fractured light refracted through the raindrops.  Angus’s anger quickly subsided by the glistening treasure. He looked at the shell, then back at the creature with great curiosity. “So why aren’t you on the hunt with everyone else?” The girl didn’t reply, she merely gave him a smile and continued to hum her melody. But Angus understood. Though the shape sifter could eloquently disguise herself with her smile, she could not hide the loneliness that flickered in her eyes. The same pain that was in his own. He understood all too well the misery of an outcast. He heaved himself up from the rock and offered his hand to the lonely kelpie. “I’m Angus, wee’un of the MacFarlane clan.” The girl giggled and took the young boy’s hand. “Marie” she replied.

 ***** Nightfall was nearby, and the final traces of light would soon disappear. Yet still, there was no sign of his younger brother. There would be no way of finding a path down if he continued to climb. He’d be trapped on the mountain at the mercy of the storm. His brother’s fate unknown, praying that he was at the very least alive.

  A sudden gust catapulting him across the path. He tightened his white-knuckled grip onto a nearby tree branch and shielded his face against the barrage of rain. The wind howled stronger, determined to blast him off the mountain. Fraser darted his head at the creaking beneath him and dived away from the branch. But it was too late. The tree was hurled clean off its roots and crashed onto his body. He wanted to scream, but the weight had winded the air from his crushed lungs. His vision blackened and his mind blurred by the pain. The last thing he heard was a gentle song humming in the wind, as his senses faded away...

 ***** Marie’s ruby eyes flared blood red without warning, as her fangs began to emerge. "Blood of man" she growled, "the smell is nearby". Angus stumbled back in fear at her sudden outburst. He had let his guard down and now was helpless to defend himself. Marie quickly dimmed her eyes and retracted her fangs at the sight of the frightened boy. She apologised and helped him up, dusting the gravel off his skin. "Listen", she whispered.  Angus held his breath, gazing into the Loch. He put his ear to the roaring wind and picked up the melody of her song. He could hear multiple voices echoing back and forth, hidden within the uproar of the storm. "There's another injured traveller up there. I can smell their blood. The others must have picked up his scent too". Angus gazed onto the mountain and wondered about the poor soul who'd fall prey to the Kelpie hunt. His face suddenly whitened pale, and his eyes widened.  "Fraser!" He jolted up as the lightning struck the bay with full might. Marie held onto him dearly, urging him not to take himself back to the jaws of danger. She knew there was no way to protect him from the hungry herd on their hunt, but Angus wouldn't let down. "Please! I can't let my brother die!" Marie returned a heartbroken expression to the boy. She didn't want to lose the only person who she could seek refuge from her loneliness. Though she’d never felt the compassion of a friend before, she knew the duties of one, and was prepared to help her friend in his time of need. She transformed into her true form and heaved the boy onto her neck. “Grab hold of my mane, and don’t let go.”

  The deafening roar of thunder followed the bolt of lightning as it crashed into the bay. With a bellowing shriek, Marie charged into the mist at the foot of the mountain. She scaled the unforgiving terrain effortlessly, her galloping strides gliding over the rocky path. Angus clutched her mane in fear and awe. He felt the freedom of an eagle, soaring over the mountain towards the never-ending horizon. His eyes vigorously scanning for his brother “There! It’s him!” He leapt from her back and darted towards Fraser. He feebly tried to lift the crushing tree away off his brother’s, but his strength could barely catch grip on the bark of the hardwood. He leaned close, praying to hear even the faintest of living breaths. The songs in the storm were getting louder. The kelpies were edging closer. He desperately clawed away at the bark and heaved the trunk with all his will. Finally, he could feel it slowly budging. He rammed into the side of the trunk, but it didn’t shift, instead it began to lift upwards. He watched open-jawed as Marie lifted the giant pine tree over her head, and launched it over the cliff, as it soared into the horizon. The songs surrounded them with the mist, rapidly closing in on them. They were out of time. With another burst of strength, Marie heaved the two brothers into the air and caught them on her back as she transformed once more. She took a few trots back, before galloping at full speed, leaping over the cliff edge, down into the bottomless void. The songs fading as they fell deeper into the abyss. *****

 Angus dropped to his knees in relief when he opened his eyes and found himself back safely on the bay. He held his brother tight upon hearing his breaths slowly strengthening. He exchanged an expression of gratefulness to his new friend, but she returned it with a melancholic smile, as she turned away from him. “Wait!” he cried. He opened her hand and placed his treasured sgian-dubh in her hold. “Something to remember me by. Made it myself. Hopefully won’t need it since I’ll get a real blade soon.” Her tears held back in futility. She tightly threw her arms around him and embraced the love of her new, and only friend. Angus couldn’t help but shed a teary smile when he noticed the flickering loneliness had faded away from her piercing ruby eyes. He watched her run back towards the mountain, as she galloped away disappearing into the mist.

 *****  Angus stood at the foot of the loch, inspecting the marble shell she gave to him in return. The final words they exchanged on that eve echoed in his mind. “Will I ever see you again?” he had asked, his voice breaking with sorrow. He turned his gaze to the mist that consumed the mountain, towards the song that pierced through the dark. His face beamed as she emerged from the haze. The two sprinted besides the crashing waves and threw their arms around each other, welcoming the warm embrace of their newfound friendship. “Wait for me by the loch when the storms rage across the Glen”, she had said to him, “the kelpies hunt among the mountains when the mist shrouds their presence, when the roaring winds carry their melodies. But I’ll be here instead, waiting for you. Listen for the sound of my voice, listen for the song of the storm.”


Hi everyone my name is Ella McCarthy I was born and raised at United Kingdom. I’m 15 years old. My dad decided to moved at Los Angeles California with us for his new business. We arrived at the said country. Our new neighborhoods shown their skills in cooking. They loves my British accent. My mom enrolled me at the school.

First day of school my brother Douglas fell in love to his new classmate. He is one year older than me. Her classmate’s name is Lily Watson.

Lily Watson is so gorgeous and sexy. No wonder she is a campus crush. Douglas is an introvert. He has no courage to tell his feelings for Lily.

Douglas is certified no girl friend since birth. At the campus I sat the bench waiting for my brother. While waiting there was a group of mean girls trying to annoys me. Unfortunately they had no idea how bully I am.

The guidance councilor caught us having a sarcastic conversations. Until Mildred pushed me. Because she lose to our debate. Her friends teasing me. So I kicked her tummy.

After the incidents we received one week suspension. We are required to attend to community service. My parents scolded me. We arrived at the forest. I saw Lily she has an advocacy. She loves to protect our mother nature. Lily introduced her favorite tree to me. I asked her why she loves it and why she worshiped mother nature. According to her we need to taking care our nature. Because our nature never stop loving our land. I fell in love to that place. After our community service. I went back at our home. I went on my room and I heard Douglas he sang his original composition. I went on his room. I asked him if he is in love to someone. He admitted he fell in love so quickly to Lily. I taught him how to express his feelings for Lily. Unfortunately he can’t do that.

So I volunteer to helps him how to win her heart. At the school I talked to Lily. I shared everything to her about Douglas. It seems Lily is interested to listen to my story. Lily and I became best friend. Every weekends she spent her days at the house or sometimes we went to our rendezvous at the forest. Douglas is so over the moon he is getting closer to Lily.

Our school announced our JS Prom. Douglas had no courage to ask her to be his date. Well I’m willing to help him. On the following day. I makes surprises for Lily inside the campus.

I sing and dance in front of her. Just to get her sweetest “Yes” for my brother. I asked her if she want to be my brother’s date on our upcoming prom. She said Yes. Douglas became happy. At the prom I saw Lily wearing her expensive gown. She is the most beautiful maiden I ever seen in my whole life. I witnessed my brother’s reaction when he saw Lily. It’s obviously he is in love to her.

The former Prom queen and king announced the newly prom king and queen. Douglas and Lily won the crown. While Douglas and Lily dancing on the center stage. I felt a little bit of jealousness. I told to myself. That should be me. While watching them I reminisced how we started to became best friend. I went inside the C.R I looked at the mirror and I saw myself with teardrops.

I realized I fell in love with my best friend and now my brother’s imaginary girl friend. I went alone at the gazebo. I wrote a poem on the piece of a paper.

I was surprised when she called me. Inside the gazebo. Lily asked me for a dance. I granted her request. While dancing she admitted her feelings regarding to me. She loves the way I makes her happy everyday. She cherish our moments together. She enjoyed the days I court her for Douglas. Lily admitted she is slowly falling in love with me since the day we met.

I gave my poem to her. I wrote what’s truly inside my heart.

I love the way you looks at me I love the scent of your body My soul is melting every time I see you I felt I’m a prisoner inside your heart Can I kiss you even just for now Or can you tell me you loves me Even it’s a lie Say that you love me Even Just for now.

The birds, The Trees,

The river and The Wind These are our witnessed Without prejudice I will cross the ocean I can be a Mother Nature for you Just say that you love me Even just for now

The Trees that binds us It seems they’re rooting for us We had roots that connects to our hearts. I wrote this for her. She is teary eyed while reading my poem for her. She couldn't believed she fell in love with me. She believes mother nature is one of the reason why we fell in love to each other. Lily kissed my lips and she said she loves me. Even she is not sure if she want to continue her feelings for me. Since we’re both too young for love.

Lily say good bye to me. Because her journey in high school is almost over. She will migrate on New York City with her parents after her graduation day. Lily rejected Douglas.

Lily and I had connections because of her favorite tree. I joined to her group. I learned to love our nature. I became an ambassador for the said group. I encourage the community to love and protect Mother Nature. I also met different people at the community. Every summer Lily went back at Los Angeles to check her favorite tree. We swims at the river and we slept at the grass. Everytime she visited our rendezvous At least I know to myself she loves me and that's enough for me.


He woke up in a cold and sterile room. Sickly green curtains hung limp over the window, adorned with lilacs and daisies. The room was strangely devoid of personality. There were no clothes to be seen, everything was neat and orderly, and there was no dog-eared journal, yellow and faded with age. "Where is my notebook?" he thought, angrily. He propped himself up in the bed and searched closer. Nothing. He did, however, notice the framed portrait of an old couple on the bedstand. "Oh." He realized where he was, and shakily stood up to get a coffee. As he hobbled down the halls of the nursing home, he looked around at the others in the entertainment rooms. They sat about, some talking, others watching TV, others still merely sitting and watching their lives fade away. The only thing they had in common were their eyes. Each one shared the same look, the same gaze, one of hopelessness and disgust and confusion. "Good morning Edward!" someone called out. He paused, unsure how to react, or to whom. "Good morning to you too!" he eventually responded, to no one in particular. His name was Francis. When Francis finally reached the kitchen, he paused again. Why had he come here? He began to rummage through the various drawers and cabinets. "What are you looking for, Francis?" The voice frightened him. He looked around, starled. One of the nurses stood in the kitchen, watching him quietly. "Oh, just whatever I find." he said, suddenly cheery. She smiled a sad sort of smile and left him to his own devices. The coffee machine gurgled on the counter. "Ah, that's right. Coffee." Francis thought. He pulled a stained blue glass out of the cupboard, and set it brusquely on the table. He shakily grabbed the pot and poured the coffee into the glass, spilling enough to dribble down the sides and onto the wood below. He set the pot back on the machine, and picked up the steaming glass. He cried out in pain as the hot glass burned his hand, and he dropped the glass onto the floor. "I'll get that" said the nurse as she swept up the glass and called for a mop. Francis stood, rooted to the ground, looking very scared, and confused. He didn't understand. The nurse returned with an insulated styrofoam cup, and filled it with coffee for him. "Oh, thank you Agnes." said Francis, with a warm and overlarge smile, as he shuffled out of the room clutching the cup. Her name was Alice.   Francis sat on the cold, hard couch and stared at the cup of coffee. A television played Fox News very loudly in the background, and, at another table, a man sat playing chess with himself. "Francis, your grandson is here to see you!" He looked up, to see a different nurse guiding a man to the couch where he sat. Francis smiled. "Hello Robert!" He said cheerily. "Hi Grandpa" answered Robert, somewhat meekly. "Would you like a coffee?" Francis asked. "The nurse poured me one, but I didn't really want it." "Sure, Grandpa." Robert said, as he grimaced and took a sip. "Thank you." Francis was very pleased. He smiled at Robert for a moment, then asked eagerly "So how is school going? You must be in the 11th grade by now, isn't that right?" Robert paused, unsure how to answer. "I'm in the 14th grade, Grandpa." "Oh." Francis said. "Well, I always liked the 11th grade. That was the year I met your mother!" Robert looked rather uncomfortable. "You mean Grandma?" "Ah yes." Said Francis, ignoring him. "Say, be sure to let your mother and I know if you ever need help paying for college." There was a long pause, and Robert teared up. "Grandpa, Grandma has been dead for 9 months." "No, she hasn't!" Francis said, airily. "She's right here with us! Agnes! Come over here Agnes, Robert has come to visit." The background chatter hushed, and head began to swivel towards the pair. "Agnes? Come on honey, don't you want to visit?" A note of concern began to enter his voice. Robert was crying. "Where have you gone? Get over here you old bat!" Francis stood up, and began to search for his dead wife. He stumbled down the hall, screaming her name, confused and angry, at this, at himself, at everything. Robert still sat on the couch, holding the cold cup of coffee, tears running down his face. Next to him, the spot where his grandfather had once sat was still warm. He was once a brilliant man, an engineer. He lived his live with vigorous pride and determination. He worked hard, retired early, and gained the respect of almost everyone he met. He was happy, and others were happy for him. His life was charmed, it seemed. But now, he hobbled through the halls of the nursing home, yelling at the empty frames on the wall and the empty people that lived there. He screamed and searched for his wife who would never be found. He could no longer understand. His name was Francis.


Just six months ago, I was the highest ranking warrior in our lands, and I was forced to give that up for the sake of a prophecy. I understand why King Jurien eliminated my former title, but what am I if not a warrior? Only one week remains until I am to wed the King, and I should be honored the Gods saw me worthy of being Queen of Beloar, but some part of me was mournful of the life I always expected to live.

“There was an attack in the Northern Forest, my King.” A guard announced as he rushed to the King’s side. The King immediately rose from his seat, slamming his hands down on the table we were currently eating dinner on. The porcelain dishes on the table shook, one sent flying towards the floor before shattering. “Is anyone injured?” he questioned, already knowing the guards' response.

The attacks on palace grounds have increased in the past several weeks. The creatures that lurk in the forest are capable of breaching the innermost spaces of your mind and transforming you into nothing more than a puppet. I’ve seen warriors turn their weapons to their comrades and eliminate the threat they post to the creatures. Most are not even aware of the creature closing in until it’s too late. Once you know of the creature's presence, your fate is in its hands.

“One guard, sir.” the guard paused, as if he didn’t want to explain further, but continued, “your guard. Kolan killed himself before the creature could take hold. Nobody else was injured. Warriors are trailing the creature now.”

“Call the search off.” The King demanded. “The beasts are faster than the warriors. There is no point.”

The guard nodded, before leaving out of the dining room door. King Jurien remained standing with his hands braced on the table, his head slumped over in defeat and worry.

I chose to remain silent. As a warrior, I was well-trained on the customs and order of our lands. Even before becoming a warrior, I’ve never once questioned the commands or motives of the King. I often reminisce of my life as a high warrior– commanding the forces and eliminating the evils that would consume our land if left unchecked.

King Jurien quickly picked his head back up, straightening his posture, and left the room. The shattered dishes on the ground beneath the table were already being tended to by the maids.

I made my way to my bedroom, which was separate from the King’s. He preferred his own space, but we occasionally shared a bed. That is how it’s supposed to be, afterall. Now that I am to be Queen in a week, I will be expected to be available to the King at all times and eventually carry children. I want this, though. Even if I am not always sure of it, this is how it has to be, and I should be grateful. *** The next morning, I was awoken by the sunlight that beamed through the window across from my bed. The maid stood before my bed, bright eyed and cheery as always.

“Oh! Good morning Remielle. How was your rest?” She asked me. “It was lovely, thank you Hana.” I replied as I threw off my covers and forced my tired legs to stand.

“Breakfast is nearly ready. You have about … “ Hana turned to the clock that hung beside the bedroom door, “thirty minutes to be at the table. Do you need anything before I depart?”

“No, thank you Hana. I appreciate you for waking me.” A friendly smile escaped as I responded.

Hana closed the door behind her as she left. I quickly found my clothes, already laid out and prepared by Hana. A gorgeous sky-blue fabric, with a white floral lace flowing from the waist down. I slipped the dress on, tightening the strings that wrapped around the waist. It fell just to my feet, barely brushing the floor, as if it was sewed only to fit my slim body. My straight blonde hair fell to the space just above my collarbones. Hana left a pair of elegant slippers, which were surprisingly comfortable to walk in.

I made my way down the bright corridor, walking toward the dining room where the King waits. He never starts eating until I am present.

The grand doors to the dining room were silent as I entered, closing gently behind me. There was a face I had never seen before standing to the right of the doors. I paused for just a moment, studying and appreciating his features. His hair appears black in comparison to the King’s deep brown. His eyes … I have never seen such a contrast. His green eyes are vibrant against his lightly tanned skin and black hair that was tightly knotted into a bun behind his head.

I forced myself to push aside the thoughts I was having of this man, and continued walking to the table. I pulled out my chair and sat across from King Jurien. “Good morning, my future Queen.” Jurien said without even glancing my way.

“Good morning to you, my King.” I replied, already digging my fork into the potato scramble on my plate.

“This is Luther, my new guard. After what happened to Kolan, they were quick to reassign a new guard. This one won’t be venturing off to the forest like Kolan did. How foolish he was.” the King spoke firmly.

“Lovely to meet you … Luther.” I glanced in his direction, clearing my throat before continuing at my food.

“You as well, Remielle.” He replied, not loosening his gaze on me. The way he said my name had me squirming in my chair.

“Remielle, are your preparations in order for our wedding? I expect Hana has aided in those preparations?” He questioned, never once looking toward Remielle. “Oh, she’s been more than helpful. She’s done a great deal to lessen my load.” I responded, checking to see if he would look at me just once during our conversation … which he didnt.

“I expect nothing less. Hana is to be at your assistance. I trust you will notify me if there are any concerns.”

I nodded. “Of course, my King.” I can’t help but feel that he is ungrateful for his servants. It’s evident that he’s never lived as a commoner, as I once was. I understand that every person is expected to do as the King demands, without expectations of something in return, but it sometimes feels wrong. These servants work tirelessly and never ask for anything.

We sat in silence for the remainder of the meal, before the King exited, ordering Luther to show me to the garden once I finished eating. I spend a significant amount of time in the garden. After my warrior title was stripped from me, I had to find something to fill my time with, and the King suggested gardening. Although he was sometimes cruel, he truly wanted me to be untroubled and content with my new life as his Queen. Before my mother died when I was a child, she brought me to her garden frequently and that’s where we bonded the most. For a while, gardening was a painful reminder of what I lost. I have learned to find joy in it now, however.

On our walk to the garden, I refrained from speaking to Luther, mostly because I wasn’t sure what to say. I shouldn’t be this attracted to someone other than my future husband. I was to be married in just 6 days and I just met this man. These thoughts must mean nothing. I expected our walk to be filled with silence, but he spoke to me first. “Do you come to the palace gardens often?” He looked toward me, waiting for my response and scanning my face. “I do. I find it quite peaceful. I didn’t expect to ever find this happiness in the garden after … “ I didn’t finish the sentence. I don’t feel compelled to share my life story with a stranger.

“From what I hear, you are a skilled warrior. Why did you relinquish that title?” He stared at the ground, hands in his pockets as we continued walking around the garden.

“I was a warrior. I am to be a Queen now. As you know, a Queen has no place commanding armies. Besides, King Jurien required me to forgo those duties and focus on my new life. He wants to start a family, and I’m to remain in the palace to raise them.” I took a deep breath before forcing a smile. This is an honor, I recited in my head. “Ah …” he nodded, “what a shame. All for some prophecy .” He said with disapproval, shaking his head.

I was stunned. The King’s personal guard just disrespected the prophecy and the King in the presence of his future Queen. “You are not to mock or ridicule the prophecy. Only good things come from the Priestess’s words. You must respect the order.” I sternly reminded him. He stiffened, “I meant no disrespect. I only wish to share my concerns with the prophecy. I am sure you see the suffering of commoners while the Royal folk live grandly, without care.” I knew he was right, deep down, but I would never admit that. To speak of the Royal in such a manner is borderline treasonous. Luther showed me back to my room, as I requested, and I stayed there until Dinner. I saw him again at Dinner, but we just exchanged brief stares before moving on.

*** I awoke in the middle of the night … nightmares again of the creatures that roam the forest. I can see the forest edge just outside of my window, only a short walk away. Would we ever truly be safe until those beasts are eliminated? I am not even certain it’s possible that we could ever rid the lands of all of those evil creatures. We do not even know where they retreat to after an attack, so the chances of us wiping them out is slim. It is always the same nightmare, too – I’m usually in the garden, tending to one of my plants, when I hear screams of people in the palace … I will find every person controlled, including the King, and the creature then claims me, it’s final victim … for whatever ends it wishes to achieve.

Apparently this time I was screaming, because when I peered up, I saw Luther standing aside my bed, concern stretching across his face. He had never been here to witness my nightmares before.

“Remi! Are you alright? I heard screaming.”

“I am okay, Luther. I just have nightmares quite often and they interrupt my sleep when they occur.” I made sure to note that he was here, but King Jurien, who I was marrying in just 5 days, was nowhere around. I know he would never care for me the way Luther cares in this moment. I pushed the feelings aside once more. “You can return to your sleeping quarters now, but I do appreciate your concern.” He hesitated, but turned toward the door. I was hoping he would leave so I can try to forget the way he makes me feel. It is wrong of me to feel this way toward a guard when I am almost a bride. He halted just before the door, still for a moment, before jolting toward me. Then I could hear what made him stop like that … screaming. I am sure this is a dream. But considering Luther’s behavior, I know I am not dreaming.

Luther quickly closed the door. “You really should go to the King, Luther.” I quietly suggested.

He paused, before saying, “I can’t leave you alone. The King will be surrounded with guards, but you have no protection.” “I can defend myself, Luther … remember … warrior.” I smirked. I haven’t called myself a warrior since I gave up the title 6 months ago, but I liked the sound of it. It has been so long.

“Damn right you are. Regardless, I’m not going anywhere. I will stay here until someone comes to report whether it is safe. We have no idea what that scream was for. I won’t leave you, Remi.” he replied, firm in his stance. There was no convincing him to leave her, and she knew it.

We both remained silent for several long minutes, listening for any noise outside of the door, before I spoke. “Do you judge me … for agreeing to marry him? Do you think it makes me weak and powerless?” That’s how I sometimes thought. I was a warrior. “I never think you are a weak. Far from it actually. You are marrying a man who couldn’t care less about you, knowing you are in for a life of pain and regret, all to respect the laws of the land. I think it is admirable. But I have to say, Remi, I do not want you to marry him. He is not deserving of you.” He replied, studying my face as he said those words. “Perhaps it is what I deserve. The prophecy requires it, Luther. I do not know what I am to do about that.” “Maybe the prophecy does not know what is good for you, my dear.” He sat on the bed, facing me now, brushing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. I contemplated his words for several moments. But the way he said prophecy caught my attention. He said it as if he does not believe it. Why would a guard of the King suggest the prophecy is fake?

“You think the prophecy is a lie?” I was truly curious. I have only known this man for 2 days, yet I believe he has good reason for whatever it is he believes. I must hear him out this time. “It is fake, Remi. Only the highest of Royalty know, but they will never give it up … it gives them too much power. They have no reason to denounce prophecies that only ever benefit them.” His words had power. I do not know why, but a part of me believed him. For the first time ever, I was questioning the truth of the Priestesses and prophecies.

We stared into each other's eyes for several moments longer, before the door suddenly burst open. It was Hana. “Oh my sweet girl! Are you alright?” She blinked and glanced at Luther before continuing. “One of the creatures must have breached the palace doors. An off-duty guard killed his sleeping wife. The other guards were able to subdue him and the palace is secure.”

“Well I should be going now.” Luther announced. He straightened his shirt as he stood. Hana studied every move Luther made as he left the room, then turned to me. “Do you care to explain why he was in here?” Her head tilted and eyebrows rose. “He heard me scream. Nightmare again. That is all. Then he decided it would be best to stay until he knew the palace was safe. You can go back to sleep now, Hana.” I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Hm…” she paused, as if she knew the words we shared, “okay! I will be sure to let you sleep in tomorrow. I will sit breakfast outside your door in the morning. Or maybe I will have Luther do it.” She chucked back to me. *** By the time I woke up, the sun was already halfway across the sky. I’m not even going to bother with breakfast today. I got dressed in a hurry and went straight to the garden. 4 days until the wedding , I thought to myself. A part of me hoped there was truth to Luther’s words, so I wouldn’t have to marry the King.

Footsteps approached and I turned to the entrance to the garden. Luther. He smiled and walked in my direction.

“Did you manage to get some sleep last night? I couldn’t get you out of my head once I left…” he whispered, brushing my ear. “I slept fine.” I replied. I’m not giving this thing between us anymore attention. Luther could ruin my life. “Did the King ever come to check on you?” he knew what I was going to say. He knew the King just as I did. I took a deep breath, and replied, “He did not.” How long was I going to ignore these feelings I have toward Luther. If the prophecy is wrong, is it worth me never getting to be with Luther. Would he even agree to be with me? He has just as much to lose. “If I was marrying a woman like you, Remi, I would share a bed with her every night and she would never doubt my love for her.” He paused, examining the way my body shifted with those words.

I couldn’t pretend any longer. I don’t want to live a life never knowing what could have came from this man that stood before me. I think he knew what I was feeling, because before I could do it myself, he lunged for me, kissing me. Passion swirled between us. Passion like I’d never knew before. Everything felt right about this, but I know it shouldn’t. I never pulled away, though, until footsteps sent us both shooting away from each other.

“I figured you were hungry … “ Hana announced, carrying a tray of food. We both knew she witnessed what just happened. “Remielle … Luther, I know a way you can escape, if you wish to be together…” We turned to each other, as if we were deciding if that was an option.

“Remielle.” Luther said to me, waiting for my confirmation. I contemplated for a moment. “We’ll do it.” I declared.


Hanbei knew the story Jingwei, the fierce bird who flew through the skies above the Chinese oceans. She often wished she had met the beautiful princess who was transformed into the mighty-winged bird who protected her people from the crashing waves and the powerful seas surrounding her homeland. Hanbei regularly looked up into an unfamiliar sky filled with New York skyscrapers, and she wondered if Jingwei knew that she now lived near the Atlantic Ocean and in new country where her family needed the protection of the bright, majestic bird. Dragons moved to the new country years before Hanbei was born, and often it slept quietly until poked to awake and stir the words and actions of those who spit fire and clawed into the air. Because of this, Hanbei’s mother forced her to stay indoors until the dangerous creatures slept again, leaving the city in peace. Deep in her bones, Hanbei, like so many new immigrants, yearned for the open spaces of city parks where trees shaded the pathways and where children safely ran until their legs grew tired.  Her parents did their best to help her feel that she could live beyond the thin walls of her apartment by setting up ‘play dates’ with classmates on the computer. Hanbei took virtual violin lessons and played small pieces with those from the other apartments who sometimes leapt to their balconies to share their musical abilities with the city. Still, Hanbei wished she had wings like Jingwei. She wanted to fly far from the invisible danger that lurked like an approaching storm just outside of her front door.

Hanbei’s parents knew their daughter’s legs were itching to move and her arms aching to fly. Once, on a shopping trip, Hanbei’s father looked frantically up and down the aisles for his daughter’s favorite spaghetti sauce; this was her favorite American food. Surprisingly, during his search, he discovered the very small display of various games in the back corner of the store. Immediately, a pair of red handles and a bright yellow jump rope caught his eyes; he could not stop smiling when he put this great find in his grocery basket. As soon as he was home, he and Hanbei ran down the steps to the small patch of dirt and grass that everyone at the apartments called ‘the garden’. They immediately began to practice jumping in sync while Hanbei’s mom videoed the perfect moment Hanbei’s feet jumped together in rhythm with her father’s, and they flew from the ground and left the earth for a moment. Still, in between laughter and happiness, there was always something hiding behind her parents’ smiles. Hanbei heard them whispering in Chinese, and sometimes in English, about how dangerous this new world was for them.  She knew her parents cried behind the bedroom door, and when her dad stepped out on the balcony or sat alone in the apartment ‘garden’ with his tea, she knew things weighed heavily on his mind. Hanbei felt the most fearful when her mother’s glasses fell off the bathroom counter. Purchased in China just months ago before they crossed oceans, the glasses were frequently taken on and off during moments when her mom felt a headache coming on. Eventually, the screw holding one of the lenses in place fell out and was nowhere to be found. Hanbei and her parents quickly crawled on the floor looking for the one piece that would hold the lens in place. Quite unexpectantly, her mom, not being able to see clearly, accidentally crushed part of the frame of her glasses with her knee when she thought she caught sight of a silver speck and reached out to grab hold of it in the blurry world in which she now found herself.  At the sound of the plastic frame cracking on the tile floor, Hanbei’s mother drew her hands over her eyes and began to cry, softly at first, and then uncontrollably. The three of them huddled on their knees in the bathroom and secretly wished they could all magically be transported back to their homeland. The crying passed when Hanbei’s dad taped the frame of her mother’s glasses so that the lens could stay in place. But at breakfast, the lenses from the broken frame popped out and landed in her mom’s cereal. Everyone laughed at how silly it was to see the lens floating in milk. Both Hanbei and her dad made funny faces and pretended their ears or noses fell into their cereal bowls, and they would wait patiently for Hanbei’s mom to smile as they each fished through their own bowls in search for what they had lost. During one of those times at breakfast, Hanbei looked longingly at her parents who began to question the strange glaring of their daughter’s eyes. Was she was feeling all right? Did she have a fever? Hanbei assured them that she was fine as her parents felt her forehead and held her cheeks in their hands. Hanbei understood why her parents built the safety nest of the apartment; she knew they loved her more than she would ever understand. But she felt something move within her and she needed them to let her go. She did not excuse herself from the table. She did not ask for permission.

Hanbei’s mother quickly jumped for her daughter who was now already down the hallway and near her bedroom. Hanbei’s father jumped up too; he reached out for his wife who wanted to run for their daughter now shut up in her bedroom, door locked. He held her as she cried into his shoulder. Into the curve of his neck, she pleaded for him to let them return to China where it was safer for them all. Quietly in Chinese, he desperately tried to calm her. Didn’t she know she needed to accept their new country, its dragons and monsters lurking? Every country did have them, regardless of whether they seemed more familiar to her in their home country than they were here. Hanbei listened to her parents from the other side of her bedroom door; she wanted to strike out of the apartment, but she could not leave her parents standing alone. She quietly opened her bedroom door and moved down the hallway. Once within reach, she threw her arms around her parents, and from just outside her window, the wings and the cooing of city pigeons could be heard as they swept between the buildings.


***In a deal gone wrong, you become impregnated with the devil’s daughter. The devil forgets about his young daughter until on her 13th birthday, he attends her party and wants her back.***  There's a knocking on the door, and I yell "Coming!" as I sprint through the house, dodging teenagers. The house is currently full of them, lounging around drinking or eating snacks. Some crowd the TV, some crowd the pool outside, but over it all is a thumping bass beat coming from the home sound system. I finally make it to the door and open it to find *him*. Suddenly I can feel the bass beat thrumming in my chest and I'm not sure it's the music anymore. I stand with my mouth hanging slightly open, before recovering and narrowing my eyes. "What do you want?" I demand. He smirks, knowing full well what's running through my mind. "I want....my daughter." "What? No," I breathe. "Yes," he says, and I almost feel the word creep up my throat and roll off my tongue but I catch it in time. "I said, no. You don't get to forget about her, forget about me, for THIRTEEN years, then just decide you want to take her away." We're still standing in the doorway and the couple of kids around us are gaping at the man in the frame. Reluctantly, I take a small step back and tilt my head, silently asking him to come in. He glides into the house and the sea of teenagers parts for him. He makes his way into the kitchen. *Of course he knows the layout of the house,* as I roll my eyes internally. I follow this man, the devil, my devil, into my kitchen. "Coffee?" I offer. "Sure," he smiles, and there is that grin. That smile that took me in so many years ago. My hands tremble as I hold the coffee mug out to him, and as he grabs it from me he looks up at me with his bottomless eyes. I let my own eyes roam, drinking in the one man who ever owned me. His beard, his hair, kept perfectly trimmed, brushed, and oiled. The rolled sleeves of his dark blue business shirt that put the star tattooed on his forearm on display. He knows my memories are flooding back, the dam I built in my mind buckling under the weight of his presence. The deal I tried to make, and how utterly wrong it went. How much fun we had, how much love we made, until one day, he disappeared. The crushing blow. Then later, finding out I was pregnant, with the devil's progeny no less. The baby grew healthy but I was alone. I couldn't tell my friends how it came to be, or where I had been, or who the father was. Thus I alienated myself, and the most difficult parts of the pregnancy came and went. A nameless doctor held my hand as I gave birth, and when I heard "It's a girl!" from one of the nurses, I blacked out. I thought he would come find us. I thought he would know. He *is* the Devil after all, who knows and sees all much like his heavenly counterpart. Fast forward thirteen years and all the pain, the sadness, the melancholy, gives way to a simmering rage. Who knows how long we sat in silence, me wallowing in my thoughts, him looking out the window, contemplating... something. I feel his eyes rest upon me, feel their weight at the top of my head. "My daughter is my pride and joy," I say, finding words. "She's so sweet, so calm, such a great kid who as you can see has made a fair amount of friends. You can't just take her from me." He smiles a soft, slow smile that spreads across his tanned face. "Babygirl, you knew the deal." My eyes start to brim over with tears. "She's all I have, all I have had, since you left," I manage, voice cracking. He tucks my hair behind my ear as one traitorous tear falls into my coffee. "I got very busy. I have a life of my own, you know. Had one for thousands of years before you came along and bewitched me." The last part makes me look up. *What a pathetic sight I must be. Not just crying, but allowing my heart to flutter in hope at his words.* He knows he has me now. "Can we work out another deal?" I say. At this his eyebrows arch. I barrel on, not wanting to give up whatever head start I have. "I don't want you to take her, and you're set on taking her, so how about this. We play a game of chess, just like old times. You win, you can have her and I won't fight you. You lose, she stays with me, but you can visit as you please." He laughs. Tilts his head back, opens his mouth wide and chortles at me. "You do realize you've only won one game against me?" I smile a small smile, and look up at my demon.


It was the beginning of the end. We were about to storm what used to be our home, storm the place that thought would protect us, protect our children but they damned us all to hell. I was the head figure of my battalion. The president of our Sect, had betrayed our people, betrayed us, and even betrayed me. I rallied my troops, transforming into something that no one can describe, a powerful being that glowed in the night sky. I had magic and wonderment, abilities that man could not describe in a single sentence. I was a powerful entity that was not human and nor was I angelic. I was angry and passionate for the people of this world. There is much more I could say but as we stormed in, my father, the president of this damned land, cowered in fear. My eyes grew narrow as an elegant dress appeared, walking with me as I closed in on him. ‘Do you have any last words;’ I muttered as he whimpered watching us storm his halls, the castle of his new country of Adelaide. I heard no answer as within seconds his body evaporated into the air, disappearing into the walls. The world was broken, detrimental, and emotional. We now had to focus on healing this world and building a new world, away from the authoritarian rule that we once knew. How did we get here, you might ask yourself, how we got here? Well, it is quite a story that has many twists and turns. I woke up to the sound of my alarm. It was the last day of my normal life before I knew who I was before I knew of the war and our past. My father came in with a tray of cookies and a note, from my late mother. “Today is the day princess;” He noted smiling as he sat on the edge of my bed. “Father, it is just my coronation into Adelaide’s kingdom. “A right of your birth; a right that your mother had on her 18th birthday and now you, princess, you are going to be crowned the princess of our land. “Father, can I get ready in peace. “Of course princess, and be down in an hour for your fitting. I nodded to him slowly closing the door behind him. I slowly leaned down as I read the note from my mother. It was a lengthy note that told the truth of who I was and the truth of our kingdom. We were not a utopia and the reason for her death was because she was about to unleash the tides of war on my father. I sat down staring as my hands beamed a white glow, slowly consuming my whole body and in an instant, my room was blasted from all corners of myself. The glow ceased as I slowly stood up staring at my hands in horror. My mother was like me. But not only that she was going to bring to light all of the stuff my father has done in the past years that were against the people, bringing them down, and destroying our country. I slowly walked down the stairs, tucking my mother’s note underneath my mattress and walking down the steps as nothing happened. I nodded to my father’s right-hand man, Lucifer. He has tried to court me for years but I have always pushed him to the side. Maybe today I would give him a chance. I did trust this man with my life. “Good morn Miss Adela, how do you do?” Lucifer said bowing to me as I bowed back. “Good, how about yourself Lucifer?” I said flirtatiously. “Greater seeing you, you excited for your coronation this afternoon;” He said cheekily. We were alone as I slowly motioned to go more Seclusive place. I smiled at him as he slowly hovered over me, smiling at me. “I was, I admit but now, I am not so sure,” I whispered to him. “Want to talk about it?” He asked staring at me with soft eyes, wondering what I was talking about. “You never liked my father have you?” I finally said as he slowly nodded to me. “Under what pretense;” He asked fidgeting with his work uniform. “The pretense that he killed Queen Adelaide when she tried to go public with her findings of my father,” I whispered looking in both directions to make sure my father wasn’t coming. “You know I serve my king well but yes, I have never liked him. I rather serve you and…” He paused as we bowed to a knight walking by. I looked down at my hands, did I just imagine that, or was that just me. “And I have been waiting for Lucifer, will you stand by me at my coronation,” I asked softly as he smiled at me with luring eyes. “I will be with you, to your right if that is what you wish and what is on your mind Princess?” He asked timidly. “I found out some things that have troubled me but at my coronation, I am going to call him out in front of the world. And if he says they are not true, I will show him the truth.” I said walking out into the open staring at the dark hallway ahead of me. “And what is the truth?” He asked skeptically. “This;” I whispered as I started to glow again, more quickly this time. His mouth dropped as I looked at him, he bowed to me nodding to me as he walked to the end of the hall in silence. I eased the glow and went to my fitting without another word to him or anybody. I knocked on the door to two older seamstresses that had seen my mother’s coronation. They were the proud woman that was proud of their pride and work in making uniforms, dresses, ball gowns and coronation uniforms. “Your father requested that you wear your mother’s gown.” The seamstress to my left said. “So we made a rendition of it but of course a more updated gown with similar features. You look so much like your mother; she was so young when she passed. You will honor her with this gown.” The seamstress said to the right of me. I nodded to them as they got started stripping me of my nightgown and dressed me in a corset, a brassiere, a bra, and a long elegant hoop skirt. I felt like I was stuck in medieval times. I sighed as the long gown went over my slim frame. It was a white gown with red sapphires, amethyst jewels, and even gold sequins that were made into snowflakes. My mother wore a similar gown with lace. They added that at the ends. It had a smell of my mother’s perfume, daisies, roses, and lavender. I missed her a lot. “Wow you look lovely;” My father said walking in to get his fitting done. “Thank you Father; when does the ceremony begin,” I whispered bowing to him. “In one hour the ceremony will begin, I want to begin the coronation pre-ceremony with you immediately.” He demanded of me as I nodded “Yes, Father,” I whispered to him slowly standing outside. He came out shortly after with a gold uniform, with purple leather adorning his majesty. He walked past me as I knew to follow slowly behind, we stopped at the fountain in the middle of our castle, and the fountain of wishes it is known. “Your mother and I first met when we were first here, I was just a mere Duke of Sect 22, she the princess of this land. I loved your mother with all my heart, it is sad she passed so young.” He said staring at the shimmering water. “Father, what is the pre coronation ceremony?” I whispered staring at the clay fountain and its shimmering water flowing down. “You’re staring at it. Your mother and I both had to believe in the fountain, changing our lives and our people’s lives for the better. I will have Lucifer come and get you when the ceremony begins.” He said standing up abruptly staring at a knight who was motioning him over. “Yes, father,” I said looking back at the fountain. It was suddenly quiet as I stared at the fountain, my hands shimmering against the water, glowing to match the color of the water. It was peaceful as I watched the water, suddenly realizing that he will never stop. If my mother’s allegations were true, he will kill me too. She noted that he burned a whole village down, killing thousands of people to build an arena for the people. He murdered school children when they didn’t salute his flag. The list goes on. “Mother;” I cried my tears dropping like jewels into the fountain. “I don’t want your name to be used to justify violence and hatred if these things are true. I don’t want to be seen as the princess that did nothing. I will not let this coronation be in vain. I will not let your words be in vain. The people need to know the vulgarity of what has happened.” I wiped my tears staring at the reflection of my face, my features similar to my mother's. I had piercing grey eyes, a button nose, and the reddest hair anyone has ever seen. I was no blonde like my father is. Lucifer came shortly after. I nodded, slowly getting up as I pecked his cheek, smiling at him. He smiled back as he led me to the staircase that I had to walk to my coronation. He took my right arm, slowly linking our arms as I lifted my head staring at the crowd before me. They were villagers, people, afraid of my father’s hand. “What will you do princess?” He whispered to me. “The truth, if we can come out on the other side together, I’ll let you court me;” I said vividly. “We will make it on the other side, and I will take it to your word, hopefully not too overwhelming.” He smiled kissing my cheek back. “It won’t be,” I whispered as we took each step with each stride. We stopped at the base of the stairs as the royal court official, read our names. “Lady Adela Lune of Adelaide, royal congregant and Princess of the land with her escort Sir Lucifer Thaddeus of the royal congregation.” The royal official said as he helped us down. My father nodded as Lucifer stood to my right, I bowed to the people first and then to him. I lifted my head before my father forcefully stopped me from lifting it. “Stay bowing child, now repeat after me. I insert your name, will do my best to represent the people, to work with them, work with the communities, and serve the people to my best of my abilities.” He said icily. “I, Adela Lune, will do my best to represent the people, to work with them, work with the communities, and…. No...” I said trailing off as I slowly lifted my head in insubordination to him. His eyes bulged as I lifted my head at him. “What do you mean no.” He bellowed. I slowly lifted my head to the people as I slowly walked forward. “Father I know you killed mother, the true heir to the throne so you could rule this land to the ground. The people know what have you done and I cannot accept your congregation, your rule, for destroying these people’s lives. You killed these people’s families, their children for your own selfish needs. I cannot accept to be under your rule, till your death, and nor can these people. I denounce my name and stand with them. And one more thing, mother was of magic, like I am.” I said slowly walking over to the people as I linked arms with them. “Guards!” He screamed as I started to glow, blasting them to the ground. I slowly grabbed Lucifer as we started to run and run not looking back.


Mr. Hendrick was driving home from work alone at night in his old silver Corolla. Hanging on the rear-view mirror was a bottle of liquid perfume that he shakes once in a while to get the scent running. Sarah put it there because she said that his car reeks of cigarettes. He always plays “Pink Swimsuit Lady” by The Headlooms on his way home, a song he often heard when he was a kid. The road home was dark as there were no streetlights. The only source of it was from his headlight. While swaying to his favourite song, in the beam of his headlight, he saw a girl who looked to be in her teen years waving frantically on the side of the dark road, signaling Mr. Hendrick towards her. From his perspective this is oddly suspicious. *A girl? At night? In the dark?* He thought. But her face was in a panic. He couldn’t ignore her if he wanted to. What if it is a matter of life and death? “What’s wrong?” He asked when he stopped near her. “My fr- friend,” she gasped for air. “He’s injured. Can you please help me?” “Where is he?” He asked, turning down his music volume. “He’s in there,” the girl pointed over her shoulder. It was the woods. She was pointing in the woods. “In the woods? What are you kids doing in the woods at nigh-” He stopped. “Alright. I’ll call an ambulance.” “No please!” She shrieked. “We need to get him to the hospital now! Waiting for the ambulance would take forever! Please help me!” “Alright- alright, I’ll help,” he surrendered. He got out of his car with the engine running. “Hurry, lead the way.” He followed her in the woods. He could hear his car whirring getting farther and farther until it fades. “How far?” He asked. “Not far, just ahead.” “Oka-” He was hit by a blunt object on the back of his head and fell on the ground not completely losing consciousness. “Ah! What the fu\*k?” He grunted and another blow from the object rendered him unconscious. He felt his body being dragged. He felt them tying his hands above his head on a pole. His eyes were heavy, no matter how hard he tried he could not open them. He heard people talking but their voices are muffled, the side effects of being hit on the head. “Are you kidding me?!” a boy’s voice said. “He’s the only one we got! It’s a slow night,” the girl replied. The one he encountered before. “That’s Sarah’s dad. How am I gonna look at her face after this,” the boy said. “The good thing is you don’t have to ask for his permission when you want to marry her,” she said. “A- Alan? Is that you?” Mr. Hendrick said. Gathering all the strength he has to open his eyes. He saw two people talking in front of a small bonfire. He recognised the boy’s voice. It was Alan. Sarah’s boyfriend. “Hey Mr. Hendrick. Sorry but this is a huge misunderstanding,” Alan replied. “Wh- what are you doing in the woods?” Mr. Hendrick asked. “Where are my clothes?” He realised that he was bound naked on the pole, except for his underwear. “Sorry for the misunderstanding Mr. Hendrick. I’ll untie you,” Alan replied. “No you won’t,” the girl said, pointing a dagger towards Alan. Alan raised both of his hands and backed away from Mr. Hendrick. “What are you doing, girl. I came here to help you,” Mr. Hendrick said wearily. “Sorry it had to be you, but you’re a father and we need that right now,” she replied. “You needed a father?” he said, unimpressed. “Do you tie all your daddies like this?” His wits coming back to him slowly as his mind got clearer. “No,” Alan interrupted. “We need your… heart…” “My what?!” Mr. Hendrick exclaimed. “Well, you’re a father and we need that. See, the ritual said that we need a virgin’s blood, a mother’s liver, and a father’s heart.” “Why are you explaining this to him?” the girl asked frustratingly. “He deserves to know.” “He doesn’t need to know this. He’s gonna die anyway.” “Why don’t we talk about this?” Mr. Hendrick interjected. “Nope. The longer you talk to him the more attached you’re gonna be. I’m gonna end this now.” The girl sprinted towards the quarter naked man led by the dagger in her hand but was pushed aside by Alan. “What are you doing?!” The girl screamed. “We already got the virgin’s blood and mother’s liver. This is the last one!” “Oh god, the two missing persons cases. You two were behind it?” Mr. Hendrick gasped. “Poor little Anna Karin and Mrs. Durden!” Alan and the girl kept their mouths shut and stared at the ground. “I want to be famous,” the girl said meekly. “What?” Mr. Hendrick asked. “I’m doing this because I want to be famous!” “You want to get famous for being a murderer?” Mr. Hendrick asked in confusion, cocking his head. “No, the ritual we’re doing is going to grant us wishes. And that is my wish.” “Oh god. What about you Alan? What’s your wish?” “I… I want to be rich,” he replied. “So I could take care of Sarah.” Mr. Hendrick looked at the little murderer in awe. “That’s kinda sweet. But you know what’s not sweet? Killing Sarah’s father.” Mr. Hendrick said. “Come on, let me go, Alan.” “I don’t know, I’m scared now. What if I let you go and you rat me out to the police? I don’t want that.” “I won’t do that, I promise. Just untie me and give me back my clothes and get me the hell away from her. If people see me in underwear with an underage girl, people are gonna talk,” he pleaded. “I’m twenty,” the girl said. Mr. Hendrick just looked at her. Not replying to that statement. He turned his head looking at Alan. Alan was in deep thought. Wondering whether he should let him go or get his heart. In Alan’s head right now, he’s making a mind map of pros and cons of letting Mr. Hendrick free. He would get Sarah all for his own if Mr. Hendrick was out of the picture. But he will feel guilty for the rest of his life. He would get his wish and become rich and maybe that’ll soothe his guilt a bit if he spends some of his fortune on Sarah. His mind is set. He’s gonna kill Mr. Hendrick. “Give me the knife.” The girl handed the dagger gladly, smiling an evil smile. Alan walked closer towards Mr. Hendrick. “Wait. Alan. Please. I’m begging you. Please. Who’s gonna take care of Sarah when I’m gone?!” Mr. Hendrick panicked. “I will,” Alan replied. Mr. Hendrick screamed in pain as Alan struck the dagger in his chest. He then proceeded to carved around the heart, snapping the rib cage protecting it. Mr. Hendrick was in excruciating pain. Alan was surprised that he had not passed out. Until he does. In front of them were the blood of a virgin, a liver from a mother, and a heart from a father. They both held hands while chanting gibberish. “Hey, where did you say you got this ritual from?” Alan asked the girl in the middle of a chant. “Wikipedia.


#Welcome to the Micro Monday Challenge! Hello writers! Welcome to Micro Monday! I am excited to present you all with a chance to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic? I’m glad you asked! Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I’ll give you a single constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. It might be an image, song, theme word, sentence, or a simple writing prompt. You’re free to interpret the prompt how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.** Remember, feedback matters! And don’t forget to upvote your favorites and nominate them via message here on reddit or a DM on discord!   *** #This week’s challenge: **Sentence - Use *one* of the following sentences to use in your story:** - **“The dragon’s wings darkened the city.”** - **“The flames could be seen for miles.”** *Additional Bonus Constraints (worth 5 pts): A major weather event occurs.* This week’s challenge is to use one of the above sentences in your story, in some way. You may add onto it, or change the tense if necessary, but the original sentence should stay intact. I’m providing , but its use is not required. **Stories without one of the above sentences will be disqualified** from rankings. The bonus constraint is not required.   *** #How It Works: - **Submit one story between 100-300 words** in the comments below, by the following Sunday at midnight, EST. No poetry. One story per author. - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and rankings. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post exclusively. - **Come back throughout the week, upvote your favorites and leave them a comment with some actionable feedback.** Do not downvote other stories on the thread. Vote manipulation is against Reddit rules and you will be reported. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here, as we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. - **Send your nominations for favorites each week to me, via DM, on Reddit or Discord by Monday at 2pm EST.** - If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail. *Top-level comments are reserved for story submissions.* - And most of all, be creative and have fun!   *** #Campfire and Nominations - On Mondays at 12pm EST, I hold a Campfire on the discord server. We read all the stories from that week’s thread and provide verbal feedback for those authors that are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. You don’t even have to write to join in. Don’t worry about being late, just join! Everyone is welcome. - You can nominate your favorite stories each week, by sending me a message on reddit or discord. You have until 2pm EST on Monday (or about an hour after Campfire is over). You do *not* have to write or attend Campfire to submit nominations!   *** #How Rankings are Tallied Rankings work on a point-based system. Here is the current breakdown: - **Use of Constraint:** 10 points - **Upvotes:** 5 points each - ***Actionable* Feedback** 5 points each (up to 25 pts.) - **User nominations:** 10 points each (no cap) - **Bay’s nomination:** 40 pts for first, 30 pts for second, and 20 pts for third (plus regular nominations) - **Bonus:** Up to 10 pts. (This applies to things like bonus constraints and making user nominations)   *** #Rankings: This Past Week - - Submitted by u/DmonRth   - - Submitted by u/Nakuzin   - - Submitted by u/nobodysgeese   - - Submitted by u/FyeNite   *** ###Subreddit News - I’ve extended the nomination period for , so don’t forget to nominate your favorite content before the deadline! - Try your hand at serial writing with - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.