“Momma, Momma! Come here and see what I found in the attic!” Shirly was so excited and scared out of her mind, she was practically screaming at her mother, Francis. “Shirly!” Francis started to scream in return and immediately tried to calm herself. “Sweetheart I am working on a very big project. I know you're bored, but do you think while you are in the house you could use inside voices, please?” Francis’s tone had changed from frantic to pleading. Shirly did all she could to calm herself. Her hair was standing on end. She could not decide if she was still excited, or becoming more afraid of what she had found in the attic upstairs. “Okay, okay.” She smoothed her clothes and tried to calm her voice. “Mom, I found some kind of a weird door in the attic upstairs. PLEASE, PLEASE come and see?! I know that you have a deadline this week, but I’m very excited and kind of scared.” Now Shirly was very well known for her outrageous imagination. She was 10 years old and refused to sleep in the dark. She was superstitious. If a broom fell, anywhere, she and Francis would bake cookies for the company that was going to be coming. She also had an intense fascination for the occult. She amused her mother with her conspiracy theories of the government and neighbors. Francis would consider putting an end to Shirly’s over consumption of television and internet occult research. But Francis was a single mother who worked from home and Shirly was an only child. It was a blessing in disguise that she was such a curious child and kept herself so busy with her curiosity and imagination. She was so convincing in her arguments, and bossy, that she had her own league of minions at school. Alas, it was winter break and storming. So, no play dates this week. “Okay Shirly, okay. I need to take a break and make us some lunch anyhow. Let’s go up and see what you think you’ve found up there. I am guessing it would makes no difference if I told you that when I bought this house last year that I went through every single nook and cranny. … Nope, it does not matter to you in the least.” Francis mused to herself and smiled. She loved her little girl’s love for life so much, it made all their struggles so much easier to tackle. After the words, ‘okay’, left Francis’s mouth Shirly stopped listening. She was on her way up to the third story of the house. At the end of the hall on the second floor there was a heavy, old door that opened to stairs that led to the third story attic. It was a tight staircase, and it creaked a lot and loud. There was no sneaking up there, Shirly had tried more than a few times when they first moved in. Shirly got bored but was good at finding something to entertain herself. Her mother had been adamant about not going up to the attic, no matter how much Shirly begged or tried to sneak up there. Francis felt that the wood was too old and had too much mold. She wasn’t sure about how structurally sound it was. She promised Shirly that in the summer they would update the attic. Shirly would have her own secret clubhouse, or whatever she wanted to call it. Shirly had begun to make so many plans for what she and her friends would do. It might have made things worse for Francis by promising Shirly the space would be hers. Sometimes there was no stopping this child from the thing that she wanted. Especially when it comes to secret, adventures and all of the imaginationing. Francis had finally given in today and let Shirly go up the third-floor attic. She made Shirly promise that if she opened the door to the attic that she would let her work, without a lot of interruptions. No interruptions would be too much for Francis to ask of Shirly. And now here they both were, not even two hours later, with Francis sucked into another adventure. She was hoping that she would be able to go up and take a peek and that would be all. She was hungry, and it was time for lunch after all. She heard the old stairs creak very loud, as Shirly practically stomped her way up. “Momma, where are you? Come on!” Suddenly, Shirly let out the most ear piercing, spine tingling screech Francis had ever heard come out of her little girl. Without a thought she charged up the stairs after her. “SHIRLY?! What?! Talk to me!” She was hysterical. “Shirly, what’s happening?! Are you okay?!” She could feel her blood pressure sky rocketing as she reached to top of the stairs. Her gaze darted frantically from every corner of the attic. She was looking for Shirly. There was nothing in her entire life, or many lifetimes that would have been able to prepare her for what she found. Shirly was sitting on the floor, in the far side of the attic where the huge bay window is. This is the window that won Shirly over when they bought the house. It was magical to her, she had fallen in love with the window, and then the house immediately. There it was. There was a tiny open door on the left wall of the bay window. Francis had known it was there and thought it gone to nowhere, she had thought that it was merely decorative. The door looked to lead directly to the outside yard, only three stories up. Now the door was open, and there was a glowing light. The light looked and felt as if spring could be a light. It was so beautiful. Francis could swear that she saw sparkles in it. “No, that must be dust,” She thought to herself, “but no. Look, there they are. Look at them. It cannot be.” “Mom, fairies. Look, fairies. Can you believe this.” Shirly spoke in such a calm that it broke Francis’s bewilderment. She looked at her daughter, expressionless. There were fairies, in her attic, and they were coming out of a tiny door that seemingly led to nowhere. All the fairies had suddenly stopped dancing around Shirly. They seemed to all be gazing at Francis. It was then that the same calm that had taken over Shirly was now taking over Francis. Neither had felt such calm and happiness in their lifetimes; it was euphoric. The tiny door in the attic on the left wall next to the bay window opened up a fairy portal. They came through the door with slow apprehension and a lot of curiosity. It seemed that when they became aware of Shirly they were immediately at ease, and very, very excited. To Francis it looked like the fairies knew her, like Shirly was a long, lost friend. They were so excited to see the little girl, in their dancing, their tiny bodies started to glow. It had all stopped abruptly when they became aware of Francis. She was now standing, as still as she could, and so very calm. One of the fairies darted to her, and practically stopped and stood on her nose. They all seemed to have their own color of glow, but this one was a pretty peach rose color. The tiny creature looked Francis in the eyes, for what seemed to be a 1o minutes. The fairy placed one tiny hand on Francis’s nose. If the fairy was touching Francis, she could not feel it. Just as abruptly as the fairy darted to her, it shot up, almost through the ceiling. It was so fast it looked like a mere trail of light. It started to fly in circles, and the rest started to follow; they started to swirl around Shirly and Francis. They both felt that they were almost lifted off of the ground in the whirl wind of tiny fairies and light. When mother and daughter thought they were going to fly, the fairies stopped and began again to dance and then sing. The singing sounded like tiny, soft windchimes. As the singing went on, Shirly and Francis began to understand the words. It was hours later that Francis regained her self-awareness in the present. It was night. The sun was long gone, and the stars were out. Shirly was still singing and dancing with their new magical friends. “Shirly, it is way past bedtime. I think It’s time for us to say good night to our friends.” Francis spoke to Shirly as if they had known fairies existed as long as they knew the sun and stars were the same thing. The fairies cried in loving protest, and flurried around Shirly and Francis. They were giving them both a hug good night. Shirly and Francis smiled and held hands as they descended the stair case. …..August that same year…. “Francis! There are so many beautiful butterflies in your garden. Oh my goodness. And bees and dragonflies. Your garden looks like fairies have blessed it with their magic.” Molly, Francis’s sister had come to visit for the last month of summer before school started for Shirly. She was now beginning to think she would have a hard time ever leaving. Francis and Shirly responded in unison, “It is blessed by fairy magic.” They both giggled. It seemed that only the two of them could see the butterflies, bees, and dragonflies for what they really were. Molly giggled with them, completely unaware.


"You're kidding, right?" The second the smile creeps on to his face, I know he thinks I'm joking. Granted, if it was a joke it wouldn't have been very funny. He's probably hoping that it's a joke. Because what is he supposed to do with this information, anyway? Why did I tell him? Oh God, why did I tell him? I could've kept the secret my entire life and eventually died with it. I could've lived with it gnawing at me from the inside every day. But that might've been better than admitting it to another living person. Now that's someone else that has to live with this information. I swallow past the lump that's growing in my throat. "That's not funny," he continues, and man, is he right. I wish I could turn it around and say haha, just kidding, here's my real secret , but unfortunately, I'm not a quick enough thinker to think of something good enough to cover this up and make him not be suspicious of me. He would wonder why I said that as my "joke" secret. Especially when he's now looking at me like he is. What do I say ? "It was an accident," I murmur quietly. Lame, I know, but it's the truth. His face twists and I can see the horror in his eyes. The horror that's paired with disbelief, because after all, I'm his little brother, and how could his little brother be behind the Lake murders? "Noah, c'mon... You wouldn't, you couldn't , you..." He trails off when he sees my unwavering expression, my face set in stone. He knows I'm telling the truth. He knows how I lie; I've been a bad liar my entire life. I just needed to tell someone , because it was gnawing at me, and I trust Blake more than anyone. At least, I did. The way he's looking at me makes me think maybe I shouldn't have trusted him. Maybe this was a mistake. But it's not like I killed anyone because I wanted to - I had to. The first one just sort of happened, and then the second one was because she knew about the first one, and then so on and so on. Y'know? And the lake? It just happened to be the most convenient place to dump the bodies. Next thing you know, my murders were in the papers, on the news, and they even gave me a name - The Lake Murderer - thinking they had me all figured out. Well, they didn't, because they never traced the murders back to me. But that was ten years ago. I was young and stupid. And I thought Blake, of all people, would understand that. "Blake, listen," I say, as gently as possible. He steps back, holding out his hands. "Stay away from me," he cautions. "Blake, I would never hurt you," I try to assure him, "you're my brother. And like I said, none of them were on purpose..." "Noah, you murdered five women . That is not an accident." "You don't know-" "Yes, I do . I've made mistakes. But I've never murdered anyone!" Something starts to burn inside of me: anger. I try to push it down, to keep the flame from growing, and to stay calm, because if I get angry, who knows what Blake will do. I have to stay calm. But the louder he raises his voice and the longer he looks at me with disgust, the harder that gets. "I thought I could trust you" is all I'm able to say. "You could, before you decided to become a murderer," Blake snaps, but then he pauses and takes a deep, slow breath, shutting his eyes while he does so. He reopens them when he speaks next. "I'm sorry, Noah, but I can't sit on this. I can't just go on with life with this information. I have to do something." As I think, I lick my lips, which have become rather dry and cracked. My heart is pounding in all of my anger and now, panic. I can't believe he would do that to me. He wouldn't. Would he? "Blake," I warn. My voice comes out controlled, much to my relief. He purses his lips, taking another step away from me. He's tense, I can tell. It's not like I don't understand; it's tough information to comprehend. I just had hoped he would've taken it a little better and not threatened to turn me in. But really, even if he were to, it's not like he has any proof. And it was ten years ago. I would be okay. I would. Regardless, I can't let him tell anyone. I can't afford to take that chance. It was ten years ago, and they never caught me. I can't get caught now. My life would be ruined. Everything I've worked towards since the murders, me turning my life around, would be for nothing. I feel a little hurt, honestly. I trusted him, and he repays me by threatening to turn me in? My own brother? "You wouldn't really tell anyone, would you?" Blake looks at me evenly, but I can tell he's scared of me. I've seen that look before - never from Blake. But why? There's nothing to be scared of. How many times do I have to explain this to him? They were accidents . I'm not a mean person. I just do what I have to do. It's a little annoying that he just doesn't get it. "Noah, I have to." I tsk and shake my head. He's really edging towards my last nerve, which he doesn't want to do. "You don't. You don't have to do anything you don't want to." "Noah, I have to. I want to. I can't let you walk around a free man while I know what you did." He steps back again, and this time, I step towards him. I can't believe he would betray me like this. I can't have it happen. "Well, Blake, I'm sorry you feel that way," I say, my mind finally coming to a decision. It pains me a little, but it's what's necessary. I watch the fear light up his eyes as I step towards him again. I smile gently at him before I speak: "But I hope you'll understand what I have to do now."


A serpent slithers through the desert. It drags its colossal body over the crunching bones of ancient victims, swishing torrents of sand in its wake. The earth trembles. Above, a dark cloud appears in the blue sky. The serpent pauses, swivels its head. It fixes a yellow eye on the cloud, watches it darken, broiling with fury, as if dragging in a long-winded breath, readying to strike. The snake doesn’t hesitate, moves fast through the desert, positions itself at the edge of the cloud’s lightning rage. There is nothing but dry, hungry sand stretching wide, and the sharp electric burn of a charged current, the taste of cataclysmic magic hovering overhead. The snake has hunted most of its life for a hidden world in the desert, a way in – looking for some sign, some anomaly. And here, beneath the first cloud to form in one hundred years, it stops. It flicks a forked tongue into the electric air one last time, coils its body. Waits. --- Leven doesn’t notice the dark swell of the cloud forming above. His eyes are on the girl – the one he’s just stabbed. A killing meant for a snake. The knife’s ornate handle protrudes from her gut, the twining vines of two filigreed snakes with inlaid ruby eyes, twin mouths, open and wide, feasting on her flesh. Leven’s hands shake as he wipes a cold sweat from his brow, smearing blood there, the truth twisting in his gut like a hot blade, a tumultuous unearthing of his own. He remembers the queen, who smiled with all her teeth as she handed him the knife. This knife has been made for a snake, the queen had said, the lie taking root, coiling the invisible threads of poison up his limbs. She made him believe the knife was made to kill a snake – but hears the words again in his mind, This knife has been made for a snake. Not to kill a snake. But to do a snake’s bidding. He wants to vomit as the truth washes over him. He replays it all in his mind – the way the magicked knife made itself quiet while he hunted for a snake, leading him here, distracting him with the heroic honor of slain monsters along the way, made him believe he was a god. It pushed its ideas in shallow waves in between its whispered admiration and praise, never letting him discover the prison it was quietly building around him, brick by brick. Until it was too late. The knife had him by the throat, squeezed until the air between the blade and the girl was gone and all that filled the space was a pulsing bloodlust. Leven lets out a shuddering breath. He leans forward, gently lifts the girl into his arms, cradles her. She shifts into him, her breathing shallow. The knife wanted her dead – but its fervor is nothing compared to the beat of his wild heart that wants her alive now, wants everything to run in reverse, wants her skin breathing into his. The knife had him walking in a haze, but now he has returned to himself, and feels the cool thrum of his own voice in his veins. He tucks a tendril of loose hair behind her ear, comes close enough to brush his agonized sorry against her temple. A single tear slides from her eye, catches his lip. The sky cracks. Lightning illuminates them like fallen stars, before they are plunged into the near-dark. At last Leven tears his eyes from the girl, looks up to the vengeful sky. The cloud above is unearthly, seething, cracking lightning fingers. A single drop of water falls directly between them, onto the knife’s handle, still embedded in the girl’s stomach. Leven watches, transfixed, as the water slides like a tear from the jeweled eye of the filigreed snake, hissing against the metal. He holds her firmly as the handle disintegrates, as if the water has become fire, the knife its bone-cracking kindling. Within moments the knife becomes ashes, grabbed callously upward by a vindictive wind. Leven only has a moment to gape at the girl’s wound, now free of the knife, the bleeding miraculously stopped, before the water drops from the sky. --- Death suits her. The sky splits open and reaches down with glossy hands of water skimming up her arms. The water rises, infinite and thunderous around her, but the midnight waves lift her gently, holding her close like a mother shushing into the starlit folds of her newborn baby’s neck, brushing a silken hand to the peach-fuzz hairline, pausing at the temple. She swallows a whole-body shiver, drifts beneath the heady scent of white jasmine stars, petals raining down on her body. She wonders why she waited so long to die, to find this place, like brushing up against a veil of gossamer wings, the whisper of eyelashes blinked against the delicate skin beneath her closed eyelids, a tendril of hair tucked behind the shell of her ear. The blooming night sky is a lid of midnight aloe, pricked with breezy stars to let in the air. She could spend eternity here, in the arms of death. The burning ache in her gut has subsided – no longer white hot with rage. The water presses weightless hands to the knife wound, washes the ache away with careful hands. There is a question beneath the water’s surface, a welcoming. The waves gather her to its watery chest, slides a hand down her face as the priests do for final rites. A re you ready? it asks between thunderous breaths, gentle somehow, then, without waiting for her answer, heaves her into the heart of its muted eternity. She is falling into the abyss. There is water all around her, pressing her in, behind and before, safe, cocooned. Down here it is quiet. She is not chosen, or other, simply a forgotten guest of the infinite seas – a home too vast to remember where all the creatures lie folded into the seams. Those creatures, old as time, brush past her, leaving the shuddering swell of changed currents in their wake, the waters shifting colder, warmer, colder again. She is too small for their notice, an infinitesimal mote risen up from the riverbed’s slurry. Above her, there is a wild crash, frantic arms loop around her waist, a heartbeat presses in the space between her closed eyes. The water pulls, beckoning her, the question still there tingling in its depths – one she can taste like a grain of sea salt pressed to her tongue – but the arms around her are urgent, unrelenting, a plea. And then she is heaved up, out, and the arms are now a mouth, pressing wildly to hers. Her mind reels back, shifts together, focuses on the shape above that is willing life back between the saturated woods of her. She opens her eyes. To him, raven black hair dripping water into his squinted eyes, down his chin, onto her mouth. The man who murdered her. And above him, looming even higher, arched like an arrow, a snake.


CornFlower Moon Harley Seesholtz Aaria was just another part of just another normal day. A day on a planet that was so, so special. This planet was called Soha, and Soha’s days were years and years long. They never ever seemed to end, and nobody on Soha really counted anymore. Aaria loved the warm, welcoming sunshine on her face, even if it was artificial. She wasn’t sure how the big corporations and producers did it- made fake sunlight. It seemed impossible, she thought. She loved the warm feeling on her face when she walked outside, but something deep inside her remembered… something inside her remembered that it just wasn’t as good as the real thing. She had read books about Earth (she, of course, had been there before, North Carolina, but it was becoming increasingly hard to remember Earth.) Not that there weren’t other planets- but Earth interested her the most. Maybe it was because she was born there, but it's more than that. It had other people- an atmosphere, warm, real sunshine, and healthy, green plants that grew with the help of the sun. It’s an almost magical process that people call photosynthesis. Her parents on Earth would send her little packages with things from Earth in them. They never failed to get to her. So far, she was sent a leaf, a branch, a small, smooth block of wood, a coconut, an acorn, a deer antler, a pinecone, a porcupine quil, a small portion of Fools Gold/ Pyrite/Iron Sulfide, a flawless sketch of a sunflower done by her Mother, a bluebird feather, a turkey feather, a flower petal, a decorative butterfly pinned down and secured in a case/frame that hangs on the wall many, many, MANY letters and postcards, and a jar of dirt. Dirt didn’t sound that special, but it was Earth’s dirt. It was capable of growing plants and holding life. Well... not on Soha it wasn’t... All these things brought back memories that were buried under her knowledge and need to learn from her expensive, non-Earth school. Almost all life on Soha was artificial. Their food was all fake nutrients, because it was too much work and took too long to send things from Earth to Soha. If it could spoil or wasn’t worth anything, then you wouldn’t be allowed to send things back and forth between planets. All that did was waste fuel and time. Aaria thought the people on Durva were pricks anyway… What with their riches and huge colonies. One colony on Durva could swallow the entire Soha population in one fell swoop. Luckily, they haven’t. Yet. There has been some heat between them and Soha... I guess Aaria hasn’t really had a proper introduction. Her name is Aaria Lia Katz. She is a 14 year old girl from Earth. She is part of a group of kids who are actually from Earth on Soha. Everybody else is a person who has a family history of ancestors on Earth, but there are no people who have touched Earth’s land and lived there that aren’t these kids. Aaria is part of a small group who was sent by rich families on Earth to go to school on Soha. These kids have all seen the sun. The adults have not. Not unless they are driving the shuttles that send packages (and, at one point, these kids) to and from Earth and Soha. And even then, they have never stepped foot on the soft grasses of Earth’s fair surface. They have not appreciated the fine textures and gorgeous sights of all the nature and beautiful things Earth has to offer. Aaria didn’t want to go to school on Soha. Her parents made her. They claimed it would help her make more friends and give her more diversity. She couldn't stay in North Carolina forever. They had money to throw away, so they decided it would be used to send her to school on a planet that still takes days and days to get to even while going lightspeed in one of the highest quality shuttles Soha has to offer. The days on Soha seem to never end. People there have just sort of stopped counting as the days went on. They just let time do what it wants, and if they feel it will be night soon, they cancel plans for the next few hours. If they were right, they get some favour and praise for accurately guessing. If they get it wrong, they are reprimanded by their bosses for canceling work when they weren’t supposed to. Aaria thinks it’s unfair, but she, as a 14 year old, can’t do anything about it. Aaria, in her 8 years and many school grades of being on Soha, has never seen the Moon. Every day, when they are sleeping, she sneaks out of the facility she stays in with the other kids and waits. She waits for the fictitious lights to go away, and for the moon to come out. Nobody ever knows when it will happen... Soha has its own Moon, and to see it is a treasure, so once every... Well, who knows how long- the big, rich companies and producers turn out all the fake lights so the kind, patient people of Soha can see the Moon. Soha’s Moon isn’t the gray colour she remembers Earth’s Moon being, no, Soha’s moon seems to glow a beautiful cornflower blue. It shadows their entire world in a lovely shade of blue, and everybody cancels plans so they can see the gorgeous night sky. Sadly, the moon stays out for around 4 hours and then leaves, not to be seen for years and years on end. Or, well, years and years on never end. Aaria- just once -would love to see the Moon. She just knows that she will take enough pictures of the night sky to fill an entire house, but it’ll be worth it, because she can say that she has seen something that only happens for 4 hours every who knows how many years. Aaria, that little girl with a big dream from bum nowhere North Carolina, will be special. At least a faint bit.


We all sit back and watch the world destroy what we have built. We have all worked hard to pay for the very things they choose to take away or place out of our reach. Our children grow up to an understanding that this is how life works. They are reinforced with the ideas that it must be ok. The very people they look up to do absolutely nothing but stand aside and watch. At a certain point, individuals become unknowingly numb to the process in which they are being controlled. It is easier to sit back and watch everything take place as it happens; Wind down a ominous path that was not self-chosen. You have to stop and ask yourself, “But is it really…easier”? It’s all we know. We haven’t experienced any different so we cannot answer that question with any type of validity. So while we watch and wait, our minds think otherwise. We take account the reality of what is happening and we plan accordingly. We do what we can to stay on the path we believe is and should be an honest and fair for humanity. For every action there is a reaction. We didn’t set the curve but it can be flattened by using critical thinking, manipulation, and leverage. You turn the same game being used on you against your opponent without them being aware. It is then when succession begins to occur. Sometimes the enemy will even contribute to your success, not realizing it is to be used against them. And unlike others before us that have tried to manipulate our circumstances, we practice in a way where there is never harm nor hurt. We often go go through our day to day routines waking up and following the same patterns. These patterns have been embedded into our thinking. We complete the same mundane tasks only to achieve the same results. There must be moments of clarity to break this consistent pattern and question what exactly is our goal and how do we achieve them. We must have an awareness that although we stay on course to do what we have been taught is needed to achieve goals, there are several variables set in place form outside sources to keep our goals from being achieved. There are so many hidden underlying algorithms set in place to of set our productivity without us even being aware. There is fine print in life that has been constructed not only to confuse the ones that take the time to analyze it, but usually discourage many from continuing to proceed. Life choices should not be this difficult, but it has been developed by those beyond our knowing to keep us in a place that pre conceivably has been selected for us. Only a certain few will get through this process and to the other side. The beginning of your journey should be to learn to enlighten yourself to the truth of the reality we find ourselves fighting against. We will not suffer from repercussions because what we do is law abiding and safe. Now it’s time to rethink your strategies in life and chose what you really want.


The Hat It was just a hat. A bowler or derby hat actually. I saw it hanging on a hat stand in Magikat Books and Magic Emporium. I passed by it daily on my way to work. The shop itself was hardly what might be imagined as an emporium. It seemed small and unobtrusive, but the hat fascinated me. But the hat fascinated me so much so much I ventured inside. The shelves of books had no interest, but the hat held my attention. I saw myself wearing it but thought it would bring a smile or even a few derisive comments from my work mates. I tried to put it out of my mind and left the shop and went to work. But there it was still there, every day. I made up my mind to have it if it was for sale. This morning, I decided to start out a little earlier and drop by the shop and check it out. But when I got there, the hat stand was empty. It had disappeared! I was so disappointed and even a little angry with myself for putting it off for so long. Now it was gone. I had dreamed about the silly thing and realised how much I wanted it. I spent a few minutes pretending to peruse the books on magic stuff before going to work feeling like I’ve forgotten something. The next morning when I passed the shop on my way to work, there it was, back on that stand, almost brazenly daring me to go in! The door rang a bell as I entered. A little, wizened fellow stood behind a counter with a knowing smile of his face. He wore a patched grey jacket and a once-white shirt and blue bow tie. His hands were clasped in front of his chest. His knowing smile broke into sound, “You’ve come for the hat, haven’t you!” It wasn’t a question. I nodded, “How did you know?” “You pass by every morning and look at it. The hat told me you would like it.” “But it wasn’t there yesterday. I thought someone else had bought it.” “A man did, but it came back the same day.” “Oh,” I said. “May I try it on?” “No need. It will fit you perfectly.” I took the hat down from the stand and placed it carefully on my head. I’m sure I felt it settle and it fitted perfectly. “How much,” I asked? “Oh, you can have it for as long as you need it.” I was overwhelmed and thanked him profusely. “See you again, eh?” The knowing smile reappeared. I tipped my new hat at him and left the shop feeling I had scored a bargain! I wore it into my office and was surprised there was little or no reaction. I went to take it off, but it was stuck. It simply wouldn’t budge. I had quite a lot of work to do, so I left it on and started going through my clients’ accounts. It was tax time and an accountant’s life was a busy one. Today the work seemed easy, and I flew through at least twice as many accounts as normal. The hat stayed on. I was happy wearing it. I ate my lunch at my desk and continued working through the afternoon. By five o’clock I had finished what was a week’s work. I couldn’t really understand why. I walked home, with what I’m sure was a jaunty gait. Once at home and in the front door I went to take my hat off and it came off easily. I placed it carefully on the hat hook on the wall. My phone rang and it was a young lady from my office I had fancied for some time but was too shy to ask her out. She asked me out! She said she was very taken with my hat and couldn’t resist getting to know me outside of work. Of course, I agreed, and we had a wonderful evening that turned out quite romantic. She was perfect for me, and we seemed to get on so well together. She asked could we see each other again. You bet I said. I went home elated. As I opened the front door, I noticed my hat was missing from its place on the wall. I thought I’d been broken into, but nothing else was missing. But I was in such a state of joy, I decided not to worry about it and enjoy a happy sleep, dreaming of my new friend. The next morning, I skipped out of the door, stopped and went back inside. There on the wall was my hat. I looked at it and thought I had somehow just missed it somehow the night before. I gleefully put it on and went happily to work. As I passed the bookshop I tipped the brim to the hat stand, thinking that the old fellow was probably standing behind the counter with that smile on his face, watching me walk past. He would surely notice the spring in my step. I arrived at the office and my new friend smiled at me and said quietly that the boss, the senior partner, wanted to see me. She squeezed my hand discretely and I smiled at her. The senior manager told me that his phone hadn’t stopped ringing with calls from my clients expressing their joy at what I had been able to do for them. I was obviously really pleased. Then he said that I was to be his new partner! What a day! I whizzed through the day and on my way out I asked my new friend to celebrate with me. She smiled and said she couldn’t think of a better idea. At home I took off my hat and gave it a kiss before putting it on its hook. Again, the evening was superb, and I realised I was totally hooked on my lovely friend. The next morning, I was about to leave and noticed my hat was missing, I searched for it, but it was nowhere to be found. I was mystified and quite upset. But I had to be at work on time, on my first day as a partner. As I passed the shop, I couldn’t help but look in. There was my hat on the old hat stand! But how? I went in and asked the old gentleman how my hat was back. He smiled that knowing sort of smile, “You don’t need it anymore.” I looked at the hat and I swear it tilted its brim at me …


The Captain slid into the seat behind the control panel. He glanced over at his partner/co-pilot/wife seated next to him. She was busy running scans on the planet below. They had found this planet worthy of a great deal of time, unlike most of the worlds they had explored on this voyage. Many of the systems they had traveled through on this journey were of little interest. Huge gas giant planets circling huge, extremely hot stars, no chance of life. The last system had been some small, frozen rocky planets orbiting a burned-out brown dwarf star. If life had ever graced this system, it had died out eons ago. Some worlds they encountered had very basic life forms, single-cell plants, and animals. Some worlds had more advanced creatures capable of communication, rudimentary forms of civilization, and mechanization. But this planet, this one was very different. Even before they had approached the planet they were receiving electromagnetic impulses radiating from it. The impulses were far stronger than anything that could have been occurring naturally. The Captain plotted a course to slip in behind a moon that was orbiting this planet. He was going to approach the planet very cautiously. His ship was of the most advanced series available when he and his partner left on their voyage of discovery. It had the ability to deflect energy around it, and thus be invisible to most scanning or tracking attempts. He engaged the machinery to ensure their presence was not noticed if by some unthinkable chance the planet was inhabited by an advanced species of beings. The Captain and his partner spent some time as they hid behind the planet’s moon analyzing the data they had collected as they approached the planet. The planet seemed to be an excellent habitat for carbon-based lifeforms. The planet enjoyed a very stable orbit around its star. The presence of the sizable moon they were hiding behind caused tidal forces on the planet’s surface to circulate the sizable collection of water present on the surface. Analysis of the surface and sub-surface data collected showed an abundant supply of minerals necessary for any advanced civilization. The Captain and his partner finished their work with all the data they had. The Captain decided it was time to swing into an orbit around the planet and continue their studies. As they settled into an orbit just above the planet’s atmosphere, they began to collect and analyze the enormous amount of electromagnetic radiation being generated on the planet’s surface. As the Captain looked through the analyses of the data, a strange thought began to form in his mind. “Is this their form of communication,” he wondered. He had read of ancient uses of electromagnetic communications, but that technology had died out long ago. As he studied the data he saw patterns emerging. Some of the EMC was scattered in all directions from single points. Apparently, the message was intended to be received by anyone with an appropriate device. Some EMC was directed from point to point, apparently in an attempt to control access to the message. His analysis led him to understand that the beings on this planet had multiple modes of communication. Decoding some of the signals his machinery intercepted enabled him to see that the transmission of images was a big part of their communications. The transmissions had images of the beings interacting with each other, some images of what appeared to be their written languages, and also some images of lesser creatures these beings appeared to enjoy interacting with. The Captain was troubled by one aspect of the analysis. After allocating some of the signal to the images, some of it to simply being the medium by which the message flowed, and allowing for other technical matters, there was one channel of data being transmitted he could not crack. He broadened his search and expanded the signals the machinery would intercept. He soon found not only streams with image channels and the mystery channel, but he also found points of transmission of nothing but the mystery material. These transmissions had no images, just the data stream he could not crack. Perplexed, he brought his partner into the work of understanding this mystery. With a fresh perspective on the matter, she asked herself if there was any correlation between the image data and the mystery data. She watched the images produced by the data streams. The beings took many forms, engaged in a huge variety of activities, and she began to notice patterns between their movements and the mystery data stream. Sometimes the mystery data signal would generate a reaction that caused great excitement. Sometimes the mystery data signal generated what appeared to be a state of peace in the beings. As she worked with the machinery interpreting the EMC received from the surface she pondered the conversions her machines were making. The very high frequency signals created the images. The ultra-high frequency signals created other styles of communications. Hidden in the mystery stream were very low frequency signals. Signal frequencies too low to be played on the imaging machines. She isolated the very low frequency signals and watched the reactions of the beings when exposed to the signals. Some seemed happy, some sad. She found some visual image streams where large numbers of the beings would gather, and soon the mystery data stream would show huge patterns of activity. She had to devise a way to convert the the mystery data signal to something she could experience. She and the Captain had watched huge amounts of images. The machinery was very adept at transforming the signals into a format their eyes could process. She needed to convert the mystery data signal into something she could feel. She ran the problem through the computer, and it presented an answer. She routed the mystery data signal through the power supply of a small vibrator used to process samples of soil and other solid material. The varying frequencies of the signal would cause the vibrator to change its vibratory pattern to match the signal. She could touch the machine and feel the patterns as the signals went through it. She turned the little machine on and put the signal through it. As she laid her hand on the machine, she felt a soothing pattern of vibrations. Falling and rising in intensity and strength, it seemed to communicate something. She had never felt something like this before. The vibrations seemed to touch her deeply. She began to understand how this phenomenon could have such an impact on the beings of this planet. As she sat there enjoying the vibrations, speculating what they could be communicating to the beings of the planet, she put two more of her hands on the vibrating machine. The Captain walked into the room, surprised to see the blissful look on her face. He walked over and touched the machine, surprised to feel the vibrations. He could understand why she seemed to be enjoying whatever she was experiencing. The vibrator was a poor loud speaker, but it was a very suitable device for the Captain and his partner to experience the phenomenon. As they stood there transfixed by this new strange phenomenon, the mystery signal filled the room, “O come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant………..


It was early morning when I was sitting at a park near the Ocean watching as the waves grew and crashed when I began to hear a voice. It first felt like my imagination, but this time I felt something wasn’t right. I tried to remember which direction the voice came from and I headed in that direction. I headed to the road where the voice got louder, but not loud enough for me to understand, I began walking down the road. Then in the distance I saw someone, small, running towards me, out of breath but trying to say something.

I ran towards them and then I heard yelling, “Help! Help!” “What’s wrong?” I yelled back. A young boy approached me, completely out of breath and exhausted.

“FIRE! FIRE! The house down the street! Mommy and daddy are still inside!”		“Calm down, deep breaths, deep breaths, ok, this is important, show me where the house on fire is.” We walked for about a block and then I saw the smoke, I called 9-1-1. They arrived quickly, I informed them the parents may still be trapped inside. After 10 minutes they got the fire out, but the mom and dad had perished. I sat with the boy the whole time, after a while he mentioned his name was Henry Lacey, and then I remembered something, I know that name. It was the last name of my friends from college who I lost touch with, Samantha and Kyle Lacey, they got married after graduation and had a little boy. That boy's name was Henry. I didn’t recognize him since the last time I had seen him was when he was 2 years old, that was 4 years ago. After I realized this I heard one of the police officers talking. “Boss, what do we do with the kid?” “Bring him to the station, we’ll hold him there until we can contact foster care.” Then I remembered something else, I stood up to face the officer. “Wait, that won’t be necessary, I’m Ellavive Stone. I’m his godmother.” Samantha and Kyle were adopted, I was the closest thing they had to a family so they made me his godmother. After not talking for so long I forgot about it.

Once I shared that the officers had me fill out a few forms and then I took Henry with me to my condo. It was small, two bedrooms with one bath.

When we walked in I gave him a

little tour, “Here’s the living room, um, the kitchen’s straight, to the right is the hallway.” I led him there, I pointed to the left where the bathroom was, “That’s the bathroom, then my rooms to the right, and you’ll stay straight ahead here, which was my office but if you give me a few moments I can clear some stuff. Then set-up a foldable bed I have in the attic, how does that-?” Before I could finish my sentence I found Henry snuggled up in my bed fast asleep, I pulled up his blanket making sure he was all tucked in.

The next morning I woke up early making myself and Henry some pancakes, I also called my mom to tell her what was going on. “Mom you remember Samantha and Kyle from college, the couple who had a kid?” “Yeah why?” “I found their 6 year old son running in the street yesterday, he escaped a fire that burst in the rental home they were staying in because they live 2 states away. Anyway, they died in the fire and I’m Henry's godmother so now I’m taking care of him.” It was silent for a moment. “Wow that is a lot of information at once. When did this happen?” “Yesterday.” “Yesterday? Why didn’t you call last night? I could come to help you?”

“I don’t know. I was kinda busy, can you come now and maybe bring some of Charlie’s old clothes and toys?”

“Of course! I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I can pick up some snacks at the store too, what do you think he’ll like? Pop-tarts?” Then I started to hear Henry panicking in the other room while my mom continued. “Chips? Popcorn? Maybe I should just get a few lunchables.” I continued to hear Henry freak out in the other room. “I don’t know, figure it out, I've got to go.” I hung up and walked into my room. Henry was whining rocking back and forth on the bed, when he saw me he jumped up and hugged me tight. I knelt down to meet him in the hug, he began to cry. “It’s okay Henry I’m right here. You’ve been through a lot, let it all out.” After he calmed down I began to leave for the kitchen but he started crying again.

“What’s wrong?” He just kept sniffling but wouldn’t speak.

“If you tell me then I can help you.” but he still wouldn’t speak. Then I got an idea which made me smile big. “Do you like chocolate chip pancakes?” I said. He started to smile, shaking his head yes. I brought him to the kitchen, settling him at the table with utensils, a plate, and some orange juice. I gave him a chocolate chip pancake all cut up, then I poured on some syrup, when I put too much he quickly pushed me away. I sat down across from him. “You should drink your orange juice.” He looked up and shook his head no. “Do you not like orange juice?” He shook his head no again but this time motioned for a cup. “Do you want some water?” He nodded, as I got his water I started to realize his trauma made him not want to talk, all the nods and hand gestures showed that. I shrugged it off for the moment, I figured he’d been through a lot and he’d need some time to adjust. We continued eating in silence so I put on some music, I only asked a question to see if he liked the food or not and he nodded. Then my mom walked in with 2 large bags. “Hey, Honey I brought a lot of stuff. Here I have some old clothes, toys, and books. I went to the store and brought a whole bunch of snacks, we’ll see what he likes. Where is he, can I meet him?”

“Yes, he’s in the kitchen, but he’s a little-” Before I could finish she storms past me into the kitchen. “Hi! I’m Ellavive’s Mom, you can call me Carol. What’s your name?” All he did was wave hi. My mother saw this and just waved again.

“Hi, what’s your name?” He didn’t do anything. Then I pulled my mom back into the living room. “Mom I was trying to tell you he’s shy, like really shy, so take it slow.”

“Ok, ok, how about I show him the toys and books?”

“Sure, Henry come here.” He walked in. My mom said, “I brought this stuff for you.” He looked down and saw the books, he pushed passed the books and then picked up a book called city dog, country frog. He pushed it towards me implying he wanted me to read it. Then the doorbell rang again, I wasn’t sure who it could be. I opened the door and it was a man with a clipboard, I could see behind him a truck was in my driveway.

“Ellavive Stone?” “Yes?” “You're the guardian of Henry Lacey?” “Yes, why?”  	“We have all his belongings from the families house in Florida, where would you like us to put it?”

“Um the living room is fine.” They brought in all of Henry’s stuff and a few boxes of his parents' stuff. Henry seemed to take some comfort in seeing his stuff, but he was also very sad which was understandable.

The next day I went to the local school to register Henry.

“I’m sorry we can register Henry but Henry can’t come here if he can’t talk yet.” “What? I don’t think this is permanent. He'll start talking once he sees other kids and adults?”

“Yes but until then he can’t communicate with the teacher. Don’t worry right when he starts talking again he’ll be able to come. And there’s things you can do, here’s our school counselor so we can set up some meetings with her.” “Thank you. Anything else to suggest?”

“Like you said, try to introduce him with some kids or family.” “Okay thank you.” I wasn’t really sure what to do, but home I asked Henry yes or no questions about school. “Do you want to go to school Henry?” He nodded. “Can you speak to answer me?” He did nothing and just looked down.

“That’s okay. Maybe we can do some speech therapy?” He aggressively shook his head no. “No, ok we don’t have to do that yet. It’ll be our last try. For now let’s watch a movie.” I went onto Disney Plus, “Anything specific you want to watch.” He nodded.

“What?” He put his arms up and growled like a bear. “Bear?” He nodded, so I looked up bear and he pointed to an option that said brother bear about a human turning into a bear and helping a bear cub who lost his mother. “Brother Bear?’ He nodded, I guess he really likes animals.

A week later I decided to invite some of my family over to see if he’d talk that way. I invited my parents, (when he saw them he was more comfortable already knowing my mom) my brother, and my aunt and uncle. I filled them all in on the situation. They talked for a little bit and Henry got to know them, he smiled for a little while and I saw, everyone tried asking him questions but he would only answer by shaking his head or not at all.

“Are you excited for school soon?” My uncle asked. He nodded. “Do you like reading?” My brother asked. He nodded. My aunt asked, “What’s your favorite book?” he grabbed the book from the shelf. “City Dog, Country Frog? That’s a good one?” He nodded hugging it.

My mom asked, “Can you tell us about it?” He didn’t answer.

“Just say what's your favorite part?” My aunt asked. I saw Henry thinking, very confused. He flipped to the last page and pointed to it, smiling. My aunt said, “No, use your words.” He put down the book, and ran into my bedroom. I said, “Thank you guys for trying, maybe next time.” They left, I went to see Henry to see if I could do anything to make him feel better. When I walked in he was at the end of my bed all curled up in a ball. I sat next to him. “Come here.” he scooched next to me and I gave him a hug. “You don’t have to talk today, or tomorrow, or even in a week. Take your time, and if you think it’s too scary, guess what?” He looked at me, “You're the strongest little boy I know.” He smiled. The next week I tried something else, I brought some of my friends who have kids over to my house. They were all close to Henry’s age, 3 of them. They brought a football so they invited Henry to play with them.

“Henry you wanna play with us?” Jack asked. Henry started shaking his head, and he put his arms up as if he didn’t know. I asked, “Do you know how to play Henry?” He shook his head no. “Jack maybe you could teach Henry how to play and throw football?” Jask answered, “Yeah, sure. Come on Henry!” Jack and the other two girls went out in the little front yard I had in the beautiful spring weather teaching Henry how to play football. I watched from the living room with the other moms and Henry seemed to be having fun, the other kids enjoyed playing with him. At one point I thought he was talking but he just yawned. Henry still wasn’t talking even though I tried introducing my family, playing with friends, I knew it was time to try the counseling classes. As much as he wouldn’t like it I knew it was for his own good. Walking into the school Henry was very nervous and shy. We checked in with the office and went to the classroom with the counselor. She greeted us very enthusiastically when we walked in. A few days before I called her about his situation. “Hi! Welcome!” She shook our hands, “I’m Ms. Hart, what’s his name?”

I responded, “This is Henry and I’m Ellavive.” “Nice to meet you, come sit down.” We sat in the chairs in front of her desk. “Henry, why do you think you're here?” He nodded. “Because you're not talking right?” He nodded. “Do you know why we want you to talk?” He shook his head no. “Well, we want to know what’s going on with you, what you're thinking about only you know. We can’t know unless you talk, when you talk we can get you anything you need and we can help solve any problems you have. So what I’m gonna do is make little goals each week, they won’t be big, small goals, do you think you could do those?” He moved his arms up to say I don’t know.

“I think you can do it, but for today I’m just gonna have you play with some of the toys I have. So you do that now over there.” She pointed over to a shelf of toys and she played with Henry.

We went every week for a few weeks, but no luck. One day I asked Henry if he wanted some s’mores, I guess he didn’t know what they were so I was excited to show him. I went to my backyard, cleared out the standing fire pit, put in some new logs, newspaper, and lint, then I lit fire. Henry walked outside and saw the flames.

“FIRE! FIRE!” He yelled. He started crying, I ran towards him. “Oh, Henry it’s okay. You’re okay.” “But No! FIRE!”

“Henry this fire can’t hurt you. It’s contained, it won’t hurt you, it won’t hurt me.” “B-but but-.” I held him tight trying to calm him down, rubbing his back. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He continued to whimper. “Look at me, do you trust me?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled. “I’m telling you, you are safe, okay?” He smiled in relief. “Okay.” he replied. “Alright, now we’re going to make some s’mores.” I took him to the pantry for some crackers, chocolate and marshmallows, we laid them down near our chairs that were around the fire. Then I took him to the woods to find some sticks. We walked back and I told him to put a marshmallow on his stick, then put the marshmallow over the fire. “Your marshmallow is on fire!” he said. “It’s okay, look I can just blow it out like this.” I blew it out. Then he did something that surprised me, he put his marshmallow in the fire, and then pulled it out. And he blew it out. “Good job Henry! I’m so proud of you.” I said. “Why?” “Well, because a few minutes ago you were very afraid, but you stood up to that fear, that’s really brave.” “Really?” “Yes. And you spent a move not talking, and you spoke about what was bothering you. Then we had a whole conversation! I’m very proud of you, and I love you very much!”

“I love you too mom! Oh wait was I supposed to say that?” “Yeah, you can call me mom. You're my boy, my boy Henry.”


Chapter 1 – Inner Turmoil In 2019 I met a girl named Chelsea and she meant the world to me. It was odd because I met her while attempting to distract myself from the pain and rancor I had built up over the past 10 years. In 2010 I joined the Marine Corps and I never had regrets but I had lost so many friends that my life turned upside down. I hated myself for being alive and I missed them every day. That was then, this is now – I don't feel much of anything anymore. I'm more of an empty shell than anything else. I had actually planned to kill myself within a few months, I just wanted to get everything together and make sure everyone else in my life was alright before I left this world. It's a feeling that's hard to explain because on one side you don't want to live with the pain anymore and everyone always thinks you can get better and tell you to just try but they don't understand that nothing makes it better. So you have to make a decision on whether you want it to end and make everyone else upset or keep living in pain every day but you don't cause others grief. I had already decided that it was better for me to leave this world because I wanted to take care of myself and what was best for me is to not live in pain anymore. I've done enough for this world as it is, at least, that's the way I saw it. I changed my mind because of this girl, she completely turned me around in just a matter of a few months. It's interesting because I never cared about what anyone else told me, I never cared to push forward because I never valued any other person's beliefs except my own. I was born with the IQ of a genius, the particular number doesn't quite matter. I just happened to see everyone else as beneath me and idiots. It was innate, I had recently come to face the facts – not everyone is like me and I can't judge everyone based on the criteria that governs my life. I happened to be playing a game online and I just heard this voice, a thick New Jersey accent and I chuckled, I thought it was funny. Most of my friends were from Jersey and I always made fun of them so I figured I would be nice this time and not say anything. I kept my mouth shut and then I wouldn't talk to this girl again for another month. I kept moving forward in my plans to get my affairs in order and leave this world but then I heard her voice again as I sat in my room trying to numb my pain by downing whiskey, smoking cigarettes and playing video games. For some unknown reason, when I heard her voice, I was taken aback. I knew I wanted to get to know her more – I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HER AT ALL! I COULDN'T SEE HER! This was crazy, I'm trying to meet a girl that I can't see, can only hear and who has no reason to even talk to me one on one except for the fact that we played the same game. It was so interesting because I had no idea she felt the same way towards me. I rationalized it because people meet others online, right? What could go wrong? Well, a lot went wrong. I was still working at the time but at this point I was working for the CIA and going to class, I know, weird but it worked for me. Essentially I kept my original job as an operator but instead of MARSOC I worked as a spook. Same job, same pay, same everything. I would disappear for months on end and I didn't know how this would go. Anyway, back to this girl. I asked her if she wanted to join me and a friend, his name is George but he goes by Kiwi, in playing this game as a regular group. "Well, you're both cool, I like you guys…of course!" she said. "Dope! Here, this is the server we hang out in and you're welcome to join us anytime" I replied. I remember I was telling Kiwi how she was going to come hang out with us and by this point in time Kiwi already knew her. He liked her as well, just not in the same way I did. Everyone in our group welcomed her and immediately proceeded to ask her about her accent. Some guessed Boston, others guessed New Jersey. At this point I was taking care of my nieces, my sister had recently passed leaving a distraught family and her 4 daughters with no home. About half a year ago my brother-in-law had asked to borrow my motorcycle because my sister really wanted to ride one, they couldn't afford one and it was her birthday. I never liked him but I love my family so I agreed to let him borrow it. He drove over to my house, left his car and took my motorcycle. That motorcycle would be my sister's killer. I felt horrible. I got a phone call from my other sister. "Hey, where are you?" said Eve as she sniffled, struggling to catch her breath and calm down. "I'm at home sitting on the couch with Champ. We're watching TV, what's up? What's wrong? Did something happen?" "Grace is dead. She was in a motorcycle accident. Mom knows it was your bike and she is pissed. Dad can't gather himself right now. Why would you let them borrow it? That's a really powerful bike." "I…what happened?" "Kevin was speeding and hit the side of an SUV and Grace went flying over, smacked the ground and died on impact. Kevin hit the side of the SUV. Broke his right clavicle, cracked his right humerus, broke both his femurs and has a flail chest. He's in the hospital. I had to tell you because mom doesn't want to talk to you and I know they wouldn't tell you otherwise." "Ok…thanks…umm…I won't come by then. Thank you for telling me. Text me in case I can come by at some point." I had dealt with so much death, seen most of my friends die, get shot, blown up, bleed out, I just didn't have the emotions to deal with this anymore. I sat there, thought about it and turned off the TV. I sat in the dark as it was getting late, for hours. I sat there for 6 hours remembering past deployments, holding my friends in my arms as I saw the light leave their eyes. I moved past PTSD and I was at the point where I didn't care about people's feelings anymore. I had to text my sister back and ask her where the girls are, my nieces. She said they haven't been able to figure out where to place them but she's hoping they can stay with me because everyone else is so distraught it wouldn't behoove them to stay with anyone else in the family. I could offer them an environment free of everyone else's crying and telling them how they should feel. It's something everyone does, they think they know everything and how people should act that they try to tell you what to do and want you to do it but you know you can't. At least with me, with my lack of emotions, I won't force them to act or feel any type of way. I accepted and made up the rooms I had at the moment, it was just me and my dog. I cleared out the master bedroom and guest bedroom and got them ready for them. It was at this point I decided I wasn't going to be able to leave this world just yet, I needed to see this through. This was about 6 months before meeting Chelsea and if this hadn't happened I never would've met her. I never would've gotten to know this angel I can't seem to let go. Chelsea would play with us all the time, till random hours in the morning. Sometimes we would play until 4 or 5 o'clock. She was regular member of our group. The names of the others are irrelevant because they aren't seen much anyway. In the beginning we all hung out and played but everyone grew distant whereas Kiwi, Chelsea and I only got closer. She lived in Florida, I was in Ohio. My nieces wanted to go to Disneyworld and I didn't want to go. I really didn't. But because I had so much free time I said sure and I always caved whenever they asked me for anything. I commented this to the group. "I mean…I have a ticket in case you want some company…I don't know if it would be awkward…" I was shocked at what I had just heard, I don’t know this girl but she just volunteered to come spend time with us. I laughed because I thought she was joking and I said the girls would be uncomfortable with it. They hadn't liked me bringing girls over so I figured they wouldn't like it but I hadn't actually asked them. Later on while messing around with my friends I ended up finding out she was being serious. She also told me later on. At the time I was so confused, what do I do? What do I say? Does she actually like me? I'm broken, I hate my life and I didn't want to be alive but, yet, here's a girl who is trying to push herself into my life and I'm freely letting her in. I knew I shouldn't, she'll only get hurt. Everyone I date gets hurt and since I'm the common denominator I can only assume the problem is me. I was stuck, do I pursue this or do I step aside? I'm in terrible shape, I just took in my nieces, I'm mentally unstable – I even had a plan to kill myself! Well…I still have the plan, once the girls are well and they are no longer living with me.


Chapter 1 Jack slumped into his threadbare armchair, a ghost haunting the ruins of his life. The city's relentless drone pierced the stillness of his apartment. Whiskey bottles, like tombstones of his failures, littered the coffee table. A sharp ring shattered the silence, cutting through the fog of his despair. He fumbled for the phone, irritation a thick fog in his mind. "What?" he growled. Mrs. Finch's voice cut through the haze. "Package for you." Surprise ignited amidst his despair. A package? Unlikely. Yet, hope, a fragile ember, flickered to life. He stumbled to the door, the ornate box, adorned with macabre skulls, an ominous presence on the welcome mat. His heart pounded as he tore open the packaging, revealing a parchment envelope. The familiar handwriting was a dagger to his gut. Jack’s hands trembled as he unfolded the letter, Arthur’s elegant script transporting him to a sunlit past. As a young, eager journalist, he'd looked up to the charismatic politician. “You’ve got fire, kid,” Arthur had said with a paternal pat on the back. “Use it wisely.” Those words had been his lodestar. Arthur became more than a mentor; he was family. The letter's contents shattered the idyllic reverie. "If you're reading this, I've disappeared. Trust no one. The Order is real, Jack. Find the truth." The words were a dagger to the heart. Arthur, missing? The shadowy Order? A nightmare was unfolding. Guilt and fear warred within him. He’d abandoned his mentor, dismissed him as paranoid. Now, a flicker of his former self ignited. A spark of determination replaced the despair. He glanced at the newest whiskey bottle. It would have to wait. Jack’s mind raced, adrenaline replacing the fog. The cramped apartment seemed to close in around him. Arthur's letter, a physical manifestation of his absence, trembled in his hand. He needed to move, to act. Grabbing his worn leather jacket, he made his way into the hall. He passed by Mrs. Delacroix's apartment. The annoying Christmas wreath still hung on her door. It was June, for crying out loud. He stepped out into the open air. The familiar cacophony was a jarring contrast to the quiet desperation he felt. Fresh air should help, right? A nagging doubt crept in. Why a letter? Arthur was a digital native. The cryptic package, a puzzle piece missing from the picture, sent chills down his spine. Paranoia gnawed at him as he navigated the bustling crowd. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, every glance a potential threat. The city, once a comforting backdrop, now felt like a hostile environment. Jack's mind raced as he closed the door behind him. The apartment, once a sanctuary, now felt like a cage. Arthur's disappearance, the cryptic letter, the ominous package—each piece of the puzzle hinted at a darkness far deeper than he'd imagined. With a deep breath, Jack decided. He'd dive back into the world he'd abandoned, using his buried skills to unearth the truth. His old life would become his weapon. As he gathered his scattered notes and contacts, a strange feeling settled in. The apartment seemed to close in, the silence heavy with anticipation. A cold dread gnawed at him. The storm outside mirrored his inner turmoil. He moved to the window, the city lights a distant, indifferent glow. Chapter 2 Jack's world narrowed to a single focus: finding Arthur. Days blurred into nights as he pored over old case files and newspaper clippings. His apartment, once merely cluttered, descended into chaos. Takeout containers piled up, dirty laundry spilled from overflowing baskets, and a thin layer of dust settled over everything. He barely noticed the passage of time, his eyes bloodshot from endless hours staring at his laptop screen. The wall above his desk became a tapestry of sticky notes, red string, and grainy photographs. Jack's obsession grew, feeding on each new scrap of information he uncovered. A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his research-induced trance. He ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. The knocking persisted, followed by a familiar voice. "Jack? It's Mrs. Delacroix. Are you in there?" He groaned, running a hand through his unkempt hair. The last thing he needed was his nosy neighbor poking around. But her voice carried a note of genuine concern that tugged at his conscience. "Just a minute," he called out, hastily shoving papers into drawers and kicking dirty clothes under the couch. Jack opened the door, squinting at the sudden brightness from the hallway. Mrs. Delacroix stood there, her silver hair neatly coiffed, a plate of cookies in her hands. "Oh, Jack! You look terrible, dear. Are you alright?" He forced a smile. "I'm fine, Mrs. Delacroix. Just busy with work." She peered past him into the apartment, her eyes widening. "My goodness, it's a mess in there! When was the last time you cleaned? Or had a proper meal?" Jack shifted uncomfortably, blocking her view. "I appreciate your concern, but—" "Nonsense! I'll bring you some of my homemade soup tomorrow. You can't live on takeout, you know. It's not good for your digestion." As she chattered on, Jack's eyes drifted to his desk. A folder had fallen open, revealing a document he hadn't noticed before. His heart raced as he spotted a strange symbol at the bottom of the page—an inverted pentagram surrounded by unfamiliar runes. "Jack? Are you listening to me?" He blinked, forcing his attention back to Mrs. Delacroix. "Sorry, what were you saying?" She sighed, shaking her head. "I was asking if you'd heard from that nice Mr. McBangus lately. He always seemed so fond of you." Jack's blood ran cold. How did she know about Arthur? Jack hesitated, torn between his instinct for secrecy and the unexpected comfort of human connection. Mrs. Delacroix's kind eyes and genuine concern wore down his defenses. "Actually, I'm worried about Arthur," he admitted, his voice low. "He's... disappeared." Mrs. Delacroix gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my! Should we call the police?" Jack shook his head. "It's complicated. I think he might be involved in something... strange." "Strange?" Mrs. Delacroix's eyebrows shot up. "Like what? A secret government project? Or... oh! I know! He's probably planning a surprise party for you!" Despite himself, Jack chuckled. The idea of Arthur throwing him a party was so absurd that it momentarily lightened his mood. His amusement faded as he remembered the article he'd found earlier. "No, it's nothing like that. Look at this." He retrieved his laptop, pulling up the news story. Mrs. Delacroix squinted at the screen. "Arthur McBangus linked to occult activities," she read aloud. "My word! It says here he was seen at some sort of ritual gathering. But that can't be right, can it? Arthur's always been such a pillar of the community." Jack opened his mouth to respond, but his phone rang, cutting through the tense atmosphere. He didn't recognize the number. "Hello?" he answered cautiously. A distorted voice crackled through the speaker. "Stop digging, Harper. You're in over your head. Walk away now, or you'll regret it." The line went dead. Jack stared at his phone, his heart pounding. "Who was that?" Mrs. Delacroix asked, her eyes wide with concern. Jack swallowed hard. "I think... I think someone's trying to scare me off the case." Mrs. Delacroix gasped. "Oh, Jack! This is serious. Maybe you should listen to them. What if you get hurt?" He shook his head, a grim determination settling over him. "I can't stop now, Mrs. Delacroix. Arthur needs me. Whatever he's involved in, it's big. And dangerous." "But Jack—" "I have to do this," he interrupted, his voice firm. "I owe Arthur that much. And if there's even a chance I can help him, I have to try." Mrs. Delacroix wrung her hands, clearly torn between concern for Jack's safety and admiration for his loyalty. "Just... be careful, dear. Promise me you'll be careful." Jack nodded, his mind already racing with plans. The threat had only strengthened his resolve. Whatever secrets Arthur had uncovered, Jack was determined to bring them to light. Chapter 3 Jack spread the evidence across his cluttered desk, his eyes darting from document to document. The pieces were falling into place, forming a picture more sinister than he'd imagined. He knew he had to act fast. With trembling fingers, he dialed Mrs. Delacroix's number. The phone rang endlessly, each unanswered tone increasing his unease. "Damn it," he muttered, grabbing his coat. He had to check on her before leaving. As Jack rushed down the empty hallway, his footsteps echoed ominously. Approaching Mrs. Delacroix's apartment, his heart sank at the sight of the open door, a dark invitation to horrors unknown. "Mrs. Delacroix?" he called out, pushing the door wider. The scene that greeted him stole the breath from his lungs. Furniture lay overturned, shattered glass crunching beneath his feet. Signs of a violent struggle were everywhere. Jack's mind raced. The Order. They must have taken her. His fists clenched at his sides, a mixture of guilt and rage coursing through him. He'd dragged her into this mess, and now she was paying the price. With renewed determination, Jack gathered the evidence and prepared for his confrontation. He couldn't let them get away with this - he had to stop the cult. Jack's heart pounded as he approached the shadowy warehouse on the outskirts of town. The night air was thick with tension, and the distant barks of watchdogs sent shivers down his spine. He clutched a ring of sausages, his unlikely weapon against the canine sentries.  As he neared the perimeter, Jack spotted the massive, snarling beasts guarding the entrance. With a silent prayer, he tossed the sausages in a wide arc. The dogs' heads snapped towards the meat, their hunger overriding their training. Jack seized the moment, slipping past them and into the dimly lit shadows of the warehouse. Inside, the air was heavy with incense and whispered conversations. Jack blended into the crowd, his eyes scanning the space. At the center, a figure in dark robes stood on a raised platform, addressing the gathered members. "Our influence grows," the leader intoned. "With each politician in our grasp, we tighten our hold on this city's foundations." Jack's blood ran cold as he listened. The cult's reach was far greater than he'd imagined. They weren't just manipulating individuals - they were shaping the entire landscape, artificially inflating real estate prices to line their own pockets. He thought of Mrs. Delacroix, and the open door he'd found at her apartment. The Order had taken her, and he knew he had to act. Taking a deep breath, Jack stepped forward, ready to confront the cult's leader and expose their sinister plans, no matter the personal cost. Jack's heart pounded as he stepped forward, his eyes locked on the robed figure of the cult leader. The leader's gaze swept across the crowd, settling on Jack with an unsettling intensity. "Ah, a new face," the leader purred, his voice dripping with false warmth. "Tell me, seeker, are you prepared to prove your worth?" Jack nodded, his throat dry. The leader's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Very well. Answer these riddles three, or your life is forfeit." The first two riddles came and went, Jack's mind racing to decipher their meanings. But as the leader posed the final question, Jack felt his confidence waver. "What force and strength cannot get through, I with a gentle touch can do. And many in the street would stand, were I not a friend at hand." Jack's brow furrowed, the answer just out of reach. He could feel the crowd's anticipation, the leader's smug satisfaction at his struggle. Suddenly, the leader lunged forward, a dagger glinting in the dim light. Jack reacted on instinct, ducking and weaving as the blade sliced through the air. The two men grappled, locked in a desperate struggle. In the chaos, Jack's mind flashed back to Mrs. Delacroix's apartment, the open door, and the signs of struggle. The Order had taken her - he had to stop them. With renewed determination, Jack pushed back against the leader, fighting for his life and for the safety of the woman he cared about. Jack's mind raced as he grappled with the cult leader. With a heavy heart, he made his choice - he couldn't save Arthur, but he could still rescue Mrs. Delacroix. Breaking free from the leader's grasp, Jack bolted towards the back of the warehouse where he suspected they were holding her.  He found her bound and gagged in a small room. As he quickly untied her, Jack heard the approaching footsteps of cult members. There was no time for explanations. "We have to go, now," he urged, helping the shaken Mrs. Delacroix to her feet. They fled into the night, leaving behind the cult, Arthur, and the weight of Jack's past. It was a sacrifice that tore at his soul, but he knew it was the right choice. Months later, Jack sat on the porch of his new home, watching Mrs. Delacroix tend to her garden next door. The burden of his past still lingered, but a sense of peace had settled over him. He had found redemption in saving her, and in the quiet life they now shared as neighbors and friends. It was a bittersweet ending, but one that offered Jack the chance at a fresh start.


It was Niagara Falls 2010. It's a small town everyone knows everyone. People are really polite almost all the time. Every morning I go down to the coffee shop at the corner to do my work. I always saw the same people. We became friends. Then on weekends I would stay home with my dog. I just went out to shop and walks. I liked staying home. Getting everything organized from the past week. I live in a one bedroom apartment. Well condominium building. It's pretty quiet most of the time, you can here the neighbors taking out garbage. I've lived here for about a year now. I don't go everywhere here I stay away from the casinos. So do most of us that live here. I sit and type at the coffee shop for two hours each day. I'm writing an biography I'm a ghost writer. I get different projects. A month ago I put an ad, in a local website to look for a roommate. It's too quite around here most of the time. I got a few responses then one day I got this man. I had so many people inquire I didn't care anymore. We have a set of rules and were both sucking to it. It helps with the rent in case I don't get paid on time. That way I don't have to get stressed out. It's nice to have company aswell other than my dog. Luckily he works weekends works out great. About a year went by. Every thing was working out just fine. It wasn't anything with the roommate. Strange things started to happen. I would go to the coffee shop and my drink would be paid for. I would go home and there would be a broken cup. It's wired. I had a boyfriend years ago. I wonder what's going on. I guess you can say I have a haunted pass. He tries to find me every now and then. That's why I'm here in Niagara Falls. I can basically write anywhere. At one point I had a restraining order. Every thing seems okay for a long time. I'm probably just over thinking. I hope . I heard something dropped I jumped. My roommate was out of town tell Sunday night. Noone else is coming by. I sat down and tried to forget everything. Oh my there's a car out side. I've never seen here before. How wired I was thinking. I phoned my roommate to say I think I'm going out of town aswell. I'll be back Tuesday. I booked a hotel in Toronto for tell Tuesday. I'm alittle scare that someone is following me again. I have a couple old friends from school. I wouldn't mind meeting. I gave them a call they were both free. Thank goodness. I keep checking my back. Looks like that car didn't follow me here. I probably was just being paranoid. I checked into the hotel and everything seemed okay. Still checking my back every five minutes. Meet my friends the next day. We went to the spa and had dinner. I decided to go back home. Once I was clam. That was a fun weekend. Just in time for my roommate, Donnald to come back aswell. "I'm surprised to see you here" Yeah just stayed the two nights and came back. I was getting stressed out. " "Is everything ok?" "Yes of course thank you!" It happened again another glass broke and that car is still there. The roommate asked again. "Are you sure everything is okay?" Well kind of. It was for a long while. Now I'm scared really scared." Wait the door rang. "Can you look please I'm too scared." It was just some flowers left near the door. "Your scared of flowers?" The roommate said. "No no of course not. I have to be honest and tell you I have a haunted pass. For the longest time everything was okay. Honest about five years now. Until you went away. I guess I was being followed by my ex boyfriend. He's nuts totally of the wall. I didn't no how to end it so I ghosted him. He wouldn't take no for an answer. I had no choice." "Oh that sounds horrible." "For a long while it was. I have a restraining order. I guess after five years I forgot they expire. That's why I left aswell. I noticed that car the minute you pulled away. " "Thank goodness your back." "Should I be scared to?" "No just me he's really off the wall. Should we call for help no not right now. It's not an emergency yet." "True." "Just keep the lights on all night so it's not dark if you don't mind. Do you have a small light for the room? "Of course I do." I couldn't sleep all night. I heard the wind. I heard the rain. I heard people coming and going from the building. Its horrible I can't sleep. My pass is on my mind. I can't stop thinking about it. I'm scared this guy is crazy. Okay breath, not working. Maybe I should call the authorities. They came in about two hours. I explained everything I could remember. That was so tiring. The two officers went behind where the car was. They did alcohol test. He was really drunk. Off to jail again. They asked if I wanted the information? Then they remembered they had everything on file. I can't believe I totally forgot about my past. I must have blocked it out. I really forgot. If they renew the restiraing order I better write it down. I feel better now going to rest. I'm going to make some hot tea and take a hot shower. Im going to wear my favorite pink pajamas. I'm going to sleep tell the morning. I no I'm safe now. To be honest I thought he forgot about me aswell. I guess I was mistaken. The end By Ellen Urowitz July 23rd 2020 Inspired by prompt haunted pass until the end.


My Papah says America will be good. He says it will take care of us. He says the city has better opportunities and we will have more food. He wanted me to go to a school and have a chance at a better life. Many people from our settlement had travelled to America and made a life there. Papah was confident we would thrive there as well. Just the night before I had heard him tell Mummah, "You worry too much. Look at Nico. He is settled in America, he has a place of his own. He works at the docks but thats a steady income. I can't let Lily grow up here. What future does she have. She will either labour or be sold." Mummah had sighed and finally agreed to his plan. I, however, wanted to stay here. Though under provided, we still had a home. I knew every corner of our suburb and America just sounded too scary. But Papah had made up his mind, so me, Mummah and Papah packed our lives and decided to board a boat. I took my stuffed girraffe to Papah. "Papah you think Lilo will get into America?" Papah laughed and caressed my hair like he always does. "Well we will have to sneak him in then." It brightened up my ten year old soul. Atleast I was carrying my favorite toy with me. "Papah how big is America." "Its huge enough to fit a hundred thousand people," Papah said. "Papah will there be children to play with." "Many." "Will we have a house like this." "A better one." "Will..." but before I could finish my next question, Papah interrupted. "Now now Lily will you ask all in one go. Maybe once you are in America you can see for yourself." With that he urged me to pack my things. We packed as many things we could. Mummah packed her clothes, two scarves and a little rice. Papah packed his weaving spindle. I took my favorite frock and Lilo. To think of it, we did not have much to pack. Yet it felt like we were leaving so much behind. Our hut was one of many. The weaving factory had shut down and my father had failed to find a new place to work. But then there wasn't much work either. You either worked at the cloth mill or you the cannabis farms. So like any poverty stricken family in a third world country, my father too had an american dream. A dream to make ends meet. A dream to have a plate full of food. Taking our meagre belongings, we lined up at the dock to board the boat of destiny. There were many people, young and old, clutching their lives wrapped in a bundle, hoping there will be a better place for them. Each face brimming with anxiety of a future untold. Among this crowd was my friend Norm, waiting for the boat,with his parents. "Lily!" his voice first vague, grew loud over the din of the dock, as he ran towards me. He smacked my back. "Hey, you too going to America." I looked back at the road that lead to our hutments. "Yeah." "Well it will be good to know someone in America. Will you come visit? I wonder how it is in America. My papah says they have big houses and fast cars. We will have food to eat...." I do not recollect the point at which I tuned out. He was excited, I wasn't. I couldn't imagine a world away from my home. My swing, my school, my friends, I was leaving it all behind. "so what do you think?" Norm questioned. "About what?" "About my new shirt." "Am sure it must be good." Just then my father called out and I sprinted to take my place in the queue. The boat docked in and people started clambering to claim their place. I didn't feel so confident. I hesitated and my father looked down. "Lily come on." "Papah that boat looks very small, how will we all fit? I think we should wait for the next boat." Papah knelt beside me and sighed. "There is no second boat. We either board this or we are left behind." With wide eyes I clutched his hands. He carresed my hair and said, "I will hold you, come lets go." My Mummah had already boarded the boat and me and Pappah squeezed ourselves in. At the very moment we heard the sailor call, "No more, the boat is full. Lift the anchor." We sailed through the night quietly. The sailors warned us of soldiers who would shoot us if we so much as squeaked. I clung to my Papah's chest. It felt safer than the rocking boat. No one dared to sleep. As the sky got lighter and the sunrays touched the horizon, we saw the shoreline. America Alas! I thought. The people on board began to hustle. The sailor begged them to wait till he anchored the boat but no one listened. Panic gave rise to chaos and our boat rocked hard before it capsized. People were flung over the edge into the dark deep water. Screams filled the twilight as people splashed to save their lives. Papah and I went face down in water. We glugged and kicked and tried to stay afloat, but the wines in the water, tangled our legs, pulling us down into its depths. "Papah, Papah." I tried to call but my words came out all garbled. In moments the fight went out of our body and Papah went under water, me clinging to his shirt. As I sank, I saw the sun shining, sparkling the water over our heads. The painful burn in my lungs increased as I gasped for breath. No one heard us, no one saved us. As the water grew deeper,I realised, there was no America for us. There was no Mexico. There was no place that meant life. There was no home to go to.


Past the tangling trees and budding flowers of the Forest of Dreams was one of Vendar's many trade routes. It was a well sculpted gravel path that cut right through the trees with plenty of room to spare. And it just so happened to be one of Sinetah's favorite spots to stake out. She lay in waiting, nestled in a vibrant green bush, with her eyes peering through a small opening in the growth. There wasn't much sound, save the caws and cries of animals and monsters that called the forest home. *I wonder how long it will take this time.* Taking a brief moment to brush her hair out of the way of her left eye, Sinetah let her hand caress the hilt of her left dagger. Both were enchanted years ago with durability, and would return to her hands if thrown, which often came in handy during difficult situations. Though it still wasn't the best option against foes decked in heavy armor, it made the battles more manageable during the uncommon occurrence that she had to face against one or several opponents who fit that description. Sinetah was unsure if whoever she would pounce on today would have such guardsmen around them. Most merchants could not afford services of men and women like that, so they often were alone. And a large majority of nobles would use different routes, or arrive in expensive carriages that Sinetah would usually let pass if it was more than she felt she could handle. The Empire had treated her and her kind so cruelly that self preservation had been ingrained in her mind at a very young age. She was just fortunate enough to have never been stuck in the cycle of brothels and inns that most elves found themselves in. Instead, ever since she could remember, Sinetah lived in the shadows, stealing and fighting just to survive in a world that hated her. Just as soon as her thoughts began to go to her days as a young girl, the sound of wheels rolling along the beaten path, and the hooves of horses hitting the rang rang into the elf's long ears. Red eyes turned to the side of the path facing away from Vendar, as her sight honed in on the carriage arriving from the North. It was fancy, every inch decorated in extravagant decal. On the side was what appeared to be the noble's family insignia, one she didn't recognize. Sinetah figured it was from far across the outer reaches of the Empire, not that it mattered. With only one armed guard, it was definitely something the elf believed she could handle. After just a few breaths, when the carriage passed her hiding spot, the thief pounced. Both hands flicked out her twin daggers without a sound, as one blade dug into the back left wheel, breaking, and with a dash, the other broke as well, stopping the carriage in its tracks. Sinetah barely managed to swing her head back as an arrow whooshed past and stuck into the back of the carriage. *Another guard? And an archer at that... how unusual.* She could hear the metallic grind of the front guard's plate armor as they drew closer, sword in hand. “A drow elf outside the brothel, that's not a common sight,” he exclaimed, hoping to catch her off guard with a biting insult. “And neither is an armed guard on the ground, but your archer friend will see that soon enough!” The left dagger left Sinetah's hand like lightning, aimed at a weak point in the man's armor, through the shoulder blade. It missed as the knight dodged it, and then advanced on her. She felt the corner of her lip smile as she moved back to avoid the swing of the guard's sword, and heard the clang of metal on metal as Sinetah's thrown dagger impacted into the man's back. It didn't break through, but the man did pause, confused, which was all Sinetah needed to leap into the air plant her foot into his face with all the force she could muster, knocking him back to the ground. Her blade whizzed through the air and returned to her hand, just in time to cut down another arrow from the trees. “I know you're over there. This man must have quite the money to afford an archer and a guardsmen.” There was movement in the trees, and a young man hopped out, a shortbow aimed toward her. He was young, likely not even 20 years old, which surprised Sinetah. Two arrows one after another cut through the air, toward her face. The elf rolled to the side, stopping before a third which planted itself in the dirt, right after where she abruptly stopped herself. “A young archer, fancy. Skilled, too. I don't see nobles typically employ someone so young, do you happen to have a special relationship with the man in the carriage?” To Sinetah's surprise, the young man began to chuckle, as did the downed knight behind her, who began to get to his feet, fighting against the heavy armor. It was the archer who spoke first. “I think you've made a grave mistake, thief. The man in that carriage is no noble. He is the heir to the Empire, the Prince!” Sinetah felt the blood drain from her face, eyes wide from terror, the first time she felt such a feeling in years. The insignia she didn't recognize was no noble crest, but in the back of her mind, it became familiar. The insignia on the Empire's flag. A lion with a mane of fire, to symbolize the might and power of an Empire that Sinetah had just pissed off with a single mistake.


Edit: The copy/paste from my original doc didn't come out right. Should be okay now. \ At the heart of the Zhou Dynasty was a temple towering over an inlet. It was the tallest building the nation's best architects could conjure, yet even they could not best the world's largest waterfall afore which it was built. It was thanks to the waterfall, which long ago they'd named Nia Zha, and other such wonders of the world that the Zhou revered nature. When they exited the temple, Aro and his father Quin Zhou meandered the winding stone paths through the inlet. They could hear the persistent rumbling in the distance, of water crashing down on water. They could see the fish, coy of all colors - golden and brown, and red, and grey, and a shade of orange like cream. "You're turning out to be a fine successor," said Aro's father. He'd noticed his son's journey had taken him far, something he could tell by his son's regal posture. "As a successor to the throne," he continued, "one must act as one would upon it." "Yes, emperor," Aro said after a pause. The stone walkway spiraled upward nearer to the falling streams. It lead to an alcove atop a boulder, upon which lay a garden. On this garden was one tree, of the most exotic kind found on their lands. Aro neared this tree and placed his hand upon it with his eyes closed and head tilted downward. It was only for a moment he did so, but he sighed and neared the floating garden's edge where Quin Zhou had already found his place. Aro sat down on the cloth mat cross-legged. He tried to imitate his father's posture, though no one, he thought, could ever posture himself as straight and regal as an emperor but the emperor himself. He hardly recognized him as his father, hardly ever did. He was a symbol, a protector of his people. The memory came back to him once of calling him father, and it brought fear that urged him never again to make it. It seemed that, for a moment, in the calmness of falling water and the absence of voices, the emperor's shoulders lowered and his gaze softened. "Aro..." "Yes, fa-... emperor?" "Do you know why I brought you here?" "Was it something I did? Did I err somehow, emperor?" "No, Aro." Quin Zhou took a breath, heavy and focused. The emperor's son yet remembered what his father had said that day, and every time he did his mind flowed back and forth between that memory and another - one much more gruesome. The words he'd said were, "As my successor, you will know only war." Then his thoughts shifted to another memory, one more recent of the emperor's face touching the ground with deadened eyes. And the memory shifted again. "War, Aro. Do you know what it means?" the emperor continued. "Death," Aro replied. Again his memory flickered. "That is so. And what will you do when that time comes as emperor?" "I shall conquer in your memory," Aro recited. "Good." Occasions Aro felt close to emperor Quin Zhou he did recall, but even in such circumstances the man would not once turn to face him. The Zhou had known since times of old that the high caste were holy people, and as such the unworthy should not look upon them. This is what Aro had learned, that those who looked upon the emperor's visage without his direct command of it must be sent to die. The memory continued, "You must understand, Aro, that you must always act upon the emperor's will, and the emperor's will is holy and absolute. Holy and absolute." "The emperor's will is holy and absolute." "Yes." The emperor paused. "You know your duties well. And that is why you are not ready." The words made Aro break from his posture entirely, so much so he stood up and faced Quin Zhou. "What?! But fa-! You said-!" "Silence!" Aro looked to the floor in shame and disgust. "You have not the stomach to rule," the emperor continued, "I have always known this, as have you." He looked to his mind, which told him that he knew the emperor was right. That he should have felt the hot shame washing down his face, and that his reaction was exactly why he was not worthy. "Even still, you are my only successor. You may be a good successor, but a successor is all that you are. The gods have told me I'll not have the time to turn you into a proper ruler, and you shall not become one of your own volition. A successor is all you'll ever be." Then the memory shifted once more. Aro saw the emperor again on the floor, where the light had escaped his eyes, and then back to the last line he'd ever told him. The one he'd always remember since then. "And the dynasty shall fall with you at its head." Ever since that day beside the waterfall, upon the floating garden, he'd never attempted to call him father again. And up until the moment of Quin Zhou's death, he never did. When Aro Zhou sat upon the red-cloved throne for the first time, he remembered those words. And on the day of his coronation was that his father's prophecy would come true. Through the Zhou Temple's gates afore the natural majesty of Nia Zha came a young man, not much older than he was. "I've one thing to say and one only. I urge you heed me, loyal servants of Zhou, for I am the one true heir to the throne. My name is Jano, and I am the emperor's lost son!" And it was on that day that Aro Zhou lost his way.