I suddenly awoke to the incessant screeching of my alarm clock. I laid in bed for a little bit, my eyes nearly crusted shut from deep sleep, in my darkened room wishing it wasn't that time yet. As I begrudgingly peered at my phone, I saw it was four o'clock in the afternoon. Ugh! Time to put on my fake, happy face, throw on my super plus-sized scrubs, and pull myself together enough for another night shift at work. It was my third, twelve-hour shift in a row at the nursing home. I was barely still functional as a human being at this point, let alone as a nurse.

My husband and I had been married for twenty some years and managing a household with four children while we both worked full-time was impossible. But, somehow, we were pulling it off. He worked days, and I worked nights. We barely saw each other. We never spoke to each other. Throughout our entire marriage, communication has always seemed like a nuisance rather than a necessity to him. I exited my bedroom to leave for work only to find the usual. My husband sitting in a poorly lit corner of the living room glued to an obnoxiously bright computer screen playing online games. My children amassing chaos and destruction throughout the remainder of the home like a scene straight out of “ Lord of The Flies .” I had no time to intervene, or I would be late for work. Although I was exhausted and burned out from my job, most days it almost seemed like a vacation compared to the insurmountable amount of work I had to do at home. I squeaked out a quick goodbye to my family as I rushed out the front door to my car.

Working in the medical field is hard. Yeah, the pay is fairly good with only two years of college to get you there. It was my best option as a young mother with a quickly growing family to keep a roof over our heads and food in my babies bellies. But, looking back now after years of grueling work as a nurse, I wouldn’t even wish for my worst enemy to have this job. It took everything in me just to get through a shift most nights. Don’t get me wrong, I adored my patients. Caring for people is a special and important calling. Nursing, however, is more focused on other things. It’s all about charting, passing pills, writing assessments, documenting intake and output, essentially very little time is actually spent with the patient.

My work and family life had no balance. There was little joy left in anything I did. Depression and anxiety, especially after the loss of my mother to metastatic breast cancer, had taken over everything. I felt surrounded by death and sadness most days. But, there was one thing in my life at this point that felt special, exciting, new and invigorating. It kept me coming back again and again. My secret friend, my dangerous love, that was at work. That’s why I never missed a shift, I took extra in fact, just to be there and have more time with my fling. It was such a release! I could hardly wait most nights for our time alone.

I arrived at work to even more chaos than what I had just left at home. Dementia patients in the hall screaming. Nursing assistants running frazzled up and down hallways just trying to keep up with diaper changes, feedings, and baths. The day shift nurses were glued to their medication carts still trying to finish passing out what seemed like fifty pills to each patient in the halls. We were typically assigned around twenty patients per nurse on a busy day. There were always multiple sick calls from nursing assistants, often leaving us short handed and doing the work of three people. None of this mattered to me once I found my love. We always found a time and place to sneak off together, regardless of what else was going on and keeping everyone else busy.

I reached the dingy, sad break room where the day shift and night shift nurses meet for the hand off report. I sat there, distracted and daydreaming about when my lover and I would have a chance to be together, while pretending to listen to the nurse’s report. Nothing had changed from my previous shift- so and so in room 302 has been confused and digging in their depends, 304 wants another enema, 308 is being discharged tomorrow and needs patient education because I didn’t have time to do it today, etc. It would be a typical night shift. Nothing I couldn’t easily handle. I started my evening medication pass to get everyone settled for their nighttime routine and bed. While in the hallway, I caught a glimpse of my secret lover. I whispered, “Not here, not now, later.” My lover slyly slid into my pocket whilst passing by unnoticed. A little tease for later I suppose. I quickly finished the evening medications and rushed back to the nurse’s station to hurriedly get through my charting for the night. I was feeling impatient and didn’t want to wait. I’ve been overwhelmingly stressed out the past few weeks. I needed this. I needed something good, something that made me feel good. Something that made my life feel worthwhile, like I had something special to look forward to- hell, in my mind, I deserved this. I would say to myself, “What could be the harm in this? If no one finds out, no one will be hurt. You just have to be careful, be subtle, don’t get too attached.” I thought I had the whole thing under control. Me and my secret lover.

It was getting into the wee hours of the night. Despite regularly working night shifts, night shift workers still get tired. Right around what we refer to as “the witching hour.” Come three a.m., everyone gets the heavy eyelids, the chins resting on the clenched fists at the desk, the ever so brief nod of the head until it flicks back up in rapid fashion and the eyes dart about to see if anyone’s watching. That was my time to sneak off to do what I’d been waiting to do all night long.

I went to the wound care cart parked in the hallway near the supply closet. I slowly and quietly started checking the supplies in the drawers, removing expired or worn out items, organizing the rows, throwing out trash. The nursing assistants were busy in patient’s rooms, and the other nurse on shift was busy at the desk as she’d just now started her charting for the night. It was the perfect time for a rendezvous. I entered the supply closet and waited. I waited to see if anyone besides me and my lover might come in to avoid getting caught. The coast was clear. We were safe. There was a small corner, just behind the door to the closet, that was out of view if anyone were to enter unexpectedly. I quickly walked over to the corner and reached into the front pocket of my dark blue scrub top. I pulled out a small, folded, white, paper medication cup and opened it. I took out two, oblong, white pills peppered with tiny, light blue specks. I hastily threw the white paper cup into the trash can and popped the two pills into my mouth. I didn’t swallow them right away. I wanted to savor their bitterness. I usually chewed the sour, chalky pills before swallowing them completely because, being a nurse, I knew that the drug would hit me harder and faster if it absorbed sublingually under my tongue than it would being digested in my stomach. I crunched away at the dry tablets until they became a nasty-tasting, thick paste. Then I swallowed them down with my saliva. I didn’t even need water anymore. I instantly relaxed and just stood there for a moment in that little hidden corner in the little, sad supply closet enveloped in the love and warmth of Vicodin. My secret friend and lover. My only friend and lover. Always there for me, never judging me, loves me the way I am- fat, old, sad, disgusting – Vicodin didn’t care. Whenever I needed someone, or something, to carry me away from the darkness without hesitation or wanting something from me first, Vicodin was there for me. My confidant, or so I thought.

Dangerous love is fast and furious. It doesn’t last for long. I would learn that sooner than I thought. I would learn that I had become an addict before I even knew it. Funny how it sneaks up on you like that. You get carried away in the whirlwind of the affair with your addiction. It becomes a part of you like a virus and quickly changes its genetic code to adapt to you. It tells you all the good things you want to hear about yourself. It makes you feel good. It makes you feel invincible. It makes you feel like nothing else matters and, therefore, nothing else begins to matter but the disease that’s taken you over. Addiction itself is addictive. I never understood any of it until it was too late. My dangerous love, my fiend, played me like a puppeteer moves a marionette. I take responsibility for what I did, what I’ve done. I allowed that trickster into the home of my mind, heart and soul. Especially as a nurse, I knew better. If I could take it all back, I would. This love affair took my career, my family, my relationships. It took the very essence of who I am.

Through a series of life-shattering events, I was forced to end this love affair. I still work hard every day, to this day, to never return to my toxic lover. The despair and destruction it’s caused me and everyone around me has left me wondering how any of us has survived to tell the tale. I am grateful to still be alive. I am grateful to have happiness and hope back in my life today. I am grateful for the return of real, honest, true love with others, and not with a sickness that wants to kill me. For the longest time, I knew that would be the end result of my dangerous love affair- death. I knew it, and I yearned for it. I felt I had nothing else to lose. I know better now. The brush with death that this monster caused has blessed me with a new-found love and appreciation for life itself. I now know the greatest love.


It was the day of Lena’s wedding, and she was all smiles. As the sun rose, the room was filled with a pale light that filtered through the gauzy pink curtains. It warmed her bare skin, but not enough to make her want to crawl out from between the soft, silky sheets. They smelled of perfume. Of flowers and the fresh spring air. Of hours of whispered words, and of the heady sweat of their lovemaking on the last night when the stars would shine down on them as two untethered souls. She turned her head slightly at the sound of a soft moan from the other side of the bed. She watched as her love’s breath softened and her eyelids fluttered open to greet the life-changing day. They gazed silently into each other’s eyes, no words powerful enough to say what was in their hearts as they savored these final few moments before the world would come knocking at the door and begin selfishly making its demands. Their fingers laced together, and Lena stared intently at the soft fingertips, marveling at how beautiful the two sets of freshly manicured fingers looked as they lay side-by-side. She spared a quick glance for the diamond glistening on her hand before meeting her love’s soft eyes once again. One more kiss. One more stolen moment. Please, just one more. Hours later, Lena stood nervously in the hallway of the massive church, outside of the thick wooden doors that separated her from her love, her fingers playing nervously with the fragile petals of a pale blue rose. She fidgeted in the too-tight, sparkling white dress. Her mother crossed the hall in a few steps to place a warning hand on hers. “Don’t be nervous, dear,” she whispered with a smile. “I promise that this is the right decision.” With another quick pat on her daughter’s shaking hands, Lena’s mother slipped quietly into the church through the heavy doors, leaving her to her father’s arm. He quickly spared a glance for the golden face of the time piece on his wrist before gesturing subtly to the door. With a shaking breath, blinking back the hot tears that threatened to brim over, she took a small step forward. As the doors opened, she was almost blinded by the overwhelming lights of the church, harshened by the flashing of the photographer’s camera. For a moment, she lost her breath to the cacophony of floral smells that packed a wallop straight through the jewel-encrusted bodice of her dress. There were eyes all around her. Hundreds of eyes, some familiar, some strange, all waiting for her to continue her promenade. Frantically, she looked to the front of the church, desperate for the solace of her love. Finally she found her, standing at the altar in a silky blue dress, and locked on to the only eyes that mattered. She smiled as their gazes met, and Lena felt the other woman’s strength pouring into her, carrying her down the aisle, as all of the other eyes disappeared into the haze of light and perfume. At the front of the church, she poured every bit of her love and devotion into one final glance, before steadfastly tearing her gaze away from those soft, beautiful eyes and facing the solemn scrutiny of her future husband, forcing her lips to maintain a façade of rapture. It was the day of Lena’s wedding, and she was all smiles.


Always be thinking. Always have something on your mind. Think about the random ad you saw on the street, the last time you ate a kiwi, or even what getting in a bar fight would be like. Your thoughts should be also huge and overwhelming at times. Think about [ ], and wish you could spend more time with her. Think about how your father is starting to cry more now that he’s been diagnosed as clinically depressed. Your mom will ask you for help with him. Wonder if your friend [ ] will kill himself. Always be willing to share these thoughts with others; they will come to expect conversation from you, and it will define you as opinionated. Almost always be open to conversation. At first resent your emotional side and tell yourself you are a masculine, stoic, intellectual-athletic machine. Think of picturesque male roman statues and personify them. Grow egotistical and neglect your social intelligence. Get much less out of high school than you could’ve. Don’t go to prom, or a single football game. Cut your long hair. Slowly outgrow most of your angst. Kurt Cobain could pull it off; you can’t. Go to college and meet people you had no idea could exist. Unconsciously begin redefining yourself. Your neurotic inability to stop yourself from thinking will help you ask questions in your classes. Participate in the classes you care about. Quickly become comfortable with speaking in public, and participating in class. People will notice this about you. Try marijuana for the first time the day of your high school graduation. Come-too on a stranger's carpet eating Kraft cheese singles and white grapes. Your track-buddy who throws discus is playing Call of Duty with the kids who you used to play tag with, back in 2nd grade. Learn to cherish bizarre experiences. Drive yourself home. Feign exhaustion and go right to bed to avoid talking to your parents. Later realize that wasn't marijuana. Vow to never smoke synthetics again. Start going to the gym religiously. Impress your older brother with your dedication, instead of playing online with him late into the night. Develop a deep seated appreciation and respect for self-discipline. Egotistically admire your progress, but never abandon the insecurities surrounding your body. Start seeing results. Convince your friends to come to the gym with you. Start seeing their results. Notice that girls are starting to find you attractive. Realize that women found you attractive even before you started going to the gym. Act on their advances, clumsily, but successfully. Sleep in 4 different beds over the course of a week during your freshmen year. Become a better kisser. Start flirting with a lot more girls. Mature a little bit and embrace your emotional side. Open up to people too quickly. Get hurt in your relationships. Dramatically (but no less painfully) suffer the loss of your first love for well over a year, until your new RA gives you a blowjob. You’ll fall for her too, and she’ll hurt you like [ ] did, but you’ll be better equipped to handle it. Regret burning bridges with her, but never rebuild them because of an indescribable combination of shame and pride. Hope you’ll unexpectedly run into her somewhere in the future, and hope she’ll want to reconnect with you. Innocently enjoy your escapades, blissfully ignorant of the beautiful girl who you have the most intimate and powerful conversations with. Figuratively kick yourself when she asks you why you didn’t kiss her freshmen year. You'll be 6 weeks from graduation when you realize it's too late. Mature a little more and tone your emotional side down. Start to put some weight and meaning in the word “friend.” Connect only with people who you respect and who respect you, but try to learn something from everyone. Play cards with your close friends and try to read their facial expressions. wonder if you look like your father when he played poker. Drunkenly reminisce about things that happened as early as last week, and realize that these will be the moments you miss when you graduate. Listen to a variety of albums while playing cards, and develop a deeper appreciation for music. Try to teach your other friends how to play cards, and wish they could get into it as much as you do. Allow your roommate to convince you to drop acid. Visit seagull island. Ruin your favorite pair of jeans. Laugh so hard you can't stand up, and appreciate the fact that someone was sober enough to take pictures. Spend the rest of the night irresponsibly, but amongst friends. Question labels and assumptions people make about you. Question the labels people make about the world around them. Ask really meaningful questions in your philosophy, aesthetics, and English classes. Form meaningful relationships with your professors. Renounce your Catholicism. This will inevitably upset your mother, but she’ll understand. Ask Mom whether she prays for you, and wish you had the heart to tell her to stop. Change your major and spend a lot more time in business classes. Coast through college averaging B's. Get an internship and dwell on how strange and different it is than the rest of your life. Realize you need a job after graduation. Start applying for jobs. Update your resume. Start networking with professors. Be immensely grateful of the job listings they forward you, and the professional connections they help you make. Wonder if you’ll get an offer before graduation. Wonder how much time you’ll spend living with your parents after graduation. Take stock of virtually your entire college career during your creative writing class. Get carried away with the assignment. Wonder what you’d think about re-reading this document ten years from now.


Tobias and Ines, twin siblings, discovered their parents, the King and Queen, had been murdered while they slept. The coronation was to take place the next day, and Ines, who was 15 minutes older, was to become Queen. Tobias thought this was unfair and threatened to make Ines' life a living hell if she didn't make a deal. She did, and they would become separate but equal King and Queen. They would each have a say in decisions, but if they disagreed, they would defer to the military's top commander, Zanzibar, who Ines knew was in love with her. Tobias had been duped, and the coronation was held with a tie-breaker that would never go in his favor. Despite their efforts to ensure equality in appearance, wealth, and decision-making, the residents of their Kingdom preferred Ines and recognized her as the true Queen of the Kingdom. The military also gave Ines greater respect than Tobias, believing that Ines made better decisions than her brother. Finally, Tobias became bitter and earned a reputation as useless, lazy, and just symbolic figurehead. Tobias was consumed by jealousy. He stole half of the Kingdom's wealth and departed one day after being overruled for the hundredth time. Tobias spent ten years traveling the world in search of the most powerful mystics, psychics, and alchemists. If he ever came home, he would do so as the most powerful person in history. Tobias eventually found a witch who wielded the darkest magic. He had nearly spent the entire Kingdom's wealth in order to find this witch. Since he was out of money, he offered his soul to the witch in return for immortality, uncountable wealth, and supreme power. "How will I collect your soul if you are immortal?" The witch asked. Tobias sensed he was getting close, and as he gazed around the witch's cave, he noticed a ladybug climbing up a rock. "Fine, the only element on Earth capable of killing me will be a ladybug." The witch thought about it for a minute before agreeing. "Alright, when you are killed because of a ladybug, I will collect your soul." She cast a spell, and Tobias became all-powerful. He returned directly from the witch's cave to his home Kingdom, marched right into the Palace, and killed Queen Ines with lightning from his hands in a demonstration of supreme might. The Kingdom cowered in fear and lamented the loss of their beloved Queen. Tobias ascended to the throne as the lone and invincible King. He had finally seized control of the Kingdom's money, military, and citizens. Tobias' first act as King was to assign Zanzibar and some of his higher-ranking military operatives the mission of gathering and destroying all ladybugs throughout the Kingdom and beyond. Tobias took up residence within the Palace while his orders were being carried out, refusing to leave or even address his subjects. It took years, but Zanzibar and the Kingdom's troops were eventually able to destroy every ladybug in the Kingdom and beyond. When Zanzibar returned to the Palace to inform the King that they had completed their job successfully, Tobias killed them as well because they were aware of his weakness. However, the King was unaware that Zanzibar carried a grudge against him because he had murdered the love of his life. He wasn't sure why the King was scared of ladybugs, so he trapped one remaining in a metal sphere and buried it beneath the Palace. Before his untimely death, the only person he told about the sealed ladybug was his daughter, whom he told in a bedtime story. The plot revolved around an all-powerful King who was terrified of ladybugs. And how the King murdered all of the ladybugs except one, which an enemy placed under his throne. His daughter, on the other hand, saw it as nothing more than a ridiculous story and never believed it to be true. King Tobias emerged from the Palace, knowing that all of his weaknesses had been eliminated, and ruled his Kingdom with an iron fist. The King was not content with simply dominating over his subjects; he also invaded other Kingdoms, establishing an Empire of terror that stretched beyond the horizon. The King was the most despised man in the Empire, yet he was immortal, all-powerful, and had amassed a tremendous military force to enforce his reign. Despite multiple assassination attempts, his adversaries quickly discovered that no one could kill him. After years of fighting an uphill battle against an insurmountable opponent, a covert resistance had developed, but their numbers began to wane. Zanzibar's daughter would carry on the legacy of the buried ladybug by telling her children, who would then tell their children, and so on for decades. The amusing story of the buried ladybug became widely known. People liked to relate the story of King Tobias, who was scared of ladybugs, because he was so despised in the Kingdom. It was the only way the common man could get even with the merciless King. Years and years later, the resistance had devolved into a grave situation. Only a few resistance fighters remained as King Tobias closed in. Even though they knew it was merely an old wives' story, they wondered if the ladybug sealed beneath the King's throne represented a hidden weakness or a unique allergy. While the King was out tormenting the people of another kingdom, they began to dig beneath the throne using basically their last remaining resources. They dug and dug till they came across a metal sphere. Four of the remaining five resistance fighters were killed getting this metal sphere out of the Palace. The last resistance fighter tried for months to crack open the metal sphere until it finally cracked open like an egg. Inside was a tiny shriveled-up ladybug. He looked back in awe; the story was true. But what would he do with a dead ladybug? In a last-ditch attempt to oust the terrible King, the resistance fighter broke into the Palace and planned to place the ladybug inside the King's food. The resistance fighter, on the other hand, was apprehended and imprisoned with the ladybug in his pocket. Because this was the last resistance fighter in his kingdom, the King personally went down to murder him. As the King entered the cell, the resistance fighter backed up against a wall. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to finally eliminate the resistance?" The King gently raised his hands to shoot lightning from his palms at the fighter. The desperate resistance fighter grabbed the ladybug from his pocket and flung it on the ground in front of the King. As the wind blew, the ladybug looked to move on its own. The King was taken aback! He became terrified and began to back away from the ladybug, as if a ghost had materialized out of thin air. As he began to go backward, the King stumbled over a raised stone and fell against the wall, breaking his neck. Despite the fact that the ladybug was dead and did not touch him, the King died as a result of a ladybug. The King's weakness was ultimately realized. The witch had now taken possession of the King's soul. The King was confronted by all the victims he had killed, including Ines, Zanzibar, several resistance fighters, and his parents, whom he had murdered in the middle of the night in order to seize power. "When you rule with an iron fist, the smallest things are the most difficult to control.


As soon as they turned into the cul-de-sac, Leone felt cold. ‘Pull over, please,’ she said, more sharply than she intended. ‘Sorry?’ Tom turned the radio down. ‘Please!’ she said. ‘Pull over, just for a moment. I want to… can we…’ She couldn’t finish her sentences. Air wheezed in through a tight throat. ‘Hold on, we’re nearly there,’ Tom reassured her, parking outside Number 8. Leone could see her mother peering between the slats of the blinds in the living room, and it was already too late. ‘Okay - what’s the problem?’ Tom asked. Leone's mother disappeared from the window, and a moment later the front door of Number 8 opened. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Leone said. Then there was no further time for Tom to ask – not that he would, now that she’d told him it didn’t matter – and no further time for Leone to explain. ‘I thought you were going to be here in time for lunch!’ her mother was saying at Tom’s window. ‘Hello, dear,’ she said to Leone, before turning her smile on Tom again. ‘Hallo Mrs Carson!’ Tom said. ‘Thank you so much for agreeing -’ ‘Oh, it’s no trouble, no trouble at all!’ Mrs Carson said. ‘Well – are you coming in?’ Lunch was as awful as any meal Leone remembered from her teenage years. The ham was thin as rotten silk, the bread was the cheap white pap they sold in supermarkets and the salad cream tasted a little sour. Her mother watched her with narrowed eyes while she ate. ‘I could cook us something for dinner if you like?’ Leone said. ‘I’m quite capable of cooking, thank you, dear,’ her mother said. ‘Though it doesn’t look as if you think much of my food. You really ought to finish it up, if you can manage it. Not pregnant, are you?’ ‘Mum!’ ‘She was quite a little piggy as a child,’ Mrs Carson confided to Tom. ‘No wonder she wanted to be a cook when she grew up!’ ‘I’m a sous-chef, Mum, not a cook,’ Leone said, putting down her sandwich. ‘Not a chef at the moment, are you?’ Mrs Carson said. ‘Eat your sandwich. You were the one who wanted to organise fundraising for famine victims in Sudan, and here you are wasting food.’ ‘I didn’t organise the fundraising, Mum,’ Leone said. ‘That was Miss James at my primary school, and my whole class got involved.’ ‘Sponsored swim,’ Mrs Carson told Tom. ‘Pestered the whole street to sponsor her. Mind you, I expect you did something similar when you were ten years old.’ ‘Not really,’ Tom said. ‘My parents split up when I was six – Dad remarried and moved to Canada, and Mum died when I was nine. By the time we were ten, me and my sister were concentrating on what happened to us.’ Leone’s mother made a faint ‘Ah’ of sympathy. ‘It did me a lot of good, though,’ Tom said. ‘My aunt and uncle took us in. That’s why I trained as a sports physio – that’s what she did for a living, and it looked like a great job. Plenty of opportunities, good pay, and she loved it – worked freelance for a local rugby club and had a treatment room at the physiotherapy centre three days a week.’ ‘She sounds fascinating,’ said Leone’s mother. ‘It always amazes me, women who work. I never had time for a career – I had Leone to look after. It isn’t nice for a little girl to come home to an empty house.’ ‘I wouldn’t have minded,’ Leone said. ‘I kept telling you – I would have been happier if you’d gone out to work like all the other mothers and let me have my own key. I always felt you didn’t trust me to make myself a sandwich and get started on my homework.’ Her mother’s face folded into an expression that might have been fury or misery. Leone cringed. She knew what was coming next. ‘Shall I wash up?’ Tom asked. Mrs Carson didn’t reply immediately. Leone could have told him that her mother would never be distracted from making a full reaction to an insult. As a young child, Leone would always apologize as soon as she knew she’d upset her mother – as a teenager, she’d run from the room and not come back. Neither had worked. The hurt and offense would still be waiting for her when she returned. ‘You are very kind,’ Mrs Carson said eventually, directing her comments so obviously to Tom that Leone growled in frustration. ‘But no, you go and relax, I’ll wash up. Leone can show you to your room. Her room.’ ‘It hasn’t been my room since 2009,’ Leone said. ‘I left home, Mum. Remember?’ Mrs Carson stood up slowly and collected their plates in silence, while Leone worked through that last remark. She’d just loaded a gun and handed it over to her enemy. Mrs Carson broke the silence as she reached the dining room door. ‘It is always your room, Leone,’ she said. ‘Whenever you need to return home, your room will always be ready for you. You and your boyfriend. And I shouldn’t have to say this, but… it was you who phoned me last week asking whether you and your boyfriend could come and live with me until you get your… careers… back on track.’ The door shut quietly behind her. ‘I can’t stand this,’ Leone said. The silence stretched out. Tom leaned his elbows on the table and sighed quietly. ‘This is a mistake,’ Leone said. ‘We can’t live here, even for a week. There must be somewhere else we can go?’ After a long pause, Tom said; ‘You should apologize.’ It was the shock of a bucketful of icy water, tipped over her head from behind with no warning. Tom had always been gentle and easy-going, deflecting arguments and refusing to rise to tension, but he’d always backed her up when it mattered. Always. Until now. Leone thought of how she could explain this to Tom. About her attempts to apologize as a young child – always met with that hurt look, the silent smug accusation that an apology meant only that she’d admitted her guilt, and couldn’t be forgiven. An apology wouldn’t change what came next. Her mother would wait for a chance to return the insult at a time when it would hurt Leone the most; always delivered with a jolly laugh that passed off the new insult as a joke, nothing for Leone to get upset over. ‘Your mother’s been very kind, letting us stay at such short notice,’ Tom said. ‘She knows this might go on for months, and yet…’ ‘I can’t stand staying here for months!’ Leone yelled. The sounds from the kitchen ceased for a long moment, then they both heard the soft clack of a plate being set into a draining rack. ‘There must be somewhere else we can go?’ Leone said, more quietly. Tom put both hands lightly on the table. ‘We’ve been through this. There’s no-one. My dad’s in Canada and has his house full with my half-sisters; my aunt and uncle live in sheltered accommodation, and all of our friends are in the same boat as us; laid off, scrambling for what jobs there are out there and not able to keep up the rent on their flats. This is the best we can do, and Leone – really – it’s pretty good. Let’s just be glad you still have your mother. I really wish I still had mine.’ But my mother despises me, Leone wanted to say. Sneers at my career ambitions. Tells me all the details of her friends’ grandchildren, their birthdays, how sweet they are to their grannies. Lets me know when her friends’ daughters admit how lovely it is to give up work and spend their lives looking after their kiddies. ‘Go to your room and rest,’ Tom said, his words echoing her mother’s dismissals all down the years. ‘I’ll give your mother a hand with the washing up and fetch you a mug of tea later. Have a think, see whether you can find any alternative we haven’t considered yet.’ Tom went to the kitchen, and Leone heard only; ‘Oh Tom! You really don’t need to help – but thank you…’ before the kitchen door shut on them both. She went to her old room and found the same wallpaper, her discarded teen paperbacks and the same purple quilt she’d walked out on years before. Only the smell was different – stale and sour. She dropped heavily onto the bed, feeling the elderly springs clank beneath her back, and stared up at the stickers on the ceiling. She woke in the gloom of the evening, the streetlights outside shining on the bookcase and the bedside table. There was no mug of tea. For a moment, she thought of repeating that crowning success of her teenage years - opening the window and sliding out, walking to the high street and asking at every counter till she found a café that needed a good cook and was willing to let her sleep in the corner of a store-room until she sorted out somewhere better to live. Then she accepted the hard reality. Right now, for all her references and qualifications, it was unlikely she'd find anywhere to work, even as a cook in a takeaway outlet. That terrifying freedom she’d won as a teenager was back in that different life when nothing was impossible and she could do anything she wanted if she put the work in. She was back where she started, and no longer young enough to warrant a chance at a new start at the bottom of the jobs ladder. Leone opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. The living room door was ajar, and she could hear Tom talking quietly. Then her mother’s voice. ‘I wish Leone could hear this! I’m so glad she has you, Tom. If you can persuade her to agree with you, I’m sure we’ll all get along nicely.’ Whatever Tom said next made her mother chuckle. Unlikely he’d defended her stance, or her decision to work until she made enough of a reputation to win a chef’s place in a famous restaurant. Leone closed her bedroom door silently and sat on the bed, staring out at the deserted street outside and knowing that this time there was no escape.


"Nanna-Meeska, I'm scared," murmured the little child, pulling the blanket on her rack up beneath her chin. Her eyes flicked from the older Valdarii to the nursery's doorway, a soft amber glow illuminating the access panel. The light indicated that the hatch was maglocked and sealed, but it did little to deaden the sounds of nearby gunfire. "I don't like that noise. I don't want to hear that noise. Can you tell them to be quiet? It's sleeping time..." Meeska smiled softly down at the girl from where she sat next to the bed. Scooting the chair a bit closer, she gently tucked the covers around Jana's shoulders. "Sleep now, little one. There's nothing to worry about..." Meeska lied, one hand brushing softly along the child's cheek. "Would you like me to play your lullaby-box?" Another burst of staccato gunfire came from the hall beyond the hatch, the weapon's type unrecognizable to the Valdarii elder. The fighting was getting closer, and it didn't sound like their token marine detachment was winning. "Please and thank you." Responded the child, her eyes big but (thankfully) calm. "Did you give thanks to the Divine Protector today?" Asked Meeshka, picking up the aged battle-rifle propped against the girl's rack and planting it in her own lap. Truthfully, she wasn't even sure if it still worked- it was a rarity that anyone even thought about the onboard weapons on their agri-ship, much less tested them. After all, it had been decades since any civilian vessel had been in contact with a hostile... The military arm of the fleet had seen to that, as they always had. "Yes, ma'am." Jana replied, squeezing her Ampersand plush toy under her arm. The toy resembled the Vindictive's mascot, an AI-driven biomechanical symbiote that was considered the 'Ships assistant.' "You are my best Shipmate!" Responded the toy enthusiastically. "It is now 2200 hours by shipboard chrono. It is time to rest so we can have more adventures tomorrow." "That's enough, Ampersand." Meeska murmured, tapping the top of the lullaby-box on the nightstand by Jana's rack. The simple gears turned, plucking out a quiet melody from within. From the hallway, another burst of weapons fire sounded, followed closely by several pairs of footsteps clattering down the corridor towards the fighting. "This is my favorite lullaby. What is your favorite song, Shipmate?" Meeska clenched her jaw momentarily, frustrated with the toy- it's extremely limited AI algorithms weren't imprinted with her voice commands, so it ignored her outright. "Let's put Amp over by the box, so he can listen better." Meeska stated, reaching for the little stuffed toy with it's micro-computer internals. "No!" Jana nearly shouted, clutching the stuffed symbiote tighter. "Ampersand always sleeps in the bed like me. He's scared to be alone." While not entirely true, the plush was fitted with a tracking device to help keep the child from dangerous parts of the vessel, and often reminded the girl that it needed to be with her because being alone was 'scary'... a hard truth for a Valdarii that was never farther than a few dozen paces from another member of the generational mega-fleet. "I love him and he loves me, too. You keep things you love safe." Ampersand-plush 18-83-196 responded to the squeeze with one of it's pre-programmed statements. "I am -so- glad you are my friend. You give the best hugs!" Meeska glanced away from the girl and her toy, her eyes watering slightly at the toy's statements. The fighting was getting closer, and she knew that the boarders wouldn't offer her or the child any quarter. She considered the weapon in her lap for a moment, before shaking her head. She would spare the child the horrors of slavery and deprivation, but only as a last resort. The Valdarii didn't give up so easily, but she couldn't allow the child to be taken away- her last act of kindness as Jana's minder would hard, but the Valdarii were hard people living a hard life among the uncaring stars. "Let's get ready to go, now. I'm going to go tell them to be quiet, while you get up, okay?" Meeska stated, lifting a hand to wipe at her eyes. She quickly shook the feeling of hopelessness, as despair had a habit of freezing one into inaction at the most inopportune times. "Warning: Deck 12 reports engagements with small arms. Please call your minder, so we can make sure we stay safe!" Replied Jana's toy, a little late on the report. Once again it ignored Meeska's statements, speaking directly to the younger girl. Its plastic visor displayed an illuminated map of the deck, with two junctions of corridor pulsing a deep crimson. A teal line traced a path to the access stairway leading to the other decks, with a small blue light flashing their current location. "Please follow the on screen instructions for safe path routing, Shipmate. Avoid the red indicators to prevent unnecessary dangers." "Nanna, Ampersand says we should leave." Murmured the girl, turning the toy towards her to eye the display. "Ampersand knows what's best. He's always right." Meeska had already stood, throwing the rifle's sling over her shoulder and allowing the firearm to hang under it's own weight. Flipping the selector from 'safe' to 'active,' she nearly jumped when the firearm whined in an almost supersonic pitch, gaussian rail system pulling power from the aging battery pack. Glancing down, she checked the power output- the numbers quickly scrolled from 100% down to 67%, an amber indicator showing two dead cells in the power pack. Better than she thought, considering the weapon was nearly 600 years old, and only a third-generation template. "Bring your emergency pack, and make sure you get Ampersand, too." Meeska said, walking towards the door. She typed a series of keystrokes on the hatch's access panel, stopping one digit away from completing the code. Glancing down at Jana, she offered a small smile to the girl. As directed, the child had strapped her escape survival pack to her back, with the Ampersand toy held in a double-armed hug in front of her. "We are going on a grand adventure! We must be careful, Shipmate. The ship is not safe, right now," intoned the toy, it's visor still displaying a map of the deck. After a moment, it added: "I am so glad you are with me! I would be very scared if you were not so brave! One day, you will make a great officer!" More Valdarii social programming and propaganda... They did, after all, start early. Jana frowned at the toy, holding it out and turning it around to face her. "Don't be scared, Ampy. The Vindictive will come and help us. It always comes and helps us, right Nanna?" Before she could respond, the toy spoke again, this time at about half-volume. "The Vindictive is approximately 145,000 kilometers distant at heading 118.3 by 6.55 by 0.5. By shipboard chrono, that is over an two hours away. That seems far, but in astronomic terms, it is almost touching-" "Shut up, Ampersand." Meeska grumbled to herself, tapping the final key to unlock the hatchway. "Minder Meeska, your comments have been logged and will be reported to your supervisor. Harsh language is not permitted around children before the age of 12." The Ampersand plush responded, almost smugly. Meeska highly doubted her supervisor would be worried about such things, in the moment. Grasping the rifle at the grip, Meeska held her hand back towards Jana, fingers splayed in a gesture of 'wait.' She activated the hatchway, which slid into the ceiling with a near-silent hiss of pneumatics. Gingerly, she poked her head into the corridor, which seemed all but deserted. The gunfire had subsided, but the crimson emergency lighting still pulsed at junctions in the hall- things were around terribly wrong on board, regardless of the silence.


My neighbor recently got a new dog. I think it might be a Dutch Shepherd or a German Shepherd, I'm not sure. Beautiful dog. We have never been on the best of terms, my neighbor and me. A few years back one of his Catalpa trees was leaning over on to my property and making ingress and egress via my driveway difficult. I asked him to cut it down or have it remedied some other way, and he invited me to help him do it. He insisted he had experience as an arborist and could show me the right way to safely trim branches to prevent property damage and handle a chainsaw at height. Once I was in the tree he moved the ladder to ensure it wasn't damaged when the trimmed limbs came down and rather than passing the chainsaw up to me to "top" the high branches, he began cutting the tree at ground level. He couldn't hear me over the roar of the saw and stopped only to shout at me "Jump up and down!" and "Use your legs to get it swaying!" The tree came down and did some damage to my fence, which I repaired at my expense, and overall I just didn't feel as though I got much out of the experience. He got assistance removing his tree and I gained no valuable experience. After the tree experience we kind of drifted apart, though I would occasionally catch glimpses of him peering at me from one of his attic windows. I always sort of felt bad for the guy, like he was just staring over at a friend he wished he was closer to. I would meekly wave and he would just keep staring, clearly wishing we got along better. At any rate, at some point in the last six months he got a new dog. I think it might be a Dutch Shepherd, but I'm not sure. Beautiful dog. I have been working late hours so I don't think I saw it right when it arrived. The only reason I'm even aware he has the dog is a few weeks back I dragged my garbage out to the curb. Despite my best efforts to put on some weight, my time on the elliptical at the gym at work has actually only succeeded in slimming me down further. As such I got rid of some of my older sweater vests and corduroys that are now too roomy. I was taking the last bag out to the cans when I noticed a figure hunched over my garbage. I stopped halfway down the driveway and realized it was my neighbor. At first I thought the poor fellow must have really fell on hard times because he was pulling out some of my sweaters and my old Smokey the Bear hat (got a new one). He didn't notice me, and I was just stood there and watched him gather up his booty and hurry in to his back yard. When I followed over to my back fence and looked over, I caught my first glimpse of his new pupper. He had "Duke" tied up to a back fence post and looked to be in the middle of a training session of some kind. I felt better when I saw what my neighbor was using the old clothes for -- just as a training aid! He had made a rudimentary crash-test dummy out of burlap sacks filled with what looked like newspaper and shredded cardboard. I guess he wanted to give the dummy a more human appearance, because he put my old hat on its head and threaded its arms through my older sweater. When I looked closer I realized the dummy was actually wearing an old pair of my shoes as well. My neighbor was yelling "Go on! Get 'em Duke! Kill 'em!" and slowly letting Duke have more of the leash to get closer to the dummy. It was then that I noticed just how magnificent Duke is -- beautiful brindle coloring, strong leg muscles and pearly white teeth that locked down on the dummy's throat like a pair of huge shears -- really just exquisite dog. I think he might be a Dutch Shepherd. At any rate, what I'm wondering is if you think a Dutch Shepherd might be for me? I have been thinking of getting a pet for some time, to take along with me during my morning power walks. I tried to ask my neighbor for more information about the breed, but he insisted he doesn't have a dog and hurried off. I think he might be trying to avoid having his house insurance hiked.


The roar started as a vague grumble, seeping under tables and chairs before creeping higher in a sound cloud of threatening menace and pain. "Treasurer's Report." Among the cluster of committee members’ video chat windows, Tim's little image on the screen before me glowed around the edges as his flat, tinny voice stopped for a bit of self-important throat clearing. It wasn’t my computer’s speakers; he sounded that way in person too. "As you recall from our last minutes…" I flicked a finger, turning off my camera and muting my microphone. The grumble escalated, as I knew it would, into a rumbling roar, coalescing into a monster made of thorns, held together and half-hidden within a pulsing cloud. The hazy cloud was only a pale blue so far, so I knew there was still time. Grimly I pulled my battered armor around me. It protected me, at least for a while. But in addition to her power and fury, Beast had the tide's inexorable ebb and flow. She would, over time, find a way to seep through my armor and find my weakest, most exposed vulnerabilities. Still time, I told myself. If I let Beast get to her full strength, if I allowed her to feed, she’d crush me, claws and jaws ripping at the unprotected belly I tried to shield. "…fundraising, grants, and other viable sources," Tim's voice was an electronic drone, wavering in and out. There still had to be time. Without looking at Beast directly — if I made eye contact, I really would be lost — I took the blanket from the back of my chair and hurled it over her. Hidden from my eyes, Beast subsided, slowly sinking beneath the comfort of my mother’s old quilt. I heard her rumbling, gathering strength. But I still had a precious few moments to throw the cage over her, shutting Beast inside. Like my armor, the much-patched cage had seen better days. But it would do the job. For now. "…of all our accounts." Tim waited for Sally to acknowledge his report, clearing his throat again. "Thank you, Tim. Is there any other new business?" Sally never seemed to get the hang of where to position her camera. Today, she must have been sitting in front of her window, because her pleasant face was completely shadowed. "No? Then we all know what we need to work on.” From somewhere behind Sally, I heard a familiar rumbling. She raised her voice. “Are you all free to meet same time next month? Thank you. And..." I cut her off as I closed the conferencing app. Beast was really getting too big for me to control. Sure, everyone was left with at least one Beast after the first wave of the pandemic, each different, recognizable not by their similarities but by their similar presence. I've never really gone for that kind of pet. It was more my husband's thing, but he had worked for years to tame his old Beast, and amazingly seemed to have him under control. That didn't impress my daughter, who said she got Beast from me, so she was giving her back. I didn't like it, but I dutifully shoved the little monster into its battered cage and pretty much forgot about it. Okay, that's a lie. Every now and then I’d find myself poking Beast when nobody was looking. And despite my best resolutions, I fed her. Beast grew larger, and more creative. The smallest weakness in her cage would send her surging out, each time bigger and stronger — and so very much louder — than ever before. We were all finally emerging from our pandemic isolation, our empty calendars filling with terrifying speed. After the past few years, we each had our own Beasts. But most of the people around me seemed to have them under perfect control. I think I even saw Tim and his wife stroll past my house one evening, holding the leashes of perfectly behaved Beasts who were actually wearing sparkly little bows. I never knew when my own Beast would pounce on me, her roar muting all other sounds. Sometimes I could lure or trick or — if all else failed — force her back into the cage. More often at night, her pulsing, raucous weight flattened me, claws and teeth looking for new flesh to rip. My screen lit up with the notification of an incoming video call. When Jennie appeared in her little square, she was sipping what looked like an unusually large glass of wine. "Tough day in the trenches?" I asked. She raised her glass. "I thought it would all be better once I got back in the classroom. Kindergarten is no place for online teaching. But..." She paused to take sip. Then a few more. "These kids are showing up with tiny little Beasts. I try to get them to leave them in their cubbies, but they just keep poking each other's Beast." She shuddered, and refilled her glass. I glanced at my own Beast, safely caged for the moment, and let myself whine. "If my parents ever had a Beast, I never saw or heard it." The noises from the cage got louder, and I raised my voice. "So I have no idea what to do with this one." Jennie, a champion listener, just nodded. "They say every Beast has a reason for being there." "How could something so horrible be necessary?" I stared at her. "Beast is trying to suffocate me. What's the reason for that?" "Well, remember what happened to your garden four months ago? When all those rose hedges you planted went wild during the pandemic and blocked you into your house?" "Of course I remember." I shifted uncomfortably. "I couldn't go out, and had to get all my supplies delivered through that little window in the bathroom." "You said you didn't want anyone to know what happened to your garden." Back then it seemed like the end of the world. "I was supposed to be the big garden expert in our neighborhood. I even wrote a book about it." I took a deep breath, but my voice still came out wobbly. "Then my own roses, my pride and joy, staged a revolt and held me prisoner." Jennie grinned. "And you'd probably still be ordering everything based on whether it was small enough to fit through that window if it wasn't for..." "Beast." I remembered that day. Jennie was wrong. It wasn't funny. It was the first time Beast had really gotten loose, tearing through the thorns and shredding the imprisoning hedges. Later, I couldn't even understand what I was looking at. My beautiful garden was a scene of devastating destruction. All the work I'd done for decades was ruined. Beast had still been rampaging through the garden, her cloud turning from pale gray to pulsing red. She tore apart the remaining branches, impervious to their thorns. "So you're saying it was all my fault, and Beast did me a favor by destroying my garden?" Jennie's smile drooped. "Think about it. Beast didn't destroy your garden. It was the garden that turned on itself and trapped you inside. Beast just freed you from that." "If that was Beast's reason for being here, then why is she still attacking me every chance she gets?" "What do you do when she attacks?" I moaned. "Get the hell ripped out of me, throw something over her that calms her down, then shut her back into her cage." I thought about it. "But then I go out and do… stuff." “Stuff? What are you, twelve?” Jennie snickered. "What kind of stuff?" "You know, normal stuff. Things I did before the pandemic. I do some volunteering, work on some local projects, even plan some trips. I can't have the same garden as before, but I've been thinking about planting some vegetables. Only the ones I like though." Jennie just nodded. "Have you told anyone else about your garden?" "No, no, no..." I was actually backing away. "What will people think when I say my garden is destroyed? I can't go there." "Remember last year? With Sally?" Jennie was just a tiny flat square on my video chat, but she packed a roomful of Pay-Attention-This-Is-Important into her tone. "Um... You mean the lockdown?" "No, and you know it." Somehow her pointing finger seemed to come through the screen to skewer me. "What did you say when Sally told you her boss who never liked her was going to blame their team's poor performance on her? That he was claiming she offered him sex in exchange for keeping her job? There were a lot of people who thought all that smoke must hide some kind of fire." Now it was my turn to shrug. "I told her straight off I didn't believe a word of it and nobody who knew her would buy it either." "Damn straight. You know what that means?" I groaned. "Homework?" "Yup. When you're ready, you're going to tell a few people about your garden. And I'm going to make a bet with you. If their first and immediate reaction is to offer to help you clean up and plant a different garden, then I own all the I-told-you-so bragging rights for at least the next ten years. If that's not how they react, then I'll come straight over and babysit Beast for the next month." Jennie was right, but the next week was still scary. Beast roared and growled as I told the first friend. She was a bit quieter when I told the second one. I only shared with a few others, but by the end of the week, Beast was sitting beside me for each confession. It's been a few months since then. Sometimes Beast still puffs up red and furious. But she's been getting smaller, quieter. We take walks on nice evenings, but I never try to put a sparkly bow on her. She watches when I work on the vegetable garden, but she stays alert. Ready. At nights now, she just sits back under the quilt, sleeping mostly. Her job isn't over. And we both know why. More Beasts are coming.


“Where are you going?” Wendell followed his wife, Yvette, down the stairs of their two-story townhouse. “I just need to clear my head.” She opened the hallway closet and pulled out a winter jacket. “Baby, can we please talk about this?” “I’ve said all I wanted to say.” “And now I want to have my say.” “Wendell, please just let me go. I need some time and space to think.”  She threw on her jacket and grabbed her handbag hanging on one of the hooks on the wall. “I can’t let you do that.” Wendell moved around her to block her from getting to the front door. “Wendell, please move.” “No.” “Wendell, move.” “No.” “Wendell!” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t let you go.” “Why not?” “Because I know that if I let you walk through that door, you are not coming back.” He kept eye contact with her, willing her to disagree with him. “That’s not . . . I just need  . . . to get some fresh air.” She uncomfortably shifted from one foot to the other. “Mommy?” Forrest, their four-year-old son said as he stood at the top of the stairs. “Hey, baby.” Yvette turned around to focus on him. “You should be in bed.” “Where are you going?” “Mommy is just going for a quick walk. But I’ll be back when you wake up in the morning.” “Can I have some milk?” “Sure. Daddy will get you some and bring it to your room.” She glanced back at Wendell with raised eyebrows. “But I want you.” Forrest squeezed his furry blanket closer to his chest. “I’m sure Mommy wouldn’t mind bringing you some milk, bud.” Wendell inserted himself into the conversation. “Wendell . . .” she muttered under her breath before she addressed her son again, “Baby, why don’t you go back to bed and Daddy will be right up.” “Can I come with you?” Forrest started taking a few steps down. “I’m sorry, baby. But mommy needs to go out alone. And you need your sleep so you can grow big and strong, like Hulk.” “But I want to go with you.” “I know, but it is cold outside and I don’t want you to get sick.” “But you are going outside.” “Yes, but mommy has a jacket to keep her warm.” She gestured to the one she had on. “I have a jacket.” Forrest took the last few steps down and disappeared into the hallway closet Yvette left ajar. “See?” He came out with his jacket in his hand. “I see that. But a superhero like yourself needs sleep so that when someone needs help, you will have enough energy to help them. So you need to go up to your bed, okay?” She bent over and kissed him on the head, before turning around to leave. “Can you read me a story?” Stopping in her tracks, Yvette closed her eyes and breathed through her nostrils before turning back around. “Not now, okay sweetie.” “Why not?” “Because mommy really needs to leave right now.” “Why?” “Because . . . because we are out of  . . . milk and mommy needs to buy some more.” “Can’t daddy get it?” “No, he can’t because I said I would.” “Daddy, can you go and get the milk?” Forrest moved his attention to his dad. “Forrest, sweetie. Mommy promised daddy she would get milk and you know how we feel about breaking our promises.” “But . . . but . . .” His bottom lips started quivering. “Forrest, baby. Don’t cry. I won’t be gone long.” “Please.” Forrest scrunched up his blanket. Yvette pressed her lips together, looking to Wendell for help. But all she got from him was a shrug. “Okay. One story, but then you need to go to bed.” His eyes lit up in agreement. “Why don’t you go upstairs, pick a book and I’ll be right up.” Dropping his jacket, Forrest turned around and dashed upstairs with his blanket trailing behind him. As soon as he was out of sight, Yvette turned to Wendell jaw clenched. “Seriously!” “What? I can’t help it if he wants his mother.” “Yet you didn’t hesitate to encourage him.” “Yvette, we all need you. Can’t you see that? I’m sorry, okay. How many times do I have to say it?” “You can say it until you are blue in the face and it still won’t make a difference. Not only have you been lying to me for months, but you messed with my birth control. In all of your scheming, did it ever occur to you for one second that it might be a bad idea?” “But baby, you’re such a natural. You saw the look on his face when you said you’d read him a story.” “That’s your excuse? So because I am a decent human being and I take responsibility for my actions that means I want to have a dozen children?” “You love spending time with him and –” “And what? What part of ‘I don’t want any more children’ did you not understand?” “I just thought –” “You just thought what? That I’d 'accidently' get pregnant and be super happy and excited?” “Well, yes.” “I love that little boy with all my heart and I would do anything for him. But if I could go back, I wouldn’t have had him.” “Baby, you don’t mean –” “You know what, there is no point trying to talk to you because you just don’t want to listen to what I actually have to say. I need to go.” “But you promised Forrest you’d read to him.” “Yes, and you promised that we wouldn’t have more kids. I guess promises mean nothing in this house.” “Yvette –” “Wendell, move.” “Please don’t do this.” He pleaded even though he moved away from the door. “Mommy?” Forrest’s voice vibrated throughout the house. Wrapping her scarf around her neck, Yvette glanced up uncomfortably towards the direction the voice came from. Straightening her spine, she walked to the front door. “Mommy, I found a book.” Another pang of guilt hit her in the gut. Bending down, she picked up her boots one by one and put them on. “Yvette, please.” Wendell reached out to her, but she shrugged him away. “Please don’t do this. I’m sorry.” “I just need some time.” She avoided eye contact as she brushed past him. Hand on the doorknob, she pressed down on the handle when Forrest’s faint voice tickled her ears, “Mommy, are you coming?”


In the small suburban town of Landash, Ohio, people all seem the same. The same ladies from one church looked like the same ladies from the other church. The children getting off a school bus from one elementary school were indistinguishable from the children getting off a school bus from a different school. Every sedan and SUV looked the same as every other sedan and SUV.

At least that’s the way it felt to 26 soon to be 27-year-old Julia Smith. Even her name was so mundane. So were her looks: average height and weight, shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. But Julia had done what every other person had done in this small town- born, grew up, went to college in the local college and got a job right in this boring, musty town. She had been on A-B honor roll all through school-but so had most of her classmates. She hadn’t been able to find a job in her field of Psychology and so had settled for working at a local grocery store. Originally, Julia had thought she’d be there a year or so, just to have an income until she had found a ‘real’ job. But here she was four and half years later. Like many of her peers, she found herself still living with her parents. The rent and housing costs in the area were really high and her income did not keep up with that plus the cost of food and her student loans. So, she paid her parents a modest rent and stayed in the finished attic-turned-bedroom. It had been her bedroom her whole life. And her parents, despite getting paid rent, still treated Julia like she was 16 instead of 26. She couldn’t just invite people over, she certainly couldn’t have ‘partners’ come over; and her mom still said, ‘call me when you get there and check in at blank time’.

In fact, on this Friday night she had gone out to the local bars. She’d had a 10-hour day of apologizing for stuff that wasn’t her fault- like why upper-management had told them to re-arrange the store yet again so Miss so-and so couldn’t find the cat-food this week. And her mom still was ‘do you really need to go out? Maybe you should spend your money not on alcohol, I think you should come home now’ Good. Lord. It was 10:35 pm and Julia had only been out a little over an hour and only had one drink. She paid for it and then went outside to call her mom to once again explain that her rent and bills were paid and that she wasn’t a teenager.

Julia looked around for a place where people who were smoking wouldn’t hear her. She knew she wasn’t alone nor the economy her fault, but society still made her feel ashamed of her common situation. She scurried to a half-moon lit side of the aged brick building. She had been looking angrily had her phone screen and hadn’t seen the man sitting behind the building, out of the moonlight and accidentally kicked with her foot.

“Oh my go- I am so sorry. I didn’t see you!” Julia sputtered.

“No worries, hon.” said a man with a deep, honey voice. The voice’s body stood up.

It was someone Julia had never seen before. She didn’t exactly know every person’s name in town, but she usually recognized people.

He had what looked like long hair for a guy, at least guys around Landash, a beard, and was wearing a dark colored duster-like the kind people wore in old westerns. In the dark, she couldn’t make out any more detailed features. Especially when he turned away from her.

Julia looked around for a more private spot quickly. Then she turned back and looked at the man.

The man had stopped and turned back to face her.

“Have to call your boyfriend? Or you need a ride?” the honey voice asked.

“Uh, no, I um, I was actually just about to call m-my um mom” Julia said. She felt her cheeks flare and she stepped out of the moonlight.

“Aw, don’t move. You looked pretty in the moonlight” the honey voice cooed.

Julia felt her cheeks flush even deeper and didn’t move back; she just said “Thank you” softly.

“So, your mom sick or is she just worried about you?” the stranger asked.

Julia started panic-debating in her head. Should she lie to this stranger? She didn’t want to give too much information to a total stranger. But it was just a casual question and he didn’t like, try to grab her or anything. But still you never can tell who the crazy people are. Julia realized she was standing there silently for way too long so she took a chance.

“Ugh, worried about me. ‘Forever her baby’” Julia didn’t mean to mock her mother, but it just came out.

“Are you an adult?” the stranger asked.

“Y-yes” Julia hesitated. That seemed creepy but not creepy at the same time and the conflict made Julia uneasy.

The man chuckled “Heh. I was just asking, like does your mom know you’re an adult? You’re calling to what, ‘check in’ with her at only 10:30?”

“She’s just...I don’t know” Julia shook her head and sighed.

“You know what’ll show your mom you’re an adult?” the man asked.

Julia was nervous but excited “What?” she asked. She might have been taking the bait, she didn’t know. Was he about to insult her by saying ‘move out’ or would he say something incredibly inappropriate?

“By texting her that you’re out and can’t talk right now.”

“ That will show her I’m grown up?” Julia asked, perplexed; maybe even a little let down.

“No, walking to a different bar with me so I can buy you a drink and she doesn’t have to know will” he said smoothly.

“Why a different bar?” Julia wanted to know.

“Why not?” he replied.

Why not, indeed. She was an adult, and her stuff was paid, and she didn’t work tomorrow. Her mom didn’t need to know of every minute or Julia’s life. She quickly texted her mom that she was busy then looked back up to the man.

“Okie” Julia agreed.

Just like that the man took her hand and they headed away from the back of the first bar.

“Isn’t the sky beautiful tonight?” he asked, tilting his head up.

Julia did the same.

He stopped and they both just looked up at the beautiful navy-blue sky lit up by little splatters of diamonds.

“Yeah.” Julia agreed.

They chatted about their favorite times of day and favorite season until they got in front of the other bar.

 In the window light, the man had a light tan, a small freckle on the left of his chin and his beard was well-kempt and shorter than it had looked as a shadow. He had his long light-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail with a streak of teal in it and part of a tattoo was on his neck. His eyes were a bold green- like how vacation water looked in the moonlight. The back of the hand holding Julia’s had a tattoo that looked like it connected up his arm too. His lips and eyelashes were the kind women paid for.

They went inside at the bar the man said, “Ever had a cosmopolitan?”

Julia shook her head-she normally had some kind of seltzer or maybe a light beer.

The bartender came over and asked what they wanted.

“Two cosmos” The man ordered.

The bartender nodded and moved away to make the drinks. When he placed the one in front of Julia, she just stared at it.

It was a fancy drink like they ordered in TV shows! It was light pink, garnished with a lime slice in a martini glass.

The man released Julia’s hand to pick up the drinks and they shuffled past others into a booth towards the window.

Julia took a sniff then a sip of her drink. It tasted strong yet refreshing and tasty; a dangerous drink.

“So, um, what’s your name?” Julia asked. She felt butterflies swirling in her stomach. She had never not called her mom before. Usually, she just agreed to go back home to keep the peace.

“Why do you need my name?” he asked over the rim of his glass with a playful smirk on his lips.

“Um...it’s just...w-why n-not? Are you...wanted or something?”

Now Julia was starting to have doubts; maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Oh, I am definitely ‘wanted’” he said, his smirk intensifying, and he winked at Julia before taking a sip. He bounced his one eyebrow.

Julia felt the blush coming back but she couldn’t hide it now. She went to take another drink then stopped. What if he had put something in it? She was with him the whole time, but she admittedly wasn’t paying attention to his hands. And he hadn’t given her his name.

“Don’t like the drink?” the still stranger asked. His face had a bit of concern or disappointment on it. He leaned forward a bit.

What should she do? Oh geez. Julia bit her lip. 20 minutes ago, she was thinking how dull her town and the people in it were, but now that there’s this intriguing, different person, she was thinking he could be a serial killer. And she had no clue how to handle the situation.

“Um, I-I do, I just never had it, could you taste it and see if they made it right?” She blurted as she shoved the drink towards the man.

He cocked his eyebrow and gingerly took the drink. He looked at her as he brought it to his lips “Or perhaps to see if I put something in it?” he asked with a light smile.

Then he took a drink and swallowed emphatically. He gently handed the drink back out towards Julia.

Her eyes widened and her face fully felt hot. She looked to the window and tried to tuck her body into itself.

He chuckled. "It’s okie. You never can tell who the good or bad weirdos are” he winked again.

“Y-yeah” Julia said and took her drink and to show her good faith in him, took a sip.

“I have an idea. Have you ever been to ‘Star Ridge’?” he asked.

She shook her head. “What’s that?”

“It’s in Freeman Park. But there’s a secret path to get there. It’s a bit of a climb but worth it.” he said. “If you wanted to” he added after taking another sip.

Julia didn’t respond but sipped her drink again too.

 The man had a gentle aura and seemed insightful but that worried Julia too. Someone who could read people so well could use people too. Then her phone buzzed and she apologized to the man. He smiled and waved at her to indicate it was fine for her to check.

It was her mother. Again. Demanding to know why Julia hadn’t answered and that she was to come home, or she was locking the door.

Julia felt her mood darken and she texted back “ Mom. I have a key to the house so unless you’re changing the locks at 11pm, it doesn’t matter. And I am busy, I’m out enjoying myself. I’ll be home when I get home” Julia mashed the send button.

“What’s up?” the man asked with concern, and he gestured toward the phone with the hand holding his drink before bringing it to his soft-looking lips and his fluffy beard.

“Just...parents being parents, I guess.” Julia rolled her eyes and took a big drink.

They sat in silence for a bit, sipping their drinks and when they were both empty, he asked “You want another?”

Julia shook her head “I want to see that ridge in the park you were talking about”

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was a rebellious defiance against her well-meaning but overbearing mother that led Julia to accept going to a park to climb to a ridge at night with a total stranger.

His eyes lit up and he smiled when she said that, and he responded “Okie! Great, I’ll pay for these and be right back then”

Julia smiled back with a nod as she watched him whisk the two empty martini glasses back to the bar.

He returned and they went outside.

Freeman Park was only a few blocks from the bar and instead of going down the paved path into the wooded area, he led Julia through some winding brush and alongside a creek. It was darker under the thick canopy of woods. He was holding Julia lightly by her forearm with one hand and holding his phone light out with the other. She hit and almost tripped over a fallen tree at one point too. The man helped her up. Julia didn’t say much because she was a little wary of being here; she’d never been off the paved path before and had no idea where they were and the woods at night made all kinds of sounds that echoed around them. Owls, scritching, the cracking of twigs beneath their feet. She clutched her own phone in her jacket pocket. The man had been right- it was 20-plus minute climb through the trees.

“Almost there” he said encouragingly when the trees spread out a bit and the sky could be seen again.

He lightly pulled her past some bushes and onto a rockier hillside with the creek still running nearby.

As soon as Julia precariously stepped out of the bushes she gasped.

Julia could see most of the park lit up under the moonlight and the stars were clearer here. It was picturesque and breath-taking. She had never seen nature or beauty like this in real life; only on her screensavers. Now here was this Aladdin-scene of an endless diamond sky and the moon seemed so much closer too. How had she never been here or knew about this?

“WOW!” she breathed, looking around in utter awe.

“I told you it was worth it” the man said, looking around himself.

“It WAS! Wow!” Julia said again. She looked at him with awe for him too “Thank you for showing me this! It’s beautiful!”

“You’re beautiful too” the man said, his hand cupping her cheek and gazing into her eyes.

Julia’s heart skipped a beat. “Th-thank you” she managed.

He stepped closer, she could feel his body heat. His eyes were magnetic, his aura was alluring and his lips were inching closer to hers. She could see his eyes closing and hers were closing too.

But when he got close enough to graze her lips, she pulled her back a bit. Both of their eyes fluttered open a little more.

“What’s your name?” she asked softly, still gazing through her half-closed lids.

The man sighed and fully pulled back. They opened their eyes.

“You want me to kiss you without knowing your name?” Julia asked.

The man sighed again, rolled his eyes to one side and licked his lips nervously.

“I....sigh...when I say my name you won’t want to kiss me anymore” he confessed.

“Why not? I can go first; my name is Julia” Julia told him, hoping that would either make him more comfortable or guilt trip him enough to share his name.

He let go of her cheek and took a full step back. He stared at the ground to one side and quietly stage whispered “My name is.... sigh...Seymour”

He now looked like he was ready for the other shoe to drop.

Julia smiled a little- she had to admit it was hard to match that nerdy name to this more rocker face, but most people didn’t name themselves. She stepped close to him, close enough for their chests to touch and she cupped his face with both of her hands this time to move it into just the right place for her to plant her lips right onto his.

Right before her eyes fully closed, Julia had seen Seymour’s eyes get wide.

A second later, he grabbed her around her waist and pulled her in closer to kiss her back.

They released the kiss with a breath and gazed at each other’s eyes, their noses still just touching.

They stood there a while under the beautiful sapphire sky with dazzling stars all around, lit up under the moon. A gentle breeze passed. And they leaned in and kissed again.

Julia thought maybe she would never text her mom back at night ever again.


Kelly slumps down into the recliner. Adrian, Dexter, and Kim watch her suspiciously. (Aleister) “So a descendent of Vandal Savage and some weird clown thing not at all Joker-like attacked your headquarters after coming through the rift, got everything?” (Kelly) “To the letter.” (Teagan) “Sajji, one of four warriors of legend that once protected their villages. Until they were corrupted by a man calling himself Savage. They were eventually beaten by a powerful mage that sealed the four warriors away in a time prison.” (Aleister) “This descendant studied the stories and eventually found a way to open said prison but time travel is unstable, unpredictable, hence we all ended up here…” (Kelly) “Seems to be the case.” (Dexter) “Remember being normal? Remember just getting up and getting ready for school and that was your biggest worry…not the fate of the entire space and time continuum!?” He storms out of the house into the backyard. Adrian stands and claps their hands. (Adrian) “Well now that we’re caught up let’s get to work. Lex, Kim you two with me and Chrys, me and Teagan didn’t want this to get ugly but it looks like we have no choice now so you two need to learn to fight. The brainiacs can work on a way to seal four dudes in a time prison and get us all home. Let’s go people, we’re losing daylight.” They hoist Kim onto their shoulders with ease and head toward the backyard. Chrys and Lex shrug and follow them. (Kelly) “They’re breaking down. Dexter too.” (Aleister) “We’re all scared Kelly. We were just normal teenagers and now we’ve been sucked into a fight we never could have seen coming.” (Kelly) “I don’t believe we qualify as normal teenagers Drake.” (Aleister) “Our last names aren’t normal, our heritage isn’t normal, we were…” Teagan sighs and begins to ascend the stairs. She sequesters herself in her room leaving Kelly and Aleister alone. (Aleister) ”…anyway debating about being normal or not isn’t going to get us anywhere. So where do we start?” (Kelly) “Finding out the identity of the other three warriors might be helpful…” (Aleister) “Helpful but impossible. It’s a centuries-old legend that has been passed down and retold through generations, cultures, and religions, who really knows which ones are accurate.” (Kelly) “Teagan said the one that I fought was named Sajji right? That’s where we start. Find the versions that name one of the warriors and go from there. It might not help us get home but at least we won’t be blindsided if…or when they come through.” (Bonus story): **Adrian and Teagans First Day in 2023** Not far from Gotham harbor, Adrian Wilson slowly comes to. Their head is a mess, their sight is blurry, and they can barely stand. The last thing they remember was being in Teagans room watching some old monster movie. (Adrian) "Tegan..." (Tegan) "Adrian..." Her voice doesn't seem that far off but Adrians sight is still a mess and standing up illicits instant dry heaving. Their hand is suddenly enveloped by the soft touch of Teagans hand. (Teag!) "I'm so glad you're ok..." (Adrian) "I'm glad you're ok too...


Jack sighed as he opened the doors to The Joint. The humid air hit him almost immediately but Jack was unfazed. Over the months, he had grown accustomed to the lack of ventilation, among other missing facilities one would expect at a restaurant. Though to call The Joint a restaurant, was…questionable. The Joint had ratings so abysmal that Jack and his friends had no choice but to see for themselves. And indeed, The Joint had lived up to its promise, or lack thereof. From ridiculous wait times, to disgusting food, to dirty utensils, The Joint had it all. Its only redeeming quality was that it served alcohol 24/7, and it was piss-poor alcohol at that. Or maybe it was just piss. Jack doubted he could tell the difference. Sadly for Jack, that wasn’t the last time he would visit the Joint. It was the first of many, unfortunate visits and it had been over a month since his first visit now. He scanned the room and settled for a small table near the center of the room. On his first visit, his friends and him stood at the entrance for ten minutes, waiting for someone to come and seat him. Eventually, they learned that The Joint followed no such protocols. You simply came in and grabbed an available seat. Jack gingerly pawed at the menu, testing for any residue. Deciding that it was relatively clean, he opened it and made a show of picking what to eat. Of course, he knew exactly what he was going to order. Fries and a cup water. They were simply the safest items on the menu, and even then there was the risk of food poisoning. On his first visit, he had made the amateur mistake of ordering a steak cooked medium-rare. The choice had left him all but on the toilet for the better part of a week. It was one thing to order the steak from The Joint, but having it cooked any other way than extremely well-done was a death-wish. Jack’s palms began to sweat as he waited one of the staff to take his order. Finally, one came. In fact, she came. The reason for his sudden interest in this otherwise downtrodden excuse of a restaurant. Maya. Maya something. He didn’t know her last name because her name-tag only had her first name (though that didn’t stop him from stalking her on social media). She had a narrow face with sharp features and shoulder-length, jet-black hair. She reminded him of a raven. A very pretty raven. “Hi there, may I take your order?” she asked. He kept his eyes on the menu, pretending to deeply consider his order.

“Hello, er…yes, could I get an order of fries and a cup of water please?” She raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing smile. “Of course. Will that be all?” No I’d like to have you too, to go perhaps? Jack thought. He cleared his throat “No that’s everything, thank you” and gave her a small smile of his own. After she left, he leaned back in his chair. He wanted to speak with her, have a conversation with her that didn’t involve placing an order. The mere thought of speaking with her made his stomach dance. But that’s why I’m here aren’t I? He couldn’t just keep coming to this shit-hole and ordering stale fries. He had to put an end to this, one way or another. Either he spoke to her today or he would give up and never come back here again. After an unreasonable amount of time, given the simplicity of Jack’s order, Maya came back with his fries and water. “Enjoy your…meal?” She said with a little mirth. At this, Jack perked up. ”I’ll have you know that this is a nutritious meal. A relatively nutritious meal.” “Relative to what, exactly?” she asked now, in interest. “Relative to the other items on this menu. Have you tried the steak? You lose nutrients because you’re emptying your guts from the diarrhea.” At this, Maya burst out in laughter. Then, she looked around. Satisfied that everyone more or less had their food, she took a seat across from Jack. His heart skipped a beat. “I’ll admit that the food is a little suspicious. That’s why I bring my own meals.” Maya said. “Seems like a wise choice.” Jack said, grinning now. Maya leaned in and spoke with a conspiratorial tone. “You know, I’ve noticed you here the past few weeks, because you always get fries and nothing else.” Jack gave her a look of surprise. Maya continued, “Clearly, you understand that the food here is dubious, so why do you keep coming back here? If you wanted fries, you could just go to McDonald’s or Burger King or literally any other fast food place ever.” Jack swallowed. “That, is a very good question. You are very smart, do you know that? Have you considered a career in law? You would make a great lawyer.” He gave Maya a small, nervous laugh. She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “Would you believe me if I told you that I think the fries are delicious?” Maya reached over, picked up a fry, and ate it. “It’s cold. The fry is cold, hard and unsalted. So you tell me,” she said. “I would love to tell you, I really would. But it’s a bit of a long story and you seem to be very busy. I wouldn’t want to take up your time.” At this, Maya was grinning in full amusement. “No worries at all, I got all day.” Half an hour of banter passed when another customer walked in. “Don’t you have to take go their order?” Jack said, pointing to the new customer. Maya looked over and stood up. “I will. But you still haven’t answered my question yet.” Jack gave her a look of mock confusion. “What was the question? I seem to have forgotten.” This time Maya stood silent and looked straight at Jack. Jack took a deep breath. “Okay look, the reason for why I keep coming back here…”. He said as he held her gaze. “…requires too long of an explanation.” He grinned at her and she threw her hands up. “How about this? Let’s discuss this at another time, when you’re not working. Maybe…this weekend? We can go somewhere to eat. Somewhere that’s not here.” Maya looked surprised for maybe the first time since they spoke, but surprise quickly turned into a smile. “Agreed, somewhere that’s not here.” she paused. “Then you’ll finally answer my question?” Jack smiled back, “I think you already know the answer.”


*Well... except for a few moments...*   \- Alright... Let's see who's next. There was the Reaper, doing its job as per usual. It had just taken a soul to the afterlife, so time moved a fraction of a second. Somebody somewhere was shocked to find themselves in a world of stopped time, but that wasn't the case for Reaper, who had lived that since the moment it was born. It left its crook aside and searched something under its robe. After struggling to find it for a few seconds, it took out a piece of paper. \- Edwin Carlson... Age, 43. Location, New York city, New York, USA. Cause of death, car accident. A wealthy man wanted to try out a racing car... He died doig what he wanted the most. And so, Reaper put the paper back in its robe and picked its crook back up. He raised it and hit the floor with its lower end. Suddenly, Reaper found itself in a racing track. There was a single car, smashed against a light pole. Multiple people were surrounding the car, but only one was moving. It was a man, around his forties. He was walking in circles, looking troubled. He had a lock in his chest. \- Edwin. The man looked behind himself. His legs started shaking, and his face went pale. \- D-D-D-Death! S-Stay away from me! \- No, Edwin. I'm not Death. Death is a natural process of separation between the body and the soul. Edwin gasped. \- Yes. You are already dead. Edwin fell on his knees and started crying. Reaper walked towards him slowly. It picked him up and held him in his arms. \- Calm down. It was inevitable. You can't live forever... If it makes you feel better, you don't end here. Reaper kept trying to calm the man down for ten minutes, until all he did was sob. \- You... You're not Death...? \- No. I'm the Reaper. I'm the one who helps souls reach the afterlife they're destined to have. \- And what afterlife do I deserve? \- The crook will be the judge. Once you're unlocked, you'll be taken there. \- Oh... They both stayed silent for a moment. \- If there's anything you'd like to know or do before your trial... - Reaper said. \- Well... There are a few things I want to know. They both sat. Edwin inhaled for a moment. \- First and foremost, what are you? Are you a spirit? Are there others like you? \- That's something I'm not even fully aware of. All I know is I've been created for the sole purpose of helping souls cross the metaphorical bridge between this world and the other world. \- I see... They both stayed silent. \- There is a Creator, though. \- Oh? And how is he? \- It doesn't have any shape or form, but it does have a voice. A strong, deep voice. \- Is it a loving God? \- Nah. I don't think so. It just wanted to create something. \- So that means... \- Yup. We are all the Creator's experiment. We have no ulterior purpose. \- And how come there's an afterlife? \- Well, it's not a "loving God", but the Creator does grow affectionate of its creations. At least of some... \- What do you mean some? \- You humans have an afterlife. I'm stuck in here. Forever. It's clear it doesn't want me to be with it. \- Huh... Silence again. \- And how does it feel to be the Reaper? \- It feels awful. I was created with a pleasant response to people who embraced their fate, but most people only accept reluctantly. " My job is horrible. Having to tell people who found Death a solution that they're in for more suffering... Seeing people from multiple religions have an existencial meltdown... Seeing the dreams and passions of young people crushed by their own fate... It honestly sucks. And I'm stuck here, living the same nightmare over and over again. Edwin sat there, unsure of what to do. \- I'm sorry to hear... Sounds like a really rough life. - He said. \- It's alright... It's not like I can do anything about it. Edwin thought for a second. \- But how do you know you'll be here forever? \- I'm the one who takes people to the other world, I can't take myself there. \- But what if someone else did? What if the Creator did it itself? \- Don't be stupid, the Creator doesn't care about me. \- And why is that? \- Because I'm going to stay here stuck... forever... Reaper stayed still for a moment. \- Well... I guess you do have a point. Edwin smiled. \- And now, I think it's time for me to go. \- Huh, really? No other business you'd like to take care of? Not even your wife? \- I'll meet her in the afterlife. What is 40 years without her compared to an eternity with her? \- Alright. They both stood up. Reaper pointed its crook at Edwin's lock. \- O, sacred crook, look into this man's soul and seek his actions! Judge them! Were they born from truth or were they created for evil? Only you will judge. The crook increasingly emitted a green light, and once it became intense enough, Reaper touched Edwin's lock with it. A spark came out, and a single chain came out of the lock's lower side. \- Purgatory. \- Huh? There's a purgatory? \- Yup, there is one. Judging by the small size of the chain, it shouldn't be that long a visit. \- Well... I guess I have no other option. Might as well accept it. I completely accept my fate. Reaper gasped lightly. Edwin giggled. \- You're welcome, Reaps. Now, take me there. - he said offering his hand. Reaper took his hand, shocked and perplexed. A green vortex formed below Edwin's feet. \- I guess that's it for now. - said Edwin. \- It... seems... \- Pleased to meet you. \- I... Nice to meet you too... Edwin started slowly descending. They both looked at each other. Just as Edwin's mouth was about to go through the vortex, five words came from it, followed by a smile. \- Hope to see you again. Edwin's hand went through the portal at last. It was all over. The vortex closed. Reaper just stood there, still shocked. \- Yeah... What if the Creator pulled me out itself in the end of times? Reaper got absorbed into this question. It dribbled around it for years and years to come, until the answer was eventually handed down to it.