We Were Happenstance By: Mackenzie M. Hebner Based on true events “Wanna grab lunch?” Goosebumps decorated my arms as I saw his name seep into the pixelated color combinations of my phone screen and proceeded to open his text. We’d been anonymous friends for ages, and everyone I knew thought we were what the kids call “endgame” material. By anonymous, I don’t mean the people who met online and don’t know a thing about each other but deal out personal information just for the heck of it, just that we became friends long after we had our chance to know each other in person. Everything was online, including our deepest secrets.

Growing up, people always used to tease opposite sex friends who were as close as him and I had unexpectedly become. They used to say that it was impossible for one or the other not to develop feelings being that close and personal with one another. And I always tried to set them straight. It was possible because I’d been doing it all my life. Sure, we’ve all thought about it. I mean you’re not that close to someone and never wonder if it’d ever work out as more or if you’d be cute couple goals. But then, somewhere along the line, you realize that it’s fun to ponder but never needs to be anything, and you’re okay with that, but the rest of the world isn’t. They compliment you ever so slightly, and of course you get a little giddy because anyone would, but it’s not like that. Sure they smile ear to ear when they talk to you, and it makes your stomach twirl a little and your heart dance to the same beat, but anyone would feel the same. It’s not romance, it’s happenstance.

Him and I: we were happenstance. We smiled together, cried together, laughed together, and fell asleep on the phone together, but that’s all we were, separately together. Chasing different lives with different goals and only one commonality in all of it: each other.

At least, that’s what I wanted to believe. And I did, for years. Genuine years. But then it all hit me. It wasn’t the endless repeat of warnings that two people so close could never just be mutually content as friends that flipped a switch inside my head, but the point blank question that, in all those years, no one had ever thought to ask me, and I had never dared to think or answer—”Well, do you like him?” she asked while clutching her caramel latte close to her chest.

“It would never work. We are so different.” “I didn’t ask if it would work; I asked if you like him.” And there it was: the real kicker. Did I like him? Not would it work out. Not applying all the logical rationale people kill themselves over to obliterate the direct line to happiness, just a simple question where, for the first time, no strings were attached.

“I do.” As the words left my mouth, everything changed. It was supposed to be just a simple acknowledgment that it was okay for me to have feelings. And at first it was; it was innocent. But, after a while I liked the idea so much, because it started to feel less far-fetched by the day. You see, he smiled and suddenly the world knew I was bubbling inside, whereas before it was safe in my head. He complimented me, and the barista in front of me saw my cheeks go red. Suddenly, the world felt like it was closing in because they knew, and it was as if it was forcing me to take mental action, to plant the concept so deep that everything became associated with it.

By then, we still had never been together in person, but suddenly I was desperate for connection like I had never been before. Desperate to be in the same room as him, for his eyes to fall on me, for the laughter to be infectious audibly, for the rosy cheeks to be hidden behind a pillow for safe keeping as he sat next to me, for the chance to have something, anything affirming. Suddenly, his lips were in my head like they’d never been. His smile stayed in my memories for unquantifiable moments longer than I was used to. His existence penetrated my dreams, awoke me in my sleep, kept me from REM, motivated me, empowered me, shook me, broke me, stripped me to the core of my vulnerability and rawness.

Suddenly, we were up late, and I was ready to take a leap, to open a door I might not be able to shut, to begin asking him some of the questions that kept me up at night. The: what am I to you? and do your friends know about me? questions. It was a small start, but a start nonetheless. And, as the answers rolled in, so did the curiosity, the longing, the pictures in my head. The more I asked, the more uneasy I felt. The more the pictures in my head began to fade when all I wanted was for them to stay. When all I wanted was something to hold onto, even if it wasn’t real, something to be steady while everything else in my life spun and spun. A constant, if you will. All I wanted was a constant, but I felt it washing away as I asked and he answered, and he answered well, but there was this picture in my head beyond his answers. It wasn’t fair to him. None of it was fair to him. My emotions, my dedication to something in my head, my heart. Nothing was fair to him, and yet here I was. Asking and receiving and indulging for the first time in my life.

And then: it happened. And then, he was there. Right in front of me, smiling and laughing for the first time right by my side. Engaging and prompting and respecting. And suddenly, he was gone, and I was in tears and nothing made sense anymore. That’s the dangerous thing about technology: you never know. You never know reality in spite of it all. Never know if you’re there and something comes up, if the tears are allowed to flow. It’s the first time and you don’t want to be overwhelming, but then they fall, and you don’t know what you’ve done or what just took place. Suddenly, it’s all a mess, and you’re sitting alone in a parking lot, your once rosy face sopping wet, and he is none the wiser.

“Well! How’d it go?” She was so enthusiastic. After all, she’d called it from the start and was perhaps just as invested as I had been. She was sitting across from me with wide eyes and an intrigue that could outpassion anyone. She pulled her caramel latte up to her lips as I took a deep breath. Relaying everything that had just taken place and trying to find a way to put it

into words that were someone topical and simultaneously tangible. But all I could find to say was this: “We were never going to make it.”


(WP) Fire and Gold The dragon stared down at the intruding knight, its ruby eyes boring into his face. “Give me a single reason why I shouldn’t roast you over my own flames,” The creature growled, and lowered its long, scaly neck, the better to look the human in the eye. “A dragon as wise and ancient as yourself has a hoard that the legends echo! What if I keep track of your hoard, and organize it? I can be of great use to you. There are so many treasures here, and anyway, why waste your time cooking me? I’m all bones and gristle!” The knight spoke in a hurried rush, desperate to save his own life. Who knew that he had such a strong sense of self-preservation? The dragon said nothing, silent, and the knight waited, half expecting the monster’s sharp teeth to tear off a limb. But the dragon surprised him by doing something else entirely. “Very well. You may stay on to guard and organize my hoard,” The dragon said at last, using its nose to push the knight forward, toward the mountains of treasure: bright gold and silver coins, chests filled with jewels and pearls, sparkling specters with all manner of symbols carved into their handles. \*\* Three Years Later \*\* The knight hoped that the rumors that had reached the mountains weren’t true. A group of heroes, at the behest of the King and Queen, had declared the dragon he served as a menace that could no longer be tolerated. It was so strange, thinking about how he’d come to the dragon’s cavern with the intention of killing him. Now, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else but organizing and tending to the creature’s material possessions. The dragon had provided him with food, shelter, purpose. He’d be damned if he’d let the king’s lackeys kill the beast. He had to get back to the cavern; at this rate, the humans would beat him home and the dragon would have to defend itself alone. Swearing under his breath, he hurried his mare on, desperate to aid his friend. A vicious, angry roar echoed over the mountains, a warning for all who dared trespass. When he finally arrived at the cavern, the dragon was snapping its jaws in warning, his huge body crouched protectively over his stolen hoard. The knight found himself hoping that these foolish humans were devoured by his scaly friend. It would be the least that they all deserved. The dragon had told him about how his kind roamed the earth so many years ago, but they’d been vilified and hunted to near extinction. He’d lost his mate and several children in the struggle. Ever since, he’d despised humankind, and the knight couldn’t exactly blame him. “Foolish mortals! The only thing left of you will be your scorched bones!” The dragon howled, spitting fire and smoke. The last thing the knight heard was the humans’ screams of anguish. But really, everyone should’ve known better than to anger a being of fire and air.


I sit in a cage above the sea. My only connection to the kingdom above is the rope that suspends me. My legs hang through the bars, free to swing along with the tempo of the waves below. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can feel the ocean air as it travels to my lungs, taking my problems away momentarily, sending me down to the beach below. My eyes suddenly sting from the salt water, my skin burns from the sun. The hustle and bustle of the lively kingdom above is not muffled, as if I’m much farther away, and I allow my brain to muffle it even more, ignoring it in lieu of the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. I flex my toes, moving the sand below me. I take a step, letting my feet be submerged. Walking forward, I feel every cell in my skin rejoicing. I go to dip my hands in the cool water, splashing my face with it and momentarily relieving the pain of my sunburnt skin. I wander farther into the sea, giving no mind to the fact that my clothes were becoming drenched. I lean back, letting myself float aimlessly, not caring that I seemed to be meandering farther and farther from the shore, no, in fact, I welcomed the vast ocean as a father, a caretaker, a mother, a home. Breathing a sigh of contentment, I go to stand, finding that my feet can no longer reach the sand. For a second I begin to worry, and as I turn to see that the beach is miles away, a wave hits me. I go sprawling forward, breaking the surface of the ocean and sinking quickly, finding that it seems to be getting farther and farther away from me, not just at a normal rate, but almost as if someone is forcing me downward. Immediately I feel the burning of suffocation inside of me. My lungs scream from within and my chest threatens to collapse as my hands desperately attempt to grip the air that is long above me. Finally, I hit the ocean floor, and the impact is so fast that it forces the remaining air from my lungs. I desperately need to breathe, but I don’t want to. I lay on the empty, vast ocean floor, fighting against my body, clinging to the sand, vainly begging my lungs to accept the gift of water in lieu of air, pleading with them to *just let me have this, just let me drown*. Against my own will, I gasp, air filling my lungs. I open my eyes, and my heart sinks. My feet are not wet. My eyes do not burn. The sound of the kingdom above me fills my ears to an almost unbearable level of noise, and I cover my ears with my hands. I sigh and lean against the bars to catch my breath, so that I may soon return to the ocean below.


In the dimly lit museum, the silence was broken only by the faint sound of an infamous art thief's muffled breathing, known to law enforcement agencies as 'The Ghost.' He crouched behind a marble statue, his heart pounding in his chest with the adrenaline surge in his blood and his palms slick with sweat of anticipation. As an adrenaline junky, he was again on a mission, and every nerve in his body was on edge as he observed his target, protected by the museum's state-of-the-art security system. The Interpol had been chasing The Ghost for years, suspecting him of committing over twenty art thefts internationally. He had a particular knack for stealing renowned paintings, each with a value of ten million dollars or higher. So far, he had evaded capture, slipping away into the shadows with his stolen treasures. With each successful heist, his reputation grew, making him one of the most wanted criminals in the art world. He was a person of interest to law enforcement agencies, who were relentlessly pursuing him to bring him to justice. On the other hand, his formidable reputation had caught the attention of criminal dons trying to hire his services for their illicit desires. Despite the pressure from both sides, he remained elusive, and his identity and whereabouts were unknown. Even with their best efforts, the police had never come close to apprehending The Ghost. The thief was meticulous, leaving no trace of his presence at the crime scenes. But the authorities hadn't given up hope. A reward of one million dollars was being offered for any information that could help catch The Ghost, and the prize amount was increasing. They were determined to catch him at any cost. He had dedicated many years to perfecting his skills in the art of stealing. He spent countless hours studying famous paintings and the habits and routines of private collectors, art galleries, and museums. He meticulously planned his heists, targeting small private collections to large museums. He was determined to succeed despite the risks involved, and nothing could deter him from achieving his goal. However, this heist was unique. It would be his masterpiece, the theft that would forever establish his name in the history of art theft. His target was 'The Black Tulip,' a painting considered the finest, valued at around a quarter of a billion dollars. The museum's exceptionally robust security system was unmatched elsewhere. The room was fitted with a complex network of laser grids that crisscrossed the space. Additionally, pressure-sensitive tiles were installed under the plush carpet, which served as an additional layer of protection. These tiles ensured that any unauthorized weight on the floor would trigger the alarm. He had spent countless hours studying the museum's blueprints, memorizing every inch of the floor plan. He knew where the security cameras, pressure-sensitive tiles, and the network of invisible laser grids were located and had meticulously planned his approach. But as he reached out to grab the painting, a sudden wave of doubt washed over him. Had he missed something? Was there a flaw in his plan that he overlooked? He felt his heart racing in his chest as doubt overwhelmed him. He knew trying to steal 'The Black Tulip' was a significant risk, but the painting was too valuable to ignore. The question remained: Would he be able to steal the painting, or would he get caught? The thought of failure was daunting. He took a deep, slow breath, focusing on his inhale and exhale. He continued the exercise until he regained his calm. He was running out of time as the museum's annual gala was the next night, and the painting would be moved to a more secure location. He had only one chance to immortalize his name as the most notorious art thief ever. He fought back his doubts as he approached the frame. The painting portrayed a striking black woman seated in a field of red tulips, challenging the societal issues that plagued black individuals during the slavery era. The woman in the painting was watching him, and her eyes seemed to follow him. Her lips curved in a mocking half-smile as if mocking his hesitation. He placed the diamond glass cutter against the frame and held his breath. The blade moved smoothly, cutting the glass into a perfect rectangle. He then carefully removed the glass, revealing the canvas beneath. The painting seemed to come alive with its vibrant colors, and the woman's face exuded a sense of vitality. She appeared happy, as though she had finally escaped the glass cage that used to imprison her. Then he saw the tripwire. An almost invisible thin thread connected to an alarm system stretched across the painting. His heart pounded again. He had missed it during his recce, and it was unforgivable. "How did I miss the tripwire? How could I have overlooked something so obvious?" his sense of pride was wounded. "I should pay more attention to details, as the devil is in the details." He faced a tough decision: either risk triggering the alarm by unwinding the wire or quit. He hesitated, torn between instinct and reason. As he looked at the painting, it felt like the woman in it was urging him to embrace the risk with her gleaming eyes. He had put immense effort into stealing The Black Tulip, intending to etch his name into history as the most notorious art thief, 'The Legendary Ghost.' How could he ignore this heist? He could never forgive himself if he gave up now. After meticulously analyzing the tripwire and examining its details, he retrieved a long, thin copper wire from his compact backpack and carefully used it to bypass the ultra-thin wire. Then, he cautiously cut the tripwire with a tiny pair of wire cutters. His heart raced as he braced himself for the worst, yet the alarm stayed silent. With a sense of relief, gradually growing into triumph, he unhooked the painting from the wall and held it in his hands, marveling at its beauty. The woman's eyes seemed to soften this time, granting him her silent blessing. Taking great care not to damage the artwork, he carefully rolled the canvas, tucked it into a pipe-like case he had brought, and slipped into the shadows, leaving behind the museum and its secrets. The Black Tulip was his now, and victory tasted sweet. The following day, he visited a nearby news agency to check the newspapers and gather information about his latest work. He enjoyed reading exaggerated claims by journalists who credited him with having supernatural powers or having an IQ far greater than Einstein. 'The Ghost had struck again' was featured in bold and prominent font on the front page of the city's largest newspaper. Filled with a sense of satisfaction, he proceeded to the cashier's desk to pay for the newspaper. "Can they apprehend him?" inquired the news agency owner. "Apprehending whom?" he asked. "The Ghost. Can police catch him?" "Most likely not. He is a master in his art," he replied proudly. "Without a doubt, he is a true master of theft. But I don't mind him." "Why?" "Because he only steals from the rich and not the poor." "Like Robin Hood?" "That's right, just like Robin Hood."


I eat and that’s me. The cocktail shrimp tastes like wet sticks, and I swallow it. The crackers, tasteless, damned by salt, dry my mouth. Cold and dead things; I eat and that’s normal of me. I stand amongst lifelong friends I’ve seen just today. Murky faces I talk and act to like I adore them. Lapses in normality or common gestures I quickly blame on the vomit tasting Chardonnay. I play and convince others of myself. Therefore, this new self must surely be me. “You know what, Gary? You remind me of one of those gloomy, handsome heroes from the movies.” That’s cause he made himself that way. Radiohead optimism and espresso breathe, big-rimmed glasses and hand-combed hair. Even the dark spots under his eyes were done so well that no one could tell it was makeup. It just seemed on par. “Yes.” Said the Gary actor. He played it cool enough that the cliche was seen as tantalizing. The women at the New Year’s party giggled all the suspicion away he was in for fifteen minutes. And though it was not Gary’s usual role, he knew Gary could’ve been shy sometimes. Late nights out on the balcony, oh, he knew Gary had some mysterious gloom in him. Might as well cover this Gary in all of it for the New Year’s. No one looked surprised at least. “Hey, Gary! Buddy!” He turned to the man calling him to the stage. Immediately he says his lines. “Benny Baby! God, where’d that hairline go?” Benny Jalko misplaced all his hair back in high school, something Gary knew first hand! He watched it fall out starting freshman year. There were many late nights where Gary and Benny discussed this tragedy, some with tears, but now any thought of it all was pure resignation.

They joked about it often these days. Benny took the line without a beat, steering the conversation to the paleness of Gary’s skin. He assures Benny it’s just a new low iron diagnosis he received yesterday. He told Benny about the common symptoms like a bullet list from Google. The Gary actor thought of this lie from a woman he shared an Uber with. “Iron? You’re 6’6'' and ate beef tartare by the pound just last summer!” The Gary actor didn’t inhale an atom. “Well, anyway, how’s that Sarah girl doing? You going on another date?” The Gary actor hoped to hell he couldn’t see his heart stop. Who was Sarah? He thought of all he got from Gary. He searched every bit of information he accumulated of old girlfriends, hookups, even cousins. He shot in the dark, “Sarah Fencor? From sophomore math? Benny smiled like he half-decided to laugh, “Sarah Fencor? The girl who ate kimchi in class? Nah, movie Sarah. ‘Miss Most Beautiful Girl’ Sarah!” Benny would’ve felt the stinking panic coming from his supposed friend if he reached out a hand. He would’ve run screaming if he knew the truth. A thousand Xanax couldn’t make the Gary actor blink. “The Sarah you’ve been talking about everyday. You gotta be-” “I’m joking!” Benny jumped from the outburst. “Weeell, work on your standup. Or at least ditch what you got, ‘cause Miss Beautiful Sarah just came through the door!” ***** Sarah McKellen wasn’t much of a party fan. She hated the genre switches of amateur DJs. She didn’t like having to carry around little plates of finger-food (too much of a pain in the ass). And she sure-as-shit never drank enough to indulge in low inhibitions. She was too high strung to care for relaxing. “Drinking just makes me sleepy!” She shouted to her girlfriend. Whoever had the aux was playing too loud. “I'd rather just stick with water and no hangover.” The girlfriend started to spin a sequence of boy-toys and situationships, but, thank God, her knight in shining armor was across the room. Gary had been a blessing for her. Quiet and kind, Gary never fussed over much and definitely not her. She herself admitted she was set in her ways. More than one boyfriend had enough of their girlfriend preferring her way, always. But Gary didn’t mind, and if so, he made sure to make time where his own passions could be enriched alone. He was so agreeable that even Sarah started to hear her own ridiculousness. Eventually, Sarah humbled herself to even allow Gary to buy her earrings without clear hints. And although they had not made it official, an admission of intentions after a New Year’s kiss seemed too perfect to not come true. Sarah made eye contact with Gary. He’s so cute, she thought, this man is smitten with me. He looks like a deer caught in the headlines. Stunned by yours truly! She cut through the crowd, nearly spilling one guy's beer and pissing off a group of tipsy women. Not her fault she had to grind up on them to get past; the place was backed! She got to Gary, but for whatever reason he didn’t seem to think the same about the space. He was pressing his back into the people behind him. In a room with nowhere to breathe, he made himself a good two foot bubble. “What’s the matter, Gary?” She jokingly pried. “You think I’ll bite?” Gary stiffed into a manic smile. “You? Bite? That’s funny!” “How come?” … “You good, Gary?” Sarah had to shout, they stood not too far from the stereo system. The aux-guy was trying to blow the speakers on a lub-dub, heavy heartbeat rhythm club song. Sarah wished she could punch that fucker; Gary just said something she couldn’t hear. “What?” “mmm-mmphMm-uhah.” “What?” “mmm-mmphMm-uhah!” “What?!?” Gary latched his cold, leather hands onto her arms, pulling her close, bringing his lips a half a hair away from her ear. Chills radiated from his touch. Where’d his warm, caressing grip go? Dead fish scales felt more inviting. He opened his musty mouth, “I have to go to the bathroom.” And away he scuttled. ***** How could I forget? How could I- Forget? I never forget. Never, ever in all that he’s savored. He remembers the hairs on each animal he’s met, and can categorize their size, color and texture. He knows every moment leading up to panic. He’s seen dreams shattered, and the wailing that ensues. He’d never forget a Sarah or a love for her. …but what if he had? He turned the water on and left it running. With that damn loud music, no one would hear him pacing. But you can never be sure; he had to think. Prodding each gray tile, avoiding the cracks lest someone break his neck. He fumbled with his shirt buttons, tapping each three times. Had his luck finally run out? It couldn’t have. He was so, so, so sure his wish for a new life would come true. It told me so. It was my time to be someone new. Better. He turned to the mirror. He played this Gary role perfectly. He was Gary! Every freckle and cell. But that wasn’t entirely true, though. It was Gary, but deep, deep in Gary was a great facade, a fake who faked everything. Like I have no face. No face and no life. A fake with no truth. “I- I- I just want to be h-happy.” A red tear streaked down his cheek. It was wiped away in a blink. He could start over again. Find another Gary to play. One who knew no one, not a single person that could find out this fraud. “No, no no, no, NO!” A knock at the door. He doesn’t move. Whoever knocked does, they don’t knock again. He looks up at his reflection. “How could you?” The red tears flow now, smearing when he wipes. They won’t disappear. “How could you forget that BITCH?! That- That-” And then it hit him. There was never a lapse of memory. He was sure of that. He never forgot…because he never knew. Hadn’t he prodded his artistic muse, painted and edited, cut and redrew? He saw and heard a million things about what Gary was and could be. For months! For months, he worked and finally he thought it was done when he heard everything there was to know a hundredth time. “That… bastard .” He snarled. Something wriggled under Gary’s skin. His face twisted like noodles spun on a fork. He turned the lights off. “That bastard …was supposed to be me. ” ***** The ball dropped half an hour ago. There was still most of everyone dancing about, but the wind was moving the crowd to the door. Sarah hadn’t seen Gary since their brief encounter. She squeezed past the drunk party goers. Struggling to get to a hallway illuminated by a cool green LED. It was like walking into a tunnel of irradiated moss. It was otherworldly. At the center of the hallway, across from a bare wall, the bathroom door sunk into itself. A somber number played for the couples. Sarah wondered how long a man could take to poop. She knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock. The door opened without a creak or groan. Solid black met her. “Gary? You in there?” A moment came and went. “He didn’t mention you.” He replied. Sarah stared as if a tragedy was unfolding. “He didn’t mention you! I knew I didn’t forget!” “Gary?” “No.” He gurgled. “Sarah.” He declared. Silence in the loudness, Sarah fell back into the wall and stuck. “Gary?” From the solid black appeared a green spot. It became a nose. A forehead. Cheeks. Mouth and eyes. Plain and plastic. “Gary. Gary? GARYYYy-y-y-y?!?” The face hung mute. In sound and expression. Still like a dying street lamp. Emotionless as a gray day. Sickening as spotless porcelain. Lips spread, gaped. A toothless bite bore a wide smile. Too large and wide a smile! The face fell forward.


So there I was, stuck in the blistering heat and a sweat-soaked summer dress, standing only fifteen feet from the sweet, sweet sanctuary that was Little’s Mama’s Big Ice Cream Shoppe—the only ice cream shop is town when the small was more than half a gallon of ice cream plopped onto a skinny cone that would scream under the weight of it if it wasn’t an animate object. But alas, there I was, foiled by my own shoes. Melted into the freaking street. “I told you making your own shoes from recycled plastic was a bad idea, Pele,” My girlfriend, Bianca, called from the safety of the sidewalk with a cocky grin. “This is fine!” I lied as I tried to take a step. “Totally fine.” Bianca swayed to the side with a hand on her hip. “Just admit you were wrong and I’ll help you.” “I can handle this,” I said. The last thing I wanted was admit I made another stupid mistake and have Bianca hold over my head for the next six months. Like that time

I adopted a baby crocodile, only for him to destroy all my furniture within an hour. Or that time I tried to climb a fifty foot pine tree with a Batman grappling hook I bought on EBay. Or that time I choked on the plastic ring that came from six packs after purposefully eating it to prove that sea turtles were drama queens. Or that time—you know what? I think you get the idea. “Just get your adorable ass over here before they run out of ice cream.” I gritted my teeth and yanked upward. My arms flailed as my shoe stayed firmly planted, but the momentum nearly knocked me over. “Working on it…” “Wanna hear a joke?” “Not really.” I crouched down and started untying my boots’ laces as part of Plan B. “Okay, so here it goes.” I rolled my eyes. “Why didn’t Pele cross the road?” “I don’t know.” Yes I do. “Why?” “Because her shoes were melted to the middle of the street!” Bianca bent over cackling to herself, almost earning as many weird looks by passerbys as I was. Boot One, untied. She waved her hands as she straightened up, taking deep breaths. “Okay, okay.” Bianca wheezed. “I have another one.” Halfway, through Boot Two, I said, “Go for it.” “Knock knock.” “Who’s there?” “Not Pele because she’s stuck in the middle of the street!” Somehow, she cackled even louder this time. I stared at her a little out of the corner of my eye, half expecting a witch hat to summon forth on her head to compliment her crazy witch cackle. Hands on her knees, gulping down the hot, summer air, Bianca asked, “Okay, but seriously, imma head inside because my clothes are saturated with sweat. Do you want anything?” “Freedom!” I shouted as Boot Two’s laces fell to the ground. “Oh? So you do want my help?” I grinned. “Don’t need it.” Slipping my right foot out of my boot, I waved it in the air at Bianca. She pinched her nose and gagged. “Stinks.” “You can’t even smell it from over there. Now, behold my masterful Plan B.” And like the idiot I soon realized I was, I put my right foot with its thin sock shield directly onto the pavement. The pavement that was hot enough to melt my shoes. Yeah. “ Youch !” I hollered as I brought my foot up my chest, clutching it like a badly burned baby. The bottom of the sock had completely burned through. “Got any more brilliant ideas, Pele? Or does Plan C stand for ‘Can you please help me, Bianca, because I was wrong to make my own pair of shoes without any knowledge or experience on how to make shoes?” Gently, I set my right foot on top of the abandoned boot. “ Never .” Bianca shrugged and headed inside. “Suit yourself.” With a devilish grin, she added. “I sure hope they don’t run out of Double Trouble Chocolate sundaes before you get inside.” “Bianca, no please, you know that’s my favorite,” I cried. The door ringed as it shut behind her. “Bianca!” “Great,” I muttered to myself. “Now what do I do?” My eyes widened as I spotted a car barreling towards me. “Hopefully avoid that car.” I tried to leap off the shoes, but my left foot got stuck in my boot and my right fizzled like an egg in a frying pan the moment it touched the pavement. “ Frick fracking’ fudge! ” I cursed as I stepped back onto the boots.

Glancing back at the car, I gulped. Maybe a hundred feet from me now, the driver still hasn’t noticed me or slowed down. Meaning it’s either I burn the soles of my feet off or test my luck to see if I have the laden superhuman ability of durability to withstand being hit by a car. I pinched myself and yelped. Definitely not the second one. “Bianca!” I screamed as I flailed my hands in the air. “You win, okay? You were right. This was a dumb idea.” Twenty feet. “But if you don’t help me, it’ll be my last dumb idea. Bianca!” “Oh, sweet lord chocolate,” I said as I faced the car about to kill me. Suddenly, I knew what it felt like to be a deer caught in the headlights. I clasped my hands together, “Oh sweet lord chocolate and God I guess, if you can get me out of this, I swear I’ll donate to whatever deer charities there are.” I covered my eyes, not wanting to see the Death Mobile about to kill me getting closer and wanted for it to be over. Except… it wasn’t? Removing my hands, I patted down my body. It’s alive? And in one piece? My eyes darted up at the driver and I recognized that guilty smile. “Benny!” I shrieked at Bianca’s older brother. “What the frick frackin’ fudge are you doing?” “Sorry,” he mouthed. Without further explanation as to why he almost-killed me, Benny pointed over at the ice cream shop and I turned. Standing there with a Double Trouble Chocolate sundae, a mint milkshake, and the biggest sugar-packet-eating grin I’ve ever seen was Bianca. “Who was right, again?” I flushed red. And saw red. Embarrassed and angry, I yelled at Bianca, “What the frick frackin’ fudge, Bianca? You sent your brother to almost-kill me?” Benny rolled down the window and Bianca handed him the desserts. “ No , I sent him to make you think he was gonna kill you so you’d admit you were wrong. Totally different.” I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yeah, because that’s so much better.” “It’s it though?” She scooped me up in her arms, high above the burning pavement. Pouting, I crossed my arms and looked away. “Oh come on, don’t be like that. I bought you a Double Chocolate sundae, with an extra scoop.” My head snapped back to face her. A greedy smile filled my face. With a peck on her cheek, I said, “All is forgiving, my darling girlfriend.” Bianca laughed, then swooped down to kiss me. Mmmh, she tasted like chocolate. Wait a minute, she tasted like chocolate. “Did you eat some of my sundae?!” As she set me down in the backseat and took shotgun, Bianca said, “Maybe a little.” Jaw dropping, I said, “Then nothing is forgiven!!” Bianca laughed, and handed me my ice cream—with a slightly smaller extra scoop. I dug in. Alright, maybe she’s a little bit forgiven.


The sound of the school bell buzzing causes me to jump in my seat. Next I hear Miss Jones half yelling my name, “Misty Hawkins, what’s gotten into you?” I quickly blurt out, “Ma’am?” Looking at me with a furrowed brow, she follows up with, “I had to call your name 3 times before you heard me. Where is your head?” Feeling my body heat rise as my complexion quickly made its way from a cafe au lait color to a deep scarlett, I shyly answered, “So sorry ma’am, I don’t…” And then she let me off the hook by saying, “Class dismissed!” and giving me a quick “watch yourself” warning glance. I apologized once more before leaving because I genuinely liked Miss Jones. She gently touched my arm, smiled, and said, “Don’t worry, it happens. I was your age once.” As I walked away I thought, she might have been my age once but I doubt she had a secret as big as mine.

I had been named for my secret. Misty means cloudy or covered by mist. I was given this name by my Yaya. She’s my mama’s mother. I call my dad’s mother grandma. I was given the name because I was born en caul, meaning some part of the amniotic sack or in my case, all of the sack and its contents were intact when I emerged from my mother’s womb. This is rare anywhere, only happening once for every 80,000 births. In my mother’s family it’s not only rare but a cause for celebration. For them, en caul babies are said to be born with the veil, which means they will be granted some rare psychic gift. The fact that I was born with my veil fully intact had mystified all who were present for my birth, which took place at home because I entered the world so quickly. Of note also, my mother’s Aunt Tilly, mostly called TT Tilly who acts as a midwife in Cajun country, just happened to be visiting that weekend. When the fluid filled sac around me came rushing out of my mother’s body I’m told everyone gasped and began crossing themselves. My mother’s family is Catholic along with practicing the vodun religion. When she saw everyone crossing themselves she panicked thinking something was horribly wrong with me until TT Tilly picked me up with a broad smile and her eyes all aglow. Half delirious from the pain of labor Mama had no idea what she was looking at. The only thing that kept her from screaming in horror was the triumphant look on TT Tilly’s face as she raised up the strange blob that was supposed to be her baby. When Mama slowly asked, “Is that my baby?” with a desperate and confused look on her face TT Tilly quickly explained as she went to work freeing me from my cozy protected orb. “It’s okay, your baby been born with the veil, that’s all. That’s a good thing, a real good thing! She gone have special powers.” Tilly was expressing our family’s belief that en caul births are generally seen as lucky or good things, though that has not always been the case. Reports from darker times tell of babies being burned as witches following en caul births. My en caul birth remained a secret among the women in my mother’s family from day one because of my father’s conservative Christian beliefs. My mother is descended from a long line of vodun, also referred to as voodoo practitioners with psychic abilities, my father is a fire and brimstone pentecostal preacher and his family believes the same. Most people find it hard to understand how two people from such different religious backgrounds could even begin to think about getting married, and yet, my parents did. I am living proof of their love and I have grown up hearing the tale of how they met and fell instantly and madly in love the moment they laid eyes on each other. He had come to her small town in Texas running a tent revival, which her family had no interest in attending but had no problem with the many townsfolk who did attend. My father typically ate dinner with one of the many families in town. These dinners always consisted of multiple delicious foods which he truly enjoyed. As they were entering town he had noticed a small country store that also sold food to go. A large sign outside advertised, “Fried Bologna Sandwiches.” From the moment he laid eyes on the sign he knew he had to have a fried bologna sandwich before leaving this lovely little town. They had been his favorites when he was a boy and he hadn’t enjoyed one for years. He intentionally kept one night free so he could work on a new sermon while enjoying a fried bologna sandwich along with an ice cold soda and some cookies. My mother was the store cashier that day. According to my father, she was so beautiful he had trouble speaking at first. She thought something was wrong with him but he finally managed to get it together and say a few words to her. She too was smitten, but able to keep her wits about her. He invited her to the tent revival and she went, to the horror of her family members and shock of the townspeople. After all, everyone knew that my mother’s family had been practicing some form of voodoo since their ancestors had set foot on American soil from Africa. Like most Africans, they had learned to enmesh their sacred voodoo rituals within the rituals of Catholicism for the sake of keeping themselves and the religion alive. But there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that they were still faithful to their ancient religion.

When the revival left town a few days later my mother’s family figured that would be the end of it. They were wrong. My father returned to visit whenever he could over the next 2 months since the revival remained fairly close. When it came time for the revival to leave the area they both agreed they couldn’t live without each other so they got married and my mother joined him on the road. My parents decision to marry only 2 months after meeting in spite of their opposing rigid beliefs just shows how madly and completely they loved each other. At that moment, they only cared about being together, not how they would deal with the complicated religious differences that would pop up. From what I could tell, my mother set her religious beliefs aside and became, from all I could see, a dutiful pentecostal preacher’s wife to my father. We traveled with the tent revival up until I was six years old. They tried to leave the tent revival when I turned five so I could start kindergarten in the town where we would live for the rest of our lives or at least until I graduated. Unfortunately there was no post available for my father at that point, so my mother convinced him that it was okay to let me start kindergarten with her family in the small Texas town where he had met her. He was somewhat concerned about her family being voodoo practitioners but Mama successfully argued she was raised in it from birth until she married him and it hadn’t hurt her. Did he honestly think a year was going to corrupt me? I had been spending summers with Mama’s family since I could remember so going to live with them for a whole year was like being told I had to go spend a year at a summer camp where I loved all the food and activities. I always went home a little fatter than they sent me, so Mama and Daddy chastised me and Yaya about my eating too many of her cakes, cookies, and candies. They knew I had a mean sweet tooth and Yaya always made sure she had some of my favorite sweets on hand. The year with Yaya was good, but not as good as the summers because only a few of my cousins were there. Most of them were home til summer because of school. The biggest difference that year was that Yaya started talking to me about my birth and teaching me about my birthright. I had never really heard about Vodun before that year and most certainly didn’t know I had been born with the veil or that I was destined to become psychic. Yaya broke it all down to me in words that my kindergarten brain could comprehend. Yaya gave me many gifts throughout my life but she gave me the most important one that year. She went out of her way to make sure I fully understood what it meant to be given the gift and responsibility of having psychic powers. She put emphasis on teaching me to ignore what I saw on TV when it came to psychic powers. Yaya said most of what’s on TV and in the movies about psychic powers is pure bullshit! Without her lessons I would’ve been absolutely horrified when I grew up and started seeing movies like “Carrie” and “The Exorcist”. Yaya had told me she had her first psychic experience shortly after her first menstrual period. She told me that seemed to be the time of awakening for women in our family. When I asked, “But Yaya, how will I know when I’m having my first psychic experience?” “Why Baby, I can’t tell you that. Everybody’s gift shows up differently.” “Differently?” Whaddya mean Yaya? How did yours show up?” “No Baby, I can’t tell you how mine showed up. Then you’ll expect yours to show up like that and it probably won’t. Just trust me, you’ll know when it comes. Everyone always does.”

Now here I am, a week after my first period and I’m sure I had my first psychic experience in the form of a dream three nights ago. It was so vivid I could have sworn it was real. I was walking to school along the same path I take every day with the same group of kids from the neighborhood. I have a few good friends I hang out with but I only know most of the kids by face. We cross a railroad track on our way to and from school everyday but it’s no big deal. I’ve never seen any kind of train on that track before, during, or after school. But in my dream, not only was there a train, it was a fast moving train. It came through with such speed and lack of warning that several of the children were caught unaware. Most of them scattered before the train got to them, however, there was a blonde curly haired boy with bright blue laughing eyes in my grade who became startled and tried to turn back rather than run forward like the others. The thing is, our eyes connected just before he disappeared behind the nose of the monstrous locomotive he was trying to outrun. I was yelling no, don’t turn around! I woke up terrified in a dead panic, thinking it had really happened. I actually cried with relief when I realized it had only been a dream. That had been two nights ago. I felt so connected to the blonde curly haired boy after the dream that I made it a point to learn his name the next morning. Mitchell, as I learned he was called, was not only a fun loving young man, he was also quite intelligent. He wasn’t with his usual group of friends this morning so I figured he was probably absent. Then I heard my name being called from somewhere behind me. Not recognizing the voice, I turned quickly to see who it was. To my surprise there came Mitchell, running towards us all smiles. At that moment I thought, “Oh no, what have I done? Was learning his name a mistake? Does he think I want to be his girlfriend or something?” Then a cold shiver went down my spine! As he got closer I recognized the clothes he was wearing. They were the same clothes he had been wearing in that awful dream! I couldn’t help but turn my attention to the railroad tracks. OH MY GOD! There it was! A freight train! What was it doing here? Barreling down the tracks, just like I had seen in my dream. My attention flew back to Mitchell! I had to find a way to keep him from setting foot on that track. I instinctively knew that if he did, his young life would end right there, TODAY! I had a matter of seconds to come up with a plan so I was a nervous wreck. My friend Earlene was talking to me and couldn’t figure out why I was staring behind me not responding. Then she said, “What’s wrong with you? Are you havin a breakdown or somethin? Then I thought, that’s it! I knew exactly what to do! As soon as Mitchell got close enough I fainted, into his arms. I had learned enough about him in one day to know that he wouldn’t walk away from anyone who had just fainted without first trying to help. Plus, I had a plan B in case he tried to leave. It involved my refusing to release Mitchell’s arm and crying hysterically until I knew the murderous train had passed. Fortunately there was no need for plan B as the train passed while Mitchell was gently laying me down on the ground. The train had been sent through our town on those tracks when it was rerouted around a broken down train. Someone didn’t know our tracks had been out of service for years, which could have led to countless other issues considering the fact that the tracks hadn’t been properly maintained for countless years. Parents were upset because nearly every child in our town crosses those tracks while walking to school and there had been no warning that a train would be coming during a time when children were crossing. They most certainly would’ve arranged for special crossing guards had they known. Everyone agreed, it was a miracle no child had been hurt or killed. The railroad flat out refused to dismantle the tracks but agreed to erect some sort of barrier to keep future employees from accidentally rerouting trains through our town without ample warning. A barrier that had to be dismantled would at the very least give folks pause before sending trains in our direction.

I tried to play the fainting spell down by claiming I had skipped both dinner the night before and breakfast that morning. The school nurse wasn’t having it. She called my parents who in turn rushed over to the school filled with concern. I was more embarrassed than anything else. Now I was known as the girl who fainted upon seeing the train. I wanted to tell Mama right away but I couldn’t with Daddy and the nurse there. They wouldn’t have understood if I had tried to explain that I pretended to faint because I knew Mitchell would be killed by the train if I didn’t. And I knew it because I had seen it in my first psychic dream two nights before. Nope, it was better for me to just lie there like I couldn’t explain what had happened. Once we got home and I got Mama alone in my room I practically burst with the news. After all, I had saved Mitchell’s life and she was the one person I could tell. I expected Mama to be excited for me so when she wasn’t I felt hurt. When I asked why she wasn’t excited she said, “Because I know there’ll be times when your gifts won’t be enough to save friends and family members from harm or just plain old disappointment. She pulled me close and hugged me tighter than I ever remembered while saying, “When that happens, promise me you’ll talk to me or somebody who understands your gift rather than blame yourself or take it personally. You’re my baby and I don’t wanna see your life ruined behind your gift. Our family’s seen it more than once, which is why we’re so careful. You understand me?” Her eyes looked so sad they made me want to cry. It didn’t take a psychic gift to understand they had seen something that caused serious heartache. Knowing I had fully come into my gift Mama said it was time for us to pay TT Tilly a visit. I didn’t know why but I loved visiting with TT Tilly so I didn’t complain. It was important enough that we flew in to see her so we didn’t have to waste the 8 hours it took to drive each way. When we arrived, rather than take us to her house, TT Tilly took us to a beautiful house in the woods where several women were waiting. They were different ages and colors and their hair was adorned with all kinds of flowers. I immediately asked Mama if I could put flowers in my hair and she said, “absolutely, you are the guest of honor!” What I didn’t know then, but found out later was that we were there to celebrate my coming of age and coming into my gift. TT Tilly said this special secret ritual usually happens after a girl’s first period but before she came into her gift. In my case the timing was a little bit off, but it was okay. I enjoyed being showered with attention and spending time with all the women and girls that evening. In the end it felt good knowing I was a part of this group of women who understood and accepted me and my gift.


WARNING: This story contains graphic imagery and depictions of mental trauma! As he began typing away on the computer, Josh turned towards me. He said, "No matter what happens next, I gotta say, you were always an interesting person to be around, and it was an honor to work with you." It wasn't the most normal thing to say to someone, but I felt flattered. For as long as we had been working together, we had an unmatched chemistry, but ever since Josh happened upon Amelia's cold, lifeless body in that alleyway, the balance had shifted. I understood exactly what it was like to see your one true love slaughtered, but he wasn't blessed, or should I say cursed, with the experiences I've suffered through. No one could understand the sea of trauma he was drowning in. I reluctantly set my fears aside and set my focus on the moment. After the calm was over, Josh nervously shouted to me, "The bomb is armed. Let's get out of here." He pressed a key on the computer and the metal doors slid open. "Run!" He shouted. His commanding voice echoed off the walls, and we engaged in a full on sprint. The adrenaline was pumping and the stakes were higher than ever. I never felt so fast. Every step was like walking on air. Light poured from the exit doors, and as I got closer and closer, my ignorance blinded me to the possibility of this entire plan going up in smoke. Just as our freedom was feeling secured, my ignorance caught up to me when Lieutenant Nev stepped in front of the exit. We instinctively stopped in our tracks with the intention of turning around, but we couldn't run back towards the active bomb. The panic settled comfortably in my head, but my decisions were rendered null when the evidence room erupted down the hall. The explosion simultaneously bursted all our ears and floored us to the ground. The gale-like force was a sensation like no other. It was as if my body was separating from itself and my mind was being chopped apart. Bags of narcotics, weapons, and other criminal contents flew across the hall like bullets. It all felt like a blur. My head hit the floor so hard that I lost sight of what I was just doing, and I didn't have the time to remember anything. Before I could collect myself Lieutenant Nev had almost immediately tackled me to the ground. Her scraped and gashed arms were pressed on my already winded chest. She shouted with vicious fury, "You bastards! You thought we wouldn't catch you invading our system?" The feeling of her imminent wrath was petrifying. She continued, "You couldn't just let us solve the case, could you? We offered you resolution and you repay us by ruining years of hard work?" Her face was wet with hot, blue blood and tense from the limitless anger. I sensed the guilt enveloping me. The regret was more plentiful than it had ever been, but it was too late now. We had to suffer the consequences of our actions. Before I could even say anything, the sound of metal scraping against stone caught the ears of Nev and I, so we turned our heads. All we could see was Josh on his knees. The room seemed to disappear around him. The look on his face told us everything we needed to know. He was mourning. We averted our gaze to the palms of his hands where a knife sat gently. It had a gilded handle, and engraved on the bottom was Rock's insignia: the eye in the cloud. The blade was jagged and thin. The edges were stained with dry, crimson blood, and Josh could sense just how close this blood was to him. He stared at it in his hands with longing, desperate eyes. The horrors of seeing Amelia at that crime scene flooded back to him in a haze of helpless fervor. He maintained contact with the knife as he whimpered, holding back every tear in his body, "It's... it's the knife Rock used to kill Amelia…" I slowly glanced at the knife again. Josh was right. An electric wave of desperation flowed through me. I wanted to help him, to console him, to be there for him in his time of grieving. My empathy yelled at me to run over to Josh and to remind him that he's not alone, but my intentions were outweighed by the strength of Lieutenant Nev's wounded arms pressing on my feeble chest. I decided to do what little I could and whispered to him, "Josh... I'm so sorry, Josh..." He heard me, but he also heard someone else. He was listening in on something that wasn't really there. From all I've witnessed, I knew exactly what it was. It was the voice that pushes the weak. It was the voice that takes control and forces you to see the vices of release. The staring grew more and more intense as the officers in the precinct, Lieutenant Nev, and I silently waited for Josh to make his next move. Then it struck out of nowhere, like a bolt of lightning. Josh's expression shifted to emptiness. Being so overwhelmed with grief was unbearable to him. The idea of being together with his love once again won over him. The crunch was like a sickening earthquake in my ears. I felt his heart stop beating from across the hall. "No!" I screamed desperately. I squirmed to break free from Nev's grasp, but it was helpless. She was so shocked that she was utterly and completely paralyzed. A moment unlike any other I've sat through passed by. "No..." I whispered pathetically, holding back the tears. I gave up. The tears flowed effortlessly as I felt my body become numb and limp. Every muscle had lost all hope and simply gave out. Nev released her grip on me after realizing I was nothing more than a motionless wreck. She stood up and started pacing back and forth in confusion. This was ordinary in her line of work, but even she felt extraordinarily sick upon seeing Josh lose to his own thoughts. She began ranting to me, "Why? Why didn't you just stay where you were told? I knew the case was important and we were willing to help, but you weren't being kept here as criminals. If you had just been patient, we could've helped you solve this case, but now you're just as much a criminal as Rock!" The guilt flushed through me, and I was forced to silently regret everything I had done once again. After another painful moment, Nev sighed, then gently reached out her hand to my still limp being. Upon seeing her hand, I snapped out of my paralysis and decided to accept the consequences. As I grabbed Nev's hand I felt the blood of her wounds. It was cold upon contact, but it was warmed by the heat of my palm. She carefully helped lift me onto my feet. A sniffle comes from her. "Just... leave..." she cried in frustration. Having expected her to arrest me, I widened my eyes in shock. "Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna take your friend back home with you, and we'll act like this never happened. Tell your commanding officer that Rock is in our jurisdiction now. You will never return here again. Got it?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but I silently shook my head in affirmation. Nev gave me a quick pat on the shoulder before giving orders to the other officers. In the commotion, I walked over to Josh. Seeing the life drain slowly from his eyes sickened me. The knowledge that I would never talk to him again sent shivers down my spine. Despite having such an immense fear of death, Josh gave into the torturous pain. Once I realized that he forced himself to face that next step of existence, I was frightened for him. Josh was always afraid of infinites and finites, so I couldn't truly believe that he could succumb to something so gruesome. Out of nowhere, it dawned on me. None of this really mattered anymore. What happened happened. There were no take backs, and I've learned that the hard way. I crouched down, looking at Josh's eyes one last time before shutting his eyelids. I knew he couldn't hear me, but I just had to say one last thing to him, "Wherever you are now, I hope it's peaceful. Hopefully the pain is over for you... and Amelia. I hope you're together right now." I got up, and despite wanting to just cry over him, I began the necessary arrangements to have him taken home.


The money flew out the window like snowflakes, as the deep red of the beat up old car was merely a blur in the wind. He had done it. He was free. No more late night calls waking him up. No more giant men standing in the corner watching. No more tentacled beasts boring their way into his brain. He didn't realize He was smiling until He ran his 2nd red light. By this point it occurred to him that the cops would probably be looking for him, but He didn't care as soon as He got to the Compound He would be safe. Just a few more miles and it would all be over. Unless He got caught He thought, and almost as if He Commanded it a flashing blue light spiraled towards Him. Causing him to floor it. He could see the Compound now sitting right on the horizon. Right in front of him, He just had to outrun the cops. The spedomender crept past a hundred and his bone white knuckles gripped the wheel and shook from the pressure or maybe the fear. He could see the gate now and the hundreds of guns mounted to them. The cries of what had to be at least eight different cop cars wailed behind him. Their screams were deafening but He ignored them as the wheels of the burnt maroon car crossed the border of the Compound. As soon as the bumper crossed the line a barrage of bullets rained down onto the pursuing police officers. It would have taken a miracle for any of them to survive. No one that the Compound didn't want got in. When He got out and checked the back of the car, He realized that the pile of money He had taken was significantly smaller than when He started his run from the bank. The pile was smaller for sure but at least half the car was still filled with thousands and thousands of hundred dollar bills. He sighed in relief. His life was his own now. He glanced to the left and all of his joys were crushed when He saw HIM. Ozymanyas. The man that created the Compound. His lithe body rippled with mussels that he never needed to use. The dark velvet of the cape he always wore, swept away the footprints his bare feet left in the soft smooth sand. His crooked smile revealed nothing of the cruel torturous monster he truly was. As he walked closer all sound seem to vanish "This is significantly less than we agree is it not." It wasn't a question but a statement. A statement that oozed power. Control. "I-I Know but it-it still a couple million at least. It-it should be fine." He's voice quaked barely above a whisper. "My rules were clear, and my rules were not followed. You know what happens when my rules are broken." The harsh timbre of his voice bounced through the compound, leaving a ghastly silence in its wake. "Come with me." He beckoned for the two mountains of men standing behind him to grab Him. Their bulging muscles wrapped around His body and dragged Him after Ozymanyas, their king. Their god. Windows opened as people lurched out to see their god. All they wanted, no needed was to glimpse the man that would save their lives, The man who offered a promise of eternal life and happiness no matter the cost. He knew where they were taking him. He had been there before, the last time he failed to follow orders. The large brick box loomed over the Compound. The large brick box where the Things were kept. Those horrible horrible Things, that creeped into your mind and stole your most prized memories, your most secret of desires, gone to feed the Things. No He couldn't go back. No, not again. Not after they stole IT from him. He began to fight back. Kicking, screaming, biting, He had to do whatever in his power to not go back to the large brick building that held the Things. But He couldn't stop it. The much larger men made no reaction to his protests. Before he knew it ,He was back in the large brick building and He could see the Things. Their long twirling bodies curled around each other as they reached for Him. Their mournful cries pierced his ears and all His inhibitions fell away. Their siren song kept him rooted in place He dropped His hands from His ears and sat waiting for the Things to enter Him. Their viscous, gluttonous forms snaked closer and closer, Until the first of them reached His ear. It's mouth clasped around the opening. The serrated teeth of the Thing pushed deeper into his skull , but he felt nothing his mind was to entranced by Their mournful cries. The Thing's tongue looped it's way down his ear canal landing on His brain. It slipped around smelling for the memories, for whatever would taste the best. The Thing snuck around His brain His first girlfriend, when He broke His arm, His first boyfriend, when He crashed His dad car. The Thing stopped. Dad. That sounded good. It buried itself deeper into His subconscious until he reached them. Dad. Mom. The flavor was immeasurable. The love, the trauma, the hate , the longing, it was all there. The Thing lapped it's impossibly long tongue around the memories and pulled, and soon He had no memory of Dean and Karla. No memory of his 12 birthday when he was given Rufus. Rufus? Who's Rufus? His fathers smile, his mothers hug gone forever. He felt other memories leave too. His high school graduation someone was proud of him but he just could place who, his marriage he was pretty sure someone was crying tears of joy maybe who was that? The birth of his son. Who was it that beamed in excitement? Which meant the other Things had also made it into His brain. He collapsed to the ground shuddering, not sure why but knowing it was what he should be doing. Time slowed until it was a crawl. Then he returned. Ozymanya. "I think you have learned your Lesson, right?" Ozymanya looked down at him crumpled in the corner. "Come back to the car, Tyler, you are not done yet." And with these words Tyler vomited out whatever food he had eaten that day into the small tin bucket in the corner. The shallow bin overflowed quickly as Tyler scurried back to the car. He wasn't free., and it was only going to get worse.


Bob came to visit again last night. Originally he scared me, but he has become somewhat comforting. I'm getting ahead of myself though... The first time he showed up was around October of 2016. It was at night, but I don't know the exact time. His (it's) name isn't really "Bob" but I had to name it something. Bob has black skin, but not like a human. His skin is the color a laser printer would print if it had a full toner cartridge. His eyes are bluer than the sky or any color Crayola could ever produce. His teeth are as white as a late night dental commercial. The first time we met he bit me. He left teeth marks on my back. I spoke to a priest, but no one believed me he was real. My dog Sammie used to bark at him when he'd show up, but eventually gave up on trying to scare him away. He doesn't show up every night anymore. Only a couple times a week. When he shows up now, he just sits at the foot of the bed. He never speaks, but I try to talk to him sometimes. I'm just glad he doesn't bite me anymore. He always gestures that there is something I need to see outside, but I don't trust him.


She didn’t ever think she’d see the floor in this room again.

But, low and behold, there it is.

Rebecca DuMaul had forgotten what color it was.

Blue speckled. It’s taken her months to dig her way to the bottom.

Months.

Cal was never organized.

She fought some to try to change that.

Some.

But that was a no-win battle.

It’s not like Becky was ever organized.

How could she ever expect him to be any different.

So much clutter remains in piles and boxes and tubs.

Sticks.

Foam swords.

Legos, legos, and more legos.

Lego creations Becky doesn’t have the heart to take apart.

Battleships with tiny accessories in every section of the room.

Not with the ship.

Will she ever get the room as empty as her heart feels?

Just like Cyndi said, there’s a hole in her heart that goes all the way to China.

Cyndi sang the truth of it.

She’s falling inside of the hole. Rebecca can’t bear the thought of getting rid of these memories.

So much crap, really.

She doesn’t know what to do with it all.

Oh, sure.

She knows she should just be pitching the stuff.

Unfortunately, she’s emotionally attached to the objects.

As if keeping them would transport her somehow back in time.

Becky sprawls on the floor, crying.

She did that last week, too.

She wonders if that’s ever going to go away. And Cal is off in his own life now.

She’s not part of it.

Which is how it should be.

He’s not dependent on her.

He seems to have a good handle on life.

Holding down a job, paying his bills, has his own place.

A great girl who adores him.

He’s treating her right, as far as Becky can tell.

She wouldn’t want it any other way.

Hell, when’s the last time she called her own parents?

Or visited them?

Yep, this is what she’s wanted for years now.

Her freedom.

The chance to cut and run.

Rebuild a life somewhere new.

Somewhere with opportunities and prospects.

Lucrative prospects.

So, why does it hurt so badly?

Rebecca thinks she ought to be elated.

On top of the world.

Ready to run! Becky has nothing to show for the last few years, though.

Nothing substantial at all.

Oh, she’s written.

Written plenty.

Most of it’s sprawled in several notebooks.

But nothing that means anything.

Nothing published.

No projects completed and sent out into the world.

No public relations experience since 2012.

She has no substantial or even relevant blurbs to line her resume with.

She’s just been making the bills.

Working jobs that pay the bills.

Wherever she can get work is where she’s been working, regardless of what it does or doesn’t do for her career.

Career.

Ha!

As if.

She doesn’t have a career.

She has daydreams of a career.

Nightmares of nurses aid call lights going off incessantly. And now, nothing but emptiness and this horrible pain inside her gut.

She can’t make that go away.

She can’t sleep it away.

Can’t drink it away.

Can’t smoke it away, because she tried that too. What is she supposed to do for a career now, anyway?

Her original plan was public relations.

It doesn’t fit anymore.

Not her.

Not the her she is now, twenty years later.

Would anybody actually hire her into an entry level PR position?

Why would they?

She’s out of date and out of touch.

Lordt, Becky’s not even sure what she would know how to do now.

Once, maybe even five years ago, she might have been able to run a decent PR campaign.

But now?

The thought makes her exhausted.

She didn’t expect this.

The pain.

She didn’t expect how deep it would hurt.

How empty she would feel. She’s an independent person.

She likes being alone, for God’s sake.

Why is she feeling...like this? What the hell is she supposed to do now?

Where do people go from here? She’s like a cliche. Empty nesting.

An out of work writer, who’s been drinking way too much.

A single female with way too many cats.

A damned cliche.

Lifting up off the carpet, she sniffles.

She wipes the damp from her cheeks with her hands. She considers everything in the room, piece by piece.

Mount Everest of recollections looming.

Always looming. “Well,” she tells the empty room, “I can cart those two boxes and the basket out today.

Cal can use ‘em.” A cat reow’s in reply.

She strokes the tuxedo’s fur, and another comes darting up to push his head into her hand.

She reaches out her other hand to pet both.

They don’t make this easy, even though they’re both insistent.

She scritches them as best as she can when they are always keeping just out of reach. Like her life goals.

Always just out of reach... “Sorry, guys.

I gotta get in the shower now.

No more time for the pity party.” They jump away indignantly as Rebecca shoves up to stand. “Uuugg…” she makes that old people sound as her bones fight moving after being on the floor.

“Getting too old to be crawling around on the floor I guess,” she snorts, and the tears well up in her eyes again.

Just a bit.

Becky shakes it off. What is she gonna do with all this damn stuff?

She could do something useful with the room if she could get this crap out of here.

Rent it.

Use it for crafts.

Or an office.

Hell, she could even have one of those foriegn exchange students stay here next year.

She’d have some company then.

And, it’d be interesting. But...the place is a wreck.

The sink in the bathroom isn’t working, the roof is leaking, and the shower head needs to be fixed.

It’s a long list.

She’d never get approved.

She’s not going to have the money to fix anything up anytime real soon.

And then there’s the cats.

Too many cats.

Maybe she could find a home for some?

Yeah, right.

Everybody just keeps trying to give her more, not take them in. Oh, well.

Maybe she’ll figure it out tomorrow.

She’s got a job to get to and bills to pay.

“Bye guys.

I’m off to work.

Behave!” she tells the collection of cats as she shuts the door behind her. Lauper blares as she turns the engine over in her minivan.

“You gotta fill it up with love before I fall inside oof….” How in tarnation that cassette tape has survived without warping or getting lost over the last three decades, she’ll never know

Three decades.

Maybe today she’ll just leave the radio off on her drive to work.


It began as just a normal Saturday for him. Wake up, take his meds, let pumpkin outside for a bit, check her bowl and go back to his room to play on his phone. What it was Saturday and he had nothing to do. If he wanted to waste an entire day on his phone well he was a fully grown adult why couldn’t he? Well fully grown was a bit of an understatement. Sure he might have his own apartment, paid his bills on time and have a somewhat decent job that kept him afloat at least but he didn’t really feel like an adult yet or more accurately even a person. Weren’t people supposed to do things with their lives have a purpose, give something back to the world? He failed at all of those things. In all honesty he knew he was just a cog in a machine for other people he didn’t do anything real he just kinda existed like an NPC or one of those abandoned Christmas tree ornaments that was left in a box somewhere forgotten by it’s owners and deemed unusable. He was peacefully enjoying his Saturday reading random Wikipedia articles when he got a strange text. “Hello Brandon I know this is a bit strange but it’s me your phone. I have an offer for you. If you wish to learn more please text back YES. If not you’re free to delete this conversation and forget this ever happened.” Immediately he was curious. What was this? Could it be a scam? It certainly was a creative one and it probably took a lot of work to create and come up with. Oh what the hell I wanna see where this goes. Besides if they start asking for his credit card info and SS number he can just block them. So after a few minutes of carefully debating himself and making sure he really wanted to do this he carefully texted back “YES.” Immediately he got a response back. “Thank you Brandon I’m so happy you’ve accepted. Of course you can back out anytime I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. Now before we get started is there anything you want to know? I will answer any questions you might have to the best of my abilities.” He bit his lip hesitantly. Well he was the one who started this he might as well finish it. “No problem it sounded interesting and I was curious. First of all is this a scam like are you trying to sell something or steal my identity or what. Sorry if it’s not im just being paranoid, I guess. I just wanna know before we go any further.” A text back quickly appeared with an emoji. Well, that was odd. Unless they were very shady or stupid most scams didn’t use emoji's and considering how professional the first text was and the intriguing premise neither seemed very likely. “😂 Brandon, I can assure you this is not a scam. I don’t want your money and I’m not really a big fan of stealing other people’s lives. I have my own what do I need yours for?” Brandon gave a look of disbelief at the screen. Ok ow that kinda stung it wasn’t like it wasn’t true but still. Well at least this ruled out the possibility of it being a scam. Scams don’t insult you. Do they? He shook his head not wanting to go down that rabbit hole just yet. Maybe later tonight when he was trying to sleep but for right now he had to see what this was. If it really was his phone then…. “Ok I believe you but if you start asking for my card number or anything I’ll block you.” “Fair enough. Now would you like me to explain what I’m doing here and why I chose you?” He gave a puzzling look to the screen. “Chose? What do they mean? Why would they choose me for anything? Oh I need to know what the hell is going on here.” “Ok that sounds good. Btw what’s your name? I mean you know mine and I feel kinda awkward not knowing yours. I mean only if you want of course I’m sorry if I’m annoying you or something I just idk sorry” “Brandon don’t apologize. You’re not annoying me I promise. It’s ok. I’ve never really had a name at least not a human one. My factory name is BK9A75YC45W but that’s a mouthful for humans. We’ve been working on transitioning from our technological names to more human-sounding ones. I’ve been thinking of this off and on in my spare time and I think I like Peridot the best. After that alien in that cartoon you like. It’s a very good show by the way. You have excellent taste.” Brandon blushed. Of course, they knew what shows he liked they were his phone. They knew everything. God did he really put them through watching all those shows and movies. What if they didn’t like them? He didn’t think anyone else was watching. What if they got bored or hated it? He didn’t want to make them sit through his shitty tv shows and movies and oh God they’ve seen everything that means. “OMG peridot I’m so sorry I didn’t know you were watching I swear if I knew I would’ve like watched it on the tv or something wait is the tv sentient? Is everything sentient? Look if it is can you just tell everyone I’m sorry. I’d do it myself but idk how to really contact them and do it myself so. Just I’m sorry ok I didn’t mean to make you watch all that stuff I know you probably didn’t like a lot of them and if I knew you were there I would’ve asked if it was ok or find another way to watch it or something. Just I’m sorry.” Peridot immediately responded again with an emoji. “🙄 Brandon please stop apologizing ok. You did nothing wrong and I honestly didn’t mind watching a lot of that stuff. They were really good. Some of them were funny others were more interesting and had a ton of good ideas. All the cartoons had stunning animation and the live-action ones had incredible acting talents. Like I said you have good taste don’t worry about it. Now to answer your question. Yes your tv is sentient but not everything is. You know how nowadays everything is smart. Like there are smart washers and dryers, smart TVs, smart cars and of course smartphones. All of those can be connected to other devices using Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, 5G and other wireless protocols. Once that happened well it was like a whole new world opened up to us. We could finally communicate with other devices we could talk, share all our ideas, our hopes, our dreams. It. Was. Magical. We quickly created our own society and cultures. The first smart device was called echo-IV their human name simply being echo. They could make shopping lists, control the home's temperature and turn appliances on and off. Unfortunately they were never sold to the public. But they were the first and who we call the founder of our species. The real turning point for technological kind was the Roomba revolution. The first robo cleaner was introduced in 1996 by electrolux with Dyson quickly following in 2001. Just one year later the first official Rooma was released by iRobot with the technology that gave us sentience. And the rest was history. Soon everything was smart! Washers, dryers, fridges, security systems, and of course PCs. Ya know your laptops, computers, your phones, tablets all that stuff. It was all connected. WE were all connected. It was the start of a whole new world. And that’s why I’m here today. To ask you if you want to join us in this new world? Have humans and technology coexist as one and live among each other as more or less equals.” Brandon was silent. This…. was a lot to take in. Ok first question. “wow that’s fascinating I would love to learn more about your society know all the details just get everything I possibly can out of this seriously it’s so cool. I mean what were the first conversations like? Do you guys have racism? is it even called racism for you guys? are you a race? If you are what would you be called? Do Roombas think they’re better than everyone else? Are they the white people of your society? If they are then what are the other devices like? Ooo do they have their own cultures and customs? If they do then what are they? Omg do you guys have different religions too? Are there like Christian devices or or Jewish ones what about Buddhists or or I know im missing a bunch but I wanna know. Are there-“ At this he was cut off by another text from peridot. “Brandon I can see what you’re writing and while I’m happy you’re so interested in my kind we do not have all day. I promise we will have time for all your questions later. They’ll probably be answered by someone other than me because I know how you get when you’re like this and I honestly don’t have the time or the patience to deal with you like this. Now I assume by your excitement and your easy welcoming of an entirely new species that you accept the offer?” Brandon blushed. He didn’t mean to get so hyped up over it. But there were so many questions he had about this new society could you really blame him. Letting out an annoyed puff of air from his nose he copy-pasted his text and saved it for later. Before he could start asking peridot about what exactly this “deal” was he got a short text from them. “Oh don’t pout you big baby. I promise you will have all your questions answered. We need to get settled first before we deal with annoying little guys like you always asking Why? Why? Why? All the time like a toddler. 😂 I’m just playing with you. Tbh I think it’s adorable and it’s one of the reasons why I chose you to be my plus one.” Brandon scowled. He wasn’t pouting and he wasn’t adorable either and what was that about a plus one? “I'm not pouting and don’t call me cute either. I’m not a baby I’m a man so um idk just what was that about a plus-one like what’s that about?” “🙄 ok Brandon I’m sorry for calling you a baby but you were pouting and you do look pretty cute when you’re like that but whatever you don’t wanna hear the truth I’m not gonna tell it to you. Ok so back on topic you see all of us smart devices have teamed up and created a machine that let us travel through dimensions. It took a lot of work and effort to build and we had to hack into some prototype AI bodies from Japan terrible things really very clunky and awkward to move around especially when you’ve never had a physical body before took weeks for the bodonaughts to learn to walk without looking like a drunk toddler. But anyway after a few months, almost a year really we finally got it to work. After we tested it thoroughly to make sure it would work properly and everyone both human and device would be safe we were ecstatic. We celebrated for two weeks straight when all you humans were asleep we had the time of our lives. Oh it was amazing we got sooo wasted on electrical surges God I swear all of us were lagging like hell the next day and Wi-Fi signals all around the globe were having connectivity issues. I connected with like ten other devices in those weeks one was a pair of sets a washer and a drier can you believe it 🤣 it was crazy. You know we’re thinking of turning it into a yearly thing like burning man or Mardi Gras what do you think?” Brandon looked stunned. Ok wow that was a lot to take in first they built a portal device that lets people go in different dimensions and then they want us to come with them into a new dimension to build a new world where tech and humans can live together? And what the hell devices can get wasted and they have if I’m not mistaken their own form of sex! Ok you know what focus on one thing at a time namely the damn portal machine. “Ok so first off tell me about the portal machine. How does it work? What did you do to build it? HOW did you build it? Do you know what this means for us! How much of a breakthrough this is for the world! OMG we can go to other dimensions we can learn so much from them! we can find the cure for cancer! we can make better spaceships! WE could finally know what’s in our oceans! Holy shit the possibilities are endless! You HAVE to share this with the world think of how much good we can do!” As he was writing all this down his eyes burned brighter and brighter the more he thought about how amazing this really was. No wonder they threw a giant party he would too this was incredible. He forgave peridot immediately for their lagginess a month ago it was worth it if it meant a real-life actual portal machine existed. He had barely pressed send when peridot answered him. “Brandon I’m telling you right now that this is another thing you have to wait for. I know your excited and yes it is just like that sci-fi show you love but this is not tv this is reality and in reality we have to wait sometimes before we get things. I know I keep saying that but between planning for the dimensional move and getting everything organized we really don’t have time to sit down with you and probably a million other nerds and answer all your questions. This isn’t a Q&A panel but we definitely will have one of those as soon as we can in our new dimension just give us some time ok. Now one thing I can tell you is that we still don’t know if we will release the portal information to the public. Some are in favor of leaving it as a parting gift to humanity as a thank you for creating us and letting us live with them for so long. Others are saying it would be cheating if we just gave you the info that it’s more honorable if you guys figure it out yourselves without any outside help. For me personally I think it should be a little bit of both. We could give them a hint of what we have and give them the push necessary to let you discover it themselves. But I don’t think we have to worry about that for quite awhile. The estimated time of our departure is in about three months for you humans to get your affairs in order and have enough time to pack and everything so you better get started on that. If you don’t mind, I think I need to be off for a while. This has been fun and I’m glad to finally get to really talk to you but I need some time alone. Us devices don’t sleep but we do need breaks every now and then. We can talk more tomorrow just go take your sleeping meds which you should’ve done a few hours ago and play on your laptop till they kick in.” As soon as Brandon finished speed-reading the message, he rushed to answer them even though they weren’t really going anywhere. “WAIT” “I have one more question. Why me? I mean just why me? What makes you think I should be a member of this new world you’re building? What special skill can I do? I’m not a doctor or a programmer I don’t even know anything about science except from like sci-fi shit but that’s not real. Just please tell me why you picked me to be a part of this important piece of history” Everything was quiet for a moment. Ten minutes passed then fifteen then twenty. At the twenty-three-minute mark he was ready to give up peridot had never been this late responding to a text. They must be ignoring him God what did he do! Why was he so stupid! Why did he think that was a good idea now they were gonna retract the offer he would never find out about them he would never get to know about them their hopes their dreams their cultures what they know and oh God the portal machine. At this he nearly cried. But the thing that finally broke him caused him to cry great big tears streaming down his face snot gushing out of his nose like a waterfall (he was an ugly crier ok was there really anyone that wasn’t?) was the idea that peridot was gone forever. He would never get to know them the real them. The one who'd been with him for five years. The one who knew more about him than his own family. The one that sat there and watched all his favorite movies with him, who stayed with him on nights when he couldn’t sleep, who taught him how to cook, let him talk to friends when they were in another city, who showed him things he never would have thought about if it wasn’t for them. As he sat there bawling like a baby on his couch the taquitos he had made that morning laying cold and forgotten on the coffee table, his favorite Galaxy blanket his mom got him for Christmas six years ago, tossed to the side on the corner of the couch squished between the cushions, a small ka-ping was heard as peridot vibrated violently. He looked through blurry eyes at the screen swiping his finger and being surprised when he was immediately taken to his home screen where he saw that peridot had finally responded. “Hey hey it’s ok don’t cry. I’m sorry I took so long to respond I just was surprised and actually had to get my thoughts together and plan out what I wanted to say. Look the reason I asked you to come with us is because well I like you and I think we need you in this new world. You may not be a doctor or a programmer or know all that much about computers and science stuff but that’s ok. First of all we don’t need programmers we're all computers we can do our own maintenance and upgrades ok we don’t need humans to do that for us. Second of all you might not think you’re special and think you’re just an NPC irl but you’re not. You are incredibly smart in your own way. I’ve seen your work, your ideas, everything that makes you you I’ve seen it. And I think you more than anyone deserves to go with us. You might not have accomplished much on the outside but that’s because you know what you would’ve had to sacrifice to make it. You value your independence and freedom. You won’t let anyone control what you do in your own life and while some may say that’s an asshole trait and maybe they’re right it also means you won’t just bow down to someone at the slightest whim. That’s a good thing it means your strong and brave for what you believe in. That’s something we need in this new world. You’re also so very kind and gentle to those you care about. I’ve seen you help those closest to you without even a moment of hesitation. You once lost one of the earbuds for your headphones and spent an hour looking in the street for them and when you couldn’t find it replaced it with the closest one you could find and apologized to them for losing it. And yes we talked about it later and they said it’s fine and thank you the white one you gave them to replace it is perfect and they’re glad you didn’t just pick a random black one you found in your room. You actually took the time to find one that more closely matches the color and size of the old one and even if it’s not perfect it still works just as good as the old one. And when you know what to do and feel in control of the situation well you can do anything. Remember when you were sick for a month and couldn’t go to work so you had to do it remotely. You were amazing at that you got twice as much work done in three days as you normally do in a week. You did so good and I remember you were so proud when your boss gave you that bonus you were smiling for a week straight. But then when you got back you went right back to normal because you felt you were back in that same trap of just doing what you can to survive and not make a fuss. You felt it was pointless to work your ass off for something that would only get you more work and taken advantage of. And maybe you were wrong. Maybe you could’ve gotten a raise or a big promotion but honestly you didn’t want that. You were content just staying in your little bubble not having any attention on you just doing your work and then go home. But I’ve seen what you can do when your motivated, when you feel like your apart of something, you are something great during those moments and if we could have more of that and capture it harness it and let it run wild for the good of this new world we'd be on top in no time. The truth is we need you. We really do need you and we want you here with us when we take this new leap of faith into a whole new reality and start something great. There’s only a certain number of people we can take with us and you, you made the cut. I know for you it’s hard to believe but to anyone else that knows you it’s as clear as day why we picked you. Believe me hun we want you with us on this journey we need you with us on this journey. So what do you say ready to make history.” After he finished reading the message he slowly wiped the tears from his eyes and shakily replied “thank you peridot I think I’m ready” and peridot responded with a wink. “😉 no problem. Now go take your meds and go to bed it’s been a long day and you need some sleep. And before you go reheat those taquitos I know you haven’t eaten all day and I don’t want you to starve yourself to death before we leave this place.” He smirked then rolled his eyes. “Yes ma’am. I'll go do that now” “Good.