"Come here dear, let us just sit down together and eat, sitting side by side." "Why, what is wrong? Why do you suddenly want to sit and eat together? You know I have a lot of work to do. I can't just leave everything and sit to eat with you just because you want me to do so. I'll eat after I finish all my work." Harsh pounder about the words said by his wife and than grudgingly told her, "Sanju I'm going than. I have a lot of work to do myself. I'm not free you know. The annual tax month is going on and this is a very hard month for me. I'll eat when I have time. Bye, see you in the evening." Sanjana looked towards the dining table. Harsh had not eaten anything and the tea had become cold too. This made Sanjana very angry. She started to yell at him. She furiously said, "What is all this non sense. I get up so early in the morning to prepare something for you to eat and you have the audacity to disrespect the meal and all my hard work and just leave. Why are you so insensitive toward me. Why don't you love me any more." Saying this she started to cry. This made Harsh freeze. He just shrugged and didn't know what to say. But he just realized that his Sanju was sad so he quietly went and sat down on the dining table. When he saw her so furious, he didn't know what to do. He thought about it a little. Than he made Sanjana sit down next to her and fed her a piece of toast. He lovingly told her, "Sweetheart I'm fed up of eating alone. I want to sit with you and eat. From the past few day I have been waiting for you to finish your work so that we can eat together. But your work doesn't seem to get over. Because of this for the past few days I have been reaching late for work. I even waited for you again today but I can't afford to get late today, so I was just about to leave." Sanjana was surprised listening to Harsh's confession. She asked him in a horse voice, "But why all of a sudden do you want to eat with me. We have been following the same routine from the start." Harsh said with a loving voice, " Sweetheart, now you are not alone. You have a life growing inside you. Remember what the doctor said. You should not skip any meals and have a good gap between your meals. How can you follow the instructions given by the doctor if you eat late. So I was just thinking that we can at least eat two meals of the day together and be together all day during the weekends. I want you to relax, take it easy and I even want to start spending more time with you. As it I half the day I'm out of the house due to my job. I don't want you to feel lonely when I'm around." Sanjana started to feel a little relaxed listening to her hubby. She said in a low voice, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm so exhausted so I just let it all out. I keep forgetting that I have to be more careful now. For so long I have been doing the same thing. I forgot that I have to be more careful now. I finish all my work in the morning before eating. I'll be more careful from now on. And you are right, it really gets lonely sometimes. I can understand now as to why you insisted to eat together. I agree, we should at least try to have two meals together on week days. But promise me that weekends will only be for me, and that you will not bring any work home to do in the weekend." Harsh happily said, "that's exactly what I want. Weekend and public holidays will only be for family. No work only some quality time with you me love. Listening to Harsh's endearing words Sanjana said in a cooing voice, "You know what, at night we'll have dinner together. I'll even prepare something special for you." She than hurried told him to go to work or he would get very late for work. He gave her a peck on his cheeks and left. The whole day Sanjana was in a great mood. She felt like nothing could ever make her sad. She started preparing for dinner early. She wanted everything to be perfect. But after a while she started to feel dizzy. She grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter and slowly with a lot of difficulty walked towards the sofa in the hall. She saw the time it was 5 in the evening. She thought that if she rested for sometime she would feel better. In some time she got so relaxed and dozed off. Sanjana suddenly woke up after hearing the concern in her dear hubbies voice. She looked at the clock on the wall in the hall. It was 8 in the evening. She surprising said, "O dear! I slept for so long, the dinner is not ready yet." Harsh told lovingly, "My dear, don't worry. Give me some time to freshen up than I'll come and help you in the kitchen." Harsh came after fifteen minutes or so. He headed to the kitchen and started helping Sanjana. The meal was read by 9 PM and Harsh set the plates and dishes on the dining table. He than sat down next to his dear wife and served the food. Harsh realized he didnt feel tired at all and said Sanjana, "Darling if there is anything else you want me to do than tell me. I feel very refreshed and relaxed." Harsh was so happy and Sanjana understood how he felt. After a long time even she felt so relaxed and happy. Just be spending some time doing the same thing together after a long time she felt loved, wanted and cared for. She started to realize what she was missing for such a long time. She, after a long time saw the man she had loved and married. They sat together and ate dinner. They didn't talk any more but kept looking at each other and passed secret smiles. After eating Harsh said happily, "This was so much fun. We should do more things together. I had so much fun helping you in the kitchen today. Even the food was great. I loved it, it was so delicious." Hearing this Sanjana felt like making fun of Harsh so she teasing said, "What are you talking about, you were not helping me just causing trouble. Tickling me with your funny jokes. It was a wonder that we were able to prepare the meal at all. I thought that in the end I we would have to order food from a restaurant." Listening to this Harsh looked at Sanjana with a look of surprise and suddenly they both started to laugh loudly


All sorts of feelings It was late, almost midnight, and I was walking by the docks. My parents probably thought that I was at some party, like a normal 16-year-old guy would on a Friday night, but I never got invited to one of those, not in my old school and not in my new school. I just don’t hang out with a lot of people; most other guys think I’m too nerdy and girls think I’m ugly. Now it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to. I honestly enjoy spending time alone, taking walks along the dark water, breathing the coolish night air, away from school, stress and anxiety. I thought this would be a calm, regular night, but then I saw her. Or, at first I couldn't see if it was a he or she, it was really dark, the only light came from a few faint streetlights. I just saw the silhouette of a person standing on the, now abandoned, bridge for pedestrians, just above the big rocks right before the water started. It looked like the person was about to jump. I pulled out my hands from my jean jacket pockets and started walking faster. As I got closer I saw from behind that it was a girl. She had long, dark hair, average height and wore a black, hooded jacket and a dark skirt or dress - I wasn’t sure. Even if I had no idea who it was, I couldn’t just let her take her life. “Hey, what are you doing? You can’t just jump!” I shouted with a hoarse voice. “Leave me alone, you don’t know me!” It felt like I had heard her voice before, but I couldn’t place it. “Please don’t do this! You probably haven’t thought this through!” In fact didn’t know what to say, but now it felt like my responsibility to prevent her from killing herself. “Just let me do this, I literally don’t want to live anymore”, she replied angrily. Now I heard who it was. I was shocked. It was Lucy. My old classmate. I had no idea that she was suicidal, or even depressed. Well, she was never the happiest girl in school, but she never seemed to be really sad either. I called her name. She finally turned around. “Thomas?” “Yeah, remember me? From 11th grade?” “Yes...” “Then come down”, I begged. “We can talk!” “Look, you’re really not helping”, she said, but I could see that she kind of wanted to come down to me. She still didn’t move, so I decided to go up to her instead. The spiral staircase to the bridge was made of some sort of metal, so both she and I heard every step I took. When I came to the top I looked down. This pedestrians’ bridge went at least 15 feet (4.5 m) above the ground, so Lucy would definitely hurt herself and probably die if she jumped from there on the sharp stones. Why did she want to do that? Now I could see her clearly. She looked like she had done when we went to school together, her brown hair was a little longer and darker, and she looked older, even if it was less than a year since I saw her the last time. Her blue eyes were shiny and the makeup around them had smudged a bit. My heart somehow felt lighter when I looked at her. She was beautiful. “Um, hi…”, I said eventually, “Are you like, okay?” “Do I look okay?” she asked, “Do I fucking look okay? Do you think a person on their way to jump off a bridge like this is okay? What is wrong with you?” Yeah, what is wrong with me? Why did I say that? I don’t know. I started to think of how to apologize, but then I saw a tear running down her cheek. All at once, this hard-nosed girl seemed a lot more helpless. Hardly without thinking, I stepped forward and gave her a hug. Maybe physical comfort is better when you’re not good with words? As soon as I hugged her she burst into tears, but at least she hugged me back, so I guess it helped in some way. It felt a little strange. Feelings I didn’t know I still had started to come up. “Oh my God, what am I doing up here?”, Lucy sobbed. “‘You want to go down?” I asked carefully. She let go of the hug and nodded. I still felt a vibrating feeling from it. I took her arm and led her slowly down the stairs. I didn’t want to say anything to make her cry again, so I kept quiet when we started walking along the water. After she had calmed down a bit, Lucy asked me: “Do you still play the piano?” I was surprised that she remembered. “Yes, I do”, I replied. “Cool.” It was probably just small talk. Or, I thought so before Lucy cleared her throat and said: “I always thought you played beautiful. I know your friends mocked you when you played at the Christmas concerts, but I genuinely liked it. Once I was outside the music room and when I heard you practice I just stood outside a while and listened.” “Wow, thanks!” I said and looked down on my trainers. “I had no idea.” “Um”, I started, “How’s your new school? Where do you go?” The both of us switched to new schools after Secondary school. “I go to S:t Jacob’s and, well, the school itself is pretty nice, but I the people - not really.” Lucy looked away. “I never thought you felt this bad.” I had to ask eventually. “Well, it’s got worse this year. Before I was just sad a lot, I never seriously thought about taking my life, but now…” She took a break. I waited. She took a deep breath. “So ever since summer break last year, I’ve just felt empty, yet had so many feelings. I barely recognise myself when I look in the mirror, this body just doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Lately I’ve just felt like I’m drowning and my only choices are to keep swimming or to take ‘the lifeboat’, and it’s getting harder and harder to swim and there just isn’t another way out than..., you now.” Wow. Lucy and I took a turn and found a park bench among some trees where we sat down quietly. The bench was cold. We sat a little less than a foot apart. I remember when we were 14 or something and once sat next to each other like this in school, for a group project I think. I remembered the tension between us, how I could hear my heart beating and had all sorts of strange feelings inside of me. When we sat on this bench, it was like the group project all over again. Why did she make me feel like this? Lucy interrupted my thoughts by saying: “Also, in like 10th-11th grade I had things to live for. People liked talking to me, my parents cared about me, I did well in school. Now I’m just an ugly girl with no real friends and no social competence left, I never talk to my dad anymore and my mom only talks about her own life and her new boyfriend, everything in school is stressing the hell out of me and I just basically hate my life. If you wouldn't have been there when I stood on the bridge, I would probably be dead by now.” My heart started beating faster. First now I realised that I had literally saved someone’s life. Her life. When I was three, my mum saved my life when I almost drowned in the sea. Lucy’s mum didn't seem to care when her daughter drowned in her depression. She probably didn't even know about it. “Have you talked to your parents about this?” “No... They’d never understand, nor care. My dad doesn’t even live here in England anymore. And my mum, yeah you know.” “You should call her”, I said. “Tell her everything’s okay.” She hesitated, looked at me and reluctantly took up her phone. I noticed on the lock screen that the time was way past midnight. I hoped her mum would still answer. Five signals. Then I heard a “Hello?” on the other side of the line. “Hi, mum”, Lucy said. “I, I just wanted to let you now that I'm not feeling well. Or, I’ve actually felt horrible for the last couple of months, but I never wanted to be a burden. Tonight I tried to do something horrible, but a - friend, stopped me from doing it, so I’m safe now.” I couldn't really hear what her mother said, but soon I heard crying. “I love you too!” Lucy cried. “I'm so sorry. Yes, he sits next to me now. Yes, I will. I think so. Okay, I'll see you at home! Bye! ” Something like that. Lucy looked at me. More of her makeup had smudged by now and she looked really matt. To me, she was still the prettiest star in the night. She asked: “You can walk me home, right?” “Of course!” “Mum is driving home from her boyfriend's as soon as she can. She's going to call in sick for work tomorrow and cancel all her weekend plans, just to be with me. It's perhaps a little exaggerated, but it will definitely make me feel better. Yeah, I'll be fine. Also, she wants to thank you and I want to thank you too.” “Well, it was a matter of life or death, what was I supposed to do? And Lucy, your mother loves you, she is supposed to give you much attention after all this! Come!” As we started walking Lucy grabbed my hand. Her was cold, but holding it made me warm inside. I didn't know if it meant something that she wanted to hold hands, or if she just needed that comfort right now. I thought about how she complimented my piano playing. Maybe she liked me. I definitely liked her. I wished we could keep in touch after this night. “Should we maybe exchange mobile numbers before we say goodbye? I'm here if you want to talk some more.” “Yes, I'd really like that”, she replied. “You know, you're like my only friend right now!” The both of us smiled. Lucy didn't commit suicide and hopefully she would soon recover from her depression and be happy again. Even though I felt a huge compassion for her, it made me happy to be around her, and knowing that I saved her life made me feel a lot better than I had felt when I started my walk that night.


   The sky turned from the dark colors of the night, slowly to a gorgeous orange and pink color. We always sat on the bench, me and my sunshine. We watched the sunrise and sunsets together, and later in the night we went stargazing before bed. This woman is the love of my life, has been since high school, and I can't remember a time when we were apart. She leaned against me, her smile as bright as the sun itself, her long golden locks brushing against the skin of my neck. "It's beautiful today.." "As it always has been. Just like you." I responded back, smiling to myself as I watched her cheeks flush. I remember when we had our first date, she wore a cute sunflower dress that went down to her knees and white sandals, while I wore a leather jacket over my white shirt and dark blue jeans, with my dark brown loafers. We went out to a small family-owned restaurant, chatting and laughing throughout the entire date. Eventually I drove her back home, we said goodnight and left. Didn't kiss until the third date.    "Steven?" She interrupted my thoughts with her soft voice, looking up at me with her sapphire blue eyes. "Yes, my Lily?" I leaned down, until our noses touched, making her smile a bit more. She stayed quiet for a few moments, as we stared into each other's eyes. "...I love you. I love the traditions we have made, watching the sun rise and set, then stargazing.." She said, and I felt her lips gently press against mine. I relax, gently kissing her back before pulling away and pulling her closer. "I'm glad you love them. Because I love doing them with you...I wouldn't want to do it with anyone else." I watched Lily smile more, cuddling against me.

   We sat there for a few more minutes, just staring at the sky and listening to the early birds singing their songs. Finally, after our moments of silence, Lily slowly got up and took my hand, pulling me up with her. ¨Now, what would you like for breakfast, hm? I had a taste for french toast recently…¨ I smile down at her, being a few inches taller than her. ¨French toast sounds amazing, darling. You can make your special cinnamon french toast, and I’ll make some bacon and eggs, sunny side up, just how you like them.” Her sapphire eyes shone happily as she looked up at me. “Oh you mean that? I’m so happy!” She claps her hands together once, then turns. “I’ll race you! First one to the door...has to drink orange juice and brush their teeth right after!” “Huh!? Wait but then I’ll win! How about the loser has to massage the other’s back!” I quickly say, holding her wrist gently so she didn’t get a head start before me. I watched as she thought about it, her lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit to make it seem like she was pouting. “Hmm...well, that works too! But next time it’s gonna be the orange juice for the loser!” She said, nodding in agreement. I chuckle and nod, letting her wrist go, before dashing up the hill towards our home. I hear her exclaim behind me in surprise, knowing that she was already running up to try and catch up with me. I got to the door, widening my eyes as I felt her pull me back to get to the door. “Oof!” I grunt, landing on my butt as she beat me to the door, already inside. “Ahah! I win! You, my dear, owe me a massage!” Lily said, hopping from one food to the other with joy. I smiled as I watched her, staying on the ground for a while before standing up and gently pushing her in more, shutting the door behind me.

   It had been several months since that day, and things were different. Much different. I sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting for a doctor to come tell me how Lily was doing. She had taken a turn for the worse since then. A few years before, we found out she had cancer. She went through chemo and radiation, and the doctors said that it must have worked...but now it was back, and stronger than last time. She’s grown weaker each month, not being as happy as she used to be. Her brightness slowly turned dull.

   I quickly jump up as the doors open, the doctor heading to me with a clipboard in his hands. “Mr. Chaser, yes?” I nod, my words stuck in my throat. I couldn’t read his face for any sign as to whether the news was good or bad. I needed to know. “Yes, yes that’s me...how is Lily?? Is she ok?” I ask, and that’s when I could tell that she wasn’t. Once he saw how worried, that’s when the sadness in his eyes showed. “I’m sorry to say sir, but she doesn’t have much time left to live...her health is dropping rapidly because of the cancer.” I felt my knees weaken, and I fell back into the chair, staring at the floor. “Not...much time..left?? H-How much then…?” The doctor kept his gaze on me. “A month...maybe two. It’s hard to really say..” Tears threatened to spill out, as I stared at the ground. ΅Can I go see her? I want to see her.” The doctor nodded. Once I stood up, he led me through the doors he had originally come from, leading me to Lily.

   I held back my urge to cry as I stood in the doorway of her hospital room. She seemed so much smaller in the hospital bed, so much frailer than before. I made my way to a chair near her bed and sat down, taking hold of her hand. She slowly tilted her head to look at me, and gave a weak smile. She was hurting so much, it showed in her smile. “Steven...you’re here…” I nod, giving a small smile back to her, hoping she wouldn’t see my sadness through it. “Of course I did. You’re my Lily after all. I wouldn’t dream of leaving your side.” She let out a small sob, and I widened my eyes a bit in surprise. I watched as she shook, holding her own tears back. “Steven I...I’m so sorry..it hurts so much.” She sobbed, giving my hand a squeeze. I sniff, trying to stay strong for her..but I couldn’t. I lost it, starting to cry along with her. “I...I wish there was more I could do..I don’t want to lose you, Lily.” I leaned forward and pressed my forehead gently against hers, trembling lightly. We only had two months at most, and that scared me. I could lose her while I’m not by her side. “I’ll stay by you..I’ll take work off and stick with you.”    I sigh, staring up at the night sky. I lost her a week later, and every day I kept our traditions up. I got up early to watch the sunrise, I set time to watch the sun set, and I stayed up to stargaze. I sat on the ground by the small lake that was just a ten minute drive away from the house. I remembered all the times we would stargaze, the different constellations we pointed out, whenever we saw a shooting star. I slowly look down at the water, sighing. The moon shone beautifully in the sky, and the lake water reflected that well...


It was an ordinary day like any other. I was heading towards work, walking since it wasn't too far. It was a bustling city, cars sped by and people bumped into me constantly, but I didn't mind. I reached a crosswalk, waiting with all the others walking for the red hand to change. But then something strange happened. The people around me stopped talking. The cars driving stopped moving. Everyone froze mid-step on the other end of the street. Everything seemed to be frozen in time. I wondered, did I do this? I tried to move, but my body didn't respond. Even my eyes seemed stuck in place, staring at the red hand, only able to see what I had seen before the world froze. Someone had frozen time, but it wasn't me. How strange, I thought. My mind was unfrozen when everything else was. Were other people experiencing the same? "I've done it!" A voice shouted from behind me. I saw the owner of the voice run out onto the street, waving at the frozen cars now parked on the street. I knew in an instant that he must've been the one to do this. I felt secure, knowing that the man would have his fun, but eventually, everyone would resume their daily lives. Perhaps not right away, if everyone else was seeing what I did, assuming we even remembered this at all upon unfreezing. The man continued to walk around the streets, shouting, singing, laughing, doing anything he wanted with no shame. I laughed, if only in spirit. Oh, how funny it would be if he unfroze time and realized everyone had seen and heard everything he had done. Then it stopped being amusing. The man's jovial laughs became coughs, loud and ragged. He walked, stopping on the crosswalk right in front of me. His arms were clutching his sides, his legs looking like they'd collapse at any given moment. Then he dropped to the ground and stopped breathing. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. The man who had caused this had died. Right in front of me, even. I don't know how or why, but there he was. So why couldn't I move still? Time was frozen in that same moment, and I was still staring at that stupid red hand. I was stuck. I couldn't look around, couldn't move, couldn't breathe or blink. All I could do was sit and stare. This was my life, I realized. Nothing was moving and nothing would EVER move again. I couldn't die. Oh god, I couldn't die. I would never see anything more than this god-forsaken red hand! I can't fix this, I can't help. I will never sleep again, never feel the breeze on my face again. I'll never hear the sounds of the city or the calming sounds of the night. Instead, I see the corpse of the man who did this to me, and I want to shout at him. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to cry. I want to fall to my knees and bury my head in my knees. I want to go up to the man and kill him a second time. But I can't do any of that. And I never will again. All I will ever do is watch the unchanging red hand with the corpse dooming me to this Hell lying beneath it.


"That's the thing about this city".This is what my uncle told me when I first set my foot in Nairobi city. It was the first time that I visited the city.I had never been there and once schools closed for December holiday,my uncle took me with him to the city.I have heard so many things about out countries capital city but this time I was there and my uncle could not tire from explanations and descriptions of the city's people,buildings,roads and even the matatu culture. Matatu is Swahili name for a minivan used as a share taxi in Kenya and all the graffiti on it. When we alighted from a bus from the countryside, I remember it was just a few minutes to six o'clock in the evening. One thing that court my eyes was the Kenyatta International Conference Centre(KICC).The building has been a landmark for the Kenya's capital. "Uncle take me there.I want to go and touch it" I said clinging to my uncle's hand.But I could see many buildings that were even taller than KICC but this particular building fascinated me.And this is when my dream of becoming an architecture came in. "Son.Lets get home first then I will bring you tomorrow and see your city." We went to the Railway matatu terminus and took another vehicle which would take us to where my uncle stayed with his family in one of the city's suburbs.Honestly I would say I liked the minibus we boarded.The graffiti outside almost changed  my career I had chosen of becoming an architecture to a graffiti artist.Both inside and outside was awesome. Seated just next to  my uncle near the window ,I could see very clearly what was happening outside. "Uncle see that minibus is written Cardi B."I said.He didn't answer anything but just chuckled and taped my left shoulder. "See that one has Messi,CR7,Rooney and Drogba graffiti " "Don't worry kid. This is what we call Matatu culture."my uncle said."Or in other words Nairobians call it Mathree culture" I was confused. "Uncle what is mathree?' I asked.My uncle took a sighed and smiled.I saw a man sitting on the other side look where we were and smiled.I reciprocated not knowing whether he was smiling at me or someone else.But Iam sure he was smiling at me. "Son.Mathree is a name that comes from the word three."My uncle said displaying three fingures . "You know very well matatu comes from Swahili word tatu meaning three okey son."I knoded just to show we were together or rather following  what he was telling me. "Now mathree is a slang name for matatu."Uncle said.This left me with a lot of fanciful ideas about the matatu and started comparing them with matatu back in our village.Now I got story to tell my classmate once schools opened for first term in January. Now I will say it was not the matatu graffiti or the KICC that fascinated me.The language spoken by people from the city especially young people left me wondering what the hell had befallen my people. This matatu conductor came to my uncle and asked for ticket.When my uncle asked him how much for the two  ,he said 'rwabe tu'.I saw my uncle give the conductor 200 shillings and he left to the next passenger. 'Uncle.What is rwabe' .I have never seen my uncle laugh like that.Mostly I had seen him just chuckle or smile. "Do you know sheng?" Uncle asked."Sheng in English means slang .Slang is a word or language that is outside conventional use and I can tell you son Nairobians have taken the whole thing to another level and perfected it.This boys and girls even your cousins are experts in this."he said.I.looked at my very keenly and he again signed and tapped my shoulder. "Do Jimmy and Jenny speak sheng?"I asked. "Yes son."he said. "Uncle tell me more about that so that when I bet home my cousin's won't embarrass me. "Now son I would not want you to learn using that slang words  because they will never be on any exam paper okey "Uncle said."But you will have to learn some because this is Kanairo." I could see my uncle stop immediately after the word he said the word Kanairo and pretended to make a call on his cell phone.But he came to his sences when he realized that he had told me earlier that his phone battery had died.I laughed and reminded him that his phone was off due to battery lacking power. "Uncle what is Kanairo" I asked.This one I asked a bit louder and I could see some passengers look at me and smile.Others laughed. Others murmured to each other. "Kanairo is a slang word for Nairobi city." What the hell that such a beautiful  city would be referred to as Kanairo? I didn't expect that even my uncle knows. "Uncle do you know sheng and how many words are you familiar with?"I asked. Uncle Benny was a man who was born half  a century ago and I don't expect him to know such words. Maybe his children had taught him.Back home I had heard him use sheng words but not too often like I heard from some people in the city before I realised that they were overusing the language. "Yes son ." he said."They say when you go to Rome just do what the Romans do?He said. "Uncle tell me the sheng words you know" "Now kid.You I don't have to tell you all the slang words  I know.You will be here for one good month and you will get to know some of the words such as mbogi for meaning a group of rogue people and ndai for a vehicle and orezo meaning a president "my uncle said.My uncle looked at me and removed a lollipop  from the small luggage and gave me. "My son.This is Nairobi city and and you will get to know many things okey.You haven't seen anything to be surprised about.You will see how people behave,live and mingle with other people from other tribes and even race and I am sure you will love it."Uncle said. "Uncle tomorrow take me to KICC okey" "Yes son"uncle Benny said. Traffic jam along Langata road was heavy and vehicles moved slowly.But this provided me with an opportunity to see the city and learn one or two things. There was this rogue matatu tout who hanged dangerously on the matatu door while the vehicle was moving going  the opposite side where vehicles were moving a bit fast. My uncle did what he always did.Tap my shoulder. "Kid don't worry this is Kanairo" he said and smiled and gave me a packet of biscuits.


My family often calls me a good boy. I like it when they say that, because it means I have their approval. And really, I take pride in knowing that they are proud of me. It means I have been a successful dog for the day. I’ve been with them for about five years now, and as the years go by, our bond only grows stronger. Every day, I wake up excited at the prospect of a fresh new day, another day to spend with my family, another day for me to shower them with as much love as possible, another day to make them feel proud and lucky to have me. I live in a heaven of treats and pats, hugs and cuddles, and my favourite, Frisbee games. Suffice to say that in return for all the love and care they have showered me with, I would love to be able to do something to make them proud. Something really big. Not just learning a new trick or something like that, but I mean really large scale, something ambitious. Huge. One of my favourite moments is cuddling up in Mommy’s lap while she’s watching TV, with no one else in the house but just the two of us. Although I do love the other members of my family as much as other dogs do, Mommy and I share a special bond. She was the one who proposed the idea of bringing me back from the shelter, or at least that’s what I heard Daddy imply when he begged her not to take in any more dogs because four children and a dog are more than he can handle. She was a little sad, but it’s okay because I’m the only dog she will ever need. Everyone calls me Cotton, except Mommy; she calls me Pompom, more out of habit than anything. She started doing that when they hadn’t gotten a name for me yet, and the youngest human finally decided I should be called Cotton, but I prefer Pompom because no one but Mommy calls me that. Lately, the idea of doing something big to make my family (especially Mommy) proud of me has become more and more persistent in my mind. Although I rack my brains daily, I simply can’t find a single thing. To be sure, learning new tricks would make them proud, bringing them gifts from my treasure store would make them happy, but these are the simple things. And I’m not saying that the simple things in life should be neglected, but day by day, the desire to do something spectacular grew bigger and more persistent. I became restless, pacing back and forth. Mommy got worried and thought I was getting sick – she almost brought me to the vet – but the small humans convinced her that I was just anxious about something. That was a narrow escape there. For months and months, in fact close to a year, I worried about this. There were times when I nearly convinced myself that I would never be able to truly make my family proud of me, and made Mommy extremely worried when I walked up to her and put my head in her lap, whimpering. To my horror, a tear fell out of my eye and dropped onto her lap. I certainly didn’t mean for that to happen! Then it happened. I was cosily curled up in Mommy’s lap as usual, a documentary playing on the TV, her fingers running through my fur and occasionally stroking my head, when the scene changed to a shot of the most beautiful collie I have ever seen. She was running, chasing several sheep, making them keep up with a whole group of sheep in front. “Meet Collie, a sheep herder in training,” said the narrator’s voice. He said some other things I don’t remember now, but then he started listing some other breeds that used to be herd dogs too. And then he said it. “Pomeranians, too, were once upon a time used as sled dogs, but over time, they started to become a status symbol. Known for their diminutive size, no one would have guessed that their ancestors used to pull sleds or even occasionally round up sheep.” And it was at that moment, I knew, right then and there, what I was going to be. I was going to be a herd dog. I would follow the path of my ancestors and restore their former glory. And more importantly, I would finally be actively useful in helping my family. I could help them to do things like the big, strong dog I would finally be. I would finally be a dog that they could be really proud of. Overcome with excitement, I jumped up and gave Mommy’s face a huge lick. She screamed a little. “Pompom, you scared me!” she chided. But for once, I didn’t care. She would be happy with my surprise. The thing is, where on earth would I get sheep to practice with? I certainly dared not beg the family for any. I wanted this to be a surprise. I wanted to take the wind out of their sails. But this was harder than I thought. In a city area, where do I find sheep? Rather despondently, I put my front paws up on the window seat, hoping to get a better view out of the window. Maybe some sheep would pass by, I thought. It was a ridiculous thought, I knew, but I had to try anyway. With a glimmer of faint hope, I watched and waited. And with each car that drove by outside, with each human that passed by on the pavement, that flickering flame of hope inside me became even dimmer. But still, I waited. And then another idea struck me. If unruly sheep could be herded…then why not… I quietly snuck out of the small flap at the bottom of the door that the previous owner of this house had left for his cat. It was a struggle, since it was a little small, but I managed to push through in the end. Finally, I ran out to the road outside. My first herding session! Wouldn’t everyone be proud of me! I waited at the traffic light crossing, and soon enough, a car came into view. Wasting no time, I jumped behind it and ran, barking madly. Wait. Why wasn’t it listening to my instructions? This isn’t what happened on TV. Not at all. After a while, it became tiring to keep up, so I turned around and ran in the opposite direction to go home. Blaring horns, a blinding flash of light, excruciating pain, then darkness. I awoke, surrounded by total darkness, with absolutely no clue of where I was. A shining figure approached me. Strangely, I didn’t feel afraid. I always was shy around strangers, but somehow this human – if he was human – made me feel at peace. Calm. “Pompom,” he said, firmly but kindly. I trembled. Who was he? No one but Mommy called me by that name. I bristled slightly. He chuckled slightly at my response. “Okay then, Cotton, if you will. Is there anything, one last wish, that you would like to fulfil before I introduce you to your new home?” “Yes, in fac-“ I stopped, taken aback. How…? The shining figure chuckled again. “Yep. You can now talk. So, what would you like to do?” Somehow, I was able to speak without getting tangled in my words. I’d never spoken in the human tongue before. But right now, there was only one priority in my mind, and it wasn’t being able to talk. Well, part of it was. But not really. I floated up to the shining man’s ear and whispered something. -- My husband’s shoulder had become a soaking wet mess as I buried my face in it, letting huge sobs escape me. “I’m sorry, ma’am…your dog unfortunately cannot be saved. His survival chances are less than 1%,” the surgeon informed us. “Are…are you sure?” my husband asked, his voice choking a little. The only response from the surgeon was a sad shake of the head. My family held a funeral for Cotton. To them, he was Cotton, but to me, he was my precious little Pompom, my adorable, playful little Pompom. After we’d said our final farewells, I lingered a little. “Pompom…I will always be honoured to have had you,” I whispered, a tear sliding down my cheek and gently falling onto his grave. As I finally turned away from Pompom’s final resting place, I could’ve sworn I heard the wind whisper back at me.


Rivers of fabric between my fingers. A lovely shade of blue. Sapphire, cerulean— or is it closer to teal? It doesn’t really matter. So soft; I sigh— Staring into space— into time. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ A floor length gown, swirls about the room. His arm about my waist. The scent of Old Spice lingers between us. His smile; that mysterious smile. Release— it ripples back into the box. The moment fades. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Digging deeper: beneath the satiny blue. Wool— no, it’s tweed. For a jacket perhaps, a stylish high waisted jacket. A matching skirt. Perfect for my honeymoon suit. “Mother,” I turn excitedly to find— not my mother. It’s a young woman sitting beside me. “Oh—” I’m covered in confusion. A saleswomen? Glancing about I look for mother, but wait— This is not a store. Where am I? “Mother,” I call, rising to my feet as panic grows steadily within me. ~~~~~~~~~~~ A hand is placed over mine. A gentle arm around my shoulder. Her voice is soothing. She guides me to my chair. She is kind, and my fears are calmed. I sit quietly for a moment, or maybe three. My thoughts, like pearls on a broken string. Where am I? What am I doing? Gazing down— boxes. I look up— a smiling face. Oh, yes. I am sorting. My granddaughter, Becca, is here to help. A lifetime of things— memories. ~~~~~~~~~~~ She is speaking. Do I want to take a break? No, I’m okay I tell her. A small, chipped pitcher is in my hands. White porcelain. A rose pattern. I don’t remember where it came from, but I always loved it. The chip is small. Not enough to ruin it, at least not for me. Red roses, with variegated leaves— Such fine attention to detail. I trace the lines of roses. How do they make it look so real? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Reality begins to blur. Flowers, yes, I look at the flowers in my hands. Roses, and trailing ivy from grandmother’s garden. Music, coming from a distance. It is time to go. Papa takes my arm, leading me out of the bride's room. Down the hall, we enter the chapel. My niece spreads flower petals— Rose petals. Looking up, I smile. His eyes. Pools of cobalt blue. Like the lake at sunset, just as the light is leaving the horizon. I could get lost in those eyes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The pitcher is taken from me. I am back. Did I really leave? I feel unsure. We discover a smaller box. I open the lid. Seashells! So pretty. I take them out, one at a time. I tell Becca where we got them. I hold one to my ear. They say you can hear the ocean. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The waves make a rhythmic cadence. We walk on the beach. Holding hands. Those deep blue eyes, looking into mine. Handing me a small shell; he calls it a periwinkle. He tells me he loves me. The shell is perfect, like our love. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I want to organize the shells. My hands are shaking. Why are they shaking? Wrinkled hands are placing my shells on the tray. Whose hands are those? Where are my hands? Frustration rising— tension. Why won’t people leave me alone? Let me do things for myself. I try to push the old person’s hands away. A shell falls. It hits the floor with finality. I stop. Tears slide slowly down my cheeks. A voice tells me it’s alright, but it isn’t. I slump in my chair. A gentle hand is on my arm. Is it time for tea so soon? She says it is. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The kettle is whistling. A calming sound. Becca pours the water into each cup. Minutes tick by as the tea steeps. She chose the teacups from the living room cabinet. We haven’t used those for a while. She hands me my cup. Chamomile tea; very soothing. What is that— What is she asking me? Some pictures she found in an old album. Yes, it’s her mother when she was young— And my mother when I was young. She is right, they do look alike. She hands me a plate. Cinnamon coffee cake. Great Grandmother’s recipe she says. She found it in my card file. I take a bite. So delicious. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Happy Anniversary!" Three young voices are shouting, “we made breakfast for you!” Tumbling onto our bed, trays in hand— I grab for it as the plates begin to slide, settling it just in time. Fortunately they carried the juice glasses in by hand. The eggs are cold, Jenny informs us. It took so long for the coffee cake to finish baking. I tell her it is delicious. It was so thoughtful of them. They’re smiles more than make up for the less than perfect eggs. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A penny for your thoughts, Becca says as she cleans off the table. My thoughts— they are worth a good deal more than that I think. I am ready to go back to our task. Becca isn’t sure. Maybe it can wait, she says. Wait for what I wonder? I return to the tray of shells. The broken shell is gone. Becca must have swept it up while I was washing before tea. I sit down, gently replace the shells in their box, setting it aside. —I feel the waves going out with the tide. Reaching into the box— A cravat. Burgundy silk. Closing my eyes, I hold it to my cheek. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jenny, arriving on her father’s arm. What a beauty she is. I hear music. He places her hand in her future husband’s. Turning, he smiles. His beautiful eyes. The music ebbs, drifting away. I reach for him. He is gone. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Grandma,” Becca’s voice feels far away. “are you okay?” Am I okay? Oh yes— I mean, no— I’m not sure. What are we doing? Becca takes me into the sunny living room. She helps me sit in the plush armchair. "We will continue another time," she says. I smile, another time will be fine. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ She raises my feet with the recliner. Covers me with a light blanket. "Time to rest," she says. Yes, time to rest.  I hold the cravat close to my heart. “I love you,” I whisper. She kisses my cheek. “I love you, Grandma.”


Listen, he is on the floor bleeding. You are in the corner. You focus on where his pantleg meets his shoes. You do not know what to do, so you just focus on where his pantleg meets his shoes. You don't even know what color his pants are. It doesn't matter. It is stained with blood. It'll create a new color, something of copper. You'll focus on that instead. When you are ready, of course. But you never are. But when you are ready, of course. It is warm room, you think. You only think about it, though. He is still, the man. He is not a father, not a husband, not a brother. He is just he. This is good, this means he was no one to go home to, no one to gossip with about all your nasty disasters. They are disasters. Big grey-colored tornadoes and all. It would be quite stupid of you to think otherwise. You'd be a fool, not that you aren't already one. You were a bigger fool the minute you tried to convince yourself that he is just a he. He is just a he. He is still on the floor bleeding. He is still. The stillness that embodies Mr. He is a delicate thing: a lonely child awaiting a cruel punchline. Silence sweeps around you, around this room. You hold the silence between your teeth and breathe. You mimic him. It is easier to let him breathe for you. Your lungs are too heavy at the moment, crushed by your corner. But the corner is you. If you want, the corner can be him too. Before you is this man, copper-heavy. He has constructed the walls of your beginnings, stumbled into the halls of your decay, as one does. Somehow, this man veins are pulled open, this man has put himself in the middle of this room and someone you are the one that is embarrassed. You are the one the people like to gawk at. They are right to. You would be a fool, a bigger fool than you already are if you weren't embarrassed. But God, you are pathetic when you are. You are this worthless paradox that can't get anything right. This is who you are and no one can convince you otherwise. Not even he. You think about fickle tremors, you only think about it. It doesn't do you any good. Nothing does you any good. It's what makes you fit in corners. You are only fit in corners. This corner is not your first. You think about all those parties and how, somehow, in your foolish little brain. Your selfish decay made you think that in a room full people, all would linger on you. They would go home and laugh at you in the way they laugh at god. You are selfish and you cannot comprehend how one can make everything about themselves in the way you do. But it is about all about you. Everyone always looks at you in silent ridicule, that is just who you are. But still, you are so self-reeking. You do not focus on those parties, that is not a comfort. The focusing is. It is what helps you. It doesn't help him. His spine is cracked open and it is why you get chills when your nervous. You focus on the worthless things to pretend all the big scary things aren't there. But everything is a big scary thing to you, especially parties. Parties and pity, concerts where somehow, again, though Freddie Mercury could be on stage back from the dead, you'd still have all the people looking at you for your failures. So would Freddie. All of the good stuff. The fact they are oh-so big and scary to you is what makes you oh-so pathetic. It is what makes you convulse with kindness, nerved-politeness. So maybe, just maybe, nobody will gossip about your nasty tornadoes. Sometimes at night you leave the lights on and walk across the flat fields. When you look back from a distance, you house is like a boat on the sea. It's really the only time you feel safe. That and where the man's pantleg meets his shoes. You focus on the little things and then you realize that the man is not bleeding. This man does not think, he does not focus. He is not as pathetic as you, no one. No one is and he is standing. Now, he could've been standing for quite sometime. But you were too busy focusing, as you always are. This is why you fit in corners, you cannot function, not even compared to the man standing. He stands and stares at you and this is what makes you feel like your thoughts about you are correct, as if you aren't the only thing to stare at in this room. He sighs, he stares, he is tired. 'You aren't what you think you are.' And there was his cruel punchline. What is supposed to be a comfort? A praise? You don't know and it doesn't matter. No one can convince you other. What he says makes you feel worse and you will think too hard about it. He knows you will. He sighs. So listen, he is on the floor standing. You are in the corner. And with that, leaves. The sound of the door closing echos in your lungs, you have to breathe on your own now. So you sigh. You sigh and you are tired. This is the loop. You focus on how warm the room is.


Wake Up... John K felt a furious breeze against his skin. “What is this,” he thought. “It's so cold.” The feeling was completely foreign. It was agony. Just a moment before this, John K thought of pure bliss, caressed in a complete vacuum. What changed? John loosened his tense muscles. Instantly he rolled onto his back. His arms and legs shot up vertically above his torso, shaping his body into a U shape. Something else was there. He felt encapsulated in it. The quick loss of bodily control caused John's eyes open. For the first time there was light. Blinding light. After a few moments, his eyes acclimated and he took his first view of the world. The colors, they are so vibrant. I've never seen so many blues before. The pallet of colors across the sky overwhelmed John and he began to tear up. I've never seen anything so marvelous, so vivid, and alive. John focused his gaze on the sharp divide between the heavenly blues and dark greens. He traced the spherical border between the two colors 360 degrees with his eyes. There was something about the green sphere. It looked stable. So substantial. Something within all the chaos that would feel warm. He reached out with his arms to hold the soft green orb but quickly realized it was too far away. Suddenly, John's mind was overcome with a ferocious roar. Alien noises invaded his brain. It sounded like a star being ripped apart. The death of a star screaming through the universe unwilling to let the vacuum re capture it without a fight. But there was no star. The sound came from inside his head. John's body convulsed in response to the disquieting noise. He grabbed his head with both hands but the noise would not go away. In the cold rush of sound, John's body flipped back over. He was looking straight down and saw nothing but green plots of land for miles on the gigantic sphere. The longer he looked, the closer the squares looked, and the quitter to noise sounded. “Focus,” John thought to himself. John thought as though he could look at the marvelously concentric fields for a lifetime, but in the breathless moments of staring down, John finally realized what was going on. He was falling through the sky. He closed his eyes. In hysterics, John shook his head violently back and forth trying to wake himself up. There's no way this is happening. It's impossible. He hit himself in an attempt to go back to the dream from which he came. Anywhere was better than this, he thought. "Wake up, wake up," he yelled to himself while punching his head. But deep within his mind he already knew there was no going back. This was his life. There is no more infinity. This was real, and the approaching ground was real. John K became fully conscious of his situation. Just take deep breathes and think. Look around. Is there anyone out there that can help me. I can't be alone. John shouted into the air, "Help me. Anybody, help me." There was no response. Even if there was one, due to the violent wind, John wouldn't have been able to hear it. He scanned the air high and low but saw no one. Johns stomach began to buckle as he found himself completely alone. It sent a creep through the spinal cord to his brain. The message was received. John's body quivered, and his skin began to sweat as vomit spewed from his mouth. His body was just as upset as his mind. The vomit spewed all over his face at terminal velocity speeds. The stench from the vomit was atrocious. How depressing. I'm plummeting through the sky and it still gets worse. What's next? John sensed he might have to throw up a second time, but there was nothing left in his stomach and instead he just gagged. It was followed by a nervous laughter. Time to regain composure. John wiped off his face and opened up his eyes. I'm need to find a way to survive this. He focused on the ground. It was still getting closer and closer. Think, what can I do? He felt along his chest looking for a parachute. Come on, where is it. Wait... what the hell. It didn't take John long to notice that there was no such back pack, or shirt. He felt lower and lower. John was completely naked. The severity of the situation was overwhelming. He thought about everything, but nothing in particular. No solid thought could help him out. Everything was too distorted to make sense. But his chaotic befuddlement was not an accident. It was a technique. John was in hysterics trying to think of anything that could keep the inevitable question from coming up in his mind. He knew what was going to happen, but did not want to admit it. Eventually, John could not distort his mind any longer. The torturous pain he was trying so hard repress final came out. Theres nothing to save me from hitting the ground. Soon, I will hit, explode into thousands of tiny pieces and die. John knew he was going to think it, but it still surprised him when he eventually thought it. He began to understand the seriousness of the situation. I've only got a few minutes left. The ground looks even closer now than before. He could see the divisions between one crop and another. A red dot showed up in his vision. John was in dismay over the fate at hand, but also possessed an odd comfort. A sense of accomplishment. It surprised John, but there was no denying it. It felt good to accept his fate. To not hide from the thought but rather embrace it. Admitting it removed the anxiety from denying the truth. But it still doesn't explain anything he thought. I want some answers. John peered into the infinite horizon and spoke to no one, "Why me? How the hell did I get here?" This was a marginally futile demand. Such perplexing questions have been asked by countless beings for centuries, and John wanted answers while falling through the sky. Why John? Why Anybody? Why anything? What is it that makes(allows?) someone become self-conscious? I must have upset a god. How else would I have ended up naked falling through the sky. An image rushed through his head of a god picking him up, observing with disgust and immediately tossing him over his shoulder. Like an insufferable infested rat on the land. What could I have done to make his so discussed with me? Did he even think about how I would feel? Did he wonder if maybe it was wrong? Focus John. What are you saying. In his short period of life, John saw nothing that would determine it was a magical being who was pulling the strings. There has to be an objective reason why I'm was falling. It has to have been an airplane. A perfectly reasonable explanation with no magic involved. But this only opened more questions. Why don't I remember anything that happened before? And why am I naked? Who would do this to me? The more he thought about it, the more holes he found in this argument. The more it sounded just as magical as a God throwing him away. While thinking about his situation, John was simultaneously adjusting to his environment. He became relatively talented at controlling his position through the air. No longer was it a conflict to stay in one position. Rather than just falling, John learned to steer himself. Through subtle changes in body position, he was able to turn left, right, and fly. A slight bend to the right and away he went. Turn left to get around this cloud. I don't want to fall through it and spoil the view. He could make out the rows of corn. The red dot gained definition. It was a house, that had children running around outside. He wasn't alone. The greater definition of ground features only made the inevitable crash more prevalent in John's mind. What will happen to me after I crash? I hope it only hurts for a second. John hoped there was no god, for if there was, he thought he'd be in for more suffering in the next life. No one that could care so little about me in this life would care about me more in the next. John pondered the bleak outlook he had upon death. What if it's a test? What if I have to suffer this death? If I take it in good spirits the next life will be easier. I'll be able to laugh at what I had to go through. John liked that answer more and decided that's what has to happen, but deep down he felt the true answer was different. He couldn't fool himself. This was just a nice dream. He was pretty certain that nothing would happen to him. He would fall and then the lights would go out again. No one will notice that he lived or that he died. I will vanish as fast as I came. As long as it was only a hope, John knew that he would never be settled with answers of the afterlife and would always worry if it really would be over when he hit. Time was running out fast, and nothing John could do would get him the answers he was looking for. What's the point? Why do I care so much? John closed his eyes. How good I had it when I was 15,000 feet higher. It feels like I had the world in my hands back then. A depression fell over John. I wasted all that time worrying about what was and will be that I forgot to think about what is. He finally noticed the beauty that surrounded him. The birds sailed along the air currents. The same currents that caused the trees to dance. With a deep breathe, he smelled the air. Life was meant for the present. John contorted his body to tumble around and take in all the sights. Why worry about what was? John felt a sense of freedom, one with his surroundings. Only with the acceptance of death can one take in the beauty of life. The same wind that blows the trees blows on me. I am a part of this world, and I effect it just as much as it effects me. The pain of death was numbed. It didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was the here and now. The red house was fast approaching. The fence was made of solid wood. It wrapped around the house to keep the families golden retriever from running away. The children were playing tag around the swing set in the backyard. John prepared for what would be his last moments. He bent to the right to make sure he would avoid the house and land alone in one of the fields. I hope those kids don't see what's about to happen. The time was here. Just a few seconds remained. John curled into a ball for protection from the impact. He knew full well it was not going to help but didn't want to go out without a fight. He closed his eyes and and with the last seconds left prayed to God for help. It took 5 minutes and 34 seconds for John K to hit the ground, but for John it felt like a lifetime.


A cool draft slips down my shirt making me shutter. The eerie feeling after its collapse made us stand there in silence. Lily, the tanker of our group, clenches an amulet and drops to her knees. Sobbing. Leo, the priest, begins tearing up and rubbing his eyes furiously trying to hide his tears from us. Lucas, the leader of our group, looks towards the sky and doesn’t move. He stands over the corpse and a couple of flies land on him, but this however, does not cause him to flinch in the slightest. He stares into the sky with an almost vacant, yet cheerful expression. As for me, I find a stable rock near the area and sit down, while wrapping bandages around my abdomen. I stare at everyone with a blank expression. No thoughts enter my mind as I take this chance and touch my temple. A status screen opens with all my skills appearing. Two new skills and the title “Savior” appear, but I close the window as Lily stands up and looks at us. “We did it,” she says in tears. “We finally killed God.” Night falls. Everyone is laughing and eating roasted meat. I try to laugh with the rest of my party, but there’s something unsettling eating at me. Like a centipede gnawing on a cockroach. I can’t hide it anymore as Lucas turns around and stares. Through the corner of my eye, I see Lucas leaning in for a closer look on my dumbfounded expression. “Well that’s a first. What’s wrong?” He asks with a puzzled look on his face as well. “Nothing in particular, there’s just… I don’t know. I can’t quite put my finger on it,” I reply. I feel everyone stare at me as anxiety begins to creep over their faces. Lily interjects, “What are you talking about! We just killed God over here and you’re just-” “I know. It’s just…” I take a long pause and hold my breath. “What now?” I reply. My hands gripping my staff, almost breaking it. The other members look at each other in confusion as silence consumes us. Lucas looks at me and tries to say something, but immediately closes his mouth and tightens his fist, raising both hands so that they are now covering his mouth. Lily caresses her amulet between her thumb and index finger while Leo begins to carve symbols on the dirt with his foot. “You’re right… What now?” Questions Leo, still looking down at his blood stained shoes. “We can try looking for survivors. I mean… who knows, maybe a couple of people were able to escape underground or… or maybe they weren’t touched by the hands.” Lucas states in a reluctant manner. Swallowing his pride and belief as he utters these sentences. “No. There’s no way anyone else could have survived. We were the strongest people out there, and we only just barely managed to survive his hands. And even then, it took us a couple of months to get back to full health and well… There was literally no one.” I state with a somber expression. I tilt my head up and notice a translucent gate stationed in our atmosphere. The gate itself spans almost the whole sky, yet the darkness of the night almost consumes it, but somehow, someway, it’s visible. What everyone thought was heaven at one point in time, ended up being everyone’s worst hell. The rest of the members look up too. Lily is the first to look back down. “I can’t believe it’s been eight months since the gates opened,” she states. She pushes her hair out of her face and tucks it behind her ear. A dark smudge is left on the top of her ear as her dirty finger grazed it. A cool wind envelops us which would have left us shivering if not for the fire that I created at the start of this. Some embers jump out of the fire, reminiscent of the great jump. A mass suicide where thousands of self-immolations and jumps occurred at the same time. Lucas and Leo are still staring into the night sky with blank expressions, while Lily is staring at the flame, lost in thought. I take a deep breath and resolve myself. “I have a couple of ideas if you want to hear them?” I state in a confident manner as to not worry them. Everyone is now staring at me as they begin to nod one by one. “We can travel the country and look for survivors, but I’m pretty sure we all know how that’s going to end, or we…” I hesitate to finish my words. “Or we can all go to sleep.” They look at each other in befuddlement until Lucas speaks up, “Sleep? I don’t understand, we’ll just wake up the very next day and be in the same situation as today. What does holding off our decision for the next day even accomplish?” Leo grabs his shoulder gently and shakes his head and softly says, “Suicide.” I look at Lucas as his eyes widen at the mere mention of the word suicide, but I swiftly interject. “Actually, it’s more of a spell. One that I never showed anyone because of how inhumane it is.” “What's the spell?” Asks Lily. “It’s sort of a sleep spell that makes you forget who you are and gives you an illusion of my choosing. You’ll be in a state bordering death, but in a state of paralysis,” I reply almost immediately. “How's it inhumane though?” Questions Leo after a couple of seconds of silence. “You don’t age when you’re asleep, neither do you need food or drinks to keep you alive. I can make you live the worst day of your life or your happiest.” One of my fingers begins to glow as I clench my fist, and the light disappears. “Not only that, but a person under my sleep spell can never wake up unless I undo it, and the only way to break the spell is with my death.” Everyone looks at each other in morbid curiosity, but I notice their faces light up ever so slightly. Lucas even smirks a little bit. “And how will the dream work?” Asks Lily. “I could either let you live day by day within a happier world. No hands of god, no death, no fear. Only you and whatever you want. Or, you can choose your happiest moment in life and keep reliving it.” I reply swiftly. “But won’t we get tired of repeating the same dream over and over again?” Leo asks. I shake my head slowly and say, “You’ll live your happiest moment, and by the end of the day, you’ll forget everything that happened and go back to the beginning of that same day. You’ll be stuck in that same loop without even realizing it.” “I’m in,” says Lucas as he looks over to Leo and Lily. “I mean think about it guys, we can wander around the country, trying to survive, or we can live happily without a care in the world. We’re all in our mid forties already. We’ll slowly begin to lose our power over time and eventually die due to some heart attack.” “Do you think you can give me a minute? I need to think about it for a second,” replies Leo. “I’m in” says Lily as she stands up still holding onto the amulet around her neck. She opens it up and stares deeply into it. I look over to Leo, “I’m planning to put myself to sleep right after everyone, and once I do, that’s that. You’ll be stuck living by yourself for the rest of your life. Do you really want to go through that?” Leo lets out a heavy sigh, “I guess I got no choice,” he says while rubbing his bald head. “Do you mind if I go first then?” Everyone shakes their head. “Not at all,” I reply. “Lay out your blanket on the ground and lay down.” Leo opens his backpack and unravels a brown, torn up blanket and extends it on the ground. It’s not entirely unfolded however, as wrinkles and clumps are visible even in the small bit of light that we have. This doesn’t matter to him however, as he lays down. His ankles are peeking out and resting on the dirt, instead of the blanket. I approach him and get on my knees. The tip of my finger begins to light up. “Give me about two minutes,” I state. We all sit there in silence as my party members are observing me. “So,” I say softly, trying to break the silence. “What do you want to be when you’re in the dream?” “I want to stay a priest,” he replies. Lucas speaks up from behind me, “Are you sure about that?” “Yeah, we literally dedicated so much of our time trying to kill God and you just want to return back to being an ignorant priest!?” She replies in a cold, yet heated manner. “I want to go back to being a priest, not because I want to be ignorant or can’t handle the truth, but rather, I want to see my village again. I want to see Petra helping out the homeless again, I want to taste Madam Oakley’s food once again, I want to see everyone from my village once again. They meant the world to me and… If I can see them one more time, then, I don’t care if I’m a priest,” replies Leo. “You know, I can give you all that and not make you a priest.” “No. It’s fine. This is a sin I have to bear,” he replies. “Thank you so much for everything. I really love you guys.” Tears roll down his smiling face as my finger touches his forehead. The light makes everyone, but myself squint as the light only grows brighter. He slowly closes his eyes and says, “Thank you so much… Lu-” He falls asleep. I close my eyes with him only to be standing in front of a large fountain. There are several pennies lying at the bottom as more people throw in coins. Leo passes me, but doesn’t recognize me as his attention is on an elderly woman. He’s holding three bags of food and looking directly at her as they talk. A young boy runs to him and extends his arms out in a hugging position. Leo hands the child a bag as they walk into the distance. I stand up and rub my wrist out of view from everyone. I turn to them with a forced smile on my face and ask, “So, who’s next?” They both look at each other and eventually Lily raises her hand slowly. “Sorry Lucas. Looks like I’m going on ahead,” Lily says. “It’s fine. As the leader, I need to watch you guys off don’t I?” He says with a smile on his face. Lily grabs a blanket and neatly places it onto the ground a couple of feet away from Leo. She stares at him and smiles. After placing the blanket down she stands up and hugs Lucas tightly. She lets go and then hugs me. “Thanks. You’re the best,” she says with a smile on her face. She quickly lays down and as I’m kneeling next to her, she takes out her amulet and opens it. She stares at it for the longest time and eventually closes it as she sees my finger light up. “Can you set me back to when I was sixteen,” She asks, “I want to make everything right this time at an early age. I want to spend more time with all my brothers and sisters.” “Of course.” My finger lights up as I slowly set it onto her forehead. “I’m finally going to be able to see my brothers and sister again! I-” she says, choking on her own words. “I really miss them.” She grabs a hold of my finger just before I’m about to touch her forehead. “I long since wanted to hold their hands again, eat with them, play with them.” She says with tears flooding out. “I- I- I wasn’t always the best sister to them. In fact, I had no idea where they were being sold to and because of that…” She bites her lips. “If only I had known… Thank you! Now my last memory of them won’t be just me holding their corpses. Really… Thank you so much!” I touch her forehead and the light engulfs us for a brief second. She calms down and smiles. Her eyes slowly shut as her tears began to dry. I close my eyes as well. A run down orphanage is seen in a field of flowers. Lily is in the center of about ten children. All of them ranging from ages five to thirteen. Some of them are holding hands and running around in circles, while others are sitting on a bench. Everyone with smiles on their faces. She stands up and all the kids scatter as she begins chasing them down one by one. Even the children who were sitting on the bench stand up and hide. With the older kids she tags them almost immediately, but feigns ignorance when it comes to the younger children. A little girl runs up to me and says, “You’re not going to play with us mister?” I shake my head and crouch down. “I’m only here visiting. You should go back and hide before Lily finds you,” I say. “Okay!” She replies swiftly and begins to run back to the orphanage. “Hey!” I call out to the little girl, not realizing what I had just done. She stops and turns around. “Tell Lily I said thank you for everything. Tell her… Tell her I love her. I wish I could have told her sooner, but I didn’t want to distract us.” The little girl smiles. “Ok!” She turns around and runs towards Lily who scoops her up into her arms. She taps her shoulder and points to me while relaying the message to her. Lily blushes and looks over to me who smiles and waves. She places the little girl down and looks up, only to see nothing but trees and flowers. I open my eyes and see Lily sleeping soundly next to Leo. Lucas has his blanket set down next to hers, but with a large gap in between for my blanket. He is sitting directly in front of the fire as he looks over to me and says, “I guess it’s my turn next huh?” I nod. “You know, as the leader of the group, I always wanted to look after everyone. I held myself responsible if any of you got injured,” he says. Lucas stands up and slowly walks over to his blanket where he sits down and looks over at me. “You’re not gonna set up your blanket? I even left you that space next to Lily.” “Was it that obvious?” I ask. He shakes his head. “You said love when you had your eyes closed. I just connected the dots from there,” he says. I chuckle a bit. “I’ll do it after you fall asleep,” I answer, while trying to avoid eye contact. “Sure. Whatever makes you happy,” he replies. He lays down with his hands behind his head and looks at the night sky with the translucent gate. “You know,” he says, “I’ve lived a terrible life even before the hands of God came… I drank everyday and caused my wife so much pain. Once my son came into the picture however, everything changed. I sobered up for a couple of years and dedicated my time training him into the next master swordsman… A little too much,” he says with sadness slowly creeping over his face. “I took him for granted and forced him to train everyday. He hated fighting though, and would rather spend his time reading a book under a nice tree. He had no talent for fighting, but deep down, I wanted to believe it was there. Deep down, I wanted to believe he was going to become a better me. I mean, he was my son after all. Tears roll down his face as a small whimper escapes him. “I gave up on him! I went back to drinking, and beat him almost everyday! I didn’t know how much I loved them until they were gone and I- I was…” I place my finger onto his forehead and say, “I know.” He wipes his tears. “Thanks Lucky” he replies. Lucas smiles as I close my eyes along with his. I’m standing under a tree with a makeshift wooden swing hanging from it. The smell of lavender and roses is the first thing I notice however as rows of lavender and different colored roses are lined up on the outside of their crops, sort of as a decoration. There’s a small, humble house in the distance as Lucas is carrying his son in his arms. Lucas’s wife comes out of the living room and begins to play with them. They all have the biggest smiles imaginable as their son laughs. Lucas turns to me and signals for me to come on inside. He continues to wave his hand until I shake my head. He hands the baby over to his wife and I lose sight of him for a moment as he steps behind the door to open it. Once open however, only flowers remain as he looks around searching for me. I stand up and look over at everyone’s sleeping faces. The fire is almost out as the last bit of the flame dances violently. Resisting the wind. I sit down in front of a rock and my finger begins to glow. I press it to my forehead and close my eyes… Nothing. I open my eyes and stop the glow from my finger. I take a deep breath and curl up into a ball. I stare at the happy faces of my former party as the fire slowly dies down. My savior, my love, and my best friend. “I hate you guys.” I mumble. The flame dies out as I curl up even more into a ball. My head is pressed into my lap to stop my tears from coming out, but it doesn’t work. A chill runs down my back as the heat from fire is no longer there to keep me warm. I should have stayed quiet, I think.. I tap my temple and a list of skills appear. Under the “New Skills” tab I see “Magic nullification” and “Immortality”. “I hate you guys.


Everyday he opens me, digging through my insides, searching for something to appease him. I’ve seen nobody else with the privilege to do it. Just him. I feel like that creates a bond between us. When only he is in the house, I don’t see him as often as when there’s company here. I look forward to company, I’ve come to love those days. That’s when his hands are inside me the most. Digging, pushing, re-arranging my interior goods like he’s tickling me. I must admit, we’ve been together a long time and I care about him as much as he cares about me. That’s why I get so concerned about him when he’s alone. He doesn’t like to be alone. When he has no one to cook for. No reason for his hand to embrace my handle and pull my door open, peeking at my insides once again. He doesn’t care to cook for himself, though I think he should. Oh! Where are my manners? I should take this opportunity to introduce myself. I’m Electric General and my owner is Ralph. Ralph’s a great guy. He has a happy heart and a smile that could move mountains. He’s more than ready to do anything for anybody. And to feed others? He would do at the drop of a hat. I’ve seen him give away his last meal just so someone doesn’t go hungry. Since he lost his job though, he has a fog of melancholy seeping around him that weighs down that heart and smile. It’s been getting worse as the days go on. And truthfully, it started before he lost his job. He worked hard everyday but lacked a partner to spend his free time with. That was upsetting to him. Then losing his job made the fog grow thicker. I’d see him sitting at the kitchen table, on the phone, or computer looking for work. He’d stick reminders on me with those magnets I like. But he had no luck so far. Then, to make matters worse, our house got broken into and his wallet, keys, including the car was stolen. The cat crawling silent ninjas even managed to find his shoebox of rainy day money. Ralph cursed those pills he recently started taking for depression. They made him sleep so soundly he never even stirred while his house got cleaned out. Those criminals even had the audacity to handle my doors and open me up like they owned me! They rummaged through food on shelves and violating me even further, opening drawers as well. It had my Freon boiling. Those no good robbers even took some food right out of my body! I was upset, but my buddy Ralph, he took it real hard. He was talking to himself and saying how not only is he broke now but he’s still alone. Just to make the hard knocks worse. I think about him going through the days so lonely without a girlfriend or even a friend for that matter. I worried about him to the point where I blew my bulb! His deep depression was wearing off on me and I was dark for days. While I was wondering in dark despair if my bulb would ever get changed again, he was wondering if he’d ever meet someone who he could cook for. He reached the end and Ralph seemed broken now. He needed food and his means of buying some was gone. He was all alone, hungry, sick and just wishing he had food in me. I was tired of being empty too. When he had people over on the rare occasion, he would open and close me so much, my hinges loved the workout. These were days when he’d smile and laugh like he hadn’t a care in the world. When he’s creating some culinary temptation for others at the job side of the stove, it brings him such uplifting happiness. Whomever enters this home will get an amazing dish to eat, that’s for sure. But he was alone and so tired of his life he wanted to end it all. I’ve even heard him crying and that really shook my shelves! I wished I could make him happy. I couldn’t take watching him go on like this. I did the only thing I could think of to help. One of the papers he had under a magnet on my beautiful face was for a support group. I hadn’t seen him use it yet so I did what I could to shake it loose and have that paper fall on the floor in front of me. Imagine my relief when it worked. He picked up that paper and made the phone call. He went to his first support meeting that night. It turned out great. He met a few people who were going through what he was going through, and it really helped him see a light at the end of the tunnel. To top it off, the group was having its big annual members meeting next week and needed a caterer. Of course, Ralph jumped at the opportunity. I was feeling great, Ralph finally changed my bulb and with the commission for the catering, filled me full of food he would process into culinary delights. As far as how Ralph felt, well, things were finally looking up. This was the perfect opportunity for him to feel useful again and needed. He was going to cook! And for so many people. He would make this feast a memorable one. At the meeting, everyone was going wild over Ralph’s cooking. He had taken the time to ensure all members palettes were covered. Carefully making notes about allergies and general likes and dislikes had paid off. Everyone was so pleased. Especially Ralph! It just so happened that a girl at the meeting pointed out a chef in the crowd to Ralph. Her name was Susan and she said he would be a good person to get to know. Holding a plate, he repeats the question he’s been asking everybody all night, “Would you like something to eat?” He gave a plate to a man named Norman Rose, who worked for an exclusive restaurant downtown. This man had been attending the group for years and wondered if he could help Ralph in any way. He thought the food was so delicious, he asked if Ralph would come on an interview with him. Norman owned a few restaurants downtown and one had an opening for a chef. The man wanted to do what he could to give Ralph a chance. He just hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. For the second time that month Ralph got to cook for someone! And this time it could land him a job that he so desperately needed. I loved the way my hinges were getting a workout from being used so often again. Ralph practiced some of his most challenging dishes to find just the right one for his interview. I was in bliss with all the poking and prodding he was doing with my insides. With no surprise from me, he got the job! The last thing he packed were my insides to sufficiently keep everything temperature locked. There were so many bags and boxes to take with us to our new place in the city. This would be an adventure, I thought. Ralph had to move himself closer to the city for his new job as Head Chef at Chez Louie’s. Right in the middle of the thumping downtown core. He was so happy now. He couldn’t believe he ever wanted to kill himself. Things were so good now. Especially since Ralph met Susan. Finally, he wasn’t alone. Time could do some amazing things. Ralph and Susan decided to move in together. She already had a spacious apartment in the city close to his job, so he would move right in with her. But he wasn’t going anywhere without me. I’m a state-of-the-art machine.  A well-oiled machine. I was expensive and besides, I was his first. That’s right, I was the first appliance Ralph had purchased as his grown up self had needed one. I had the best heating and cooling system this side of the state line. The chef that lived alive and beating in Ralph would never let me go. Besides, we had a bond. I did such a good job for him. Making sure the food was cold and fresh so he could cook such good food to serve his friends, his company. He slid the dolly under me with an awkward squeak and Ralph’s hands slid on the blue arms of the dolly I was being snugly and squarely affixed to. Gravity was thick with an object like myself when it came to falling off a dolly. We certainly didn’t want that to happen. So there I was, snug, square, and secure on the carrier seat of this dolly where the corner edges had sharpened to a paper cut of an edge. The blue paint had worn off the bottom of the dolly so that it showcased the stainless steel housed underneath. It shone and flickered in the midday sun. Ralph set about moving me to my new home. To my surprise, the new apartment already had a fridge. I wonder what Susan’s fridge is like. Is it a lady fridge and if so, what’s her make and model? As he was pivot spinning me into my new space in the new kitchen we touched handles, and I almost blew my door gasket. I asked her what she had inside her. She giggled again and said “Maybe you, if you play your cards right, cutie.” “Oh really? What’s your name sweetie?” “I’m Jenmore. What about you?” “I’m Electric General.” “Well, that name suits a handsome stocky fridge, such as yourself. I salute you Sir!” I couldn’t help but brag about what was in my own belly. I started in on a real nice story about the food inside me and how we escaped a dire situation of depression and loneliness. I bragged about Ralph and how he defeated all the odds stacked against him. “He’s a genius with food and he just got a new job as a chef in a fancy restaurant. He’s got such a huge heart and he shows how much he cares through his cooking. Now I always have leftovers of the most expensive foods. Oysters are always present on my shelves.” I HAD to boast about that. “Not to mention truffles!” Jenmore chimed in, “Ok, enough now you braggart or I’ll take back my handsome remark. I just met you; you don’t want to make my evaporator coils freeze already, do you?” “No ma’am, my heat radiator fans are hot for you!” “Well in that case, its my turn to brag to you. I’m a Smart Fridge so I know some of that fancy food your owner loves to feed people will end up over here relaxing inside me. After all, my control panel can detect best before use AND store data of items inside me like his delicious meals. Believe me, I will keep those oysters in temperature regulated luxury.” “Oh, so you’re a fancy fridge, are you? No wonder you’ve got my compressor turning up my heat.” Jenmore giggled again. “I’m fancy enough to store your fancy food, Sir Electric General.” One more giggle. “Well Madame Jenmore, I think our makes and models will get along just fine. Living with you shall be a pleasure. And that it was. Ralph was happy all the time feeding others and spending time with Susan. As for Jenmore and Electric General, once the lights were out, they would coil up together for the night. 😉


The whirring of ship alarms broke her unconsciousness. Red lights pulsed in front of her eyes as she struggled to get a grip on her surroundings. “.....well at least I’m alive.” she murmured, pausing to glance around the room. She lay slumped in the corner of the emergency landing room, her whole safety harness had been torn from the wall in the crash, leaving her strapped to a shell of metal on the polished floor. “Alex,” she called. “Alex are you ok?......Amir...are you there?” No response. She pried open the locking straps on the safety shell and tried to push herself to her feet. “Shit!” a sharp pain forced her gaze down where she saw a large cut down her thigh, “maybe I’m not as lucky as I thought.” Blood was slowly flowing down her leg but the cut didn’t seem fatal at least, just incredibly painful. She limped to the two harnesses next to where her own had been bolted. The wall had caved down one side, it must have split her harness from its original position. “Explains why I was on the damn floor”. Her two companions did not seem to be harmed. She slapped Alex lightly on the face and tapped Amir on the head. “Come one….wake up….we’ve got to get out of here….WAKE UP!” “What the…...ahh” Alex’s head rose from his chest.. Amir opened his eyes and glanced anxiously around the room. “We’ve gotta get out of here...the ship is unstable and we don’t know if we’ve been followed to the surface.” “Just give us a minute Ria..” murmured Alex. She began releasing the safety strap on his harness. “C’mon we really need to go.” Free from the harness, Alex strode the nearby medkit and removed a couple of painkillers and gulped them down. “My head is killing me..” He offered the pack to the others, Ria snatched them, downed a few and removed a bandage from the packing. “Hope this keeps me together till we get out of here,” she winced as she tightened the bandage around her leg, compressing the oozing laceration. “Ok let’s go.” she limped to the door control, her companions following closely behind. “We’ve got to get off this planet before they find us, we should be able to launch one of the scout vessels if we can get to the hanger…..and there are any left intact”.  Explosions on the ship had left the route to the hanger open to vacuum, they’d had no choice but to strap themselves in and endure the crash of their kilometre long cruiser. They’d collided with the planet’s surface, more ships were falling around them as the space battle continued.  “Run! C’mon down the hall now!” she yelled. Punctures appeared in the door from the direction they had ran. Obviously some of the enemy boarding crew had survived the crash too. She ran with a limp to the next door, waiting for the other two to pass through before closing and locking it behind her. She caught a glimpse of their pursuer just as it broke through: a soldier, covered in armour, it tore through the metal with an energy blade. They were biomechs, engineered for strength and speed. They had to find a weapon….fast.


“There’s Always a Cassandra” by Elizabeth Fenley He always apologizes, the Babadook whose name he told me is Ensos, for bringing me the dreams. I ask why he has to bring the dreams at all—and why bring them to me? He says solemnly, “You are now the Cassandra. There must always be one.” He stares at me with vacant eye sockets, his skeletal face stretched tight with thin-sheeted rubbery pale skin. His black top hat, worn, crumpled, dusty though it is, gives him an air of dignity, of reserved poise, even grace. When his long skinless boned fingers stretch to remove the hat, the nightmare begins. I write them down when I wake up from them—sweating, panicked—in the middle of the night or by the screech of my unforgiving alarm clock. I’ve heard anyone with especially vivid dreams should keep a dream journal, and then you could look back at your dreams and decipher the symbolism found in them. Only my dreams aren’t symbolic. They are foretellings. The people are real, the events are real. The neighbor’s mother fell on the icy front steps of the house while I was having a snowball fight with my boyfriend. The ambulance took her away. Patrick couldn’t understand why I was so upset. I pulled him inside, shaking off snow and ice. I showed him the entry in the journal from two nights before. It was identical. I remember the image. Watching it happen in real life was like déjà vu; if I hadn’t written it down, I would have shaken it off as a brain malfunction—short term memory accidentally rerouted to long term memory. Patrick read it, skimmed it really, and then looked up at me shaking his head. “It’s just a coincidence. You knew there would be snow. You must have heard your neighbor telling your mom about the visit.” “No, I didn’t, she didn’t---” “This says she died in your dream. She didn’t die. So it’s nothing. Just your subconscious processing shit you haven’t gotten around to. Nothing to worry about. Did I tell you about that time I dreamed….” He told me about his weirdest dreams and a few nightmares from his childhood, mostly about monsters, snakes in his bed, getting trapped in a closet full of spiders, while we sat by the fire drinking hot chocolate. I listened, dropping little marshmallows in and stirring them around, watching them congeal and melt, sipping the froth off the top and then adding more. The next morning, my dad told me Mrs. Matresse’s mother died before they got to the hospital. We all signed a card for the flowers my mother took over with the turkey tetrazzini. I texted Patrick when I heard, but he told me not to “be all caught up in the dream.” My own boyfriend wouldn’t even try to believe me. I didn’t tell anyone else. After the fifth dream about someone dying, I asked Ensos why all the dreams were about death. “I am Babadook, bone built of grief. Death is my companion. I am Her messenger.” “Do you take death nightmares to other people? Or just me?” He stood silently for a moment. He was always careful in developing his words. “There is only one Cassandra for each time, each plane of existence.” “Plane of existence? What are you---” “I have visited others for millennia. Now, I bring you The Sight. There have been many before, as there will be many after.” “After what? After I die? What happened to the last one?” Empty bone somehow conveyed his sadness. “The last dream I will bring you will be of your own death. When it is time.” He removed his hat, placing it somberly across his chest as he faded, and the next nightmare began. A family of five killed in a car accident on any icy bridge driving home from Thanksgiving dinner. Again, I showed Patrick the dream journal entry from two days before Thanksgiving and the story on the news website to match. He accused me of writing the story down after it happened. “You’re calling me a liar? I’m telling you these horrible things I dream about, and then I walk around just waiting for them to happen. Can you imagine how that feels? To know somebody’s going to die, and you’re the only one who knows, but there’s nothing you can do about it? Why the hell would I make that up?” “God, dramatic much?” “You think I’m doing this for attention? For sympathy?” “Either that or you’re killing them yourself and this is some kind of insanity defense,” he replied with a stupid grin on his face—one I almost slapped out of existence. “Or maybe I’m just crazy! Maybe that’s it.” “Listen, Alexandra—” He reached out to grab my hand, but I flung his hand away. “No. I won’t listen to you. You don’t believe me. My own boyfriend won’t even fucking believe me. You know what? Fuck you then.” Patrick spread his hands, as if to say “See?” “Get out. Now.” He stood up, dropping my journal on my bed. “Major. Drama. Queen.” “Whatever. Just leave.” That night, Ensos brought me a dream of a school shooting. Sixteen students, four teachers, and the principal killed. Twenty others injured. When I woke, I spent an hour throwing up. I didn’t bother checking to see that it was true. December was full of fires from faulty Christmas lights and one about a candle from a Menorah. The week before Christmas, armed robberies of shoppers putting newly-purchased gifts in their cars and families killed in their homes for the presents under their trees. On Christmas Eve, a man who had lost his job killed his entire family and then himself rather than face a joyless, giftless Christmas. Seven kids, his wife, and her elderly mother. After that I stopped keeping the journal. When an unknown respiratory virus killed a dozen babies in the NICU, I burned it. I asked Ensos to stop apologizing, to just skip right into the dream. He did not speak, simply lowered his hat and his head. My parents took me to doctors and therapists when I stopped sleeping. I thought if I didn’t dream, it wouldn’t happen. After a few nights, I fell asleep on the couch—even though I’d used up every K-cup of coffee. The doctors found nothing wrong with me—underweight, exhausted, stressed. They suggested melatonin, yoga, guided sleep meditation, and ironically, journaling. And they all referred me to a therapist. I didn’t tell the therapists, of course, about Ensos or the dreams or the journal. I made up things, exaggerated about school stress and breaking up with Patrick. Otherwise, I would end up in some mental hospital on Lithium and sleeping pills. I dropped out of college my junior year after I dreamed about a suicide on our campus. I worked as a waitress, took shifts in retail during holiday seasons. My parents were disappointed in my failure “to reach my potential” and wanted me to go back into therapy, but they couldn’t make me. I avoided serious relationships, never spent the night. I had acquaintances at work, but no real friends. I couldn’t go through the questions, and I wouldn’t chance telling anyone again—not after Patrick. The night before I turned thirty, Ensos spoke. “This will be the last.” I cried through the whole dream. Relief. It was someone else’s turn to be Cassandra.