         The problem with going to dinner with Kali was always how full I am when I leave. I had needed a night out, away from the struggle of three kids and a husband, going to college a second time and navigating caring for a sick relative. She’d invited me to a high-end restaurant, her treat, but I’d had to make the drive because we lived in separate cities. Dallas was a middle point. I settled into the leather seats of my car and found my favorite playlist before entering the address of my home into my GPS. Something loud because I was full and tired. I sent a brief text to my husband to let him know that I was leaving the restaurant and the arrival time was estimated to be around ten pm. The drive should take around forty-eight minutes.        I pulled out of the restaurant and almost immediately onto the exit ramp to the main byway. Dallas on a Saturday night was always hell, but tonight the traffic was lighter than usual. Maybe it was the side of town we’d met on. It was closer to the very south end, and we both lived north of the city.        As I drove around the byway, I noticed that the city was very bright, but the edges of the city were very dark. Unusually dark. The whole night had a strange aura about it. I drove for a while, singing along to the music, when I suddenly noticed that the city of was on the wrong side of me. If I was heading north, the city should have been to my left, and it was to my right. I stared at it as long as it was safe outside of my window, wondering how this could have possibly happened, especially without me noticing.        I checked my GPS, which had rerouted without alerting me. Come to think of it, it hadn’t spoken at all. The hairs on my neck and arms raised. I hadn’t changed direction, or even taken an exit. Everything was backwards. I didn’t feel comfortable exiting at this point, and I was trying to look at the GPS while driving 80 MPH.        The next exit was well lit, and I pulled off. It was the exit I started at. My heart began to race. There was no way I could have circumvented the entirety of Dallas in the time I’d been driving. Panicked, I double checked my entry in the phone and hit start again. I got back onto the byway and began to drive.        The road looked completely different even though it was the exact same route. I drove along and traffic seemed relatively normal. Soon, however, it began to back up and cars slowed, and brake lights lit up the night. Over the tops of other vehicles, I could see lights and emergency vehicles ahead of me. Traffic proceeded at a crawl for several minutes. I switched back and forth between glancing down at the GPS and looking ahead of me at was what to come. I slowly passed a mangled SUV in the far-left lane with cop cars all around it. There were no people, however. No cops, no ambulance, no accident victims, just a wrecked single car and abandoned police cars with blinding lights and no sirens. The air felt oppressive. I passed the wreck and when I looked ahead, there were no other cars on the road. I looked around and even in my mirror, but the only thing behind me was the accident, no other traffic. I swallowed hard, my chest tight, my heart pounding in my ears. I turned off my music and listened but heard…nothing.        I continued to the next exit with the intent to stop off, but it was closed, blocked by cones and concrete construction barriers. Then the next exit was marked, but there was no ramp, just a sign with a barricade. It didn’t look like a ramp ever existed. Just a giant sign and an arrow pointing to nothing. I could see cars flowing around me on the other highways and byways, but there wasn’t a single car on my route. I looked down at my GPS and it was flickering back and forth between routes, constantly recalculating. I vaguely recognized the names of some of the exits and knew I was at least travelling in the right direction, but not a single exit from this byway to the main highway was available.        The car felt like it was closing in on me. I struggled to breathe, and my vision was getting cloudy. Yet another exit passed that was closed off. I couldn’t make sense of what was happening as I realized that I’d left Dallas, but I was travelling northwest and needed to go northeast. But not a single northeast exit had been opened and no northwest ramps existed. I began to panic, being funneled endlessly in this direction with no way to get off it.        My vision tunneled. I felt faint. Almost as though I was going to fall asleep at the wheel unwillingly, poisoned, my body and mind wanting to shut down.        All of a sudden, the GPS came back online and an exit to my right opened for the main highway that would take me home. Everything came rushing at me, lights seemed to whiz past at lightning speed before everything cleared up. I laughed almost hysterically, manically, as my lane merged with the lane of the opposite directions’ byway, and it fed onto a dual ramp to the main highway. I ended up in a long line of cars. I looked behind me and there were cars lined up behind me as well, a snake of headlights going on as far as I could see in the mirror.        I could breathe easily again, and my phone dinged at least a dozen times in a row. The last message that flashed across my screen was my husband asking, “Why aren’t you answering the phone? Are you ok?”        I looked at the time. It was after eleven and I was still thirty minutes from home.        The milage on my dashboard had logged that I’d only driven a dozen or so miles. The message to my husband that I was leaving the restaurant had a small 9:10PM timestamp on it. None of these things coincided or were even possible.

       When I finally arrived home, I didn’t even have the words to explain to my husband what had happened. He told me that my phone had repeatedly gone to voicemail and that he’d been extremely worried. But I had no real explanation other than telling him the story that sounded completely fake. I’m sure he thought I’d just had a bit too much to drink, even though I hadn’t had any alcohol at all. I entered the directions into my GPS and studied them. I looked closely at where I had been and the exits I should’ve passed. None of them were on the same route. None of the indicated exit signs I’d seen were connected in any way.        The only thing I could see for sure was that the spot that I had seen the car accident and the spot that I had exited to get to the main highway were right next to each other.        I tried to remember the accident. It had been a black SUV. I drove a black SUV. Chilled to the bone, I remembered how there was no people. No accident victims, no police, and no other cars around. But the pervasive feeling through everything I could remember was fear.        Where had I gone? Had I died on the first go around? When I passed the accident had I been passing through a spirit world? An alternate timeline?        I snuggled up with my cat and my husband and wondered if perhaps there had been a glitch somewhere and I wasn’t meant to die. That I hadn’t yet fulfilled my purpose.


My phone pings. Kyle – u comin to kieran’s party tonight? Diann – on the ferry over now Kyle – can’t wait to see you my sexy girl from across the water Then a load of hearts and kissy faces. He thinks he’s some kind of love poet. I don’t reply, just give him the blue ticks. He’s cocky enough. Phone again. Steven – Just a friendly reminder. £150 by tuesday or there’ll be a penalty Shit. No kissy faces here. Steven’s all for equal opportunities –he doesn’t mind breaking women’s arms as well as men’s. But for girls my age he’ll accept other services if you really can’t pay. I’ll be able to pay. I always do. I put my phone away and stare out the window. The Larne–Cairnryan ferry isn’t exactly the High Seas. The water is grey and flat and the sky is grey and flat. There are a few moody-looking seagulls flying about, probably hoping for chips. Two affluent Belfast types take the seat opposite me and throw their things on the table, nearly knocking over my bottle of Fanta. The woman has one of those scarves that’s nearly a shawl draped around her and her hair is perfect. Obviously she isn’t planning on going up on deck. She looks at me like I’m something on her shoe. I smile at them anyway. The man says hello. I say hello. The woman has a stick up her ass and doesn’t bother. She gives me a “butt out” look and starts talking importantly. Obviously, I’m supposed to leave even though I was here first! Who does she think she is? I get up to give them “privacy” but – oops! – I slip and fall straight on to the man’s knee. “Sorry!” I giggle. “No problem,” he says. He helps me up and holds onto me as long as he can. Is he looking down my top? I feel like telling him I left school three weeks ago. The perv and the cow. These two are welcome to each other. I give him a flirty smile, making sure she notices. She notices all right – her face could turn milk. I sashay away, trying to put a bit of a Marilyn Monroe wiggle into my walk. Hopefully I’ve started an argument between the happy couple anyway. Round the corner I check his wallet. £330 cash, and credit cards and stuff. Couldn’t have done much better. The cards aren’t much good to me though. I’m sure Steven could beat the PIN number out of him but I’m happy enough with the cash. My phone rings. Ma. No hello, just straight in. “Why are you on the ferry to Scotland?” She’s raging. “I’m not…” “Don’t lie to me, you cheeky wee bitch. Tanya was in Larne today and she saw you get on the ferry.” Shit. Looks like there’s no escape from Northern Ireland without being seen. “I suppose you’re going to that Campbell party. They’re a bad crowd.” As if she didn’t hang around with worse when she was my age. Probably how she got pregnant with me. “Mum, I’m 18 years old. I’ll be ok.” She lets out a snort. “You’ve been 18 for ten days. I’ve got double the miles on the clock you have. I suppose you think you know more than me now… Where did you get the money for the ferry anyway? If you have money going spare you could have at least put a bit in the electricity meter.”

“Sorry, Ma. I’ll bring back enough to fill it for a few weeks.” “How are you getting that?” “I found a wallet on the ferry. No sense handing it in. I’m sure the owner’s gone long ago.” Pause. She’ll pretend to believe me. “You’re right, love. The person who lost it doesn’t need it as much as us, probably. How much?” “150 quid.” Minus the Steven money and a wee bit for me. The good news has put her off her ranting stride. “That’s great, love. That’ll come in handy. Look, I know you’re an adult and I can’t stop you going to the party. Just be careful, that’s all. I just want you to be safe.” We have to go through this routine every time. “I’ll be fine, Ma. There’ll be loads of girls at the party too.” “Girls can be just as bad as the fellas.” “I know. I’ll watch myself. I’ll have to go now, Ma. People are giving me looks for talking too loud.” After I hang up I feel like getting some air and putting distance between me and the stuck-up couple. Just in case he looks for his wallet and remembers my “fall”. The deck is up some stairs and along a narrow corridor, where I run into a boy about my age. I really don’t like the look of him. “Hi, beautiful!” he says, leering at me. Boke. “Excuse me,” I say and try to push past. He grabs my arm. “Hey, hang on. You could say hello to a fellow human being.” A fellow human being? What the fuck? “Sorry,” I say. “I wasn’t thinking. Hello.” “Oh yeah, you girls only start being nice when you’re scared. You’re not fooling anybody.”  Wow, he’s gone from 0 to 60 in 3.5. He’s nearly spitting with rage. Why is it so quiet in here? Must be the heavy doors at the ends of the staircase. That means no one inside the ferry or on the deck can hear me either. “Look, are you going to let me past or what?” I say, trying to sound confident. “What’s the rush?” “I want to go up on deck.” “Well I’m going up too. You first,” he says. No way was I letting him follow me up the stairs. I turn back the way I came. “I need to go back to the restaurant. I think I left my…” “Will you STOP LYING TO ME!” With no warning he grabs me and smashes me into the wall. My head spins with the shock and the pain. I can’t believe he just did that. Fucker. I grab his shoulders and bring my knee up into his groin. He crumples to the floor and I run for the door. I crash into it and it opens and I go through and finally the sea air hits me. I gulp it in. It’s freezing. A lot wilder than you’d think inside. I lean against the railing, panting. I’m just starting to get my heart rate down when I notice the stuck-up woman has appeared on the deck. She’s looking for somebody. Me. My heart beats faster again. I try to creep round the corner out of sight. “You!” she shouts. I look around, fake-surprised. “Me?” No need to panic, just brazen it out. She has no proof. “Yes, you, you wee bitch!” The refined accent is gone and she looks like a pitbull spoiling for a fight. I look around for help but we’re alone. Where is everybody on this stupid boat? “What’s wrong with you?” I scream. Might as well stick to the innocent act as long as I can. “You know what I’m talking about. Did you think Ben wouldn’t notice his wallet is gone?” “Are you accusing me of stealing?” I say, trying to sound brave. I have to look up to meet her eye. She’s a lot more built than me, too. “Look, stop messing me around. We both know you took it. Give it back. Don’t make me hurt you.” “Don’t make me hurt you? Who are you, Chuck Norris?” I sneer. “Compared to you, yes.” She takes another step towards me. Is she actually going to hit me? There aren’t any cameras here, and she’d probably get off with it. It isn’t worth getting the shit kicked out of me for a wallet. “Wait! Wait. Fuck! Calm down. You can have the wallet.” I get it out of my pocket quickly and hand it over. She’s a bit disappointed – she would have loved an excuse to belt me. “I knew it was you. Ben wouldn’t believe it. He seemed to think you’re a lovely girl.” “I wasn’t after your boyfriend,” I say. That’s true. She’s welcome to him. “I just needed to distract him so I could take the wallet.” She doesn’t answer. She’s still standing in front of me, stopping me from leaving. “Are you going to report me to the police?” I ask eventually. “It wasn’t your first time stealing. You knew what you were doing,” she says. I want to say her boyfriend is such a fool a total beginner could’ve done it, as long as they had boobs. As if she cares about my moral compass. She wants to make me grovel because I got her boyfriend’s attention. “I don’t make a habit of it, honestly.” Pretty much the truth. Depending on what you mean by a habit. A habit is every day, right? She’s still staring at me. Her face is twisted with scorn. How old is she? 28? 30? Hopefully she can still remember being a teenager. “Please,” I say. “I’m only 16.” Close enough. I try to look as young and scared as possible. It isn’t working. What is she, a female Steven? “You’ve started young. Can’t you get a job like everybody else?” Apparently in her world jobs always pay enough. “I’m really sorry,” I say. “I’ll never do it again.” Ahem. She can’t string this out much longer – she needs to call the authorities soon or let me go. I’m sure she’d love to hand me over to the police but there’ll be questions for her too. They’ll tell her she should have reported me straight away instead of going vigilante. I think she’s starting to worry that someone came up on deck and overheard her Ike Turner routine.

Eventually she says, “I’ll let it go this time.” She looks down her nose at me one last time and heads back into the boat. Fuck her. I stare out to sea and try to calm my thoughts. I’m nearly crying with rage. I’m mostly mad at myself for putting myself in the position where she could humiliate me. It’s my own fault. Why did I take that wallet when the journey wasn’t half over and I had no escape route? I should have waited til we disembark and taken the safest mark. But I wanted to get them . Her, looking at me as if I was dirt, and him, thinking I’m some wee slut who fancied him. I didn’t want to miss my chance to ruin their day. Idiot. I force myself not to chase after her and attack her like a feral cat. Don’t be stupid. There’ll be plenty of chances to get more money before Tuesday. She isn’t important. I’ve let her under my skin far too much already. Finally my breathing stabilizes. I turn around and… Shit! I nearly jump out of my skin. Corridor Boy is standing staring at me with a sick grin on his face. How long has he been there? I was so drained from the confrontation I didn’t notice him sneaking up behind me. He comes closer and I take a step back. My back hits the metal railing. “You’re in a wee world of your own, aren’t you?” He says in a weird sing-songy voice. “What…?” “In your own pretty girl world, where you don’t have to notice the rest of us.” He must be unhinged. I’ve had enough of this. I try to push past him but he’s ready for me to attack this time. He grabs me round the neck and leans me backwards over the railing. The metal bars dig into my back and pain cuts through me. His face is close to mine, close enough to smell the grease in his hair and the sharp scent of aftershave that isn’t covering the smell of his body. Sweat drips down his face into his eyes even though it’s freezing out here. He must be on a trip or something. He thinks he’s killing some kind of monster instead of a human girl. Panicking, I try to push back but I can’t get leverage with my feet off the ground. I’m past the tipping point now. He starts squeezing my neck. I have to cling to him anyway because he’s the only thing keeping me from falling. I don’t dare hit or claw his face in case he lets go of me. The grey sea doesn’t look flat now. It looks choppy and furious and absolutely freezing. I’d go under in a second and the shock of the cold would probably kill me. I try to shout. “Help! Please!” But it doesn’t come out sounding anything like that. Where is everyone? Why is there never anyone around when I’m in trouble? He’s still squeezing my neck, staring into my eyes but not really seeing me at all. He won’t stop unless I can stop him. Darkness is creeping in around the edge of my vision. I’m crying, my tears are all over his hands but he still isn’t stopping. I need to think of something fast but my thoughts are getting slower and slower… I’ve given up when I feel us being pulled back into the boat. Someone wrenches him off me. I collapse and gasp in breath after breath, hardly knowing where I am. Finally I feel some strength coming back to me. Corridor Boy is lying in a heap, out for the count. The posh pitbull is standing over me. “Relax, take some more deep breaths,” she says. She’s white with shock. I’ve really ruined her day now. “How did you know…?” “I heard you shouting. I was still on the deck. Are you all right?” “I think so. Did you knock him out?” My voice is a bit croaky. “Yeah.” She really is Chuck Norris. “He must have been mad. He was trying to kill you.” Her voice is shaky. I don’t think she knows whether it really happened or if it was a dream. I suppose I’m expected to be all grateful now even though she treated me like shit earlier. Maybe I can turn it to my advantage. “Thank you. You just saved my life.” I say. I’m still shaking but I struggle to my feet and hold out my arms. I have to do this now, when it’s realistic. She isn’t too keen but she can’t refuse a hug after saving my life. It gives me plenty of time to take the wallet back, take out the cash and replace the empty wallet so she won’t miss it. I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to get beaten up or worse by Steven after going to all the trouble of saving my life. We break apart. She’s shaking too. She’ll never be able to forget me now, the slutty girl on the ferry. Maybe I’ll haunt her dreams for a while. I know I’ll be hanging backwards over that railing in my dreams for... It’s starting to hit me how lucky I was. Thankfully she hadn’t left the deck. Another couple of seconds and she wouldn’t have heard me shouting for help at all. There would have been nothing between me and that giant, empty grey sea… I shiver and force myself to stop thinking about it. The security guards finally appear, self-important even though they missed all the action, and I make myself concentrate on them. I tell them I’m fine and that this woman is a hero. She gives me a strange look, half-apologetic, half-scornful. I just give her a sweet smile. She’s done me two good turns today. The security guards take Corridor Boy into custody and fuss over me, insisting on checking me over. I ask if I can send one text first. My near-death experience must have made me sentimental. I click into Kyle’s conversation and type: Can’t wait to see you either xx


It was late in the day when the Companions gathered in the Hall to mark the passing of another somber Summoner’s Eve. Each had their own stories, but it was in silence they filed through guild, only the clink of battered armor to tell their tales. With bowed heads they murmured prayers to the gods for blessings, opportunities to prove themselves, and a chance to end the reign of the dragon king. One day… *one day!* It was a promise that fell from every warrior’s lips and a prayer over every babe. Forty six years of the dragon king’s rule had left the land scorched and the stables bare. The people of Fairen despaired that it may never know the sight of a green countryside, or cattle in their pastures. On this day, like so many anniversaries of Summoner’s Eve past, the brave companions mourned their kingdom’s future. It would start with a solemn prayer, followed by an offering of leafy greens to the gods…. A thud at the far entrance interrupted them, light spilling into the establishment as the huge oak doors swung open. The dying streaks of ripe currant in the sky silhouetted an expectant figure at the far end of the lodge. The occupants paid the visitor no mind-- every adventurer from here to Hare’s Peak thought they were the first to arrive on the dusk of Summoner’s Eve, just like the mage Myrgan in tales of old. Only forever more the Companions of Everlasting Courage knew the truth. The kingdom of Fairen would never again be free. A thousand companions and mages had died at the hands of the immortal dragon king. There was nothing left but to drink, and remember the days of glory, when most were just squires to the brave souls who proved the truth of the kingdom’s fate. Hugor the Hale was one such former squire, now a man broad of belly and chest and a gray head taller than any Companion still alive. He sat at the end of the long table, whisking a whetstone down a blade the size of his palm. It was a blade of great sentimental value to him, and despite the hopeful days of glory well behind him, he took care to sharpen it each day. Sir Sven the Stirring would be proud. It was the least Hugor could do. He was the last in a long line of king-blessed knights to bear the blade. The visitor’s over-long pause in the doorway continued for a moment more, cleared throat echoing through the hall. It was duly ignored. Travellers were common in the Guild District; they’d find their way out on their own, or they were shown out. It wasn’t until the newcomer approached Hugor that he bothered to pause his task. A woman in boiled leather glared at him, a dark braid thrown over one shoulder, a bandoleer stocked with vials slung across her front. She seemed even shorter than she had in her ‘grand entrance’ to the hall, barely reaching the height of his stooped shoulders, and he was sitting down. She bore a resemblance that seemed awful familiar, but Hugor couldn’t place his finger on why and thought nothing more of it, and bent to his task once more. “Heard you needed a mage.” Her voice carried a bellyful of pride, like so many before her. Hugor scoffed. “The guild for ninnies and womenfolk meets in the warrens.” He began to turn back to his whetstone, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure they are just dying for another of your kind.” She spat, green-tinged saliva arcing to land on the man’s breastplate. It smelled… minty. Hugor looked down, disgusted by the spittle slipping down his armor. Tiny flecks of green floated in the liquid, landing in loud drips on the stone floor. “Uncommonly rude.” He wiped the spit away with a sleeve. “I will forgive the impertinence if you leave my guild this instant.” The girl made no such move, instead fishing into her belt pouch for more mint before folding her arms in defiance. “You fool! I have come to lend strength and honor to your cause!” Hugor barked a laugh. “*Strength?* And *honor?* You could’ve been mistaken for a mouse in a potato field. Go home, little mouse. The Age of Courage is over. The Foretold never revealed himself. Summoner’s Eve is just another day. ” The little mage’s eyebrows slammed together in her fury. “My name is Frynn of Premly, Frynn the Foretold! I am here to show you the error of your despair, Hugor the Hale!” She thrust her arms out, baring dark arcane tattoos on umber flesh. They seemed to writhe of their own accord in the candlelight like a mess of serpents in a pit. Hugor sat up. The lost resemblance and distinct marks now demanded further thought. Some old geezer before the fall of the rightful king had come knocking on the guild’s doors, nailed some convoluted drawings and a prophecy to the doors. Uncommonly rude wizard, too. Called them all fat and slovenly and downright unheroic. Finally some interest dawned in him. “Where’d you get those?” “I am the Foretold, and I am here to lead this fat and slovenly Guild to glory once more.” At such a loud and rude proclamation a number of adventurers stood, their benches scraping away from the table in indignation. Hugor raised a hand to quiet them. “I don’t care if you’re my mother’s dull daughter, insulting the guild’s state of fitness will not earn you friends, mage.” “You blind buffoon! I told you, my name is--” “*Uncommonly rude.* Nealan, Kayn, would you do the honors?*”* The two Companions came forward, nearly as portly and grizzled as Hugor himself. Nealan the Noble and Kayn the Knightly saluted him. With an energy they’d not shown since their last near-campaign, the two warriors bundled a shrieking tiny mage back to the doors from whence she came, and ejected her into the street. A thundering boom followed as they barred the door from any similar incursions. The rest of the warriors gathered ‘round them, cheering and congratulating Hugor and their mates for their swift actions. And so it was that on Summoner’s Eve, forty six years after the fall of the rightful king, that the last in the line of true royalty, and only soul to bear the marks of the prophesied Foretold, was ejected from the distinguished hall of the Companions of Everlasting Courage. Alas, the kingdom was doomed. But at least it still had standards for manners. \_\_\_\_\_\_ Thanks for reading! You can find more smoking hot garbage at .


All at once your anger dissipates, so fast as to be smoke from a fire. You look and me and smile, a twisted line drawn across a clown's face. "Wanna see something cool?" You ask me, knowing how eager I would be to agree. You walk to the window and chirp, a bird like whistle that has me leaning in, fascinated. A bird, a robin with eyes brighter than the midday sun and wings like pointed razor blades hops closer, seemingly compelled to follow you. Closer, closer and closer still until it crosses the boundary, enters our world through the portal of a window frame. You reach out a hand, so slowly you are barely moving. And, to my surprise, it lets you. "Beautiful," I say, barely more than a breath. You continue reaching, until, at last, you finger brushes its wing. At once, it hops backwards, soaring straight for the window, but you get there first and slam it shut. The bird flies straight into it, chirping angrily; showing true terror in every action. You turn to me. "This is what they do to us" You say, expression blank, angry. "That's not beautiful, that's cruelty." And, despite the hurt done, I learnt more in that conversation than in all my years of schooling.


The calling bell rang precisely twice with determined urgency, radiating as the faint sound of hope amidst the devastated household of the Archers. "Must be the police..open the door Sebastian", Lady Archer ordered, wiping her forehead with her laced handkerchief. "Yes ma'am" Sebastian opened the door and a short, burly man walked past him inside to face the people gathered in the large living area. The man wore a leather jacket and ripped jeans, and a sunglass hung from the breast pocket. His skin had the tint of light tan. He carried a small briefcase which was more likely to pass as a handbag. The Archer family, who were expecting to see a swarm of formal black uniforms were taken aback. Before the helpless, duty bound Sebastian could think of how he could address the situation, the man was marching promptly towards a middle aged man with ageing black hair. "Mr. Benjamin Archer I presume? Ian Horse, professionally referred to as a detective." There was a second's silence. Turning towards his family to share his surprise would seem rude, so Benjamin tried to cover it up in his tone. "I apologise for failing to recognise you, Mr. Horse." They shook hands. "It's alright, sir. Appearances are deceptive. Most gentlemen are even more surprised at first acquaintance. I'm not too late I assume. Colonel Dickinson had ringed me up. Would you show me the place where the necklace was kept?" “Certainly” Mr. Archer blushed a little in embarrassment at the knowledge that his surprise had been grasped by the man, as he guided the swift footed detective to the locker room in the second floor where all the family wealth was stored, apparently not safely.. "No one misplaced anything I assume?" "Just to look for the necklace, we turned the house upside down in anxiety, but I can guarantee that all was restored where it originally was. I made sure of that before calling the police." On the way the detective fired many questions and got to know all the details that the police was yet to gain. Mr. Archer's story stood thus-The diamond necklace, the costliest among the family heirloom was a birthday gift to Mr. Archer's then eighteen year old grandmother from her only aunt, which had been passed on to Mr. Archer's wife on their wedding day. Since then, the precious ornament lay either in the locker or in the days of conferences and parties hung boastingly around Mrs. Archer's neck, for it was her favourite piece of ornament among the abundant she owned. Until two hours back, just when the couple were dressing up for a dance party, Stefannie's shrill scream was heard, and on further discovery it became known among the household that the diamond necklace was missing..thorough search was carried out with no fruit, even though Stefannie was adamant on the fact that she was sure that the necklace was kept nowhere else but the locker when it was last seen. Mr. Archer had added that it was unlikely that his wife was mistaking the fact, because the necklace used to roam from the locker to Stefannie's neck and back to the locker, nowhere in between. "But the strange part is that no other ornament or jewel has disappeared..there are jewels worth much more than the necklace and so many other valuables, but the thief decided to take that very necklace.." "We might take a thief into account only after we have solid proof of a theft." declared the detective, taking in every bit of detail around him. "But there's nothing to prove, of course there has been a theft..my wife remembers the day we first met in college, thirty eight years back clearly to this day..she can't possibly be wrong about three weeks ago." "That ought to be the last occasion involving the necklace?" "No, it wasn't..,It was about.. two months ago." "Then what about three weeks ago?" Benjamin looked around a little hastily. "You see, we just cannot trust the servants..so Stefannie and I personally check the locker once every month." "Does any outsider, including servants know a little too much about the locker by chance?" "Not as far as my knowledge goes..but I think I've been proved wrong already." "Is everyone in your family down there?" "All except for my older nephew Martin who is studying abroad." The detective took in every bit of the information precisely, professionally adept at making the most out of it. "Why was everyone in the hall at the moment of my arrival?" "Actually, we had heard a sound when we were searching for the necklace..we had assembled downstairs to find out what had happened." "And?" "We could not trace the origin. It had died away as soon as we had heard it." They passed the corridor and entered a room towards the left hand side. The locker came into view. It was obviously locked. The detective examined the room while Mr. Hunter stood at the door, looking on with hopeful eyes. The detective came to him. "The necklace obviously has additional utility if no other valuable was misplaced. Would you mind if I check the content?" "Oh surely" The locker creaked open and all of it came into view. "Is that part absolutely confirmed and reconfirmed that only a necklace is missing?" "Yes, checked three times myself." He closed the locker. "Any special reason for claiming it to be a theft? Do you suspect anyone?" Mr.Archer tensed as he quickly glanced around and whispered while pointing at a nearby wall painting, "Yes..I think it was our maid Sabine." "Why do you suspect that?" "Because she was the closest to my wife and accompanies her almost everywhere in the house..from kitchen to the garden and back." He kept on pointing at the painting. "But you trust your family not to let out secrets?" "I do I do, but I think the maid has somehow managed to steal the necklace and is hiding it." "Why do you think she would take such a risk?" "Because once she had been caught red handed stealing some money from the drawer. I had seen it myself, yet Stefannie would not believe it was her..she trusts her too..CAREFUL!!!" Horse had stumbled over and a statue fell down and smashed into pieces. "I'm extremely sorry ..I will clean that up. I'll compensate.."he kneeled down to gather the pieces. "It's okay..sir..the maid will clean that up..please don't worry about it..are you hurt??" "Not a bit compared to the statue.." Mr. Archer telephoned downstairs and summoned the maid. Meanwhile Sebastian had come upstairs with two glasses of fresh lime juice. "Thank you..hot day indeed..my apology again for the statue" Horse took a sip. “Hmm..valid reason against the maid..” "Do you believe that the necklace has been stolen, now?" Archer asked,eyeing around in his nervous manner . " To each word..pray we go downstairs now.." "Surely" They walked downstairs. The four other Archers included Stefannie Archer, Mr. Archer's two younger brothers and a married sister. All of them had the same story to tell. The detective put his hands in his jeans pockets and stood before the window..eyes closed.." "I won't be able to eat anything before I find out what became of the necklace" Mrs. Archer was heard complaining in a muttering tone. Clearly, she did not take the appearance of the detective very appreciatively. Mr. Archer was trying to hush her. "You might have your lunch very soon then, Mrs. Archer..but probably not peacefully, I'm afraid" The detective’s composed voice echoed in the large room. "What??Mr. Horse.. I'm pretty sure Sabine is innocent..she is not involved in this, you can take my word." Stefannie knew where this was going, and she was adamant to save her faithful companion at all costs. "I'm not saying she isn't innocent." "Well!!Who stole the necklace then??Where is it??!" “I need to take a few details from the neighborhood for producing proof, if my theory be correct. You will have to excuse me for twenty minutes, I’m afraid.” And with that the detective walked out of the front door. “Twenty minutes! The thief will reach the airport in that time and safely check in by then!” Rita Archer Morris exclaimed in frustration. “Interesting..” Frank Archer looked on. “Weird man I know, but worth it Stefannie..he’s not who we thought him to be.” Mr. Archer tried to console his lady. “I could see that..did you see his attire?!”Stefannie responded bitterly and a bit too loudly. About hundred meters away, that same attire was stripped off and replaced by a new makeover..he was unrecognizable.

Next day, The Daily Mail reported of ‘a coincidental second robbery’.


I remember the sunset in my office window on the final night of my career. I was thinking how thankful I was that a dirty blue-collar guy like myself had such a perfect view, that is, until the machine ended the day for me. It was attached to me. It tagged me like an animal. Back then if you wanted to drive your car, you had your phone’s GPS to tell you where to go, but if you wanted to drive a truck, the Electronic Logging Device told you where to go, where to eat, where to sleep, where to piss, and most importantly, how much money you were allowed to make. It was the beginning of my hatred towards Autonomous Vehicles, or AVs as they call it today. I had been trucking for a decade already. The freedom of the road is what attracted me to this kind of lifestyle, but as the years went on we were driving less and the trucks were driving more. I was driving down I-610, the loop, as we called it, when I got into the wreck. I left the exit onto the main road towards my stop when there was a sports car going the wrong way. The bright light of the setting sun must have distracted the driver. I had just enough time to avoid a head on collision, but not enough time to keep control of my own vehicle. After a series of alarms I never heard before blared out of my dashboard the car slammed into my side and I turned over. I remember being held on by my seat belt with the asphalt against my window while I thought about my job and the embarrassment of wiping out and spilling my payload all over the highway. I was already in constant fear of losing my job and this accident would put me over for sure. Then I remembered thinking that if it wasn’t for this idiot I wouldn’t be here bathing in fear and anxiety. Those feelings quickly turned to rage. The driver actually came out to check on me. He seemed uninjured and concerned for my well being. He asked if I was OK, and I started cursing him out about my payload before passing out. It was only when I woke up in an ambulance that I started thinking about my injuries. It turned out that I broke my right arm in several places. The surgery left a scar the shape of a long road, a tribute to that night. After they put the rod in my arm I had completely recovered within a few months, but that didn’t matter, the police report indicated that the car that ran me off the road was a new Tesla driving in autopilot. The all-powerful Elon Musk was on a pedestal in somebody’s eyes, because whatever they read in that report got me fired. After that I promised myself never to get into an autonomous vehicle. A few months later I found myself living with my adult daughter. It was difficult for me to hold down a job. I didn't have proof but I was sure that I had been black listed from every trucking company in the country. By 2021 I was able to become self-sufficient. My daughter had gotten married and I was trying my best to stay out of her new life. I disapproved at first, but her husband won me over with a Chevrolet El Camino. He allowed me to drive it and he told me, and I believed him, that I was the only one who was allowed to drive it besides himself. Not even his wife was allowed. As for my job, I drove for Uber and I was making good money, even during the pandemic. My new office was nice as well. This time it was inside of an early Prius. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still pinned down by the same technology that was watching me in my old truck. My miles, routes, time, and customers' opinions were being tracked the same way, but at least I had the freedom to drive as much as I wanted. I never got into an accident in that car, but I was still laid off by 2027. Those driver-less cars were a nightmare, a plague on the nation and I stood by my promise to never enter one of them. It was difficult to understand how somebody like me could get laid off by a company so dependent on the gig economy, but it turns out they washed the majority of people out in one legislative action. Their end game wasn’t about supplying a taxi service that worked well for drivers. It was all about data, food for the beast that was swallowing up the highways and side streets. I suspected it was the same for the trucking companies. There were a lot of companies like that at the time and they all lobbied the government to allow fully autonomous vehicles on the road. That level of technology had been around for decades and they just needed somebody in the white house to lead the way. The whole idea disgusted me. I found myself fighting for driver’s rights for an entire year. I needed to be useful while I lived in a makeshift apartment in my daughter’s home in Houston. Thank God I had a supportive family. The long drives to DC reminded me of my old trucking days. In that group I felt young and useful again. There were veteran truckers, taxi drivers, school bus drivers, tow truck drivers, car enthusiasts, historians, journalists, limousine drivers, crane operators, food delivery drivers, forklift drivers, and even a lady who owned a company that sold child car seats. The long roads were wonderful and nostalgic, and we only turned on autopilot when we were mandated to do so in certain states. Our opposition and our naysayers told us that the world was changing for the better, but our reply was always, for who? For me, the trip was cut short and I had to head back home. The kids were going to surprise me with news that I was going to be a grandfather, but it was overshadowed by my son-in-law’s hospitalization. He shared my love of cars and passion for driver’s rights. He was a good husband to my daughter, and would have been a good father as well. It took only a few weeks before he died of SARS. My grandson was born in 2029. I became less involved in the group as I was getting older and my daughter needed help, especially now that she had been widowed. My first gift to the baby was a toy car, just a regular matchbox. You could see the drivers wheel on the inside. When he was old enough to walk, I was able to find one of those red and yellow cozy coupes for him. I was surprised they still made them, perhaps little tykes made them for folks like me. The joy on his face when he turned the steering wheel is a fond memory. Later that year I watched the election at home when I witnessed the president that helped pass legislation to allow AVs on the roads in full force get re-elected. I knew it was only a matter of time before human drivers would become illegal. I would not allow myself to support such disruptive technology. If the world continued like it did, my grandson would never know the feeling of controlling a car like his father's Chevy. We still had it and I had been doing maintenance on it out of respect for the boy’s late father. 2045 was the year the entire United States outlawed human drivers. Many states had already done this, but Texas was the last state to do so. My grandson was going to turn 16 and he had never driven a car. I had to get him on the road before it was too late. The Chevy was calling us. It was his father’s car, and it was in peak condition regardless of its lack of use. It would be the first and only time he would be able to drive a car. I needed him to feel the purr of a gasoline engine and the weight of the brake pedal. Driving a car isn't supposed to be just going from point A to point B. It’s like mastering a mechanical beast. It was something in our blood that we needed to experience. Our ancestors took control of horses and rode them into battle with lances and bayonets. We’ve been reduced to where national leaders just press buttons to scare each other. I had hoped my grandson would feel more alive if he got the opportunity to drive at least once, and he did. The highway was long and empty. My teenage grandson was at the wheel and there was no device in this beautiful vintage Chevy that allowed us to go autopilot. The joy on his face when he wrapped his hands around that freshly oiled leather wrapped steering wheel that was so alien to his generation was the same joy I saw when he jerked around in his Little Tikes red and yellow. We were driving a piece of history, driving it down I-610, the loop, as we used to call it. When we exited the highway in our beautiful sports car I saw the truck coming at us going the wrong way. The accident happened quickly. The automated semi was able to turn in time to miss us completely but we had already lost control. I came out uninjured but my grandson was in bad shape. He was having trouble breathing so I knew something had pierced him somewhere. I found out later that it was the steering wheel itself that had broken his collarbone and crushed his rib. The safety and well-being of my grandchild was the first and only thought in my mind. There could be no anger except anger at myself. There were no other humans to stop by and check on us, except maybe the ambulance. The automated medical vehicle rolled up seemingly instantaneously. The cameras on that road must have tipped them off and sent them after us as soon as the accident happened. The ambulance wasn’t something I was used to. The front had no room for a person, as it was self-driven, but there were two young people in the back ready to receive us. The man was able to use specialized tools to remove the door and bring my grandson onto a stretcher and a woman immediately started treating him. My grandson was barely conscious as I crawled out of the vehicle unharmed. The horror of my grandson entering the automated ambulance hit me like my first accident. I had no trust for the vehicle, even if it was actively saving my grandchild’s life. It was foreign to me and I was fearful. I was an old man living in the future watching the next generation ship off to a hospital by an unreliable robot car. I had fought for years to prevent this. I found myself pulling on the stretcher in desperation. “My grandson is not going in that infernal machine!” I heard myself say it. “Sir, your grandson needs immediate treatment. You have to let him go.” The woman spoke as humanly as possible. I remember every sympathetic wrinkle in her face, too many for how young she was. “These AVs have ruined my life. He wouldn't have gotten hurt if it wasn't for those things! Get him a regular ambulance!” “Sir, this is a regular ambulance. It's the fastest way to the hospital, please let go, we have a job to do.” I let go as I tried to remember where I was. It was the same place as my first accident. I found myself on my side in my memories, cursing that Tesla for running me off the road, trying to cling on to the last of my identity as a trucker. “That damned AV semi, it ran us off the road!" "Are you riding with us sir? We should check you as well." The male EMT asked me as he held the door open with one hand and held out the other. I smacked it away. "I hate AVs! I'll never get in one. Not then, not now!" "Sir, we can't waste any more time, are you coming or not?" "It was on the wrong side of the street! Can’t you see what they’ve done?” I cried out to the EMTs. “Sir, you’re on the wrong side of the street.” He said to me in a tired voice. I looked around in realization. I was on the wrong side of the street, same place as before, same as the accident in '19. "Last chance sir or we'll have to close the doors." I was still trying to push the thought out of my head but another voice cracked through. "Grandpa… Don't leave me alone…" My response was as automatic as the highway itself. I threw away my hatred for AVs and got in one to keep my injured grandson company. The doors closed behind me by themselves. We were seated on benches and the glass front of the emergency AV gave me chills as I saw us, without bucket seats, without a steering wheel, without a dashboard even, racing down the street at unbelievable speed. It was a smooth ride as well. My grandson was trying to turn his head towards me with his new neck brace. The EMT was icing his injured shoulder and chest. The other EMT was checking my vitals. There were a few cars on the road that delayed moving for us, but most vehicles, the ones without drivers, automatically kept out of our way far ahead of my line of sight. We were 5 my minutes away from the hospital, AV time, normally 30 minutes if I had driven myself. The EMT turned to me, noticing my gray, dropped jaw. "You know, the world is changing for the better." The chants and talking points from my driver's rights days answered for me in a grumble. "Yes, but for who?" He didn't answer. I looked down at my grandson who smiled back at me, and I knew he was going to be OK.


“ I  was the keeper.” The brutish old man bellowed. His voice rang out, echoing against the run-down pub’s walls. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. Glaring around the room, he saw only young, innocent eyes, so different from his own. Young men; sailors, all of them, who had seen nothing of the horrors his own eyes had witnessed. The old man’s eyes were blue, and though he wished he’d been driven blind long ago, they still worked better than all the others in the pub. A heavy silence fell over the room of chatty conversation, leaving way for the increasing sounds of waves crashing against the nearby shore. They were just the same as they had been long ago and since, and would probably never change. The man gulped his beer, as the other guests continued to hush one another around him. This man had been here long before the pub, and even before the town in its wake expanded to the sea. He’d seen it built from the ground up on this coast, and his stories from these times had never disappointed. His sonorous voice always carried tales of adventure, love, and death, without leading the men to bore. They often learned more from him than they had in school. “What keeper?” A young man asked. The pub was all but silent now, except for the rough waves outside.

It was not unusual for the old man to simply begin a story without any prior conversation, and the people were always intrigued by it. They seemed to enjoy it, the spontaneity of a never before told tale. The old man still never shared unless he felt it necessary; it wasn’t for them, why he kept talking. The old man pointed to the door without looking up from his beer. His audience followed his finger with their gaze. The door opened to reveal a tall, rickety lighthouse; huge waves crashing against it in the darkness. The lighthouse was dark, though the men could see it in the full moon above. The old man, whom the rest of the folks called ‘Old Man Luke’, knew the lighthouse hadn’t always been that way, and shouldn’t be now. Sometimes he claimed it was his own fault it stopped working one day, and sometimes he blamed the will of God. Either way, each time the memory came to mind he’d look down at his arms, and wish his right hand were wrinkly and old, rather than missing. He finally looked out the door, with the biting wind blowing his eyes to tears, just like it had been that night. In the old man’s mind, the lighthouse was alive again. “Lucas!” A small, frightened voice cried in the darkness. With two capable hands, Lucas scooped his small brother off the floor. The beam flashed over them again, and Lucas shielded his brother’s eyes.

Willie, short for William, never followed the lighthouse rules. He was only six, but a mistake in the tower can lead to death, so even the little ones must learn never to stray. Those who can walk can also fall. “Calm down, little man,” Lucas told him. “You know not to look at the light. You’ll go blind.” “Why can’t Cici come up here?” Willie asked. Lucas sighed. Willie was, of course, referring to Lucas’ fiancé. Cassandra-Claire was her name, though Willie had always found it hard to say. Only two years into adulthood, Lucas was already engaged to be married. Cassandra’s parents didn’t know this, with him being poor, but he loved her so that she’d agreed to run away with him, where he kept a job as the sole lighthouse keeper on this island. No one ever suspected anything; no real houses other than their own for miles away. “I wish she could much as you do, little man, as she used to, but like I’ve told you before, It’s too many stairs for her right now,” Lucas explained. “Too many stairs for who, Luke?” A voice echoed from the stone stairwell. Soon, an eight-month pregnant woman stood before them, trying to catch her breath.

“Cassandra!” Lucas cried. “What the devil are you doing up here?!” He rushed over to help her. “Heavens,” Cassandra scoffed. “It’s just a few stairs. I’m not climbing any mountains, Luke,” “Cici!” Willie yelled as he ran to her. Cassandra scooped him up just like Lucas had done minutes before.

“William! Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Cassandra teased. She set him down gently and stepped to Lucas. “Why are you up here, Cass?” He asked. “I mean, I love the company, but-” “Oh, I know,” Cassandra replied quickly. “I just came to warn you about the storm tonight,” She said. “There’s a storm near every night these days, Cass, but thanks.” “Oh, I know, but you know how crazy folks get when there’s a storm brewin’.” Willie barreled into his brother, trying to outrun the light beam. Lucas stood him upright before setting the boy free again. Lucas stood and stared back at Cassandra, unconvinced.

“All right,” she admitted. “I was tired of being all by my lonesome. But I don’t see why I have to stay home while you boys spend the nights in the lighthouse. Sometimes you’re not back till noon. I miss you and Willie!” “Aww, Cass, why didn’t you say something?” Lucas asked.

“I have, Luke. Every time y’all leave.” Lucas stood still as a statue for a moment, looking at her deep in thought. Had he been so ignorant of her needs?

Willie ran by again, but this time Lucas trapped him with a powerful arm. He smiled.

“What is it, Luke?” Cassandra asked. “I don’t see anything funny.” “Do we still have that old music box?” He grinned. Cassandra’s eyes reflected his own excitement. This was why she loved him- and she knew he’d never overlook her again. She would never have to tell him twice.

“I believe we do,” she replied. Even Willie loved to dance to the music box.

“I know where it is! I know where it is!” He shouted. He giggled and ran with his brother all the way home to get it. Cassandra busied herself tidying up the lighthouse, so they would have room to dance.

When the first note, a soft trumpet, began to play, Cassandra spun with Willie, whom she had well educated in basic dance.

When she danced with Lucas, Willie twirled around to the slow music. They could barely hear it over the violent waves, but they were still beautiful sounds. Dancing was harder for Cassandra, her larger form moving awkwardly.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized to Lucas, after dancing over his toes. He simply smiled and twirled her once more.

“I don’t mind, if it means I get to dance with my new son, too.” “Daughter,” Cassandra corrected, smiling.

“Whatever you say,” he teased. The music continued to play peacefully until Willie began to shout.

“Lucas, look! A man!” A pause. “Not funny,” Lucas replied, blissfully.

“Really! There’s a man out the window!” Willie insisted. He joked sometimes, though he wasn’t kidding. “Willie, there’s no one for several miles inland.” Cassandra reminded him. Still, Willie argued.

“There is, there is! There is a man outside!” He whined. Finally, Lucas glanced in his direction. His eyes widened, and he froze mid-step.

“What is it, Luke?” Cassandra asked.

“Wait here,” Lucas told her. “You too, William.” Willie stayed put, knowing that when his brother used his full name, he was serious.

Lightning struck nearby, and thunder shook the tower. It had been lightly raining for minutes past, draping a cloak of invisibility on anyone who could be out there.

Sure enough, a small, scrawny man stood on the balcony looking over the sea. He appeared insane, muttering to himself and without attempt to shelter from the rain.

“You there!” Lucas called. The man didn’t reply, but muttered louder, nervously. Lucas couldn’t distinguish his words. “What are you doing out there?” He persisted. “Come inside from the rain, it’s plenty warm in here!” “Leave me.” The man yelled back, without moving in a ragged, broken voice, as though he’d been crying.

“Please, come inside,” Lucas asked again, patiently. The longer he stood outside watching this man, the more curious he became. “Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you manage this climb?” Before Lucas could stop him, the man climbed the railing and dove over the edge. Lucas ran to the rail, desperate to grab an arm, a leg, even the back of the man's coat, but instead he was leaned over the side in time to watch the man disappear into the sea below. Lucas ran back inside.

“Stay with William! He might still be alive!” He ordered. Cassandra obeyed. She knew this was serious and he never rose his voice to her. He would apologize later. Lighting struck so close the lighthouse shook violently, knocking everyone to the ground. The light flashed on and off, while Lucas slung a rope and life preserver over his shoulder.

“Luke, behind you!” Cassandra yelled. “There’s another behind you!” Lucas turned, to see another man they’d never seen, also standing out on the balcony. Lucas ran outside to stop them. As he left, a rain-soaked young woman they didn’t know ran up the stairwell, shouting. “Philip! Philip, Don’t! Please!” She yelled. Cassandra stopped her from taking another step. She clutched young Willie’s hand with a ferocity she’d never used before. “Ow! Cici, you’re hurting me!” William cried. Cassandra didn’t release her grip but remained focused on the frantic woman. “Stop this!” She shouted. “What’s happening? Why are you all here?”

“Philip, my husband! He plans to jump off the tower!” The young woman replied. “Lucas!” Cassandra called. He didn’t reply. Cassandra quickly set up a chair, dragging Willie behind her. “How did this happen?” She asked. She used a calm tone, for Willie’s sake. The hysterical woman began speaking very quickly, between short, shallow breaths. “I found a note on our door!” She replied. “Telling us where he’d gone! I think that’s him out there now! We have to stop him before he does something stupid!” “Please, calm down,” Cassandra asked. Her voice was far steadier than her hands, shaking incessantly. “My fiancé is outside now talking to him. Why are there men jumping off the tower tonight?!” “I’m not sure exactly,” The woman said. “I just found the note on Philip’s door!” “Do you have it with you, perhaps?” The woman handed Cassandra the sloppily written, rain-covered note. She squinted at the words, but read: Kate, We all agreed on this long ago. I’m sorry, Kate, but there have never been such obvious signs than in this storm. Please care for our son. Peter is not yet old enough to understand, but I wish him well, and I know you will love him better than I could. Goodbye, my love, till the day I see you again in the Lord. Philip She folded the note and paused for a moment. It suddenly occurred to her that music still played from their box. Still, the rain was so loud it hardly registered. “Cassandra!” Lucas called. Thunder nearly drowned out the panic in his voice. Cassandra, happy to leave, hurried outside. She still had questions, but there was no time to answer them. “Find a safe place and

stay put !” She warned Willie. Lucas had a rope around his waist, tied to the railing, and stood between the man and the edge. The jumper seemed worried. “That other man might still be alive!” He told her. He clutched the lifesaver ring, his knuckles white. “I’ll take this, then,” She volunteered, taking the rope from his waist and tying it to her own. Lucas frowned. “No,” He said. “Don’t do that. I was just going to ask about William.” “Willie’s fine,” She said, as convincingly as she could. “Go.” Lucas vanished back inside and down the stairwell. He didn’t want to leave his family alone, but what choice was there? The man on the balcony had stood idly by during their conversation, but now that Lucas was gone, Cassandra was afraid he would try to jump. If he did, she had the rope to jump after him, though she didn’t know how she felt about it in a dress, and the rain. “Please, don’t do it,” she pleaded with him. “Go inside. We’ll have breakfast in the morning; you’re welcome to join us!” “No thank you, please step aside,” requested the man who must be Philip. “I’d like to be gone before my family finds me missing.” “Do you mean your son, Peter? Or do you mean your wife, Kate?” Cassandra asked, desperate to keep the conversation. The man’s eyes widened. “How do you know about Peter?” He asked, accusingly. “Kate’s inside. It does mean you have someone to live for though!” Cassandra argued. Kate finally came out onto the balcony with them. Philip looked at her and sighed. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m a terrible father to my son; he hardly knows me. I’ve wasted the first years of his life at a bar, and I can’t change that.” He said. “If you’re going, I’m going too,” Kate pleaded.

“But-” Cassandra began but didn’t have time to finish. Philip, followed by Kate, ran for the edge. Cassandra ran after them and grabbed hold of Philip’s feet over the side. Pulling as hard as she could, Cassandra held fast while Philip struggled. She wasn’t scared of falling herself; she had the rope. Cassandra felt a small tugging on her skirt, and turned to see Willie pulling on her leg. He was trying to help her, thinking she might fall. It was sweet, but

he  held no rope to keep him on the tower. “William!” Cassandra yelled. “Back inside, now!”

Willie obeyed. In Cassandra’s lapse of focus, she slipped and tumbled over the side. She held fast to Philip’ knowing the rope would catch her. Ultimately it did, but the weight of both of them pulled the rope up from her waist to her neck. She dropped Philip, but Cassandra still hung loosely off the side of the lighthouse. Kate, seeing what had happened, jumped over into the foaming waves below. Lightning struck again, allowing Lucas to see in the night. The scrawny man’s crumpled form was over his shoulder as Lucas paddled back to shore. The water was ice cold, and Lucas’s limbs were all but numb. He could barely tell he was moving through the biting wind and currents. On the shore, Lucas began pushing small compressions on the man’s chest, pumping air in and water out, until he coughed.

Finally, Lucas slowed down, sat back, and sighed with relief. He hoped Cassandra was having as much luck with the couple at the top of the tower. Now, he couldn’t wait to see her. After being the hero, he could apologize for the stern way he’d talked to her, and she was sure to be proud of him. He carried the old man up the 272 steps to the top, and nearly collapsed from exhaustion. The old man was groaning and complaining the whole way up. Fortunately, Lucas’s legs were still numb from the water. “Lucas!” Willie cried, running to his brother. “Cass?” Lucas called. The rain was so thick now he couldn’t see outside. Setting the old man down next to Willie, he turned to go outside. He’d almost reached the door when Willie screamed. Lucas whirled around, to see the old man’s hands on Willie’s neck, and Willie lifted off the floor. “Why didn’t you let me die?!” The man shouted, shaking the boy. Lucas slugged the man across the face, causing him to drop Willie, but not to hit the floor. He stumbled across the room and, with all the strength he had left, pushed over the axel, holding the light. What would ever cause a man to behave in such a way? Lucas caught it before it hit the floor, but it took all his strength. The man kept walking around, knocking things over and breaking them. Slowly, Lucas realized he couldn’t hold on to the light. His hands sank to the floor, stuck between the axel and the ground. He grunted with effort. Willie gave another scream, and over the axel, Lucas could see the man choking him again. He tried to stand, to reach his young brother, but his right arm was stuck beneath the huge metal axel.

“Why didn’t you let me die?!” The man shouted again, walking towards the door. “No! Lucas screamed. “Please! He’s innocent! Put the boy down!” The man didn’t reply, but Lucas could still hear Willie screaming out of view. Suddenly, he remembered Cassandra. “Cassandra, stop him!” Lucas yelled. No reply came from outside, other than Willie’s screams. They started getting quieter, which confused Lucas until he realized what had happened. “No!” He shouted. The axel was cutting into his right arm, but with all his strength, he rolled it over it and off. He screamed as every single bone, nerve, vein, and tissue was broken at the wrist. His hand was hanging from his arm by a thread.

Lucas ran outside but was too late. Willie and the old man were gone. He glanced over the edge, but knew the young boy could never survive such a fall. He looked for Cassandra, but only when the lopsided light in the tower shone in their direction did Lucas see her, only for a moment in the light, hanging by her neck down the side. He collapsed. Not even tears would express what Lucas felt that night. Worse, the light had rolled in front of the door, trapping him alone in the tower until morning. The night was silent after this, in the old lighthouse, except for the music box, still playing the tune they so loved to dance to.


“Hey, Baby-Cakes!” Callie Baros cooed as she peeked into the bathroom of her student apartment that she shared with three other sophomores where Cake Flores was doing their hair. “Can you please not use so many electric appliances at once? Thank you~” “Hey, Callie~” Cake said in an imitation of Callie’s voice, “Can you not call me Baby-Cakes? It’s not my name, Cake is.” “Sure thing, BC. And remember to unplug.” She winked, then left. Cake rolled their eyes, then plugged in an extra hair dryer and turned it on just to spite Callie—bringing the total amount of running electrics to five in one outlet. The hair dryer wasn’t even theirs. It was Malvin’s. But they were just so sick of Callie trying to control everyone and everything in their apartment. They all paid rent in four equal ways, so they have equal say. Besides, what was the worst that could happen from a few appliances being used at the same time? Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Malvin Miles and Chen Jui-en weren’t having any luck getting along either. In one hand, Malvin held a blunt, in the other was a huge packed up tent. “Jui-en, don’t put your stuff in my room.” He shoved the camp gear at Jui-en. Jui-en pushed back. “I already told you, it’s not mine. It belonged to the previous tenants.” He coughed. “And stop smoking. That stuff irritates my lungs.” Malvin took a puff and blew it out. “You just need to get a taste for the finer things in life, Jui-en. Let me teach you.” “ Pass .” Malvin grunted. “Fine. Just take your stuff and stop making so much noise at night with your wood splicing things.” “I already work two jobs, the night is the only time I can make my wooden sculptures for class—” “Hey hey hey,” Callie cheered as she walked in upon hearing the sounds of conflict. “What’s going on here?” Her eyes gazed over the crusted dishes beside the sink. “Hey hey hey. Who didn’t put their dishes away?” Callie eyed Malvin. “What? It wasn’t me.” “Mal, you’re the only one in this apartment who puts chocolate sauce on pasta and eats it? When was the last time you had a vegetable?” He shrugged. With a sigh, Callie pulled out a notebook out of her bag and flipped to a color coded calendar. “Again, I offer a rotating cooking schedule that we contribute to with pre-agreed upon healthy meals to ensure—” “No,” Everyone in the apartment said in sync. Even Cake from the bathroom—who couldn’t hear her—felt it in their gut and called it out. Frowning, Callie pushed the notebook back into her bag. Her nose crinkled at an unfamiliar smell in the air. What was that? It

smelled like something was burning... “Baby-Cakes,” she exclaimed as she dashed towards the bathroom. Locked in eye contact with their reflection while applying a blend of yellow, white, purple, and black eyeshadow, Cake didn’t notice Callie or the smoking outlet. “Baby-Cakes, the outle—” Too late. Sparks flew as Callie tackled Cake to the ground to protect them. The apartment’s power blew out, but worse: Cake’s eyeshadow was smudged. “What the hell, Callie?” Cake demanded as they shoved Callie off them. “What happened to the lights?” In between short, rapid breathes, Callie tried to explain. “The appliances… the outlet… the lights… the fuses… the fuses…” With a calmer voice, Cake said, “Just take deep breaths.” “Everything… ruined….” The boys’ footsteps thudded up to the bathroom’s door. “What happened?” “I like I blew a fuse or something,” Cake said. Jui-en pulled out his phone and walked to a quieter space. “I’ll call the landlord. See how it’ll take to get fixed.” Malvin started puffing his shirt rapidly. “Does it feel hot in here? What’s going on with the AC? Does it feel hot in here?” Popping back in, Jui-en said, “The landlord said he’s calling a handyman now, but it’s gonna be a few hours. Might even take the whole night. The power’s out for the whole building. Local hotels are all booked too. Most kids are going to stay with their local family or their friends’ local family. Things are gonna get pretty hot tonight.” “Man, I don’t have anyone I can stay with near here,” Malvin whined, the weed amping up his usually calm nerves. “I’ve gonna get baked in this apartment like an oven.” “You’re already baked,” Cake said. “Oh, haha yeah.” They rolled their eyes. “What about all the camping gear the previous tenants left? It’ll be cooler outside. This building is designed to keep heat in .” “Camp gear…” Callie echoed. “Camp gear!” She snapped back to reality with a new fire in her eyes. “Yes yes yes, that’s a great idea, Ju-Ju.” “Don’t call me that.” Callie continued. “There’s a little forest behind the apartment complex. We can all go camping together like a family.” “...Ah… sure?” *** “Okay,” Callie wiped the sweat from her forehead and took a step back to admire her work—a half-standing four-person tent at the edge of the forest. “I think I did it. Thank the Youtube Gods.” Cake gave it a light poke and the entire thing came crashing down. “Nice work.” Her expression dropped into a frown. “Why would you do that?” “‘It was either going to collapse now or later with us inside. I choose now.” They checked their watch. As Callie struggled to untangle her mess of a tent, she asked, “Why do you keep checking your watch?” “I made some mocha-pecan ice cream bonbons and according to the internet, they’ll melt in a couple of hours. A fridge without power can only keep them cold for so long.” “Ooh ooh ooh! Sounds tasty. Who are they for?” Cake struggled. “Just myself I guess.” They shot Callie a glare. “But definitely not you and your stupid nicknames.” As they walked away, Malvin came running from the forest with a huge pile of sticks and a look on his face that sent a bad feeling directly to Callie’s stomach. “Ah, Mal? What are you doing?” “I’m gonna make a huge bonfire.” “Are—Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Callie’s knees wobbled under the weight of the tent. “I thought you were too hot earlier? Plus, we need a permit for a bonfire and I really don’t want to get kicked out of this ap—” He waved her off. “Psst. It’ll be fine.” Before Callie could counter, she buckled and the tent buried her alive. Callie’s blood boiled. The only question was: was it from being under a super hot tent or from the incredibly frustrating evening? One person took mercy on Ms. Control Queen and Jui-en pulled her out from under the tent after finding her flailing under it five minutes later. She gulped in the cooler-by-comparison-only air. “Thanks, Ju-Ju.” “You can thank me by not calling me that.” Instead of replying, Callie’s entire attention span was taken up by Malvin’s huge, on-the-verge of out of control bonfire. Her eye twitches and her gut worried for her security deposit. Before she marched over there, Callie took a few calming breaths and put on her happy smile. “Hey hey hey, guys,” she cheered as she walked over. “I don’t think we’re allowed to have this bonfire.” “It’s cool.” Malvin dipped a fresh blunt in the fire and lit it. “I gave the landlord a few ounces and he’s chill with it.” Her smile unnaturally stretched further across her cheeks like she was trying to sub out irritation for smiles. “Great. That’s just great .” Malvin patted the ground beside him. “Take a seat.” Reluctantly, Callie took a seat beside him. Cake was already sitting around the bonfire and Jui-en soon followed. Callie’s smile softened a little. “Hey hey hey, look at us. All here together like we’re at summer camp.” She clapped her hands. “We should play a game together.” “...ah…” Cake began, but Malvin cut her off.

“Truth or dare.” “Truth or dare it is,” Callie said. “Umm… Malvin, truth or dare?” “Dare.” “Oh oh oh, I dare you to talk in a British accent for the rest of the game.” “Alright, guv’nor,” he said in a British Accent. “Cake, truth or dare.” “Dare.” “Take a puff.” Malvin handed them his blunt. Callie piped up, “I’m not sure that’s a go—” Before she could finish, Cake gave the idea a careless shrug and took a puff. “Ugh, that tastes like a weird, smoky fruit.” “I know, right?” Cake rubbed their hands together. “Callie,” they said with a devious smirk, “Truth or dare.” “Dare,” Callie said eagerly. “I dare you to never any of those terrible nicknames ever again.” Her face fell. “...what?” “Oh yeah,” Jui-en jumped in, “They’re just awful. We tell you we hate them—” “I don’t mind,” Malvin added. “This isn’t about you, Malvin,” Jui-en said, “Cake and I don’t like ours. Why do you insist on calling us them?” Callie shifted uncomfortably. “Well… you see… the thing is…” “Just spit it out already,” Cake said. “I always say friends and family calling each other nicknames on TV and I thought if I called you guys nicknames we could like start our own family…” Her voice softened to an embarrassed whisper at the end. “I’ve just never really had a family,

okay? I’ve just been surfacing from foster family to foster family until they aged me out of the system. I thought this could be my chance… I’m sorry.” “I pick truth,” Cake said, taking the attention off Callie as her eyes became puffy. As much as they and Callie didn’t see eye to eye, Cake still didn’t like seeing the girl on the verge of tears anymore while everyone stared at her slack-jawed by her sudden burst of honesty. “No one asked you—” Malvin began, confused. Cake ignored him. “What’s the biggest lie I tell myself, you ask? That my parents kicked me out for being ace and nonbinary when in reality I came out as ace a long time before coming out as nonbinary, but they never excepted it as a ‘real thing’. Only after they found out I was nonbinary did they decide they hated me and kicked me to the curb.” They gestured their hands to the fire. “And now it’s all out there. Let the flames consume it and burn that stupid past to the ground. Honestly, I’m over not being over it.” “Truth,” Jui-en said. “My parents didn’t approve of me majoring in art so they cut me off. I work two jobs just to survive on top of my increasing college debt.” He threw a stick in the fire. “Let it burn.” After finally catching on to what the others were doing, Malvin joined in. “My parents were the strictest growing up and they always fought. I switched coasts just to get away from them and get a taste of freedom. I’m never going back.” Without thinking, he tossed the joint in. “Burn.” All four of them stared at the flames as it gently crackled, letting the weight of each others’ words set in. The reasons why they agreed to camp together even though they didn’t always get along. They didn’t have a choice. “So…” Callie said slowly as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “We’re all on our own, huh? Without a family?” “Pretty much.” “You could say that.” “Yup.” “And, we’ve been bad roommates to each other, too, even though we’ve been struggling with the same thing,” Callie said. “Pretty much.” “‘You could say that.” “Yup.” “You know what that means?” Cake asked. “No…?” They picked up a log and chucked it into the bonfire. “We get to fucking burn things out of suppressed teenage angst!” Malvin leapt up from his spot. “I’ll get beers!” And sprinted back into the apartment complex. *** The course of the next four hours looked a little something like this… “DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!” *** Slurs, “Do you think the fire will hurt if I touch it?” Five seconds past… “Ow. Haha, yeah it does!” *** Callie slowly caressed Cake’s face. “Your eyeshadow is just so pretty. Your parents are idiots.” “No, you’re pretty and your parents are idiots.” “They’re not idiots, they’re just dead.” “Ooh yeah.” They glanced over at Malvin stacking a pyramid of beer bottles. “Hey Malvin, you’re pretty too!” “Your eyelashes are so long and luscious!” “Thannnkkkkkkssssss…” *** “I got the mocha-pec… ahhh, what were they called again?” Cake asked. “Never mind. I got the ice cream balls.” “ICE CREAM BALLS!” The rest screamed. *** Jui-en stretched his arms over the other three. “I love you guys so much~” “We love you too!” *** “Hey hey hey.” Callie pointed at their lit-up apartment building. “The power’s back on. Should we go inside?” “Nah, my guy.” “Let’s drink ‘til dawn.” “YEAH!” *** The next morning, they woke up to the biggest hangover of their lives in their heads and the biggest smiles of their lives on their faces. “Oh, issa you…” Callie whispered as she smooshed Cake’s make-up smeared face with her hand. “And issa you.” Cake put their hand on Callie’s face and they both laughed. *** It took the entire day for their hangovers to recover enough for Jui-en to use his wood-carving machines without everyone protesting out of pain. When he did, he went right to work on carving a new place to put on the apartment’s door. Once it was done, the four roommates gathered outside the front door to hang it. The plaque read: The Baros-Flores-Miles-Chen Family’s Apartment . “So I can keep calling you the nicknames?” “No, Ju-Ju’s gotta go-go.” “The same with Baby-Cakes.” “Mal’s cool though.” “Alright.” *** They worked for that plaque as their new bonds grew. As they rented a new storage space for the camping gear. As Malvin finally did his dishes and smoked outside only. As Jui-en sound-proofed his room. As Cake learned to limit their running electric appliances. And as Callie finally learned to be less controlling. Before they knew it, they had earned that plaque on their front door. And without a doubt, that night, was the start of their found family.


Warning: some people die. The two nurses on night duty stood in the doorway of the children’s ward as still as snowmen, and just as cold. The older one was taller, thin as a rail, and stooped in the shoulders from a lifetime of bending to the gossip of the other nurses in St. Nivelles Memorial, the other was a plump young brunette with a dimpled face more suited to giggling than fretting. With mouth barely moving, the young nurse, Evangeline, whispered, “That one’s a goner. Sad…so young he is.” “Aye. The prime of his life. But Marley never lies.” Moonlight shone through the window and across the floor of the sixteen-bed ward. The two beds by the window, like most in the large room, were occupied, but in the one to the right of the window, a black cat sat upon the chest of the patient like a fat black spider. Its paws were curled under its chest, its tail around its haunches, the tip waving rhythmically like a larghissimo metronome. Evangeline ‘tsked’ and the cat’s ears twitched. Maggie pulled the shorter woman back out of sight. She said, “I’ll alert Mr. Peeves when he comes in. Come now Ev, let’s finish our rounds an have us a cuppa tea.” Mr. Peeves was the head orderly. A large, grizzled man lumpy with muscles in odd places and a rubbery scowling face topped with a fat grey unibrow. At the first grey light of dawn, Nurse Maggie accompanied Peeves and his assistant to the poor boy’s bed. In the doorway Peeves halted, his assistant, whom he called Smiley, bumped into his backside. Maggie said, “Oh for heaven’s sake. It’s just a cat. He’s not even here. You know he leaves when the last breath is expelled.” Peeves muttered, “You mean stolen.” Maggie shook her head and rolled her eyes. Smiley snickered. Peeves whacked Smiley on his vast forehead with the heel of his hand, but Smiley kept on with his idiot’s grin, a slick of saliva glistened on his protruding lower lip. Peeves growled. “Shaddap. That thing’s not just a cat. Mayhap not a cat at all. Steals the breath he does. It’sa spawn of something from hell, it is. Mayhap Lucifer himself.” Maggie said, “Oh Mr. Peeves…granted Marley is a tad bit unusual. But if he’s anything other-worldly, he’s an angel. An angel of death that gives comfort in one’s last moments on this earth.” Peeves shuddered and cautiously stepped into the room. “Pah!” He squatted low to look under the beds, his knees cracked like pistol shots in the quiet, early dawn stillness. The squealing behind him made him jump and curse under his breath. It was Smiley wheeling in the gurney; Smiley giggled, and Peeves turned on him. ‘whack ,’ another blow to his head. “I tole you. Shaddap. And grease them wheels for Godsake.” As the odd pair wheeled the gurney down the hallway towards the back entrance of St. Nivelles, Maggie greeted the day shift nurses as they came on duty. The pretty blond said, “We erd the cat did its job again last night.” “Yes Francis, Marley attended the young lad with the lung sickness early this morning. The poor lad sounded like he was drowning…and oh, all the blood he was coughing up. All night he went on. When he quieted a little after one, Ev went an checked on him. Marley was with him.” “Ahhhhh,” both day nurses exclaimed in unison. “Yes, the cat comforted him to be sure. The young mister had a smile on his face.” Later that evening, Maggie headed to the C Ward which consisted of four private rooms in a short hall. The C Ward was called ‘The Silk’ for often its temporary residents wore fancy bed clothing of rich fabrics. She was surprised to hear Peeves’ gravelly voice from the doorway so stopped and peeked in.

The large man sat at the edge of the bed nodding to the middle-aged man in it. Maggie could decipher no words, but the low voices made icy fingers tinkle down the piano keys of her spine. Peeves was not one with bedside manner, she herself found him repulsive and smarmy. She grew irritated with herself for halting in her duties, shook her head, and entered the room, “Ahem,” she said, clearing her throat. Peeves turned around and stood. His cold eyes under the fat grizzly brow threw sparks of malice as his lips widened into a grin. His few remaining teeth stood like mildew blackened tombstones in a long-forgotten graveyard. She shuddered and said, “Mr. Peeves, be on your way, there are two beds in Ward A that require attention.” “Ma’am,” he said with a nod and a smirk. He picked up the empty mug from the small bedside table and departed. A tall, grey, beaver-felt top hat sat on the table. It had a maroon velvet hatband; it was the hat of a well to do gentleman. “I hope he wasn’t too offensive,” she said to the gentleman in the bed. Mr. Burton turned his rather handsome face in her direction and said sleepily, “No…fine…tea…” Maggie frowned and held Mr. Burton’s wrist to check his pulse. It was slow and regular, but she was concerned about the fogginess that the man exhibited. He was to be released the next morning- had received a clean bill of health from the doctor earlier that evening. “Hm. Well, you get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, you’re going home.” “Hmmmm.” He snugged down lower in his quilt and drifted off. At dawn, Maggie greeted the nurses coming on duty as well as the doctor. Dr. Weatherby was a stout man in his mid-fifties with beady black bespectacled eyes and a fringe of shoulder length white hair that hung from his bald pate like a privacy curtain around a bed. He had inherited the hospital, the cemetery behind it, and the admirable home located behind the wrought iron fence that surrounded all three. Maggie said, “You’re up and at it early today Dr. Weatherby.” “Nurse Maggie. Uh…yes. We are admitting a new patient to the D Ward this morning. An elderly woman.” It was Dr. Weatherby’s duty to be present when new arrivals came in. Over the years he had grown lax in that duty, barely concealing an apathetic attitude towards the impoverished, a characteristic Maggie found appalling in a doctor. He was adamant of the duty when it concerned newcomers to the C Ward and also the D, which consisted of four rooms with two beds each. The D Ward was known as ‘the Golden Hall’ as it catered to those in their golden years. It was there that Marley was found most often. Maggie said, “Nothing too serious I hope.” “Stomach pains, some vertigo…one never knows at this point.” “Well, I shall meet this new patient this evening upon my return to duty.” “Yes. Go on home now, you look dreadfully tired.” Maggie cringed at the doctor’s tactlessness. He was this way with all the patients…except the C and D Wards; she supposed it was why she was extra kind to them all. She could put herself in other’s shoes and being ill was no fun at all. Later that evening Maggie headed back to the hospital for her night shift. She rented a room in a small house on the other side of town two miles from the hospital. To lesson her walk time by ten minutes, she cut through the alley alongside the doctor’s house and then walked through the graveyard. She knew her way through the dark graveyard well but carried a small lantern anyways, lest a fresh grave pop up in her path. She was walking briskly through the alley when the sound of men’s voices made her stop halfway. When she recognized them, she put out the light and crept to end of the alley where she could hear the men but not see them. Peeves raised his voice, “It’s me neck on th’ line, doctor . I wan me fair compence!” Dr. Weatherby said, “I hired you when no one else would. We had an agreement, and I shan’t back down, sir.” “Ahhhg!” Peeves horked up what sounded like an oyster and spat wetly. “We’ll see bout that den.” Mr. Peeves clumped down the back stairs as the door closed and the light through the window by it went out. The vile man was wearing a tall grey top hat. Alarm bells rang in Maggie’s head like the town was on fire. She decided to take the long way around. The last thing she wanted was to come upon Peeves in the graveyard alone. At the hospital, Francis ran to her quite upset. Maggie said, “Mr. Burton…?” “Yes. I found Marley with im two hours ago. I don understand…he was recovered was he not?” “Yes. He was. Where is Mr. Peeves?” “Ah…last I saw, he were in The Silk, makin up poor Mr. Burton’s room I spect.” “Thanks Fran.” Maggie bent to pet Marley who’d come up beside her silent as a shadow. “Good kitty.” She then headed to meet the new patient. On her way to the D Ward, Maggie peeked into the room in the C where Mr. Burton had passed. The bed was freshly made, the vase on the table empty of flowers. She continued on towards the softly lit room the new patient had all to herself. Peeves was there, standing by her bed, putting Mr. Burton’s white roses and pink begonias in the vase on the table by the window. The elderly woman clapped with delight and said, “How kind of you sir. And that doctor too. So kind.” Maggie grimaced. Peeves bowed and said, “It’s my pleasure Lady Maude. Oh. This ere’s Maggie, she’ll be carin ferya this evenin.” “Nurse Maggie,” Maggie corrected. Peeves left and Maude said, “What a nice gentleman. He has brought me warm milk and an extra pillow…I didn’t even ask for such things.” “Yes, quite a pip that one. How are you feeling Mrs. Hodges?” “Oh, just Maude please. My tummy hurts a bit but I’m no longer dizzy. I fell you know. Whacked my backside pretty good. The doctor says I had an allergic reaction to something I ate.” “Is that so? Well, I am happy it’s nothing serious. You’ll be out of here in no time.” Maude laughed. Amidst all her wrinkles she had sparkly blue eyes the color of a summer sky. Her teeth were pearly white and perfectly straight as expensive dentures ought to be. She had a few wisps of light auburn hair across the top of her thinning scalp. She said, “I’m not sure I want to leave so quickly.” Maggie understood. She was not the first lonely elderly person she’d met here. “You’ve no family here then?” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Alas, no. My dear Robert passed…oh…going on eight months now. Our one surviving son was awarded an Earldom down in Lanksmithy, don’tchoo know. It’ll be four days afore he can make it here. Though I expect that woman he’s with will have a frazzle at him going at all. She’s with child don’tchoo know. It’s just me and Bertraum- he’s getting on in years too now- and Miss Mary, she’s his grand-daughter.” “I see. Well, Lady Maude, perhaps I will come call on you some afternoon, I’ll bring lemoncakes.” Maude clapped her hands endearingly like a little girl. “Oh, I would so love that.” “I’ve got to be going,” Maggie said, rising. “I’ll check on you in an hour or so.” “Oh, Nurse Maggie?” “Yes?” “That little kitty, the black one…does it belong to Mr. Peeves?” “Why do you ask?” “Well, it seems to follow that man everywhere.” “Hm. Marley is his name and no. The cat belongs to no one, he is a free spirit.” Maggie picked up the ceramic mug on the night table and said, “This is cold now. I’ll go warm it for you.” “But---” “I insist.” Before Maude could protest any further, she whisked out of the room. In the apothecary, Maggie smelled the milk. Peeves had added vanilla…and almond extract? She dumped the milk into a wastebucket and heated a fresh one, adding vanilla but finding no almond. She was perceiving Mr. Peeves’ odd behavior had gone from disarming to quite disturbing. She found Evangeline in the children’s ward and said, “Please take this to Lady Maude and sit by her side this morning.” “Yes ma’am.” She took the mug and bustled off, her backside jiggling like fresh goat’s cheese in big round bags, and her shoes squeaking like mice on the tile floor. The children’s ward was nearly full, the common flu was going around, and the A Ward with its sixteen beds was always near full.

At five am Maggie was waiting for a young boy to finish with his bedpan. She looked towards the hallway to give him privacy and glimpsed Peeves skulking by. Maggie’s exhausted eyes perked open as she witnessed the small black cat-shaped shadow padding silently behind. “Com’on now Jimmy, pinch it off if ye must.” The boy grunted and Maggie took the bedpan and placed it on the dry sink hutch next to the door. She flew down the corridor and rounded the doorway to Maude’s room. She cried out in horror when she saw Marley laying on the old woman’s chest. Evangeline was fast asleep in the chair by the bed. She shook her and became afraid she, too was a goner. She slapped Ev across the face hard, the red welt sprang up against her pale skin, even in the low light of the lantern, it was quite a contrast. Ev’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh, thank god!” “Wh-wh-oh my.” Ev clutched at her brow. “I don’t feel so…” then she screamed when she saw the cat upon the old woman’s chest. The two nurses held each other until the cat departed. Maggie said, “Fetch the orderlies.” She then went back to the apothecary and discovered the wastebucket had been emptied. “Curses! I am so stupid!” She heard the gurney squeaking by in the hallway . ‘Good ole obedient Smiley,’ she thought.

In the alley alongside the doctor’s house, Maggie crouched and waited. As the sky lightened by dismal degrees, at last she detected the orderlies guiding a gurney over the combed dirt path towards a mound of dark earth she hadn’t detected in the dark. It no doubt had a six-foot deep, rectangular pit afront it. Dr. Weatherby came out from his darkened porch wrapped in a maroon and chocolate paisley robe lined with soft tan fur. The two men with the body halted at the grave. Smiley took off the way they’d come. The doctor passed a small item to Peeves.

Peeves said, “Thankee sir, and now we are done.” “Wh-wh-what the blue blazes man?! You’re far from done here!” “I’ve got me a mansion to attend to.” He held up the small item, in the strengthening light Maggie saw it was a key. The doctor tried to snatch it back, but Peeves pocketed it quickly. “Fill that grave!” Dr. Weatherby demanded and pointed to the grave, the body, and then stopped to get control of his temper. Maggie saw from her perspective the doctor drawing a pistol from the sash behind him. Before the doctor could fire, Peeves blew his head off with his own pistol, one he’d concealed alongside the body on the gurney. A doctor was no match for a career thug. The doctor’s headless body crumpled. Peeves laughed and turned towards the path that led back to the hospital.

Maggie crept out of the alley and ran into the graveyard. She quickly took in the scene: sheet covered body on a narrow table with wheels, an open grave containing an empty pine box, the lid lying against the mound of fresh dirt, and another body headless and heaped. She hefted the doctor’s fallen pistol and ran after Peeves. The evil man raced along the moonlit path through the cemetery, but he halted and shrieked, the sound comically high-pitched like a girl’s. Maggie saw a cat-shaped shadow in the path in front of him.

Before he could shoot the cat, Maggie cried out, “No!” Peeves whirled around. Maggie could not conceal herself any longer in the dark, dawn had come full on to display the graveyard scene in stark reality. He fired at Maggie. She felt a fiery, acidy burning in her upper arm. She screamed and threw herself to the ground, knowing she had to use her brain to defeat one such as him. As he crept closer, she remained still. As he peered over her, she held her breath. As Peeves knelt to brain her with his empty gun, she raised the pistol in her hand. He saw and dealt her a blow across her face. Maggie’s gun went off. When she sat up, she saw the awful man slumped in a heap next to her, his meaty arm across her thighs. Maggie wasted no time. She dragged the man who was twice her size down the path back to the grave. She dumped his body into the pine box in it and dragged the lid over.

It was full daylight by the time she finished. Her mind was racing. She needed to contact the sheriff and show him the graveyard and care for Lady Maude and…and…she collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed. As she sat in the dirt path and cried, Marley came out from the shadows between the gravestones and sat upon the fresh dirt of the grave. “Oh my. Seems he was indeed alive.”