Normally, my alarm would start singing at 7:01AM alerting me that it was time to start the routine of high school. I would check my phone for the typical “good morning” text from you before the long walk down my cold hallway into the bathroom. I would turn the shower on, and like clock work my mom would start brewing coffee to bring me out of my morning zombie state. After the thirty minute shower you would send me a second text saying to, “hurry up” and not be late, as I so often was. These messages gave meaning to this monotonous routine, because I knew light was at the end of the tunnel when I would finally see your face at school. Then, after picking out what I thought to be a presentable outfit I would make my way downstairs to the kitchen around 7:45, thus giving me the exact time to make it to school right as the first period bell rang at 8:05. I would grab my coffee and hug my Mother good bye as she give me her usual request to give you a hug from her. I would get to school around 8:01 and wait for you by your locker until you pushed through those two grey doors at 8:04 without fail. I was always bothered by the light illuminating from behind you, as the doors slowly shut, that would cast a shadow upon your face so I could not see you as soon as I wanted. However, today my alarm clock was screaming at 7:01 and the shower never seemed to reach a temperature to warm my cold skin. The coffee my mother made just ran through my zombified organs failing to bring life to any part of my petrified body. My hug good bye with my mom lacked the tenderness as I noticed she chocked on her usual request for me. When I got to school I walked past your locker, because I knew you would not be coming in those grey doors within the next minute. Light would not shine through the hallways today and I would not be irritated from the shadow covering your gracious face. Today you would not come to school, and I would only see you in the picture frames and slide show that the school had put together for your ceremony this morning. Everyone’s eyes should have been on the beautiful memorial they had set up for you, the vibrant arrangement of roses surrounded photos of you at your most joyous moments, but instead they were watching me. Every one waiting for me to breakdown, cry, do anything besides remain emotionless. What they do not understand is that you gave me the source of all my emotions. Everything from my happiness and love when I would hear your laugh to the sadness and regret whenever I was the source of your sorrows. I could only feel a void in my chest where all of those feelings used to be. My focus remained on that photo that sat on the table of roses, which captured your freckles perfectly, as the presentation began and the teachers began talking for what would seem like hours about how great of a student you were. I could not seem to listen as my memory of you always expressing your disinterest in their totalitarian mindset overshadowed anything escaping their lips. The irony of these people, who were always reprimanding you for your free thought, are now explaining what a gift you were to have in their classrooms. The school cheerleaders in the front row could be seen sobbing hysterically. I think Amanda, The Captain, how she liked to be addressed by her mindless squad of blondes, acknowledged your existence one day in homeroom while you your fixing your hair with your phones camera. I remember how confused you were when she offered you some eyeliner as if you have ever worn make up since you have attended Patterson High. Well people deal with death differently I guess. “Bro, let’s get out of here,” Jason whispered, bringing me back from a trance state. He was the only friend I have at this school since you left. We met in the sixth grade when Greg was smashing my face into the summer asphalt for the third time that week. Jason, a significantly larger man, mostly due to being held back twice in kindergarten, grabbed Greg by the shirt and threw him to the ground. I still remember the look on his face as he too knew what the scent of dirt mixed with blood smelled like. Jason and I were essentially inseparable from that point forward. “Go where? The whole school is in the auditorium and will definitely notice me leaving in the middle of her ceremony,” I whispered back. Just then a video started playing about the dangers of texting and driving. Unreal, using you to initiate fear in kids of something that anyone with a brain realizes, but never seems to care until it’s too late and their phone is flying through the windshield as they collide into a stopped car. They are just diminishing your tragic accident to nothing other than a simplistic human error. “Just follow me, man,” Jason insisted as he attempted to squeeze under the handrail of the bleachers. I tried to nonchalantly follow, but Jason’s rather large figure made this an infeasible task. I can only assume my fellow peers thought I needed a moment to my self once this horrendous video started playing. We left through the back doors unnoticed by any faculty and continued down the hall. The hall decorated in posters made for you that I had not noticed this morning. “RIP Jazz”, “We miss you dearly.” When the hell did you start going by Jazz? I can only wonder how many likes these attention whores got on social media for posting these when they were finished. People love to use death as a publicity stunt. “Ok, where are you taking me?” I asked Jason as my heart sank. As I asked this question we had turned down a hallway. Your hallway. The one with locker 42. The locker that I was too afraid to stop by this morning. Sure, on the outside it was as dismal as the rest of them, but once it was opened your vibrant individualism radiated through the hall. It is your locker, or more correctly, was your locker. “Well, it won’t be long before they clean out Jasmine’s locker for her family, if they haven’t already, and I thought you might want something for yourself,” Jason sincerely explained. “Thanks bro, but you don’t think I would have done that already if I had known her combo?” I rhetorically asked. You always enjoyed keeping secrets from me insisting it kept the passion in our relationship alive. If I ever needed an explanation you would simply state that once you know everything about a person then there is no element of surprise, and you equated the lack of surprise to the lack of passion. “Well that’s what these are for my friend,” He smiled as he reached in his coat pocket pulling out a stethoscope. I laughed at the simplicity of his plan. “I hear a stick of dynamite can work just as well. Do you want me to keep a look out for any coppers?” I asked. “Well, I would’ve asked but being a white male in the state that you’re in I knew that teachers would be keeping a sharper eye on you than usual.” Jason knew just how my humor worked, and besides you, he was the only one that could execute a joke with such subtle darkness. I remember being at his Grandmother’s eulogy when he jokingly stated how surprised he was that she had made it to her late 60s while being as promiscuous as Eazy-E. Most likely due to him not accurately gauging the age of his audience nobody laughed, and they just blew it off as an immature coping mechanism. Again, everyone deals with death differently. “And relax, champ, I watched a couple YouTube videos on it the other night. Hell, you can learn more from there than anything these dense teachers spew at us,” Jason said with a tone of a bad con-artist trying to scalp tickets outside of a sold-out show. As he started to fidget with your lock I kept watch for any faculty members walking around searching for delinquents alike. In reality I was just hoping to see you come around the corner, hair still wet form the shower, your freckles on your cheek that presented your natural beauty, wearing your favorite pair of converse with a simple T-shirt and blue jeans. Then I see your face lighten when you look up from the floor and see me standing by your locker. You say nothing, but give me that smile that could clear up the rainy skies in Seattle. “And, ya, I’m the shit!” Jason exclaims, snapping me back to reality as I hear the padlock crash down to the floor. In pure astonishment that this oversimple plan worked I reached for the locker handle and the sheer coldness ran revelations through my body as I understood that your hand has not touched this since last Friday. The door slowly creaked open revealing everything remained just the way you left it. The collage of your favorite bands and moments at Patterson High line the door with your favorite picture in the center. The one I gave you the last time I saw you. It was of us laying in the warm sand at our favorite beach on a slightly overcast Tuesday. I remember how red your cheeks were when I gave you this small gesture of my kindness, as you adored my photography. “A perfect fit for a perfect photo,” your words still echoing through my head. “Are you ok, buddy? Do you need me to give you a minute?” Jason said as I noticed his hand was on my shoulder in an attempt to be comforting. “Ya, I just haven’t seen her locker since last Friday,” I calmly explained. My eyes moved from the door that froze our happiest moments in time to the cheerless bureaucracy of school textbooks, US History, Literature, and Trigonometry all vertically stacked together. However, sandwiched between the unread Dante’s Inferno, and the cold wall of locker 42, rested a withered black leather notebook that had the word “Dreams” written on the spine. I vaguely remember you talking to me about the joy you recently began experiencing from recording your dreams, but I had hardly gave it a second thought until today. I reluctantly pulled this book from your locker as I did not wish to encroach on your privacy, however, I needed something of yours. A small feather bookmark floated down to the floor inducing the realization that this was the journal you always had your face in between class. This too was another one of your secrets that you kept from me. I hope you don’t mind know given our circumstances.


I was standing on the edge of an open field. Shaking enough to start an earthquake. Asking myself how I got into this trouble in the first place? Trying not to show any fear as I heard the hammer of the gun being pulled back into cooking position.  The gun was close enough I could reach out and touch it. A large 44 magnum chrome plated, you could hunt the big five with this gun.  Looking at the barrel and asking her,  "Do you really need a gun like that?" It's for your own good she said My mind flashed back to the day it all started. I had just won the court case of the year. It had been a high profile divorce. The mayor had been caught with a lady of the evening. Tv and newspapers had spent the week outside the courthouse.  Alot of secrets came out.  The ex wife was later charged with embezzlement of a local charity. I had just left the press conference and returned to my office. Checking in with my secretary as I sat down to return my calls there was a commotion in the outer office.  Suddenly the door burst open and a woman came storming in. The secretary said she tried to stop her. I motioned it was ok. Slamming papers on my desk and screaming.  "I want a divorce." My forest response was, " but we're not even married. "  'I know that you imbecile from my husband."  " OH that's better. " I said. She just glared at me for a second. "I've been told you are the best in town at this." It was.  "I am good at my job," I replied. After A quick introduction I learned her name was Sue Highridge. I knew that name. Her husband was a prominent contractor for the city. I made a quick observation of her. Taller than most women with rough hands. She was not afraid to work with them or get them dirty. Well toned muscles, would not have been surprised if she carried a weapon. My kind of girl. I listened with interest at her story. How unfaithful he had been, his extravagant spending, and holding back on his business with her although she was half owner. When she was done.  I asked her what she wanted? "Half of everything, " she said. That meant the classic cars,  house,  secret bank accounts, and any stocks. This was a little bit of a surprise.  Usually the wives wanted everything and put the guy on the street. She just wanted her share. I could tell money was no problem for her. Sue filled out the proper papers and I asked her, "was she afraid of what he might do when she gave him the papers?" Without blinking and eye Sue said, "No he knows better." Quickly putting my P.I. on the husband's trail.  I also had Sue checked out clean came back stamps on all the reports,  except one.  Sue had been citated with a disturbing the peace at a local restaurant. Seems she had bumped into her husband mistress. It had not been a peaceful encounter. After a few months of working together, I found we had some of the same interest in common. We both had started to like each other. Going against all my best judgment we went out. Sue was intelligent,  fun,  and a bit of a short fuse with the ability to back it up. I was getting in deep. I tried to call it off. The way she squeezed my hand and told me it was a bad idea had me worried. Her husband's lawyer had also put a tail on Sue. I had recognized him from a previous case. So the cat was out of the bag. When I mentioned it to Sue she asked,  "should we be worried?"  "Not at this point," I said. But that soon changed as we continued to see each other. Her husband's lawyer had put up a good fight. I was afraid he would bring up our friendship, but everyone he looked over at Sure he changed the subject. She had wanted to go out after the win getting everything she wanted. Telling her I had lose end to wrap up we could meet later. Later came one evening in the parking lot. I saw a flash of red a a classic firebird convertible candy apple red with a pearl finish pulled up behind my car. I was mesmerize as Sue stepped out of the car. Even though my mind screamed no I walked over and slowly started sliding my hands over the ventral curves of her body. My pulse was pounding as I felt the warmth coming off her body. Leaning into her wanting to wrap my arms around and caress every inch of her.  The world around me disappeared. I didn't care who was watching a I slowly unhooked her top and started folding it down. My body betrayed me as I pulled out my phone.  I got to have a photo of you baby.  I handed the phone to Sue asking her to take a shot of me with her car. Oh yeah,  Sue looked good too. She snatched the phone from my hand and took a photo or two. It was a whirlwind affair. I could not get enough of the car.  Little did I notice the jealousy in Sue's eyes until it was too late. She had picked me up on a Friday night as usual in the red firebird to go eat. This time she headed to the open road towards the country. Looking into her eyes and only getting a cold look of darkness back sent a chill down my spine. Traveling well above the speed limit I did not dare jump out. She quickly turned off the main road heading out into no where. She had barely some the whole time. Suddenly the car slides to a stop at the dead end of the road. Turning asking the tree line we finally stopped. I had never seen her like this. It was not a request but an order. My hands were starting to shake as I stepped out. It was dark and cold.  The car was still running a she got out holding a her purse.  I was still beside the car when she said to stand in front of the headlights. Doing as ordered I stepped in the glow of the lights. My heart skipped a beast and my stomach turned sick as I watched her pull a gun from her purse. "Sue, come on, it didn't have to be like this."  I heard the shaking in my voice.  She pulled back the hammer and raised the gun. "Quit your sniffling be a man about this," she said.  "It ends here now." Looking me straight in the eye no sign of emotion no hint of regret she leveled the gun.  I closed my eyes and heard a deafening blast. I could feel the cold fingers of death on my face. "Wake up.  Come on you can do it." Sure was saying.  My mind was a blur. " It's cold or here," she said. "What happened,"  I asked? You passed out you dummy,  Sue said as she helped me back to my feet.  "I am not shot,"  I asked? No! Why should you be? But the gun,  I saw you shoot me." I said. Then I saw the steam coming from under the hood of the car.  You passed out just as I turned to shoot the car. Still puzzled I asked why? You were becoming obsessed with the car.  Quite frankly I was getting jealous. She smiled at me as I still tried to get my brain around all this. " How are we getting back,"  I asked? I have a back up car on the side of the entry road. She said.  Let's go,  I'm getting cold. Just think years from now we will be laughing about this,  Sue said as we walked toasts the other car hand in hand.


There was no bloodshed, splattered walls, or screams of agony. It was the worst battlefield Cerelia had ever stepped foot in. She had walked knee-deep in the blood of her brothers, wrapped their wounds while the light in their eyes faded with the whispers of the lost flying by her ears. Hundreds of dying wishes intrusted in her heart, their lasts breaths of life seen only by her. Cerelia had wept for the lovers of those she had never met before the day she broke the news that families would never reunite. She prayed for the survivors she carried in her arms, just for them to never smile the same again. Cerelia always thought she had seen the worst, but each new fight always proved there was more evil in the world. A symphony played around the twirling skirts, each woman outshining the next with lace and jewels embroidered throughout silk fabric. If she were to close her eyes, the mix of different perfumes would have transported her from the ballroom to a garden of exotic flowers. Cerelia would give anything to be there instead of here where she was about to dip her soul into bloodshed of her own. “Are you going to ask me to dance?” Princess Amelia asked with her stone-cold face, one that was hiding a sinister smile. Her act had always been fake, but her smile was too real. Cerelia offered her hand up in the same fashion a suitor would have and awkwardly led her Princess to the dancefloor. Cerelia’s father had always warned her about getting involved with the royals. He lived his life in severance to the King without ever having a say in his own choices, burdened by the hierarchy and meeting the ever-so-demand needs of his family. Cerelia had been determined to follow her father’s words to her own grave, but that became impossible the day Princess Amelia showed her interest in the simple healer. The youngest of the King’s daughter never listened and ended up seeking out Cerelia’s services so often it was hard to ever say no to any request. Princess Amelia shined brighter than any light. Her skin was irresistible to the hand. When she called Cerelia to her private chambers, there was nothing more Cerelia could do to stop herself from falling. “M’Lady, are you not afriad that the King will repremend you for not dancing with a suitor?” Cerelia whispered in fear that somehow the Royal Highness would hear her faint voice from across the vast room. The Princess scoffed as she spun slowly to the music, her purple gown glimmering in the light of the room. “My father is too distracted with a bottle of wine, besides he cares too much about my brother coronation celebration to worry about who I am dancing with,” Princess Amelia moved the hand on Cerelia’s shoulder and used it to push Cerelia’s hand down harder on her waist. “I wouldn’t let him stop me anyways.” Many feared the fierce hand that King used to rule, the hand that sent so many to their graves through war and starved the poor peddlers on the streets. Cerelia learned to fear him after watching her father being sent to death in a battle that never needed to be fought. Princess Amelia never knew to have that fear of her father, and that both enticed and scared Cerelia. “Are you sure that you want to go through with this, M’Lady? What if soemthing were to go wrong and it was lead back to us? Do you not fear being executed for treason?” Cerelia scarcely whispered as she clung to Princess Amelia. “Stop with this nonsense, you said it yourself that the poison has no cure, does it not?” Princess Amelia tilted her head as she glared in on Cerelia as her mind filled with horrid memories of the many souls she tried to save from the very poison she was about to use to kill many more. She weakly nodded as Princess Amelia gave a wicked smile. “Then all who drink the celebratory wine shall be brought to their death and then the throne shall be mine. All shall go just as we have planned, we have many who stand behind us.” “Of course M’Lady, I shall not question you again.” Cerelia lowered her head, red in shame, before a hand lifted her chin to meet Princess Amelia’s gaze. It was the same look her father would use when he saw her mother, more passionate than any kiss Cerelina had shared with her in the darkness of the night. “Question me all you wish, I shall never be as rigid as my father is. You shall rule by my side not as just a consort, but as my equal.” “Do you truly mean that, M’Lady?” “With all of my heart, for I am yours as you are mine.” The whole room disappeared as the song came to its end. It was just the two of them, dancing together as if they weren’t about to commit treason against their kingdom. For a moment, just a single moment, this was no longer a bloody battlefield. Cerelia had taken a vow to use her hands only to heal. Still, Princess Amelia had brought her reason to defy her own words. “Thank you for the dance,” Princess Amelia curtseyed, smirking as attention was turning to the servants who were passing around goblets of silvery wine to grabbing hands who hardly waited to sip the celebratory brew. She grabbed a goblet of her own before passing it off to another guest who was more than eager to take hold of his oblivious death.

The two lovers watched as the King rattled off his congratulations to his eldest son, preaching his upcoming marriage and coronation where he shall become the new King. Cerelia could feel her heart shaking, watching the mouths of royals, members of the council, and nobles sip her elixir of death. So many of those she had been called to before to heal them from sickness, now here she stands watching them take death from her hands. “This is beauty,” Princess Amelia spoke as she took Cerelia’s hand, grounding her back to the reason for it all. “Now, all we must do is wait.”


Sean Morrison was walking to town with his son Daniel. They both loved going to their favorite sandwich shop out by Ashsoll Run River. Daniel would always laugh and giggle about the ridiculous name, and Sean would too, but being the adult, he had to carry himself more seriously. It was a warm spring day, and it was perfect for relaxing on the park bench and watch the river roll by. Sean would like to tear little bits of bread off his sandwich and throw it to the ducks, thinking about the inevitable. Daniel, being the absent-minded child he was, would be playing his video game, worried only about how happy the characters were. After Sean had given most of his bread to the birds and Daniel only got a bite out of his, before the damn ducks took the whole sandwich, they got up and started off on their “field trip” of sorts. “Are we going to the flea market?” Daniel had asked. “Yes, we are, we just got to make a stop by the doctor so we can get you checked up alright?” “Fine” Daniel muttered. Sean was worried about Daniels declining health and was trying anything he could to help his son recover. He had spent all his money, took off weeks just to stay with Daniel and take care of him, He even left his wife because she didn’t care about Daniel. He would do anything for Daniel. They came up to a small doctor’s office which looked more like a crack house then a doctor’s office, but it was all Sean could afford. The doctor already tried hundreds of tests to try and find out what was wrong with Daniel, to even get an idea. But nothing came of it, all they could do was just hope it gets better and monitor his health with routine checkups. “It seems to just be getting worse and worse doc, are you sure there is nothing we can do?” Sean knew the answer, but he thought he would at least ask. “How long does he have?” “At this rate we aren’t even sure, months, weeks, days even.” “I am sorry Mr. Morrison but I think our best bet is to put him in a hospital room where we can monitor him and see if we can’t find out anything else about this disease.” “Would that really help?” Sean asked the doctor. “It's either that or he may never recover.” Sean was devastated. He didn't want to leave his son, but he also didn’t want him to be hurt. He thought about it for a while and reluctantly accepted. “Dad lets go, I wanna go get the Tom Nook toy, the guy said he would save it just for me.” Sean didn’t know how to put it. “Daniel you’re gonna have to stay here for a while alright bud?” “But dad you promised, you said we would go.” whined Daniel. “I know I did but we really need you to stay here, I don’t want you to get hurt.” “I am a big boy I won’t get hurt, please, you promised.” “How about this.” Sean offered “I’ll go to the flea market and get your toy.” “However, you must stay here, deal?” Daniel thought about it for a moment then, knowing he wouldn’t get a better deal, accepted his dad’s terms “Ok well I guess I am off, please try and act good for the doctors alright?” “Yes sir.” And with that Sean was off. Sean was looking around the flea market and when he finally got to the table with the small Tom Nook toy, he picked it up and examined it. He chuckled a little but, wondering what was so damn fascinating about a small little raccoon toy. Then he turned the toy around to look at the tag. TEN DOLLARS FOR A LITTLE FIGURINE! Of course, he had to get it, anything for Daniel. He looked in his wallet and all he had was eight dollars and 20 cents. “Sir is there any way you could take a little less for the raccoon toy?” “What, really? I already held the toy for over a week, and you now want a discount?” the clerk sighed “Fine how much do you have?” Sean showed the man his money and the clerk took it with a bit of anger in his tone. Sure, Sean felt bad, but he just had to get that stupid raccoon toy. I mean what kind of father would he be if he broke a second promise. On his way out of the flea market Sean noticed a small man sitting in front of a small wooden hut of sorts with a sign that said, “Welcome to The Gauntlet of Isdall.” Sean was a little confused about the stand, so he went up to the man. “Hello, I was just wondering, what is it that you sell?” “We don’t sell anything; we offer up a challenge.” The man spoke in a weird accent, but Sean was more interested in the challenge. “You can enter through this curtain but know that in every room you go through, you will have to give up something very dear to you.” “What is the prize?” Sean asked. “The prize is determined by you.” “Whatever you desire most will meet you at the end of the gauntlet.” “However, if at any time you decide to turn back, you will gain nothing and will have lost whatever you gave up.” Sean was sort of mesmerized by the idea of such a challenge. “Anything I want…” He was thinking. “Yes, and you can enter for free.” the man said as if he had heard what Sean was thinking. “So, are you up for the challenge?” Sean looked at the entrance and then back at the man, he thought about what he could wish for. Could he really wish for his son to get better? Sean desperately wanted his son to get better, and he would do anything for Daniel. Finally, he decided he would do it; he would face the challenge. “It can’t be THAT hard right…?” The small man opened the curtains and Sean disappeared inside. The first room looked a bit like a dungeon, it had gray painted walls with a table in the middle. Sitting on the table was a Speaker with a bowl in front of it. “For your first challenge you must break a promise.” It spoke “You must give up the toy. Do you wish to continue?” Sean was surprised at how the small man knew about his promise to his son, he had not told him this fact. He was also a little bit confused as to why the small old man would want a little toy raccoon. He needed to give it to his son, but he also didn’t want to lose the challenge over something so stupid as a toy. Sean knew he would never hear the end of it from Daniel, but he didn’t want to waste his only opportunity to help his son get better, even if this whole thing seems nonsensical. “Yes, I wish to continue” Sean said. “Place the toy in the bowl, then step back and wait until told otherwise.” Sean placed the toy in the bowl and stepped back. The next door slowly creaked open and the speaker told Sean to move into the next room. As Sean stepped into the next room, he noticed that the wall was a little bit darker… but still gray. The room was very similar to the other room with another table, that looked exactly like the last room. However, in this room the speaker was suspended from the ceiling, very low from the ceiling, but suspended nonetheless, and there was no bowl. After Sean got a good look in the room the door closed behind him, making him feel like an animal trapped in a cage. The speaker started to speak “For your second challenge you must give up your emotions. Do you wish to continue?” Sean was kind of scared by that statement. How was he going to give up his emotions? Could he really give up something like that? He thought about it for a few minutes and realized that he couldn’t really turn back now, he had already given up Daniels’s toy. I mean what kind of father would he be if he really turned around and walked out, over something so insane. I mean it can’t REALLY take away his emotions, could it…? “Yes, I wish to continue.” “To start close your eyes and count to ten.” the speaker replied. “Easy enough” Sean thought, and closed his eyes. “One, Two, Three,” Sean was counting slow but as each number rose higher, he was getting more and more nervous. “Four, Five, Six,” I mean all he had to do was count, but he could notice himself speaking slower. “Seven, Eight, Nine,” Sean held out on the last number, struggling to get it out of his mouth. Would he really be able to live without emotions? “No” he thought, forget about that, all Sean should focus on was Daniel, anything for Daniel. “Ten.” As Sean said the last number, he readied himself for some sort of change, but he didn’t feel anything. He just felt like himself, no different. He chuckled at how he believed such a stupid idea, he couldn't really lose his emotions. The door to the next room opened and before the speaker even said anything Sean stepped into the next room. “How many damn challenges are there?” Sean was wondering to himself. “The hut was tiny on the outside.” As he walked into the next room, he saw that the walls were ever darker than before, almost more of a black than a gray color, but it still had some white to it. There was a table in the middle just like the last and, of course, looked exactly like the last table. This speaker was also hung up on the ceiling, however it was a bit higher, as if in the middle ground of the table and the ceiling. Sean realized that this time something was sitting on the table. The bowl had returned, a bit bigger than last time, but back. Next to the bowl was a powered handsaw, which gave Sean the chills. The door closed behind Sean and the speaker then spoke “For your third challenge you must give up the hand you gave to your ex-wife in marriage. Do you wish to continue?” Sean felt his heart drop. “What kind of sick game was this!?” Did the game really want him to give up his hand? HIS OWN HAND! Sean’s head was spinning in circles, he couldn’t give up a HAND! Then he thought about Daniel, how sick he was, how if he did nothing that he would… “FINE” Sean stormed over to the power tool and grabbed it, anything for Daniel. His hands were shaking with fear. He didn’t even know if he could follow through with cutting off his entire hand. He pushed the thoughts out of his head. He turned on the saw… then he started inching the saw closer and closer and as he was, the fear… went… away? He started to get braver! Sean felt like he could take on the world. He cut into his wrist and to his surprise it didn’t hurt. “What the fuck is going on?” before he knew it his hand was sitting there motionless, detached from his body. Sean picked up the hand and threw it in the bowl, as if it was nothing. Sean looked at all that was left of his hand and felt… happy. Happy that he passed the challenge, Happy that he was one step closer to getting his wish. The next door opened, and Sean walked through the door. The speaker didn’t even make a sound this time. This room was black, there was no gray left on this wall, only black. There was again, another table, this table had nothing on it but a button. Above the table was a speaker, suspended by the ceiling, however it was even higher than the last, almost touching the ceiling. Sean stepped in and just as before the door closed behind him. Sean was getting tired of these challenges by now and all he wanted to do was get his wish. He wanted to help Daniel, but he also wanted to try and get something for himself too… I mean why not, it couldn’t hurt. “For your fourth challenge you must give up your morals. You must kill a sick child. Do you wish to continue?” Sean was taken aback. “Another child? I can’t hurt another child!” Sean couldn’t pinpoint what to think about this situation. A human being, a living human being. Could he end a life? Sean then thought about Daniel, what he had already given up, what he would lose if he didn’t do the challenge. “Yes, I wish to continue.” Sean said coldly, the voice answered back “To complete the challenge you must press the button, when you do a sick child will die. The child’s name is Jarred Stout.” Sean didn’t want to hear the child’s name. All it did was make it harder to press the button. Sean moved closer to the button and looked at it. It was a red shiny button, despite its purpose it looked kind of… pretty. The shine on the button reflecting Sean’s face didn’t help but he knew he had to decide, and he knew that thinking about it would only make it harder. “Anything for Daniel.” The door opened and Sean stepped through. The next room was darker than the last room, Sean didn’t even know how that was possible. In fact, the room was so dark he couldn’t even tell how long it was. There was another table in the room with a button, however this one was black instead of red, you could barely even see the button it was so black. The speaker this time was embedded in the ceiling, you could barely see it either. The door closed and Sean just ignored it. He didn’t care what this next challenge was going to be, he was going to complete it no matter what. However, he wasn’t doing it for Daniel anymore, Daniel was the one that caused this. Daniel was the one that Caused him to cut off his own hand, and even caused him to kill a KID! Sean just knew that when he gets his wish, he was going to spend it how HE wanted. Daniel’s time was over. Daniel had never given up anything for Sean anyway. And with this wish Sean could get his life back. He could do anything HE wanted. The speaker suddenly spoke “For your fifth and final challenge, you must give up your hope. You must give up Daniel.


There was a light breeze from the open window on a warm Friday afternoon, a boy with golden hair, a red race car shirt and blue shorts was playing in the small back garden as his father worked on something in his workshop. The boy was playing with a toy bird that his dad had built for him, it was almost completely yellow with some black eyes. The boy walked up to his dad's small, shed-like workshop and knocked on the door, "Dad, can I come in?" He asked his dad in a timid voice. With a small creak, his dad opened the door for him to come in. Inside the workshop were boxes and boxes of small trinkets and parts, and the wood panel floor felt relatively sturdy. Some of the half finished things in the workshop were quite spooky to the little boy, he had never been allowed in the workshop before now, and he almost started to understand why. His dad turned to him, "What a nice afternoon, don't you agree Jack?" He asked his son, who replied with a single nod of agreement as he looked around. "Curious as to what I've been working on little buddy?" His dad asked him another question, "Mhm" Jack responded with a nod and a sound of agreement. His dad opened a cabinet and took out what seemed to be a small toy robot, it was purple in colour, there were all kinds of strange markings, a strange door, yellow eyes, and it had small pipe arms with claw-like fingers. "HELLO, JACK!", the small robot said in a very robotic voice, it only stood about as high as Jack's knee, it walked towards him slowly, taking big steps as it made all sorts of mechanical sounds. Jack's eyes widened as he kneeled down to see the robot closer up, "Hello, Mr robot" Jack said excitedly to the small Machine as it turned it's head to look at him. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY?" the robot asked Jack, "Oh boy, of course!" He exclaimed, "Can I go play with the robot, dad?" Jack asked his dad, "Alright then, just don't go too far into the woods" his dad told him as he left the shed. Jack went into the woods with his robot toy and set it on the ground, he pressed a big red button on its body and it turned on, "HELLO, JACK!", It said in the exact same way as before, "Hello again Mr Robot, would you like to play?" Jack asked the small robot, "OF COURSE I WOULD, WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO PLAY?" the robot asked Jack, who looked at the robot's body and saw that it had 3 buttons on it that all had words on them; 'Hide & Seek', 'Catch' and 'Simon Says', Jack pressed the button that said 'Simon Says' and the robot said "OKAY THEN, FOLLOW MY MOVEMENTS AND TRY TO KEEP UP!". Jack began to follow the simple movements that the robot made while it played a short, looping chiptune song, it was as if the two were dancing together in sync with the music. After some time, Jack decided to press the 'Catch' button on the robot, the small door on the robot opened and a ball came out of it, "LET'S PLAY CATCH!" the robot said. Jack picked up the ball and threw it a short distance, then the robot went after it and after a short wait, brought it back to Jack. After a bit more playing catch, Jack grew tired of the other games the robot could play and decided to press the last button, 'Hide & Seek'. When he pressed the button, the robot's feet retracted and a pair of wheels came out from the sides, it darted off, "LET'S PLAY HIDE AND SEEK!" it said as it went, "W-Wait!" Jack shouted as the robot went away, Jack tried to chase after it but it was much faster than him, and after not much time the robot was lost. Jack panicked, *"Oh no, what am I going to do? My dad's gonna be so mad at me."* Jack thought to himself as he tried to find the robot. "MR ROBOT! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Jack shouted for his robot, going deeper into the forest in search of the robot, his steps made the small chips of wood beneath him crack as he ran through the forest, looking for his purple friend. Until he stopped for a moment and remembered what his dad said… *"don't go too far into the woods"*, Jack gulped and realized that he had done exactly that. The sky was pitch black and the moon was out, Jack began to shake, his chest felt tight, and he had the strange feeling that he was being followed, he decided to just turn back the way he came and forget about the robot. Jack walked for a while before he heard a cackling laugh from the darkness, he turned to look at the beings and saw strange, sharp teeth and eyes that appear closed, with thin lines showing that. Jack screamed at the top of his lungs as he ran away from the strange figure. The face began appearing more and more in the darkness, as if it wasn't just a singular entity, and instead was spreading, "Wh-What are you?" Jack shouted as he kept trying to run from them, the laughter began to echo as the faces began to take up more and more of the darkness, Jack's breathing started to be heavier, and he felt short of breath, he kept running but it was getting harder and harder to do so and he was beginning to slow down. After some more running, his legs grew tired, he fell onto the floor, and curled up into a ball, crying, "Please, just don't hurt me!" He cried to the beings in the darkness. Jack kept crying with his eyes closed as the laugher began to echo, he started to hum a short lullaby to himself as he rocked back and forth, and eventually he fell asleep in the woods. After sleeping in the woods, when he woke up again, the robot was right in his face, "FOUND YOU!" the robot said to him. Jack's face lit up and his eyes widened, "Mr robot! Where did you go?" He asked the robot, but it didn't respond, *"huh, weird"* Jack thought to himself as he walked home with the robot, when he got home he realized that he hadn't come home that night and that his dad was probably angry with him, he gulped again as he knocked on the door, after a few seconds the door opened, "There you are! What happened last night?! I was worried sick about you!" Jack's dad asked him as he walked through the door. After Jack explained to his dad what happened, his dad sighed and said "I'm not stupid, there was no weird figure in the shadows laughing at you, if you're going to lie at least make it believable." His dad told Jack, "Now, go to your room, you're grounded for the rest of the day." Jack's dad told him, "Okay dad" he said as he went upstairs. Later that night he was sitting in bed, thinking about the faces he saw, *"what were those things, I know I saw them, I know I did"* he thought to himself. Eventually he decided to just go to sleep, and when he did, he began hearing the same cackling laughter and seeing the faces that he saw in the woods, they felt like they were mocking him, his chest felt tight again and he started to shake, his eyes watered up, he closed his eyes tight and hummed himself the same tune as in the forest as he drifted off to sleep again. .............................................................................................


When I was 8, I saw something that I’d never forget. It was just me and my dad, with the house all to ourselves. Mom was away, though I don’t recall why. But I didn’t care, because that meant that I got my Dad all to myself. Pizza, hiking, and many other adventures ensued. It’s one of my fondest memories of him. Which makes what capped it all off that much worse. I remember need to get a drink of water. Tiptoeing into the hall, I heard something. Something wrong. It was a dull thump, and it sounded like it was coming up the stairs. Nervous, thinking my Dad would be upset I was out of bed late, I hid in the bathroom. The sound continued up the stairs, and into the hall of the second floor. I wanted to peak out, to see what it was, but something held me back. Soon the thump went quiet, and I heard a creak of my parent’s bedroom door. *Creeeeeeaaaak* I didn’t hear the thumping again. I guess it was just Dad going to bed. … I was back, snug in my bed, when I heard the worst of the sounds that night. It was like someone was trying to chew through a large piece of steak. A wet crunch, followed by more chewing. Rising, I needed to investigate. I slowly crept down the hall, stinking to the least creaky floorboards. The sound was coming from Dad’s room. Silent as my little feet would allow, I slunk to the door and slowly turned the knob. When I had it open a crack, I peered inside. The sight the greeted me was sickening. At first all I could see was a silhouette, a person-like shape sitting bolt upright in the bed, facing the headboard. It then leaned forward, and hunching it’s shoulders, I heard the chewing again. As I was standing there, entranced by the sight, a car passed outside. Its headlights just barely illuminated the grisly scene. The thing was sat, straddling my father’s stomach, eating a hunk of meat that must have come from the massive hole in his chest. I couldn’t hold back my gasp, and the creature sat bolt upright again. Its face, if you could call it that turned in my direction. It had no defining features, no eyes, nose, nothing. But as I gaped in horror, its face split in a grin, filled with too many teeth. It slowly raised its hand to its mouth, the finger crossing its lips. It was telling me to keep quiet. I fled from the house, screaming the entire way to the neighbor’s house. In between bawling and wiping the tears from my eyes, I recounted my story. They didn’t believe me; neither did the policemen that came later. I eavesdropped on them, and they said that it was a break in gone wrong. I was shocked. How could they say that? What burglar would do that? Before long, my mother arrived to collect me and we stayed in a hotel for a few weeks while the house was cleaned. Eventually, we returned to stay there, but I never felt safe. Before long, we’d moved away from that ghastly place. … I thought that would be the end of it. But I was wrong. I saw it again last night. I awoke to my bedroom door creaking. Open just enough to see beyond, I saw the thing again. It’s finger to its lips, crossing that horrible smile.


**Sneakers and Keys**  "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times... You need new sneakers! These ones are just hanging together with smiles and hope!", Linda said, holding a disheveled shoe up with two fingers, arm fully outstretched as if the thing might give her rabies if it got too close.  Max turned his body slightly, so he was now fully facing away from the kitchen behind, where Linda sat smoking. He slunk down further into the couch and refocused on the story he was reading. The room was dark except for the dim yellow light of a lamp in the corner. It was hazy with Linda's slowly dispersing smoke.  She's right, he thought. The shoes are terrible, but dammit he loved that pair of Nikes, and he wasn't about to throw them away yet. Also, they seemed to annoy her, so there's another win! He smiled a secret little half-smile in the half-darkness.  Linda continued, "And have you put the spare key case back under the car yet?" "You haven't, have you Maximillian? Get off your lazy ass and go do it right now, before you forget again." "The rain will do you good! Wash some grime off your bones." "Get off my back Linda! I don't even know where the spare is." "I'm going to work now. Back ... late."  Max opened the door, pulled his jacket up over his head, and ran out to the car, through heavy rain. As he ran, Linda opened the door behind him and called out sarcastically: "Have a nice niiiiight..." "You too, bitch", he muttered under his breath. "I heard tha.." - he slammed the door shut, drowning her out.  Sighing heavily, Max put his phone on the mount, started up the Uber Driver app, spun his wheels and drove off into the rainy night.   **Four McLaren Drive**  "Hi there ... Xavier?", Max asked, as the man got into the back seat. "Yes." "Okay buddy .... going to Four McLaren Drive?" "That's right." Max waited for the man to put his seat-belt on and pulled out into the flow of traffic. Another rainy Uber night. Max turned the windscreen wipers up to the next speed, and peered ahead through the rain. He sighed.  "Pretty crappy weather hey,'' Max said. "Mmm.", the man grunted. "So what are you up to tonight?", Max asked. "Nothing.", he said. "Hoookaaaaay thennn....", Max mouthed silently.  He felt for the volume control on the steering wheel and turned the radio up one click. He snuck a quick look in the rear-vision mirror. The man was tall, with a lean face. He had on a black hooded poncho and had left the hood on, even though he was now out of the rain. Straggly wisps of wet dark hair were poking out of the front of the hood.  Max felt a vague uneasiness when he glanced back at the man, but he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason. He looked back at the dark wet road ahead. He made a few turns before getting onto Magilvray Road. The road started to rise slowly, as they moved towards the hills. They reached the edge of the suburbs, where Magilvray turned into McLaren Drive. Still rising, the road continued ahead, straight as an arrow.  Through the rain, Max made out the first letterbox, and a big white "1". The properties were large around here, and streetlights were few. It took another few minutes before they finally came to a driveway, with the number "4" on a post. Max slowed the car down, but not quite to a stop.  "Just here", the man in the trenchcoat said. "Are you sure? Looks like a long walk up to..." The man cut him off: "Just drop me here, I said!"  Max stopped suddenly, flinching slightly at the man's words. The man got out, slamming the door behind him, and started striding off through the rain. Max cracked his window open a fraction and called after him: "Have a nice waaaaalk..."  What an asshole, thought Max. Through the darkness and the rain he thought he saw yellow light dancing in two windows in the distance. Good night for an open fire, Max thought. He hit the second star out of five on the rider-score selector, and chose the reason “Attitude”. He scoffed “Some people!”, turned the car around, and headed back down McLaren Drive, towards the city.   **Valerie**  The rain stopped briefly, as Max reached the edge of the suburbs. The road turned back into Magilvray, and a few seconds later the four rising chimes of the “Trip Found” indicator sounded. Max hit the “Accept” button, and started following the blue line on screen, to pick up “Valerie M”.  “2.7 km”, the indicator showed. After about the first kilometer the rain started up again. Max continued following the map, and eventually pulled up to the curb outside 29 Drivat Lane.  After a few seconds there was the sound of little feet running up to the car. Max hit the ‘unlock’ button, and a girl got into the front seat alongside him.  “Hellooooo”, she said musically, smiling at Max, then reaching to put her seatbelt on. “Oh! Hello there!” said Max, thinking to himself wow she’s just a kid. She couldn’t be more than 10 years old. There was an Uber rule about picking up minors without an adult, but other drivers had told him they just pick them up anyway, and he needed the money tonight, more than he needed to kick up a fuss about it.  “Valerie M.?”he asked. “Yes, I’m Valerie Margolis, nice to meet you!”, the little girl answered. “Oh, well you probably shouldn’t tell drivers your surname, but nice to meet you too! I’m Max.” “Why shouldn’t I? I’ve got nothing to hide!”, Valerie chirped. “Oh, indeed.” said Max, deciding to leave the point at that. “Can we hurry a little?”, Valerie asked. “I’m late going to my uncle’s.” “Well, I can’t break the speed limit, but I’ll do what I can.”, Max answered.  He looked at the address on the screen and wondered if he’d forgotten to hit the “Complete Trip?” button on the previous job. The address still said “4 McLaren Drive”. But no, he must have completed the last job, else he wouldn’t have been able to start this one. What the hell?, he said to himself.  “Are you going to 4 McLaren Drive?”he asked her, puzzled. “Yes, that’s my uncle’s place”, Valerie answered, beaming at him. “Wow, I just dropped a man there a little while ago!”, Max told her. “Oh cool!”, Valerie said, seemingly missing the enormous coincidence “Umm could we start going please? I’m late!” “Oh, right!”, said Max, spinning the wheels slightly on the wet road and heading off.  The rain was still falling heavily, and there were few cars around as he made his way through the backstreets, and eventually onto Magilvray for the second time that night. The road was dark between streetlights, with only the Skoda’s headlights to light the way. Valerie was turning some little furry object over in her fingers, and singing quietly to herself, over-and-over:  “Eckery, ackary, you care-an, Fillisin, follasy, Nicholas jan”  They reached the edge of the suburbs, and just as the road changed into McLaren Drive, something small and dark ran out in front of them.  There was a low double-banging sound, as the car hit the thing. It went under them, with a horrible scraping sound.  “Shit!” exclaimed Max, braking and looking over at Valerie, who had braced herself with both arms on the dashboard. She looked back at him calmly, with a half-smile on her face. Max pulled the car over to the side of the road quickly. He was breathing fast, still holding the wheel with both hands.  “I’d better get out.”, Max said, reaching for his little umbrella and opening the door. He quickly went around to the back of the car, and a few meters behind, there was a horrible moaning sound coming from what looked to be a black cat, lying broken on the wet road.  Suddenly Valerie was there too, with no umbrella. Before Max could protest, she ran to the cat, saying “I’ll take care of it, poor thing!”.  And with that, the little girl scooped up the cat, with its neck in one hand, head in the other. She twisted her hands sharply, and there was an audible snapping sound.  Max lost his dinner in a pool on the road. He wiped his bottom lip and watched as Valerie smiled and went to drop the dead cat by the side of the road. She trotted back quickly to the car, getting in and closing the door.  “Bloody hell…”, was all Max could say. He was shaking. He took a couple of deep breaths and joined Valerie inside the car. “Are … are you okay?”, Max asked the girl. “Here, dry your hair,'' he said, handing her the little towel he kept in the console. “Oh yes I’m fine!” she said, smiling. “I’ve killed lots of animals before.”  She dried herself off, wiped her hands and handed back the towel to Max. “Thank you.”, she said, still smiling. Max took the towel and placed it back in the console. He wondered why she had “killed lots of animals”, but was still shaking, and didn’t ask any more.  “Okay, I’d better get you to number 4,'' Max said. “Oh yes, I’m very late now!”, Valerie replied.  Taking another deep breath in and out, Max put the car in ‘drive’ and pulled back out onto the road. A few minutes later they reached the post with the number “4” on it. “Shall I take you up to the house?”, Max asked. “Yes please.” Max drove slowly up the muddy, bumpy driveway. The house was set back on the hill, and there were stone steps leading down to a parking area. As the car approached the parking area, a man was running down the steps. Several more umbrella-clutching people stood under a light at the top of the steps, looking down at them.  The man was the same one Max had dropped off earlier. As Valerie stepped out of the car, the man ran across and wrapped his arm around her neck, covering her with his poncho.  “Where have you been? Everyone is waiting!” he snapped, as he led her up the steps. Max listened for Valerie’s answer, but they were getting further away, and the sound of the rain drowned it out. The man in the poncho looked back over his shoulder at the car, and gave a shooing gesture in Max’s direction.  Max hit the five stars button (it wasn’t Valerie’s fault he had hit the cat, and she had taken care of the situation for him). He turned the car around, and started heading slowly back down the driveway. As he drove, he turned for one last look in the direction of the people. Valerie and the man were at the top of the steps now, and Max thought he saw the man shoot one last look in his direction before they disappeared into the darkness, in the direction of the house.  Pulling gently to a stop near the end of the driveway, Max strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He still felt uneasy, and he felt a gnawing pull, stopping him from just driving away like he should. He drove the car down the road fifty metres or so, and parked it behind some big bushes on the side of the road.    **Smiles and hope**  W*hat are you doing??* he thought, as he grabbed his umbrella and got out of the car. He felt there were a number of odd things about the man and girl he’d taken to number “4” that evening, and he just wanted to make sure she was alright, he told himself.  His old Nikes were fully waterlogged by now. “Held together with smiles and hope”, Linda had said. They made a loud, high-pitched squelching noise as he walked up the muddy drive towards the parking area. *So much for stealth*, he thought. His collapsible umbrella did little to keep him dry, as the angled rain hit his legs and back.  Finally Max reached the bottom of the stone steps. He stood under the stone archway for a few moments. He took a deep breath .. *Come on man, just get back in the car and go to the next job*, he said to himself, and yet he couldn’t make himself turn around. Taking one last deep breath, he passed under the stone arch and walked up the steps.  Max just wanted to make sure that Valerie was alright, but he wanted to do that undetected, with no fuss. When he’d done that, he would quietly sneak back to his car and head off into the night. The old Nikes were making the “quietly” part difficult, so he walked extra slow, on tip-toes, trying to minimize the noise. The rain had stopped now, so at least there was that, he thought. He collapsed his umbrella and dropped it on the ground.  Max approached the house, keeping low as he crept. In the darkness, he could barely see the ground under his feet. There were two windows at the front of the house, lit with a dim dancing yellow light. He was sure now that the light was from an open fire. Stepping ever so slowly and carefully, he went over to the wall of the house, next to one of the windows. He slowly leaned over and peeked in the edge of the window, hoping to see Valerie. What he saw froze the blood in his veins.  It was a large room with a fireplace at the far end, and in the middle of the room, a group of people stood around a long dining table. The people wore black hooded-cloaks, with the hoods up, such that their faces could not be seen. The cloaks were hemmed with bright crimson. Some of the figures were very short - they must be children, Max thought. In the gaps between some of them, lying on the table, Max could make out the shape of a woman, lying face-up, naked on the table. "*What the fuck… "* Max whispered. He could hear a low rhythmic chanting sound coming from the cloaked figures. Standing at the head of the table, a tall figure stood with his hands raised. They were bony, but clearly a man’s hands, and Max knew that this was the man he had dropped off earlier in the evening, “Xavier”.  The man’s hands were level with his shoulders. He slowly raised them higher in the air, and as he did so, the chanting became louder. The man reached into one of the sleeves of his robe and drew out a dagger. Max’s mouth dropped open and he thought he felt his heart stop. *He’s going to KILL her,* he thought.  Without thinking, Max started banging on the window with his open palm. Immediately the chanting stopped and every hood in the room turned towards the window. The man with the dagger pointed at Max, shouting something to the group of cloaked figures. They sprang into action, and so did Max.  He sprinted away from the house, back into the darkness towards the steps. He could hear the front door open and people shouting, as they started chasing after him.  One of Max’s Nike’s was losing a sole, making it hard to run. He slipped on the muddy ground and fell. He cursed and sprang back up, ripping off his shoes. He made it to the steps and started running down them, trying his hardest not to slip again. The first of his pursuers had reached the top of the steps. Max jumped the last two steps in panic, landing hard on the ground and falling. He groaned in pain but sprang back up, just as the rain started again.  Max started running towards the road. His feet were landing on stones, but with the adrenalin surging through his system, he barely felt them. He made it back to the road, and started running down McLaren Drive towards his car. The dark figures were not far behind him. He reached his car and felt for his keys.  Again his blood went cold, as the realisation hit him. His keys were not in his pockets. He fumbled, checking his pockets again, madly, while at the same time looking back at his pursuers. *Shit, shit shit,* he thought, before having a sudden brainwave. “Spare keys!”, he said, dropping to the ground and reaching under the back of the car. The container wasn’t there. “Oh shi-”, he started cursing, just as something hit him hard in the back of the head.  Then there was just blackness and silence.    **If your Snark be a Boojum…..**  Max wondered what that strange sound was, why this bed was so hard, why the light was dancing on the ceiling. And his arms - he couldn’t move them. His head was hurting. In a flash, it all came back to him. He realised he was inside the house now. He looked about, and saw the cloaked figures standing around him. They were chanting rhythmically like before. He was manacled to the table.  “What are you doing - let me go!!”, Max screamed at them.  A man stepped forward and stuffed a gag in his mouth, tying it around his head.  “You do it,” the man said, pointing to the shorter figure at his side. A girl’s hands emerged from the long sleeves and reached for the dagger that was sitting on the table. Max knew who it was. He screamed at her to stop, but only muffled sounds came.  “Let him see your face.” the man said.  Valerie pushed back the hood of her robe and beamed, raising the dagger with both hands. The man was also raising his hands, and as he did so, the chanting got louder and faster. By the time his hands were right above his head, the chanting had become frenetic.  Valerie looked into Max’s terrified eyes and sang, smiling, “Enjoy your riiiiide!!”.  She swung the dagger down hard.  Outside in the darkness, a cat’s scream echoed loud in the distance, then there was silence.


#“Contact!” The cry rang out, cutting through the low murmur of normal operations on the bridge. “Bearing three-two-four, at zero-five-two by zero-one-five.” “What’s the word, Lieutenant?” the captain answered as he settled into his chair. “Not sure yet, sir,” the Lieutenant answered, studying the screen in front of him intently. “I’ll know more in a moment.” “Keep me posted, Pan,” the captain ordered, before addressing the bridge. “Engines ahead one-third. Make our heading three-four-zero level.” “All ahead one-third, aye,” came the response, followed shortly by “New heading three-four-zero level, aye.” A tense hush had fallen over the bridge. The captain counted twelve heartbeats before the comms officer spoke up again. “Sir, contact matches the profile of a Council frigate. Engines are cold and it looks like it’s putting out minimal power. Transponder is active, though…” The lieutenant checked his screens again. “IFF signal identifies it as the *Polo*, sir.” The captain’s brow furrowed. “The *Polo*? That can’t be, this isn’t their sector. The hell would they be doing out here?” He contemplated for a second, then keyed his earpiece. “Talk to me, Shack. What exactly are we looking at?” “Lieutenant Panzavechia is correct, Commander,” confirmed the voice in his ear. “The ship is broadcasting the proper Council identification codes. As far as we can tell, this is in fact F-324, SCV *Marco Polo*.” “Shit,” grumbled the captain. “Something’s not right here… Alright Pan, let’s say hello.” He tapped a button on his screen. “*Polo*, *Polo*, we have you on sensors with dangerously low power outputs. Confirm identity, and advise if you need assistance.” He tapped his screen again to end the recording. “Message away, sir,” reported Panzavechia. Twenty-eight heartbeats passed, when suddenly the captain’s earpiece chimed. “What is it, Shack?” he answered. “Commander, I wanted to let you know that Lieutenant Commander Luca has been notified of this development,” declared the voice in his ear. “She is arriving on the bridge imminently.” “*Shit*. I don’t need this right now,” the captain mumbled. “Noted, Commander.” The connection ended just as the bridge doors slid open. “What’s the situation, Commander?” Luca asked, almost out of courtesy as she strode onto the bridge. “Nothing that requires your attention just yet, Inquisitor,” the captain sighed. “Your ship’s computer tells me otherwise, Commander,” Luca argued, halting next to the captain’s chair. Her grey-and-white uniform was in stark contrast to the midnight blue of the bridge crew. “Yes, he does love to stab me in the back,” the captain countered dryly, making it a point to avoid looking at her. “As of yet, no Council protocol has been broken. This situation falls entirely within the jurisdiction of the Ranger fleet.” “Fine,” Luca spat, not looking entirely convinced. “I agree with your computer's analysis that something-" “Incoming message, Commander!” Panzavechia interrupted them. “Play it, Lieutenant,” the captain ordered, almost relieved to be able to shut Luca up. “Aye, sir.” The comms officer tapped his screen, and a voice came over the speakers. “Council frigate, this is the ship’s computer for SCV *Marco Polo*. We have suffered a major failure across multiple systems. We have no engines and limited power. Life support is failing. Requesting assistance and evacuation.” The captain and the Inquisitor glanced at each other for the first time since she had entered the bridge. Both wordlessly reached the same conclusion. “Lieutenant Patterson, bring shields to full,” the captain instructed. “Shields to full, aye, sir,” acknowledged the operations officer. The bridge was dead silent as the captain’s earpiece chimed again. “Commander, I should remind you that ship’s computers are not authorized to record or transmit messages. For this ship to do so would be a severe breach of Council regulations.” “I am aware, Shack, and I think the Inquisitor is perfectly aware as well,” the captain muttered. “One other thing, Commander,” the voice in his ear continued. “The voice in that message carried distinctly non-synthesized inflections, and did not match the profile of any computers that I am aware of. It is likely that the message was sent not by a ship’s computer, but by a person claiming to be one.” Eight heartbeats passed in the silence, then Luca spoke up again. “Definitely a trap, then. Pirates?” she suggested, a wry smile on her face. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” the captain snorted. “Novak, engines ahead one-half. Okeda, make our heading three-five-zero by zero-one-five.” The responses came in rapid succession from the engineering and navigation officers. “All ahead one-half, aye.” “New heading, three-five-zero by zero-one-five, aye.” “Pan, keep an eye on that ship. Let me know if they-” “Contact!” cried the comms officer before the captain could finish his instructions. “Bearing zero-five-four at zero-two-seven by zero-one-three and closing.” “What is it, and where did it come from?” barked the captain. “Not sure, sir.” responded Panzavechia. “Size and energy signature are about what you’d expect for a cruiser. No blue-shift, it just popped up on sensors out of nowhere. Engines look like they just fired up, and their weapons are heating up as well.” “A cruiser? How the *fuck* do you hide a cruiser out here?” the captain exclaimed. “Commander, we-” Luca started to interject, but the captain cut her off. “Lieutenant Son, I want full power to all batteries as soon as possible. Open the point-defence lasers while you’re at it.” “Aye, sir,” the gunnery officer replied. “Novak, I want all ahead full. Pan, prepare to get a message away,” continued the captain, his heart pounding as he keyed the button on his screen again. “*Paradigm*, *Paradigm*, this is Commander Koenig of the SCV *Shackleton*.


The Boy sat on the hill. It was a gorgeous sight. Like something you might find in a Walter Scott novel if he actually cared. It had grass and lots of it. A few stones and even rummaging sheep. A snapshot – a *great* snapshot - of a world in harmony. But not to the Boy. To the Boy, the hill was wrong. *For* the Boy, the hill was wrong. A real, three dimensional reminder of how shitty he truly felt. The pain still raw - still *red* - from his unfortunate dance with Love. Why care, why bother. He gripped a Stone. Its rough surface felt cold and unkind. A reminder – no, a *contrast* - to the skin of his beloved. Soft, gentle, warm. Often lost himself with her, in *her*. The memory a furious spear, the Boy fighting off the tears. “Do you know Love?” – he asked the rock. “Is Love worth it?” To his surprise. To his *astonishment*, the stone replied: “I do not know Love. I cannot Love but wish I could. I’ve been in this place for what seems - and maybe is - an eternity. I’ve never felt warm eyes, soft hands. I was never desired and could not even tell you what that means. I’ve seen people, I’ve heard them talk but I cannot love as they do. But I wish I could” “Well, you’re better off for not knowing. I wish I had never felt it. I truly wish I had never loved. And probably never will. You’re better off being a rock but you cannot help me.” The Stone fell silent. Surprised yet again but aren’t stones *quiet*? After what seemed like an eternity - and maybe was – the Stone replied: “You should ask the Wind. He has gone far and wide and has seen more than you ever could. He knows Love, I am sure of it”. The Boy dropped the Stone, the floor shuddering with the impact. The Stone – all Stones - now black as coal. “Do you know Love?” – he asked the Wind. “Is Love worth it?” A gentle breeze made itself known. A Stone that speaks so why not a Wind that blows? “I’ve crossed this world more times than all the beats of every heart of every Boy. I know Love. In countless Boys, I’ve seen this pain. It grips them, they suffer, they move on. So shall you” The Boy’s eyes widened with surprise “But I do not wish to move on. How do I stop it?” The Wind replied: “You do not. You suffer. You move on and then you Love again” “I do not wish to Love again, I wish to kill it. I ask you again. Do you know Love?” The breeze grew stronger, now a storm in the horizon. After what seemed like an eternity – and maybe was – the Wind replied: “You should ask the Sun. He has shone upon this world before there was even a world to shine upon. He has seen all matters of life. He *tends* to life. He knows Love, I am sure of it” The Boy looked upwards, the Sun bright with radiant fire. But it didn’t bother the Boy, not this time. “Do you know Love?” – he asked the Sun. “Is Love worth it?” A bright yellow turned into soft orange. The sheep scared with the sudden change. “Love. I’ve seen many Boys writing, singing, talking, thinking about Love. It grips them, they suffer, they move on. So shall you.” The Boy frowned. A *frown*. At the *Sun*. From a Boy. To an entity worshiped by billions over history. Such are the actions of a broken Boy “But how do I kill it? How do I stop it?” “You cannot. You cannot stop Love the same way I cannot stop shining. It consumes you but it is You. In a hundred million of your lifetimes I will burn out. I will die because I shine. Because that is who I am. Do you ask the Ice not to melt? If you do and it doesn’t, is it still Ice? Is it still Water?” The Boy replied: “I do not care for Ice or for Water. I wish to rid myself of Love. If you do not know how, then you cannot help me”. A soft orange morphed into a raging red. After what seemed like an eternity – and maybe was – the Sun retorted: “You should ask your Heart. He has been with you since you were born and he knows you better than anyone or anything that ever was. He does not know Love, but he knows *your* Love.” The landscape now belonged to a science fiction novel. The Stones black, a furious storm and an horizon filled with a hellish red. The end of times. In this place, in this *time* the Boy asked his Heart: “Why do you Love? Is Love worth it?” The Heart replied: “Do I ask you why you breath? Love is my nourishment. I do not beat so you can Love. *You Love so I can beat*. Without it I am not a Heart, I am not alive. What other reason to beat? What other reason to continue this tormented life if not for the time, for the *instant* in which you (we) truly Love? I am a Heart and I am lonely. I need another Heart to beat with me – maybe even at a different pace - with intent and with purpose. To relinquish that need is to die, to stop. You ask me if Love is worth it. No, it is not worth it. To me, *Love is It*.” The Boy now angry: “I do not care if you need it. I don’t need it. I know its tentacles and I wish it to die”. After what seemed like an eternity – and maybe was – the Heart replied: “You should ask God. He created all life and everything that ever was. I can take you to Him” “You can? How” “For those who listen, all Hearts show the way to God. But to see Him you (we) must die” The Boy replied: “Death is preferable to this. I wish to see God” And in that second the incessant beat of a broken Heart – of a *broken Boy* - was no more. A thump to the ground. A body now lifeless. A tunnel of white light and in an instant the Boy found himself (itself?) in an endless field of White. An enormous but silent voice inquired: “WHY?” The Boy - the *Nothing* - replied: “I did not wish to Love, I wished to kill it and I have. It is better this way.” The White responded: “Love is Life. You cannot live if you do not Love. You sought Love from others because you had your own Love to give. Loving is being alive, the culmination of a Universe created to Love itself. You were my ultimate expression. In the moment you Love, you are doing what you are supposed to do. It is the only time the Universe is at peace, in those moments of Love, in those frail times of true happiness. I have toiled for endless eternities to create such a Universe, one that could eventually Love itself, if even for just an instant. If you do not Love then you do not Live.” The Boy would look down if he could. But he couldn’t and he didn’t. The darkness came anyway. No more White. No more Heart. No more anything.


I met Addison in German 102. He came in late, so he sat down in the seat closest to the door, which just so happened to be the seat right next to mine. I didn’t notice him at first until our professor gave us an exercise to complete and told us to work with a partner. That’s when I turned to my right and there he was. I remember my eyes growing wide and my blood pressure dropping. I know people talk about attractive people all the time and their reactions to them sound hyperbolic, but I swear on God this guy unbelievably attractive. His style was effortless, wearing a simple white V-neck and blue jeans and keeping his beard neatly trimmed. I turned pink when I realized I had been staring at his deep blue eyes for an obscenely long time and I saw him smirk as I darted my eyes away. I tried to convince myself that he didn't notice. For the months that followed I would become extremely anxious to get to my German class. I’d even get there early sometimes in hopes of spending just a little more time with him. I knew deep down I was being naive, but I didn’t care. My heart was fluttering and I was falling deeper and deeper and he had no idea. Eventually I became his go-to partner and occasionally we’d finish early and get to know each other a bit, which was the highlight of my day. He told me about his older brother, who coincidentally was also his best friend. He told me about his current two year relationship with his girlfriend who was from a small town in Germany, which was why he was learning German. We talked about music sometimes and he introduced me to Tame Impala. Eventually, I summoned up enough courage to ask him for his number under the pretense of “in case I have any homework questions.” I knew he had a girlfriend, so nothing could ever come of it, but even being his friend sounded wonderful. When you meet special people like that, you take what you can get. Sometimes we’d leave German class and walk to our next class together which had the same route. It was all so innocent and felt like it was straight out of a fairy tale. Once the semester was over, I was sure I’d never see him again. I mean, why would I? It was his last German class and let’s face it, why would he want to hang out with me? But I was insistent and dismissed those pessimistic thoughts. Once—with the encouragement of my best friend—I texted him inviting him to go to a German event that occurred weekly. I think if my best friend had never pushed me to do it, I probably would have never seen him again. So to her, I am eternally grateful. I figured I would invite him to it because there was going to be a lot of people around and I could play off my feelings for him. He ended up going. Female eyes followed him as he walked in and hugged me. I could feel their jealous stabs on my back wishing they were me in that moment. I was living. We mingled, we laughed, we drank and we enjoyed each other’s company. I learned about his recent breakup with his girlfriend and I made sure to let him know I was available if he ever wanted to talk. This is the part where things kind of get fuzzy because I don’t quite remember when it was that we started hanging out so frequently, but it’s like my memory ends after that moment and jumps towards the summer. So, I apologize for my incompetent long-term memory. Summer came around and I was going over to his place almost every day. We would watch movies, drink wine or talk for hours. Never in my life have I ever been able to talk to someone for so long, about so many things and be so happy to do so. Addison just had this way about him that made me feel like I was home. I spent so many nights curled up on one of the corners of his couch while he sat on the other. Sometimes he’d grab my feet and very delicately massage them. We’d talk for hours on end about all the things I was always too hesitant to talk about with anyone else. It’s really quite something when you find someone who you can have such meaningful conversations without much of an effort. I was never completely myself as I was when I was with him. Addison treated me well and complimented me frequently. A part of me would gush every time , but I wasn’t a fool, I reminded myself not to get too carried away. I tried really hard to stay realistic, but the fairy tale caught up to me and I eventually gave in. I believed him when he called me beautiful. I believed him when he said he had never met anyone like me and he was so happy I had come into his life. Addison was such a rare individual and I was ecstatic and honored to have even an ounce of his time. So, when he’d stop mid-sentence to tell me how beautiful I was, my lungs would collapse. I remember a time when he asked me to meet him in the parking lot outside of the architecture building on campus. This didn’t strike me as unusual since sometimes we’d park our cars there and walk around campus together, but what did strike me as unusual was when he started walking *towards* the architecture building. I asked him where he was going and he asked me in a calm, but playful voice to “just play along.” We got to the doors and took the stairs up to the top floor. Once we reached it, I asked him again what we were doing there since I knew that there were only classrooms on this floor. He put a finger to his rosy lips and grabbed my hand. I followed him through a passageway that I had never noticed before and in seconds we were standing in front of a fancy conference room. I looked at him inquisitive, but he avoided my stare. I watched him jump over a fence behind the conference room and then climb up metal stairs. I stood frozen because this really felt like we were trespassing and I was afraid that we would get caught. He motioned me over and whispered to trust him. Reluctantly, I followed and climbed the stairs, too. We were on the rooftop of the architecture building. There was so much space up there that it made me almost want to dance around like you would in a meadow of peonies. I peered over the edge and could see the white and red lights from oncoming traffic and the first sightings of the night sky. I turned over to see if he was enjoying himself as much as I was, but he was rummaging through his backpack. A smile drew over his face as he pulled out a bottle of our favorite red wine and looked at me. Then his brows furrowed as he realized that he had forgotten to bring glasses. I saw this, laughed and reassured him that there were worse problems than not having glasses and I took a swig from the bottle. He asked me to sit next to him while we drank liquid courage straight from the source. I wish I could remember what we talked about up there, but all I can remember was the wave of calmness I felt sitting next to him on the rooftop and drinking wine under the night sky. At some point he asked me for my hand and led me onto the dance floor. We danced quite silly at first making light of the situation because we were both secretly afraid of the intimate moment that was unveiling before us. But, eventually we gave into the moment and we danced slowly in each other’s arms. I looked up at him and he never looked more handsome than in that moment when the moonlight was shining so carefully on his face. The thought of me touching his body would cross my mind often. But, I never could imagine us going through with it because it was such a ludicrous idea. Little did I know that he had had those same thoughts cross his mind, too. And I remember that night vividly. I remember driving up to his place and him answering the door with a smile on his face. I sighed deeply and walked in and sat on the couch while he ran back into the kitchen to pour us some wine. Pink Floyd’s *The Dark Side of the Moon* was playing on his stereo and he asked me about my day. The night went on as it usually did with us drinking a little too much bitter grape juice and sharing a little too many secrets. But that night when I was in the middle of a sentence he leaned over without warning to kiss my lips. The kiss was brief because he pulled back to apologize for his lapse in manners. Words failed me in that instance because I could still feel how soft his lips were and how good they tasted on mine. His deep blue eyes met mine trying to distinguish whether the kiss was a mistake or not and when he saw my approving eyes, he leaned over again, only this time slowly. He lingered a few inches from my face and I could feel his breath. I couldn’t stand it any longer and met him the rest of the way. It was pure ecstasy. Suddenly I was twirling in a moving room, my skin glimmering as I soaked in sunlight beams. I fell into a rabbit hole, deeper and deeper until I couldn’t see the ground anymore, but I could breathe. God, I could *breathe.* Our chests fell and rose in unison and our hands wandered over each other’s skin. The bottled up feelings we both had for each other completely shattered and there was no turning back. Our breaths were getting heavier and he picked me up and took me to his bedroom. I read his skin like braille until my eyes closed and he held me in his arms. I woke up the next morning and turned to look at him sleeping soundly. If I ever have a near death experience, Addison sleeping is what’s going to flash before my eyes. A few days later he asked me to come over again. He didn’t smile when he opened the door this time and instead, he motioned for me to sit down on the couch. It had only been a few days since we had last seen each other, but the way he carried himself felt rigid and cold. He opened his mouth to speak and said he just found out he got an STD from his next door neighbor and I probably had it, too. I thought he was joking at first, but his face was motionless. “Your neighbor?” I asked. He nodded. Apparently they had been sleeping together the entire time and I was none the wiser. He talked for some time, but his voice was muffled until I made out the words, “You should see your doctor.” A few days later I got in to see my doctor and sure as shit, I had the same STD. Luckily for me, it was easily remedied by a few pills. I informed him of that and that was the last time I spoke with him. You’d think I’d be pissed off by something like that, but he meant so much to me that I was actually willing to overlook it, except he didn’t give me the opportunity to do so. He said he had been talking to this girl for a while, too, and he realized that she was the love of his life. He had told me that his spirit animal was a tiger a month prior and he concluded that hers was also a tiger, while mine was just a bunny. It’s fitting, I guess. I don’t really have that fire within me like he did. I shied away at most things and I ran faster from my problems than I did marathons. I guess you could also say I was weak and light-hearted. Maybe even naive. But I swear, I never wanted to be someone else more than in that moment. Sometimes the reminder of him sneaks up on me. Like this one time when my friend served me cold brew from a French press—the memory of him explaining the mechanics of it to me came flooding back and I had trouble finishing my coffee. Or once when I was walking to class when I saw a guy who looked just like him and I was overcome with excitement because I really thought it was him, but once I realized my mistake, my vision blurred as I tried to rub away the water building up in my eyes. Sometimes I’m reminded of him from the very first sip of coffee I take because of all the memories we made at Café Luce when he was here. But, for the most part, I’ve become good at desensitizing myself to reminders of him, but sometimes I catch wind of his unique personality and it surges through me because he was in everything. He still is in everything. I miss him almost every day and it’s an awful thing to admit when you’ve put up such a strong front all this time. I think a big part of me took these memories and shoved them so deep in my mind where the cobwebs lie as some kind of defense mechanism. But, the lesson I learned from this was when something as big as this happens to you, just let yourself feel things. It’s going to be an absolute shit-show at first, but it will be better in the long run for you to feel all those emotions right now and try to make sense of them over time. You may be tempted to ignore the feelings you’re having because you’re afraid you won’t be able to deal with them in a healthy manner, but holy shit please try to. If not, you’re going to end up like me writing a lame memento that no one is ever going to read. What therapy failed to help me realize was that you have every right to feel sadness just as you would happiness. Because ultimately, they’re both emotions and both equally important to feel at different stages of your life. After the sadness reaches its end you will feel anger and resentment and these, too, are normal and part of the process. When I reached this stage I was running five miles four times a week and sprinting for half of them from the pure rage I was feeling and didn’t know how to properly deal with. I ran and I ran for months until on one of those runs my legs fell out from underneath me and I crashed face first into the dirt road. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I bellowed out the most ungodly scream—not from the pain of the fall, but as a result of so much bottled up emotional pain I had. Addison damn near killed me. It's been several years since all of this happened and I still can’t understand how someone who said they loved you could just leave like that. I don’t think I’ll ever understand how someone could light up your entire world one day and then break every bone in your body the next. The worst part is that even after all this pain, I can’t bring myself to hate him. Or even resent him, although I really want to. I still love him and I think I always will. The thing is, the way you fall in love with someone doesn’t have to follow the same trajectory as what you saw in Disney movies as a kid. You can love someone deeply simply because their company burns a fire within you. You can love someone because they make you feel important… valued. The way you love people is never the same, either, because people have different effects on you and they come at different points in your life. Addison was my world. I wanted us to be happy together more than I wanted anything else and that in itself is the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced. Since Addison, I haven’t been able to truly be myself again. I’m still able to love, of course, but never as deeply and never as ignorantly. Because of him, now I actively look for faults in people, just so it doesn’t hurt me in the future once the cats out of the bag. I’m actively on the lookout for any sign of disloyalty or any indication that I’ll be burned in the crossfires and the second I see it, I pull out my toolbox and start building my 10 foot wall. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse because as a result, I don’t fall as deeply for someone anymore and therefore, don’t get hurt as intensely when the relationship fails. I do realize that it’s a pretty destructive way to view relationships. It’s almost like I expect a bad outcome every time so when the relationship inevitably fails I’m not phased.. But I also understand that by expecting the worst, I’m subconsciously resigned to the fact that the relationship is temporary and so I don’t give it my all. I can definitely see how that could contribute to the relationship failing. It’s a vicious cycle, but I don’t know if I have it in me to give someone my all again. Maybe someday in the future I’ll learn to let go of my fears and give someone the power to break my heart because it’s kind of beautiful if you think about it. As humans we only get so many years of life and to be willing to let someone be a part of those years is heartwarming. At this point in my life, even a broken heart sounds nice to me because at least then, I’d feel something. Feeling heartbroken is yet, just another feeling and it is equally important as feeling happiness. I guess the takeaway is that no matter how much someone hurts you, you shouldn’t let it influence you in your future relationships. Continue to be your soft-hearted-self and don’t let anyone ever try to make you hard because once you give into the pessimistic view of love, it will take a *lot* for you to snap back out of it. I’m afraid that some people have been hurt so bad that they never learn to love again because they can’t bring themselves to be that vulnerable a second time and rightfully so. But listen, if you keep doing that you’re never going to be happy because you’ll never be at peace in your relationship. You thinking that something will inevitably go wrong, will *make* something go wrong. Even though deep down you may be worried you’ll get hurt again, I think it’s worth the risk. While I am deeply saddened that what Addison and I had ended, overall, I am happy it happened. How’s that saying go? “It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all?” Cliche as hell, but it’s a good one. So this one’s for you, Addison. The memory of you will live until my dying day. I hope you’re off somewhere sparking a change in someone else’s life, as you did with me. I will always care for you and I hope someday we cross paths again so I can thank you in person. \ Thanks for reading guys. I've been thinking about writing a book on the small things I've learned from life, as well as, detailing some beautiful and traumatic experiences I've had. However, I am uncertain whether my writing has what it takes. I would appreciate your opinion on the matter, as I feel anonymity makes people act in a more truthful manner.


For as long as she could remember, Agatha hated the dark. It was cold. It was bitter. It was unforgiving. Even sitting still in the dark room, illuminated only by the crescent moon, made Agatha feel like she was writhing in her own skin. As her impatience grew with each passing second, she chewed her lip.

The bright red numbers on the digital clock by her bed made a ticking

sound every time they changed, and Agatha kept track of every minute. This time, her attempt would work.

When the time was right, Agatha would get out of bed and leave her room. Careful to avoid squeaky floorboards, she’d crawl down the stairs and skip the 7th step, because that one always creaked when someone stepped on it. Then, she’d slip out into the night through the back door.

Agatha’s knee bounced with anticipation as she waited for the right moment.

Now! As the minute changed, she sprang up out of her bed, tiptoed across the room, and gently opened the door. If only her parents didn’t have such an odd obsession with black furniture, maybe Agatha could’ve seen something in the dark. She stepped into the hall and felt her way around the house. Turning the corner and walking down the stairs, Agatha descended. Thirteen, twelve, eleven. Agatha shuffled around as she went down the stairs, stepping left and right, only putting pressure on the parts of the stairs that she knew were silent. Creeaak. Agatha froze. She’d forgotten to skip the 7th step. She bit her lip and slowly lifted her foot, resulting in another loud creeaak .

After quickly stepping down the rest of the stairs, Agatha turned. It seemed no one had woken up. She sighed in relief. Making sure she went unheard, Agatha crept through the kitchen and pushed the back door open. A strong gust of freezing air blew into the house, and she quickly shut the door behind her as she stepped outside. Across the yard, her eyes found her target: the ladder that her father had left leaning against the shed the night before. She crept across the yard, the icy air stabbing away at her face. She reached the shed and placed a cold hand on the ladder. Almost there . With both hands, Agatha lifted the ladder and pulled it off the wall. “You know it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be out here.” Agatha sharply inhaled at the sound of a voice. She turned around and sighed. Standing there in a puffy black jacket was Eve. Eve was, well, Eve. She fit the perfect stereotype of the nosy younger sister, and, coincidentally, was also the one sibling Agatha was most afraid of waking up. “Well, neither should you,” Agatha said. Eve rolled her eyes. “Just come back inside, come on. It’s too late for this.”

“No, I can’t!” Agatha continued dragging the ladder along through the grass. “I have to do this now. I’ve never gotten this close before. You know I always get caught. As soon as I’m done, I’ll come right back down.” Eve sighed. “If I help you move the stupid ladder, will you promise to come back into the house immediately after?” Agatha nodded. The two of them hauled the ladder across the yard and propped it up against the house’s wall, fully extending it. Agatha could hardly contain her excitement. Today, she’d finally do it. Eve helped hold the ladder in place as Agatha began the slow climb up to the roof. One, two, three, four. Agatha ascended each step. Five, six, seven, eight. Up, up, up. Higher and higher still. Agatha kept climbing until she finally felt her hand touch the tiles of the rooftop. She’d done it!

Agatha pulled herself up, her feet dangling off the roof. She looked around, seeing houses, trees, and mountains for miles all around. As the sky slowly got lighter, every little detail of the suburban neighborhood around them became more and more vivid. “Alright, you happy now?” Eve said, exasperated. “Come back down.” “Are you kidding? Not yet!” Agatha could hardly contain how eager she was. She chewed her lip so hard the skin ripped, though she was so excited she couldn’t even taste any blood. “We made a deal, Agatha!” “Just a few more minutes! I have to see it at least once!” Eve sighed. “Fine! But I’m not going back inside until you do, so if Mom and Dad wake up and find me out here, you are the one who’s getting in trouble.” Eve sat on the ground. “Suit yourself!” Agatha rested her head in her hands and continued to admire the mountains off in the distance. Just a few minutes and the sun would come up. She’d finally see it. Her parents would’ve killed her if they knew she was up on the roof this early. The sky began to lighten, turning from navy blue to shades of lavender and orange. “Time’s up, Agatha! Come on, seriously!” Eve stomped her foot impatiently. “This isn’t safe!” Agatha’s heart soared as she saw sunlight beginning to spill over the distant mountains. The sun! She jumped to her feet as the warm sunlight began to touch her toes. Agatha felt warmth pervade through her ankles as the sunlight spread. Agatha had never felt like this before. Could this really have been what the sun felt like? The heat slowly traveled up to her knees.

“Agatha, get down here, now ! In a few minutes, you’ll— ugh!” she sighed. “I’m gonna wake up Mom and Dad!” But Agatha could barely even hear. The sunlight was so warm . It was so comforting. It was so forgiving. The warmth traveled up to her waist, then through her arms. Like a blanket, she was soon totally enveloped in soft golden light. She shut her eyes. Why didn’t her parents ever let her go out after sunrise? This was wonderful. She wanted to stay like this forever. Like a statue, Agatha refused to move. Why would she ever want to? “Agatha, no !” Eve began climbing up the ladder as fast as she could. The dark may have been scary and dull and boring, but it was the only place where their family could be safe. Eve made it up the ladder and screamed. She was too late. Her older sister had already turned to stone.