Falling asleep has always been a problem ever since I was young. I thought what had happened was a dream. Only just recently I was reminded that it was all true. When I was ten, I would often lay awake in bed thinking about the day just had or the challenges the next day would bring. I spent nights watching the lights dance on my bedroom wall as cars went by or glancing around my room at the few toys I had. I would get lost in thought thinking about what kind of adventures they would get into if they had come to life like in that movie. The house I grew up in was located on the corner of a less traveled intersection. One streetlight lit the 4 way. The light was old but bright; shining through my window soothingly giving my room the orange fade like a dim melody. The streetlight would flicker every once and a while causing the collection of bugs around it’s bulb to disperse only to return once their oddity of light came back into existence. The nighttime setting was memorable and comforting. Until it showed up. One night, after crawling out of bed from pure boredom, I sat on the edge of the foot board watching cars go by. I counted the passing vehicles while getting lost in thought. One car, maybe two all night, but often none. A few hours passed without a car whizzing through the intersection. The light flickered and when the bulb regained power, it stood directly underneath. The night air still and noisy insects silenced. The dark figure stood frozen but not in a natural or what seemed comfortable way. Oblong limbs on a cracked and deformed body. The figure was so dark it was hard to be sure if what I saw was a person or shadow. Climbing over the end of my bed I creeped over to my window never removing my gaze from the being. I couldn’t tell but, I think it knew I was watching. It wasn’t long after I reached my bedroom window that I knew something wasn’t right. The dark figure under the streetlight had moved. My eyes narrowed and I focused on the abnormal being. I studied it. I noticed it was breathing. Not slowly, but fast and erratically. Almost as if it was out of breath or as if it had just exhausted stamina sprinting a long distance. Its arms moved slightly up and down with every sporadic breath. At this moment I realized it moved again. Slightly but, it was definitely not in the same position as when I first seen it. It was hard to be sure. The being was so dark under the light that it was hard to focus on what was it’s torso or a limb. I continued to stare at it. My eyes just above the window frame. I was so concentrated on the strange figure in the street that I jumped when I heard a noise in my house. Quickly, I turned around towards my bedroom door. One of my parents or perhaps a brother had just gotten up to use the restroom down the hall. After assessing the situation, I turned my head back to the newfound problem in the road and I noticed it had moved again. It was now staring at me. I knew this because I could see its eyes. I froze. It’s eyes were small but a bright. Piercing white sparkles so tiny that they almost seemed to get lost in the black void of it’s own body. I knew for some reason that it wasn’t just looking in my direction. It was staring directly at me. After a few minutes I decided I needed to leave. I had to run to show someone what the fuck was in the road. I slowly began to stand out of view of the window, but I didn’t take my eyes off the figure. It was at this moment I realized the game I was in. Before I made my way out of the window frame, I had blinked. Upon opening my eyes from a single blink, I noticed it had shifted. I blinked again. It fucking moved again. That . . .*thing* out there was moving any moment it wasn’t in my sight! It had by now taken a full step in my direction. The dark figure looked . . . excited. Like it knew I had finally figured out the horrific rules of the game. It’s frantic breathing grew more intense. This is crazy. This isn’t a real thing, right? My heart began to race and my breathing quickened. “This is. . .what is happening?” I thought. I wasn’t convinced. So I held my breath as I stood in my bedroom and SHUT MY EYES. I thought, “I’ll count to 5. This must be a dream”. One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi, 4 . . . suddenly I heard a crunch like a tree branch snapping. I opened my eyes. It was no longer under the streetlight. I was overwhelmed with adrenaline and panic. I bolted for my bed and dove under the blankets. I was so scared I forgot what I had JUST proven. I have look at it! As I shuffled the covers, I heard quickly approaching footsteps. They sounded unreal. The steps were quickly growing louder and were hitting so hard I swear I could hear the dirt and sticks being thrown into the air behind it. My head rose above my blankets and sure enough, the footsteps stopped. I stared at the window. The only visible thing was the intersection lit by the light pouring down from the streetlight above. Although the figure wasn’t in my sight, I knew it was there. Somewhere, in the dark. I sat in my bed staring through the window in the bedroom. I didn’t move. I would blink once in a while and when I did I could always hear just a little movement. I knew the longer I blinked the more distance between us the creature would cover. This nightmare lasted for hours. Every time I was tempted to yawn I would fight the reflex with what felt like every muscle in my body. After what seemed like an eternity the sun began to rise. A soft light began to wash over my neighborhood. I decided to get out of bed and move to the window and attempt to locate the thing from the road. I knew it was out there but, where? I slowly approached the window and was given a much broader view of my yard leading up to the intersection. Even though I was looking for the creature it still made me jump when I laid eyes on it. There it was in greater detail. The blood left my face, hands, and feet as I seen just how terrifying it truly was. The thing was in a paused motion. Must have been 7 feet tall and perched on one leg as if frozen in mid stride. One dangly arm was open palmed on a tree it had been passing as if using it to push off and increase it’s speed. The other hand was open and clawing, right in my direction. It was now 20 feet from my window whereas in the road it was about 45 feet. The creature’s skin was black, wrinkly, and had the texture of dried leather. Other areas of it’s body were made up of random patches of black mangled fur. Tall, gangly, and unbelievably skinny the creature looked as if it was malnourished. Starving, desperate, and it’s sights set right on me. Every time I moved, even slightly, I noticed it’s breathing would intensify. It would get excited as if any moment I would turn and lose eye contact and it could continue the rampage toward me. I remembered it’s piercing eyes and decided to look at them in the small glimpse of daylight I now had. As I lifted my gaze towards it’s head the streetlight suddenly flickered. The sunrise was causing the light sensor to diminish the power to the bulb and it was shutting off. I was tired and not thinking when I flashed my eyes to the light which I noticed had just went out. My eyes hit the streetlight, the light went out, and I then heard a low growling coming from the creature. The noise it emitted was low and scratchy and it sent shivers down my spine. I quickly relocated my eyes back toward the creature and . . . it was gone. I didn’t move for quite some time. The creature had vanished and the last time that happened it had covered nearly 25 feet in a matter of seconds so my guard was UP. I scanned the yard intensely. I stood shaking. I could feel the cool morning breeze hit my cold sweat covered body. Minutes had passed and still no change to the absence of the being. A car passed through the intersection. I hadn’t even noticed if cars had passed at all since it appeared. I still couldn’t find it. I felt unsure that the thing had vanished at all. “BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!” I jumped and shot my head around behind me as to evaluate the sudden noise in my bedroom. My alarm was going off. I threw my head back towards the window. Still no sign of it. Had the monster finally disappeared? Was it unable to be in the daylight? It vanished as the streetlight went out. It must be gone. Maybe it can only, “POUND, POUND!”. My bedroom door shook and I let out a gasp. “Turn off your alarm it’s so annoying! Come on dude!” It was my brother. I sighed relief and mouthed an almost silent, “Yeah, sorry”. Knowing that someone else was within reach I felt that I could take my eyes off the yard and I turned to silence my alarm. I felt uneasy. I felt alone and unsure. I sat in bed and covered myself attempting to regain composure. The day went but many questions clouded my head. Was I going to see it again? Could anyone else see it? I told my brother what happened and he just chuckled. Same reaction from my parents. Their conclusion was that I had a vivid imagination and so no more scary movies. This was mine to handle on my own. It was under the streetlight multiple times after that night. Some nights it didn’t show but that didn’t mean I was just going to bed like nothing happened. I mean, there was no instruction manual to this fucking thing. All I knew was I had to stare at it, blink sparingly, and under no circumstances nod off. I made that mistake once and it nearly cost me my life. After a few nights of this I had a good system going. I would blink about 20 times per hour so by sunrise it would only have made it a few steps onto the lawn. The system worked so well that I became bored. Boredom led to drowsiness. One night I repeated what I had done most every night for a couple of weeks. I didn’t even remember shutting my eyes. I only recall jumping awake to sound of the screen bursting off the window. My eyes met the creature as it was now frozen in place. One foot on the bottom of my window and a hand at either side of it as if it were in motion to launch itself at me. It’s breathing changed from fast and frantic to slow inhales and exhales. Calm. Like it was sure it would finally reach me. Huge gnarled teeth and unblinking white eyes that expressed anger and yearning. I stared for the remaining hours and once that sunrise hit, it vanished once again. The nightmare lasted about a month and then it just stopped showing up. I stayed awake almost a year after that until I slowly began to gain a normal life. 5 years past, 10, and beyond. I’m 32 years old now. Sitting at my desk writing this letter at about 6:30 in the morning with a cold cup of tea. I’m submitting this experience everywhere I can in an attempt to reach out to someone who may have seen this *thing*. I need to know if others are seeing what I’m seeing and if they have any answers for me. Because it’s back. Last night it managed to climb up the 4 stories to my apartment’s balcony. I accidentally spotted it on my way back from the kitchen with a hot cup of tea. It was only just getting it’s other leg over the railing outside the slider door. That fucking look on it’s face. It almost had me. Please, someone contact me if they know what this is. I can’t do this again.


On Fridays nights, I-Nina Garcia-open a good book and eat junk food. My parents are usually on date nights, so I have the house all to myself. Sure, maybe it sounds pathetic, but this is how it's always been. It's how I reward myself at the end of a long week. Other kids go to parties, but I've never been a social butterfly. Making small talk with other people has never been my strong suit. This Friday night was like no other. I order pizza from a family-run business in town and open a bag of candy. Since it's August, I put on pajama shorts and a tank top and settled on the couch. Since classic books are rapidly going out of style, I decided to pick up A Tale of Two Cities from the library. "Well," I whisper quietly to myself. "You can't go wrong with a Dickens book." I open the book and start reading. It was the best of times it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom- The doorbell rings loudly, startling me. I frown and get up. The pizza shouldn't have been made so quickly, should it? Slowly, I open the door and freeze. James Abbot stands outside the door, his emerald green eyes wide with fear. In all our time living next door to each other, I've rarely spoken 5 words to James. What could possibly be of my concern, I think grudgingly to myself. "James?" I ask. "Is something wrong?" "Yeah," he chokes out. "I need you to come with me. Please, Nina." "Why?" I scowl. "Because I don't have a car," he explains hurriedly, looking behind him as if to make sure he isn't being followed. "But-" I start. "Please, Nina, I'll never ask you for everything else," he practically begs. I bite my lip as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "Fine," I sigh, giving in. "Let me get changed." "Can I wait inside?" he questions. I nod, opening the door wider. He stands in the foyer and I go to my room and put jean shorts and a tee-shirt on. "Okay, so where are we going?" I inquire when we're settled in my barely running 2004 Honda Accord. "Just drive," he says, irritated. I bristle. Why is he annoyed? I'm the one driving him around. I comply, starting the car and backing out of the driveway. We sit in awkward silence as I drive down the road. "Are you running from something?" I prod. "Family problems?" He doesn't respond. "I'm stopping the car right now if you don't tell me what's going on." "Were you seriously reading on a Friday night," he smirks. "Don't change the subject," I growl. "You took me away from a pretty good book, you owe me." "Okay, okay," he holds up his hands in mock surrender. "A couple of guys were chasing me out of Sandy Cohen's party." "What did you do?" I laugh. Sandy Cohen's the most popular senior, if you're in with her, you're on top of the social hierarchy for life. "Well, we were playing poker-" he starts nervously. "And you won?" I ask dryly. "Yeah," he says softly. "That's a big no-no for a junior, I guess. A nobody like me winning a poker game against three senior guys." "How did you get invited anyway?" I ask, bemused. "If you're as unpopular as me?" "Well, that was another subject up for debate," he admits. "In a way, I guess you could say I snuck in." "Oh, geez, James," I roll my eyes. "Sandy Cohen's house is like three blocks away, why didn't you go back to your house?" "They weren't far behind," he shrugs. "Thought you were my best bet." "How long am I driving you around?" I ask. "A couple of hours, maybe?" he replies sheepishly. "I'm hoping they'll get too drunk to function." "Maybe," I nod. I make a left. "Well, let's make this night interesting, shall we?" "What do you mean?" "Don't worry about it." "Shouldn't I be the spontaneous one?" "No, I read more books, so I've got a few surprises up my sleeve." "Right, can I change the station?." "Nope." I turn to him and grin, he smiles back. We drive for another five minutes until I park my car at the beach." "Ah, not a bad choice, Garcia," he nods approvingly. "We're just in time for the sunset." He's right, when we step out of the car, the sun is above the ocean. I run onto the beach and sit in the sand. The sky is bursting with pinks, reds, and oranges. There has never been a prettier sight. James sits beside me. I close my eyes, breathing in the salty, sea air and listening to the crashing waves. It's a sound that I could fall asleep to, no matter what. "You look so peaceful," his voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I open my eyes and laugh. "This is the only place where I feel peaceful," I respond. "Yeah?" he raises an eyebrow. "I haven't been here since I was a kid." "No kidding," I smirk. I shiver as it grows colder. "Here," he hands me his hoodie. I look at it uncertainly. "It's washed . And I wore deodorant today, Garcia." I take it and put it on. There's a faint smell of pine and vanilla. It smells like something to come home to. "Thanks, James," I say softly, my voice almost drowned out by the ocean. "Anytime," he says. "You feel relaxed?" "What?" "You said I was relaxed. So....are you?" "In what perspective are you asking?" "Answer the question." He leans back on his hands for a second, staring out at the view. The sun is almost gone. He looks at me for a moment. "Yeah," he nods. "I suppose so." "Good," I respond. "Good," he repeats. We sit there, not speaking. The sun disappears. For the next few hours, we talk about school and where we want to go to college. He tells me his favorite color is orange, and I tell him my favorite food is pizza. "Well," I check my watch. It's nearly 10. I hold my hand out to him. "I think the seniors are probably drunk enough." "Probably," he agrees, placing his hand in mine. And there it is, a spark that makes me want to yank my hand away. I haul him up, and he doesn't let go of my hand. I clear my throat, and he drops my hand quickly. "Come on," I say, starting to my car. He follows behind me. "Thank you," he says once we're inside. I put the key in the ignition and nod. Then, I realize it's dark, and he can't see me. "A-anytime," I stammer, wondering why I'm so nervous. I grip the steering wheel, white-knuckling it. "You alright there, Garcia?" James puts a hand on my shoulder. "Yup," I say, driving us to his house. In no time, I drop him off at his house. "Well, don't get into trouble." "Thanks again, Nina, you're the best," he unbuckles his seatbelt. "Do you want your hoodie back?" I ask, starting to take it off." "Keep it," he says. "It looks better on you than me." He hops out, freezing as his hand reaches to close the door. "What is it?" "Nothing." "Okay, well, goodnight then, James." "Goodnight, madam." "Seriously, go to bed." "It's not even midnight yet." "Don't stall. Goodbye, James." He smiles, shaking his head. His hair flies around in a bunch of different directions. He shuts the door and jogs to the door. Before he steps inside, James Abbot salutes me. I grin and laugh, shaking my head. I park in the driveway and unlock the door to my house. I settle back on the couch and open my book. Sure, I didn't expect tonight to be like this. I didn't expect to spend half of my Friday night with a boy I barely talk to. Yet, there's nothing I would change, except the fact that I didn't get to eat my pizza.


It was *almost* easy to be swept away by the sweetness when Jeff showed up. He waited outside a Town Car's open door, a bouquet of white roses resting on his forearm. Caroline digested the whole picture bit by bit to give herself time to process. Despite the lack of formal wear, she had flashbacks to her prom, which was not a memory she wanted to revisit. She made herself take the next step toward him while she squashed thoughts of her past. He looked absolutely dashing in his deep blue button-down shirt and black slacks, belted with an ornate silver buckle. She fidgeted with her purse strap – more stalling meant to prevent her from turning on her heel and running away screaming – and swallowed her anxiety to push forward the rest of the way. Jeff kissed her on the cheek and helped her into the car. Thoughts swarmed in Caroline’s head and she worried he could hear the dissonance as loudly as she could. “Did you hear me, Care?” The voice cut through the buzzing. She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again, and turned to face him. “Sorry, I was just overwhelmed with how fancy this all is!” It was her hope that she effectively presented excitement, though what really lived inside was panic. It was like being trapped in a cage and not knowing when she’d get out. “Heh, yeah. I’ve had a long time to think about how I wanted to do this.” The compulsion to gulp and widen her eyes was powerful, but she resisted nonetheless. “It’s lovely, Jeff. Thank you.” When he smiled back at her, she knew her attempt at her own smile was successful. “So where are we going, anyway?” “Just a little steakhouse I know downtown. Is that okay? I can call and cancel the reservation if there’s somewhere else you’d rather go…” It seemed it was Jeff’s turn to panic. The kind consideration eased her own dread just slightly, along with the amusement at his eagerness to please her. “No, of course. That’s great. You went to all the trouble, I couldn’t possibly spoil it.” Once her heart was beating at a normal rate again, she turned toward the window to watch the buildings and the people striding along the sidewalks, and all the while she could feel Jeff’s gaze on her. They were seated near a window where they overlooked docks on the channel. Of *course* he pulled out her chair for her and ordered them a bottle of champagne. She wondered what the occasion was but by the time she thought she might ask, he was already talking to her about everything under the sun. As she surveyed the rest of the dining room, she noticed couples in various stages of their romances. Some clinking glasses or making moony eyes at one another and she tunes in and out of the conversation at her own table, noting that Jeff hopes to have a dog someday and he enjoys his job, though she can’t for the life of her remember what exactly he does. She does remember to occasionally smile and nod to show she’s listening but ultimately settles her eyes on her bubbling glass of champagne. A glittery sphere catches her attention. For a moment, she thought there was an image of her mother working in her old basement workshop. She blinked and it was a normal glass of champagne again, so she picked it up and took a long sip. The rest of the evening was both uneventful and surprising. When Jeff dropped her back home, instead of asking to come up, he kissed her mouth hard and said he couldn’t wait to do this again. He didn’t wait for her to return the kiss or say goodbye before sliding back into the Town Car and taking off. Instead of the post-date fantasizing in every romantic comedy in the history of ever, Caroline’s mind decided to fixate on her lack of fulfillment. Her experience lent her no helping hand in that department as she had no idea what to expect from such a sensation. Was satisfaction in a relationship supposed to feel like what she got from her banal position at work? Did it mean she wouldn’t question their connection? Jeff Williams was a sweet, classically chivalrous guy. He still sought answers for a more committed relationship, but Caroline deflected like an expert. After all, it *was* her job. She *wanted* to give him what he was asking for. But, couldn’t - it was like something was just out of her reach, but she had no idea what it was. Her mind was constantly running, searching for what that missing puzzle piece was. Her usual immersion in work became much more useful. Every moment spent in a spreadsheet daze was a moment she didn’t have to think about why Jeff wasn’t enough for her. Was it possible that she was the one that wasn’t enough? The romantic dates to various dinner locales continued for weeks. They ranged from mom and pop diners to elegant and classy joints she never dreamed she’d be able to afford. He always took care of the bill, though, so that was never a worry. She had to hand it to the old-fashioned guy, it was a massive load off her shoulders. The problem was that she wasn’t always present on their dinner dates. Her mind would drift to the ray of sunshine that graced her offices. In her mind, the woman glowed like an angel in the movies. That golden aura of light and glitter surrounded her. Sometimes, she even envisioned a halo. It seemed that Greta was there more often than not recently, but that didn’t bother Caroline one bit. She’d be sitting in her office doing her mindless duties and a glorious goddess would come by to shine her light with a dazzling smile and adorable wave. It melted Caroline into a puddle and she couldn’t put her finger on why. The heat started to ramp up nearer to summer. Caroline, being her usual modest self, continued to wear her professional outfits of tailored slacks and blouses covered with either a cardigan or complimentary blazer. While everyone else was getting relief by loosening up on their own levels of professionalism and indulging in noisy, disruptive fans of various sizes and shapes, she sat damp at her desk, plucking away at the tasks on her lists. Finally, a day came when she could no longer bear it. She pulled away her top layer - a light cardigan that cut at the waist. It almost gave the illusion of a womanly shape hiding under the clothing. Of course, she was going to reveal that for the lie it was and expose skin. The thought made her shudder, but she knew if she didn’t, she would pass out from the heat and get even less work done than she had since the start of the summer. The view outside got much more interesting as the sun beamed down on the city. People flocked to the beaches – it looked like thousands – though Caroline was not about to count. The scantily clad ladies traipsed through the sands, laid in the sun on beach towels, and dipped into the water at choreographed intervals. Sit, lotion, lay, flip, dip, repeat. A tapping of high heels pulled her from the reality show in the window. That sound only meant one thing. Greta was in the office and was about to grace Caroline with whatever magic the angel possessed that had her so mesmerized. The familiar face passed by the window, and unlike usual, stopped in the threshold of Caroline’s office. This was an odd change of pace and she became increasingly aware of the sweat in her palms. “Warm today, isn’t it.” It was more a statement than a question. Her eyes glanced away from Caroline’s eyes to inspect the rest of her. She noticed a difference. Caroline grew self-conscious suddenly and reached for one of her exposed shoulders. That seemed to draw even more of Greta’s attention. Caroline’s cheeks flushed. She cleared her throat. “It must be nice to get to play at the beach and dip into the cool waters when you need a break.” She drew her eyes away to look out the window once more. Greta stepped farther into the office to see the view. “So it seems. Will you be going to the beach to join in the fun?” “Oh! Definitely not! The beach isn’t really my thing.” “Where I come from, the beach is mostly reserved for the stoners and hippies. I’m more welcome in the resort and gym pools. I suppose it suits me better anyway. No dangerous sun to eat away at my skin.” She inspected her arms as if to look for sunspots. Of course, there weren’t any. She was perfect. Caroline finally noticed how close Greta was. She could smell her light perfume, sweet and floral. Perhaps it was her shampoo and conditioner. Her hair was perfect. And… *Oh, shit she was staring.* Greta didn’t seem to notice, so she looked down at her own hands. The force it took was unbelievable. What power did this woman hold over her? Why was Caroline so damn captivated? *Saved by the bell.* Caroline’s office phone rang. Greta excused herself to let her take the call. Caroline mouthed a ‘sorry’ and a smile was given in return. The next day, as Caroline left the office, Greta clacked her heels over. “Hey, Caroline.” She was slightly out of breath. “Afternoon, Miss Habernathy.” “Oh, you can just call me Greta.” “Right, Greta. Are you heading home, too?” Caroline placed the stamp she’d borrowed yet again from Janet on the reception counter. Janet smiled gratefully and took it to replace it in the drawer. “I’m not sure yet. I was actually wondering if you’re busy.” “Oh, uh. I don’t really have any plans, I guess. Why? What’s up?” “Would you like to get a drink with me? I was just thinking the bar at my hotel. It’s convenient and nice enough.” Caroline had to stop her eyes from widening with shock. “Erm, yeah. Cool, sure. That would be great.” Janet chose that moment to giggle quietly, but she was polite enough to cover it by clearing her throat. *What was her deal?* “Great, I’ll let you finish up here and meet you in the lobby downstairs. We can walk together.” Caroline’s first thought was a question about Greta walking any distance in those heels. “Okay, that sounds good. See you in a few minutes.” Greta walked in the direction of the stairwell and Caroline turned back to Janet. “Is there any mail I need to see before I go?” Janet had been hiding a grin throughout the whole exchange that happened in front of her, but as they spoke, it grew more and more evident. “There’s the package that has been sitting here for forever now, but I suppose if you haven’t needed it by now, it’s probably not urgent.” “Ah, right! Sorry about that, Janet. Really. Um, here. Let me take it and I’ll put it in my office so it doesn’t take up all your space.” “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ll take it to your office for you. You go off and have fun with your new friend.” Caroline suspected the emphasis she put on “friend” was meant to imply something, but she let it go. “You are a godsend, Janet. Thank you!” She tapped the countertop and waved at Janet as she dashed off the elevator door. She tapped the button repeatedly as if that would somehow make it arrive faster. When it didn’t work, she opted for the stairs at a swift jog. In the lobby, Greta was making small talk with one of the doormen. She perked up and smiled when she noticed Caroline. She said her goodbyes to the gentleman and caught up with Caroline, slipping her arm around hers. It shot electricity up her arm and throughout her entire body. “That was Amos. He’s been working in this building for eleven years! And he’s been a doorman for even longer. Can you imagine?” Greta’s interest in this man that Caroline had failed to ever notice until now was refreshing. “I can’t. He must really love opening doors.” Greta cast a sideways glance at Caroline and gave her an amused smirk. “He really does like what he does, but I don’t think it is about opening doors.” The rest of their walk was full of banter as Greta pointed out things she’d learned since her arrival nearly a month ago. Caroline felt like a tourist in her own town, but grateful because she’d never gotten to know the place on her own. The experience made her feel more comfortable not only with the environment but also with Greta. It turned out that she was not a quiet woman. She loved to talk and every word she said was interesting. And she had a sense of humor. Quite a lovely one at that. She was amused by the smallest of things and she was not shy about sharing her angelic laughter. In a blink of an eye, they were at the bar and Greta ordered them sparkling wines. She hadn’t asked what Caroline drank before doing so, but she didn’t mind. They talked for hours and hours. Greta touched her a lot and talked with her hands. The eye contact was constant and thrilling. Her eyes were deep and full of magic. They sparkled whenever Greta spoke about things that interested her. Caroline’s mind wandered while Greta spoke. There had to be something wrong with her, right? She could not be as perfect as she seemed. Where’s the pain and darkness? Is she really just a being made of light? Of course she was.


Twenty-eight years ago, my life was swept up into a tornado. The winds came on almost without warning, blowing around everything in my predictable world. I knew it was coming. I had seen the forecast. But I had no idea how dramatic its impact would be. It was weeks away from the birth of my first child, but I thought I had it all under control. The baby’s room, painted a serene shade of yellow to accommodate any gender, was in perfect order. Stacks of newborn diapers and freshly washed baby clothes and blankets sat neatly folded on the dresser. We had researched all the newest gadgets, and my husband was already a pro at clicking the car seat into the car and opening and closing our top-rated designer stroller. Our family and friends were counting the days until they could come and meet the newest member of our family. I felt the winds of change start to blow as I said goodbye to my co-workers, leaving my office for the last time with a carload of baby gear and well wishes. The days that followed were spent preparing for the delivery, each day spinning me faster toward an unknown future. It was too late to run, or do anything to change the trajectory.

Then the big day arrived. My son was born and the tornado that had been looming crashed into my cozy life, pulling me and my husband into its vortex. We twisted and twirled our way up, running too quickly to see what was happening on the outside. It was exciting and scary, joyful and chaotic, as we entered a ride that seemed to have no beginning and no end. We were sucked in further with each passing day. We whirled and bumped our way through the first month, a total blur of cuddles and diapers and sleepless nights, and then the first year.  Sometimes it felt as if we were holding on, adjusting to the rapid changes in our lives. At other times we were spinning way too fast. Everything in our midst was spinning along with us, shifting and changing at a dizzying pace. At times, running us ragged. We would catch momentary glimpses of the world we left behind. Sometimes we could reach out and touch it. Other times it was nowhere to be seen. After a while, we adjusted to the constant turmoil, but with the birth of my daughter two years later, the tornado picked up speed, and the spinning chaos increased. We loved our little family but were constantly running in circles trying to maintain it – to keep things from spinning out of control. Occasionally, my husband would swirl past me, but then disappear again, off on his own journey -- usually at the first sound of a crying baby. As the years passed, we careened toward a big house with its jumbo mortgage, a utility vehicle with three rows, and a revolving door of school plays, dance recitals and music lessons. Our kids were the axis of the tornado, with us and every decision in our lives revolving around them. We raced through their childhood, and just barely made it through the twists and turns of adolescence. Then as our children reached their mid-teens, we sensed them trying to spin off on their own. It was gratifying yet unsettling, as they kept crashing back into us, rejoining the safety of the familiar before flying off again. Then, after years of preparations that didn’t even begin to make me feel ready, my son went off to college. The tornado slowed a bit. I could almost see the world around me, but not quite. His leaving was just a dry run. Two years later, my daughter left for college and the tornado sputtered and finally lost energy, dropping me into my large and now empty house. I felt calm and quiet for the first time in years, as the spinning stopped. The tornado had run out of gas, but it appears we all landed safely. I missed the constant turmoil, yet at the same time I felt drawn to the peacefulness of this clean, empty space. There was a distant sense of familiarity about my surroundings.

I took a good look around me, and there was a man in the house, my husband. He was sitting in a chair, clutching the armrest and eyeing his surroundings cautiously. He looked wind-blown and disheveled, and I imagined that’s how I looked too. I didn’t really know this man, and it occurred to me that I could simply turn away from him, revel in the peacefulness and the stillness by myself. But the house already felt way too quiet, and he seemed as bewildered and confused as I did. Maybe we could figure out how to co-exist in this large space that seemed to echo with the sound of voices that were no longer there. We knew each other before the tornado arrived, but that felt like another lifetime. I turned to him, unsure what to say. It has been years since we had really talked, and I searched my memory for something. “Hi,” I said, my voice sounding small in the large space.

He turned and looked at me for the first time, assessing my presence in this new reality. “Hi.” He scratched his head before adding, “Are you hungry?” I looked at my watch, and my stomach growled. “Yeah, I am. What should we do for dinner tonight?” The words felt foreign as they echoed in the empty room.

He considered my question. “We can try that new Italian place downtown.” My answer came from someplace deep inside me, from some alternate reality. “Okay, want to head out a little early? Then we can try to catch a movie afterwards.” Wait, I thought. A movie? When was the last time I watched one of those on a big screen?  Do I need to be home for anything? Do I have the time for this? And then I remembered, and my body relaxed. “Sure,” the man said, his voice lighter. And so, we began picking up the pieces, the remnants of the storm, and gradually returning to something vaguely resembling the life we had before. We were tired from our journey, and just a little bit bruised. But despite the tumult of the past 20 years, it had been a good run.

Eight years have now passed since we dropped from the tornado, and on occasion the winds pick up again, and I feel the fear and exhilaration that come with an impending storm. The kids roll in with friends and boyfriends and sometimes a load of laundry, and the house is alive again, humming and spinning in joyful chaos, but it never lasts long enough. They return to their apartments and jobs, and their independent lives. I feel unsettled each time they leave, never quite able to re-adjust to the stillness. But for the most part, I’m glad to have my feet planted firmly on the ground knowing that, for better or for worse, the storm has run its course.


Damn! My car had hit a pothole, and now I am stuck in this hot, dry, and dusty little Karoo town until another tyre to fit my car could be located. I buy a cold drink and find a bench under a bedraggled excuse for a tree. I feel as bedraggled as the tree with me blouse sticking to my body and my hair hanging limply down my neck. As I try vainly to get the sand out of my shoes, I notice an old man who had been intensely watching me negotiate with the mechanic now limping his way to the bench to sit down beside me. I have no idea why cars can’t be standard; why we can’t have ‘one size fits all’, and why mechanics all over the world shake their heads while trying to rub car grease off their hands with a cloth that is full of grease. Everyone knows that the car is not going in for an operation, and that it can be fixed, but if you are a woman, the mechanic has a field day; the only sign language he knows is how to shake his head and wipe the oil off his hands, and the more he shakes his head and studies the oil on his hands, the more you are going to pay. I am so caught up in my own woes that I am barely aware of the man sitting beside me until a puff of smoke drifts past my nose. Cigarette smoke makes me nauseous, cigar smoke is even worse, but the aroma of this particular brand of pipe tobacco is not only welcome, it is intoxicating to my senses as it takes me back to a time when I was just a little girl over half a century ago. There had been a major polio scare in the city and schools had closed as children were at high risk. To keep me safe, my parents sent me off to my Uncle Chappie who farmed in the Karoo. Perhaps it is because of returning to this arid area that my nostalgia has slipped in. No, it is definitely this rich smell of pipe tobacco that I remember so well. My uncle usually had his pipe clenched between his yellowed teeth, even when it was not lit. I can’t remember when last I had seen someone smoke a pipe; perhaps that is why the comforting smell makes me look at the stranger who smiles at me; I quickly looked away before he can start a conversation. The aroma of blended tobacco takes me back to the little whitewashed rondavels with thatched roofs clustered around a courtyard. There was no electricity, no running water, and I loved it. I had my very own rondavel to sleep in, and a candle next to my bed. In the morning I would be up before sunrise, and along with Uncle Chappie, we would go down to the dam to brush our teeth. He would tell me how important it was to look after my teeth while I looked at his stained teeth that had worn away where his pipe sat. Those halcyon days were spent learning how to milk cows and herd the sheep to different pastures. I learned to herd the sheep to the trough to drink as they did not drink from running streams. The farm worker’s son taught me how to communicate with the animals. I named him Hop-a-long, and we developed such a close bond with each other and with the animals that all of my uncle’s animals were thriving under our care. I taught Hop-a-long to read, and he tried to teach me how to read spoor. He was an amazing tracker; he could tell the difference not only between the different types of animals (sheep, goat, or buck), but could even tell whether they were male or female. All I could discern was the difference between the spoor of cattle and of sheep. My favourite time of the day was in the evening. I would sit next to my uncle on the bench watching the stars appear while we waited for my aunt who was preparing dinner. The delicious aromas that came from the kitchen were succeeded by the smell of the pipe tobacco. Lighting the pipe was a ritual. The old tobacco would be knocked out on the heel of the boot, then a pipe cleaner would be found in a pocket somewhere; once it had been poked into the pipe a couple of times, it would once more disappear into a pocket. The tobacco box would be fetched, this was no ordinary box; it was small and rectangular with a picture of a boxer on the lid. I would hold the box and trace out the word ‘Chappie’ that had been engraved above a picture of a boxer whose legs seemed to be too skinny for his body. The tobacco was then pressed down into the pipe with a calloused thumb; only once it had been tamped to the correct degree was the pipe lit, and we would sit back and enjoy the cool evening breeze. Well those days were long gone, I am about to go and find some water to drink as the cold drink had done little to quench my thirst, when the man sitting next to me starts knocking the tobacco out on the heel of his shoe. I shake my head. I must be hallucinating, this heat has obviously caused me to dehydrate. The man still says nothing, he just puts a little wooden box down on the bench between us. I give the box a perfunctory glance, then I stop and stare; the picture of the boxer has faded away, but I can’t take my eyes off the word ‘Chappie’ which is still clearly discernible. I look at this man who is now beaming from ear to ear, and I can’t believe my eyes. “Hop-a-long, how did you recognise me?” I sign. He puts his pipe down to answer: “I could never forget the girl who taught me how to speak with my hands.”


Albert and I have been thinking, researching, and experimenting with the strange artifact in the laboratory.

I am starting to feel tired of this place. We’re still stuck on the problem and while we've deciphered most of it, this particular part seems to be crucial in understanding the entire thing. Suddenly, an alarm goes off. “What is that?” I ask. I’ve never heard that alarm before–I didn’t even know we had one. “Ah, ignore it,” responds Albert in his characteristic way. “And that buzz?” “Don’t know. Ignore it.” I do and continue typing on my computer. After some time, the alarm stops for a moment and then goes off again. I wake up immediately. The clock on the wall marks 3:34 a.m. The transmitter is buzzing. I look at it, and though the brightness of the screen makes me squint, I can see it’s Albert who’s calling. He said he would not call unless something very important happened, so I snap to my senses right away. At this point, I am a bit distraught. “There’s no way,” I say in a half-asleep voice before picking up. “Yes?” “Bill, you gotta come right now.” “Do you have it now?” There is some silence. “I think I do.” When I enter the room, I find Albert at his desk, frantically alternating between his computer and his notebook. “Albert?” I exclaim. He doesn’t turn. “All the AIs have thrown similar results. Take a look.” “What are all those weird characters?” “I’m guessing they’re numbers… maybe.” “Numbers?” “Yeah, numbers.” “What if they’re dates?” “Yeah, that’s a possibility. We’ll have to wait.” “Did you feed the machines with them?” “I did, and maybe we’ll get an answer in a couple of hours.” He stands up and starts wandering around the room. “Oh my God, Bill. I can’t wait!” It’s very unusual to see him this excited. In fact, I have never seen him like this before. “I cannot believe humanity waited all this long to get this thing deciphered. Bill, do you get how fortunate we are? No one, absolutely no one has ever been able to figure this out.” *** The Lost Message, as it’s been referred to throughout the years, resembles a sleek, metallic slab. Its surface emits a subtle glow and displays an intricate language or code that lacks a clear structure or pattern. It has a unique texture; upon touch, you can feel an odd mixture of smoothness and subtle ridge. Its exact dimensions are 8.2 inches x 5.6 inches x 0.923 inches. It’s a very light object, weighing 0.356 pounds. It was discovered thousands of years ago by the first human beings to ever walk on this planet. Nevertheless, the exact date of its appearance and origins remain completely unknown. Throughout history, this object has been mentioned in the writings, books, and documents of the greatest philosophers and scientists. Furthermore, it has been depicted in cave paintings in various parts of the world. Yet, it remains uncertain whether there are multiple replicas or parts belonging to it. Despite extensive research and expeditions, no other similar objects or related pieces have been found. Hence, it is widely assumed that this enigmatic artifact, referred to by many cultures throughout history, is a single, one-of-a-kind object. Experts from diverse fields have tirelessly attempted to unravel its mysteries but to no avail. Entire schools have been dedicated to this peculiar artifact. The Romans, in particular, were consumed by their obsession with it. When the object fell into their territory, they became determined to learn more about its origins and significance. They allocated a substantial portion of their entire funding during a significant part of their reign to explore its secrets. Additionally, a considerable part of their budget was allocated to safeguarding it from potential theft. It was considered sacred to them. During the Inquisition, the Catholic Church tried everything to disappear this object, as rumors of its connection to the devil began to circulate. However, they were futile attempts since, even to this day, the object seems to be indestructible. In desperation, the Church decided to cast it away, placing it on one of the embarks heading to Asia, with the hope of removing it from Europe entirely. From that point on, the object wandered from place to place across the globe until it eventually found its way to the Americas. Here, it has become the focus of extensive research and examination in some of the largest universities and scientific institutions across the United States. *** “What if it is a message from God?” “Well, we’re about to find out.” “Aren’t you scared?” “Why would I be?” “What if it is something bad?” “Whatever it is we won’t back out now, Bill. It’s us who have discovered the last piece of the puzzle. It’s us, who will see the mysteries this thing holds before anyone else. I don’t care about anything else.” He finishes writing something down. “Come on, let’s get a coffee and clear our minds for a bit until it’s done.” *** Upon our return, a message has been produced, but it is not what we expected, but even after some analysis we could not find a failure or malfunction in the algorithms. “What if it’s not the real message?” “No, no, no. It is. It has to.” Albert’s mood is distressed. After a pause he continues, “It is. It didn’t throw gibberish. The message makes perfect sense, and, if you asked me, coming from this thing, I think it makes perfect sense…. And even if it wasn’t, what are we supposed to do now? Try to decode this shit from the beginning and flush thousands of years of research right down the toilet? Not happening. This is what it is, and we are the first to know. Period.” There is no doubt about what the message states because what Albert says is right; it didn’t produce a nonsense combination of letters. Everything is perfectly readable. How can that be a mistake? “What do we do now? Do I call the general director so he can contact the government and arrange the release?” Albert sighs. He looks tired, worried, and anxious.“Yes. Let everyone know about it.” *** The room has been properly set up for the occasion. Several lines of chairs are arranged in rows, distributed in two columns. The big screen at the front displays the company logo. The President, James K. Patterson, enters the room accompanied by other two men whom I presume are members of his Cabinet; they are then followed by other important people. The President seems happy, eager to know about what might be the unraveling of the biggest mystery in history. He greets Mark Tarasov, the CEO. They exchange a few words and then he is invited to have a seat in the first row of chairs, right at the front. More people start to fill the room. Albert and I are in the front, waiting for everybody to settle in so we can begin the disclosure. Everybody looks very happy and excited. I am nervous. Albert, on the other hand, looks calm, and thoughtful, with his eyes fixed straight ahead, and his hands behind his lower back. Mr. Tarasov begins with a brief speech and then indicates for us to continue with the information. Albert takes over. “Thank you, everyone, for gathering here today. At Athemis Corp we are incredibly proud of…” The room falls into complete silence, and eager smiles spread across the faces of the audience. "As you know, this is a collective effort of humanity. It doesn’t solely belong to us…" Some in the audience lean forward, their eyes wide with curiosity. “Einstein, one of the greatest geniuses the world has ever seen, he alone was able to…” Their faces animated with a mix of wonder and anticipation. “Thousands of years of relentless research, but now, finally…” Smiles adorn their lips, revealing a great sense of excitement. Their gaze shift between the two of us and the screen. "Before we proceed, I want to give you a heads-up that this might not unfold as we expected. We are already re-running another interaction, however…" You could notice the enthusiasm in their corporal language and facial expressions. Finally, a three-paragraph message is displayed on the screen. I could see the drastic change on their faces as the smiles begin to fade. Concentration turns into confusion, excitement into worry, and silence into mumbling and muttering as they start speaking to one another in clear uneasiness. As expected, there are lots of questions and comments on this. “Is this true? Why are we supposed to believe this?” “So it means it’s over?” “What if the machine is wrong?” “We are hundreds of years behind, how is that possible?” “What is the source of this then?” “Aren’t there any more pieces? What about on other planets?” “With all due respect, I think this is total bullshit, and I am going to wait until the second iteration confirms that.” “If it’s real, we’re doomed.” "Not everyone will be able to escape, and those who do will eventually die in space." “Do you guys have an idea of the panic this will cause in the public?” *** 5 years later. There is chaos. People doing riots. People attacking other people. Nothin’ matters now , you could hear them saying. I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like. We all are going to die anyways. Children crying. People committing suicide. Others praying. Others cursing heavily at God. Towns near special centers beholding hundreds of space shuttles taking off to space to never come back; saying goodbye to what was once their home. *** 2 months later. A massive spaceship approaches Earth. It’s so immense–half the size of Earth–that the blue color of the sky is replaced by the black-silver of the spaceship, and the daylight becomes dimmer. The colossal presence can be felt in the air as the wind suddenly surges in intensity. However, the spaceship remains floating in space, very close to the Exosphere. Whatever or whoever may come out of that spaceship will find only destruction and remnants of what was once a naive civilization that believed themselves to be advanced, but in reality were thousands of years behind and poorly prepared for what they should have been prepared for a long long time ago.


Sarah which colour would you prefer pink, blue, orange, red or white? the painter asked me. I said blue is my chose. I could still smell the fresh blue paint as if it was just yesterday. I had inherited a old, wooden and two storey house from my deceased grandmother in a small and beautiful countryside town name Dublin. I was dressed in my white gown admiring the old but beautful house. I went in the backyard and my eyes caught attention to the discovery of a lovely and small garden planted with carrots on soil bed. The vegetables looked ripe, colourful and tasty. I thought to myself today was my lucky day a garden with my favourite vegetable carrots planted. I was excited and happy. I love and enjoy eating carrots since as child growing up playing with dolls; my mother would cook the carrots mixed in chicken soup with other ingredients for me. When I was 6 years old, first introduce to carrot I hated it like any young child hates vegetables. My father had to trick me and play tube tube train to make me eat Broccile but when my mother told me that if I didn't eat carrot I would get blind. I ate the carrots because of fear of getting blind and I fell in love with it. When I was sick there was no better old trick like good bowl of soup with carrots that made me feel better. Chicken soup is my favourite food whether I am healthy or ill. The Monday morning when I woke up I could smell the fresh air without the pollution of vehicles and factory gases. I love the countryside so peaceful, beautiful, safe and quiet. If there one place leave on earth mother nature surely knows she can find her beauty is in the countryside. I couldn't hear noisy people and screaming cars or babies nor I didnt have to fear criminals. I am in love with countryside I will be happy and grateful living here I thought to myself. After drinking my tea, I went to the garden and watered the plants while I sang for them a slow and soft melody. After watering the plants I remove the unwanted weeds and did a little gardening. The carrots I saw standed firm in the soil it sounded like they were calling me to take a bit, yummy! I had an imaginery taste of the them in my mouth. I gived the carrots a kiss on there stems. Tuesday morning I got dressed in my yellow dress. I was heading to the supermarket to buy some goceries for my house then I couldn't find my wallet and soon realised it was lost. My wallet inside containing my bank account card, identification card and some cash was gone. These are my important documents. I was confused , stress and anger. I search every inch of the house and couldnt find my wallet. I didn't had no money to buy anything but atleast I had my garden with vegetables to survive till I found a solution. Wednesday morning I woke up and went to the garden with my basket to pick the carrots. I planned to make chicken soup my favourite because I had a pack of chicken wings and eggs in my refrigerator when I first moved in, which I bought. When I went to the garden all my beatiful carrots had disappear like magic. I wiped my eyes to see if I was seeing clearly in disbelieve. I was disappointed I thought to myself some wild animal or person stole them from my backyard. How would I survive now with all my carrots gone. Thousand of thoughts run through my head. I had no ingridents to cook I would starve for the day. Thursday morning I couldnt sleep because I was hungry as my belly was grumbling and groaning. I had to catch the thief that cause me to starve. While I peeked through my window there was the criminal hopping on four feet with thick white fur. It was rabbit. How could I miss that? Obviously it had to be a rabbit because rabbits love carrots. When he came and saw nomore rabbits she hopped back through the forest. While I decided to slowly follow her to see if by chance there was any piece of carrot leave for me to cook. As I hid behind the tree in the forest, the rabbit hopped into a hole. Inside I saw the mother feeding rabbit feeding her babies. I was impressed and happy even an animal mother knew the value of providing for your children. When I looked carefully the slight white colour peeking under bitten pieces of carrots caught my attention. What was this pink colour thing? I thoughed then when I remove the chewed pieces of carrots it was my wallet. I soon realised the day I was gardening is when my wallet dropped from my back pants pocket in the farm and rabbit had moved it. I was happy I found my wallet and that the mother was only trying to feed her children, so I put away the hatred of being straved. I collect my wallet and went to town. At a supermarket name Zappy I bought some groceries along with carrots for me and the rabbits. After I came back from the supermarket I went back into the forst and I carried the rabbits out of the hole back to my home. I decided to adopt the rabbits for there protection and let them live with me inside my house because I am sure they must feel cold, get wet or some wild animal would harm them. The mother even thought I am not an animal expert was looking at me like she was saying thank you and I promised them to buy and bring carrots for them every week because I didnt want them to starve or ruin anyone else garden. The rabbits and I will be happy living together for years. I named the mother Ashley, the children Joy and Mary. They are now my pets and I will love, care and protect them always.


Child 7673 was a problem, the biggest problem to plague the Nightmare Department of the Monsters Advocacy Bureau since its inception. 7673 was like no child anyone had ever seen. On the surface, she seemed like any other child; she slept in a bed, and she had nightmares; that much was obvious from her sleep charts. The problem with 7673? She wasn’t afraid of monsters. She just wasn’t intimidated by them. The Nightmare Department had exhausted almost all of its resources trying to scare this child. The threat level of the monster visiting her every night had increased with each visit to her bedroom, the hope being that the scarier the monster appeared, the more frightened she'd be. But all those efforts were in vain, and the Nightmare Department had only one option left; an option they had never used before. They were bringing in the scariest monster in the archives. Me.

I’d like to start this tale by making one thing extremely clear. Child 7673 is an exception to every rule I’ve set for myself. I don't like children. That’s why I joined the Nightmare Department, so I could scare them. I wasn’t expecting to never be called in. They say I’m too scary for most kids--I could kill one, potentially. The MAB doesn’t need to be going around killing children, it’s bad publicity. I’m seven feet tall with carnivorous teeth and beady eyes. Even when I was small, I was the tallest monster for my age. My skin is rough, almost scaly, and jagged around my elbows. The lower level monsters nicknamed me “Dragon” because of them, after the mythological beast. Apparently, for this reason, I’m kept away from most children.

Anyway, I was called once they realized that 7673 posed a problem. My boss summoned me into his office to brief me on the situation. His door was already open when I arrived, so I walked right in, trying to seem as casual as possible. He was sitting at his desk, doing paperwork. I stood in awkward silence for what felt like too long before I finally cleared my throat loudly. “Sir?” “Oh, I see you’ve finally arrived,” he said. “Please take a seat. We have so much to discuss.” “Do we? I’m pretty sure I know what my job entails.” “I didn’t call you in here to listen to you insult me. This is a serious case, so shape up. This kid is causing tons of trouble, and I am not happy about it.” “Everyone? What does that even mean? She’s just an annoying little kid.” “It seems like you don’t quite understand the utter propensity of this situation. Please, allow me to fill you in. You know, just as every monster here knows, that the connection between the monster world and the human world is a delicate one. Those humans let us scare their children only on their own moral guidelines," he said. After taking a sip of his drink, he continued, “Humans want their children to be mentally strong adults. They want them to learn how to deal with the scary things life has to offer and blah, blah, blah. The MAB also gets funding depending on how well we can scare these kids.”

“Yeah, boss. I know all that.” I said. “I’m not clear on why this kid is different than the rest.” “This particular child has proved a big problem. If she isn’t stopped soon, the careers of some of the ‘higher-ups’ at the MAB could be in jeopardy. This is big stuff.” My first instinct was to laugh, although I contained myself. Some of the most important monsters at the MAB, fired over a human child. The irony was almost too much to handle. My boss was surely one of those people in jeopardy, or else he wouldn’t have mentioned it. My evil troll of a boss, gone for good. The thought was tantalizing, I must confess. But I still had my doubts about this job. Maybe part of it was laziness, but another part of me found it hard to believe I was the only monster qualified.

“So you’re telling me I’m the only one that can do this job,” I said. “What about Gris? Those tentacles of his are scary as hell.” “Gris was one of our first tries,” the boss said. “His tentacles didn’t do a damn thing.” “You could send in Charma. That rat’s nest on her head would scare—” “How many times must I tell you? You have no choice. You are going to do this job. Nobody else. Understood?” “Yes, sir.” I walked out of his office feeling a bit defeated. I couldn’t help but wonder how well tonight would go. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

But I had a duty, and was going to do it well. I would scare Child 7673 so bad that she'd scream for help, maybe even wet the bed. Monsters get extra participation points if the kid pees. What actually happened when I stepped into her bedroom, well, I wasn’t expecting it at all. But it helped me realize a few things. Ah, I can see it, you’re squirming in your seat now, wondering why 7673 is different. Patience. I’m getting there.

The sky was a delightful pitch black the night I went to her neighborhood. Perfect monster weather. The MAB provided me with a sort of tracking device, so I’d be able to find it. Getting into the house was easy enough. I simply walked through the back door. Humans are quite stupid when it comes to locking houses at night. I passed another tiny human’s bedroom on the way to her's, her baby brother’s, as I presumed from the level one monster already under the crib. I finally reached her room last, her human name printed in bright pink letters across the door: C-A-S-S-A-N-D-R-A. So 7673’s name was Cassandra. This was the root of my downfall; where my affection first bloomed from my ice-cold heart. Because I’d never been out in the field before, I didn't know that human names were something monsters disregarded. I found myself thinking she had a cute name. That awful word actually ran through my mind. Cute. I’m ashamed.

All was quiet as I entered the room. In the corner next to her closet was a small table with a tea set--stuffed animals sitting in chairs, ready to drink the imaginary tea. I finished surveying the room and turned toward her bed, slithered over to her sleeping form. This was where things were going to get tricky. My friends had told me there were many ways in which one could scare a child. Should I hide in the closet, and then jump out? Should I just stand and watch her until she woke up and saw me? I finally decided to use the growling-in-the-ear method. I think she thought I was the dog, because she simply put out her hand as if to say, No, Toto, I’m not in the mood . How annoying. The second method I used woke her up. I ran my fingers across her cheek in that creepy way. You know. I had just recently sharpened my fingernails into points, and I’m sure the sensation was less than comforting. She woke up with a start, her eyes searching the room before landing on my hulking form. I tried to snarl at her in the best way I could, allowing her to see my jagged teeth. I thought I had succeeded in scaring her when she sat straight up in bed and looked me dead in the eyes, her curls bouncing everywhere as her shadow was illuminated against the pink walls. Even in the dark, I could see her green eyes sparkle with determination as they locked with mine. She was a fierce little human, that much was obvious. She spoke in a squeaky but determined voice.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not afraid of monsters like you? Go away!”

And then she slapped me. The amount of rage I felt in that moment was immense, but I internalized it. I know, I was proud, too. It was then that I saw a light come on from under the door. It was far off, probably a couple rooms down. It didn’t take a genius to know it was Cassandra’s parents. Now you’d think that with me being a huge, angry monster and her being a small girl, she’d be thankful to see that her mommy and daddy were coming. Think again. Cassandra went rigid in her bed. Tears welled in her eyes. Why was she crying now? From down the hall I could hear arguing, bitter words being thrown back and forth between two people.

“I told you John! I told you not to come home drunk again! And what happens? You’re absolutely shitfaced! Do you think you’re setting a good example for the kids?”

“I don’t give a damn about what you think, and I don’t give a damn about setting any examples! Now get back in bed, you bitch.”

I was a bit shocked, but not much. I had heard about human couples fighting like this, about the unchecked consumption of alcohol and what it did to the body. It was then that I heard a sort of “umph” followed by a thud on the floor.

“What the hell? What was that? Was that one of her stupid toys again? How many times do I have to tell her to clean up after herself, huh? I’m sick of having to watch out for her shit! Where is she? Is she in her room?”

“John, don’t you dare go in there. She’s asleep. She didn’t do anything wrong. It was just an accident…John, please…don’t go in there. I’m begging you not to go in there.”

The sound of scuffling could be heard through the door, as if the woman was trying to hold the man back. The man, John, shoved his wife into the wall as he moved past her. I found myself thinking about what Cassandra had said to me earlier, about not being afraid of monsters like me. It had never occurred to me that there could be more than one kind of monster. The realization hit me with such force, I wasn’t sure how to react. I found myself frozen in place, not sure what it was I was supposed to do. Should I protect this kid? That wasn’t what I had been sent here to do, but it felt wrong to leave her to fend for herself. None of this had been addressed in my training.

I was still perplexed as to what action I should take when I felt a tiny hand grab my arm and yank me under the bed. The floor was covered in dust, with a pair of shoes and a tennis racket discarded in the corner. There was a spot on the floor amidst the dust particles where the wood was perfectly clean, though, like a small circular space that had been specially cleaned of dirt. I realized it was the spot where Cassandra crouched whenever she hid under her bed. How often did she hide here? Weren’t human children told that’s where the monsters like to lurk? Now, I could see Cassandra clearer, and I noticed bruises on her arms and legs. She had a scar across her temple, right at her hairline. I didn’t want to think about what could have given it to her.

This whole situation felt wrong to me, on multiple different levels. For one, I’m not particularly good at hiding. I’m a six foot, intimidating monster. I’m the one kids hide from. Could this little girl be trying to protect me? I could feel her shaking next to me. She was scared, that’s for sure. She was afraid of her father more than she was afraid of me. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. Should I feel like a failure? Like I hadn’t done my job? I thought that was what my boss would say, and I was surprised to discover that I didn’t actually feel that way. I was mad, angrier than I’d ever felt in my life. I'd always been told that monsters and parents were on a spectrum, at opposite ends. The monsters scared the child, and the parents comforted them and loved them. Mommies and Daddies were not allowed to change that. They had no reason or permission to be the scary ones. Even monsters know that children don’t deserve that. Monsters and nightmares are a part of life for most children. Having a bad dream or seeing a scary monster is terrifying, but waking up and knowing that it wasn’t real and that the monsters have better things to do than scare you helps a kid realize how strong they really are inside. The bedroom door swung open then, knocking pictures off the wall. Cassandra’s father stormed in, yelling her name. As I peered out from my hiding spot, I could see his shoes were scuffed and untied. His legs moved aimlessly in no pattern, telling me he'd consumed so much alcohol he could hardly stand upright. More banging sounds ensued as the man flung open Cassandra’s closet, thinking she’d be in it. When he didn’t find her, he shouted to himself before making his way to his daughter’s desk. He picked up a small glass orb with small white flakes floating inside of it, and inspected it for a few seconds before throwing it against the floor. Shards of glass flew everywhere as the tiny globe shattered, the liquid from inside oozing into the carpet.

I turned to see Cassandra curled up in a tight ball with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her face was pressed against the floor, and I could hear her sobbing. I had to do something soon. I couldn’t just stand by and watch Cassandra be scared by someone who wasn’t me, who wasn’t the right kind of monster. Her father, finally figuring out where we were hiding, stooped down with a certain amount of effort. He thrust an arm under the bed hoping, I assumed, to grab his daughter’s wrist and yank her out from her safe haven. In that moment I made my final decision. I found his hand and latched onto it. His palms were callused and rough. I was uneasy thinking about how capable they’d be of hurting Cassandra. I almost lost his grasp from how sweaty his fingers were. Stupid humans, always clenching their fists.

It took the man a brief moment to register what he had caught, and I could tell he was confused once he realized it wasn’t a small wrist or anything close to human skin. Quickly slipping out of my grasp, he jumped back in a delayed surprise. He backed himself into the corner of Cassandra’s room against the wall as I slinked out from under the bed menacingly. I didn’t have to think about how terrifying I wanted to sound this time. All my anger towards this vile creature bubbled to the surface without me having to give it a second thought. It brings me great joy to remember his face as I stood up and towered over him, letting out a noise that vibrated throughout the room. It was a look of pure terror. His horrified expression helped me realize why other monsters think I’m the best at what I do. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cassandra peering out from under the bed. Her eyes were wide with a mix of fear and wonder. I don’t think she had ever seen anyone or anything overpower her father until that moment. Right then, that was when the ice that had encased my heart for so long finally cracked, and I realized for the first time what caring for someone felt like. I had disregarded everything my job stood for, and I was proud. I hadn’t scared the child like I had always been told I must do, I had protected her instead. Nobody was allowed to scare her but me. She was my responsibility. I was a real monster.

I’m not going to relate the rest of that night’s events with you. Let’s just say that I decided to help my new friend Cassandra fight off her father. The problem didn’t resolve right away. It took months and a countless number of visits before I could convince Cassandra’s father that he didn’t want to mess with me. He got the message though. I don’t think he’ll be bothering anymore, and if he tries, I’ll be there to interfere. John had a hard time accepting being called an alcoholic and abuser to his face. I made sure to inform the boss that Cassandra would be my permanent assignment, and of course he agreed. That monster will do anything to keep his position at the MAB secure. I can’t give you a straight answer as to why I’ve developed such an attachment to this human child. I think it’s because I know that eventually, she’ll be too old for my protection. If I know humans at all, I know they are ignorant. I want to protect Cassandra for as long as I can, because I know this won’t be the last time her father drinks alcohol. I guess I just want her to know that there are good people, and monsters, out there too.

I suppose my story about Child 7673 serves as a lesson for all you humans. I hope you understand why monsters like me are the ones who scare children, but I also hope you understand that we do it with love, because we care. They are just as much our responsibility as they are yours, and they should be scared in the nicest way possible. That’s what it means to be a monster.


( WARNING Themes of substance abuse, mental health, and death) A few feet from my chair he’s laying down, my sweet baby boy tucked in with the sheet to his chin. He was always a deep sleeper even as a baby. now the noise outside the the room is bustling but he doesn’t sway from his dreams. Jacob always seemed to have the best ones, he was a born dreamer. I gave birth in the early hours of the 15th, it was a difficult time, but he’d come out healthy. We told ourselves that there’d never be a Valentines Day gift to top this, and it was the truth. He seemed to us like angel come down to grace the house of Tom and Lena Walsh. There were a few things that convinced us. His love for the sky was one, he was always looking up, on camp outs you could always catch him stargazing. His ceiling was full of posters of constellations and diagrams of the solar system. There were days at the table where he’d orate to whoever would listen about the newest advancements in the field. We called him the professor for the longest time, we always thought he’d become one. His empathy and social heart convinced us of his angel hood too. There was never a day when Jacob wouldn’t volunteer to help another kid back up or drive a person home when he got his license. There were many times where I’d hear secondhand that he’s always been willing to loan his time in money to anyone in town. We’d never been evil people but the Love we had for Jacob far exceeded the rest, his being felt otherworldly, we rarely saw ourselves in him. School was a breeze for him, Elementary School, Middle, and High. It all seemed so easy for him. When college came he was set on astronomy, determined to teach it one day like we had always joked. And even though college ran tight on the wallet, we knew he’d do it , he was a dreamer bound for the stars there wasn’t a doubt he’d catch the flight. But then things changed, there was a party and then parties, he started drinking and rather hard. We never found out from him it only came about when he got into a fight at the school. He’d gotten into an argument with his best friend Troy, the two of them had applied together and they were thick as thieves. But one night at a party an argument broke out and after a few hits were shared he pushed him down the outside steps of their dorm. They gave him a strict warning, Jacob called ashamed. He plead and he sobbed, and he yelled. We sat and listened to him, believing it to just be growing pains, it felt like it would be the only one. And for a while it was. His grades came back, and his calls home were more regular, but then his roommate brought in a couple drinks one night for a fun night alone, Jacob decided to have a few too. And then he became lost completely. The descent was fast and chaotic. The school notified us he was going to be kicked out due to horrible academic performance. We called and screamed at him, but he turned his phone off and stayed silent. In most cases we acted more childlike than he ever did. He spent a few years in and out of rehab still living away from home. We offered to bring him back home but ceased asking after a few harsh rejections. It didn’t help our case when the handcuffs clamped down harder and harder on him at the mildest slip ups. It didn’t matter to us that he had been getting better it was all masked by our fears, and what became more and more clear was our lackluster ability as parents. We had gotten this far on luck and laziness; he was a golden child who did no wrong. But that wasn’t the truth we just hadn’t hit the wall like so many others did and usually so much earlier than us. There was never a challenge put up against our skills, there was never any time for us to struggle we were too busy raising a perfect child. But no child is perfect, no child is an angel. They’re humans, a lovingly imperfect one but we tossed our love to the side for restrictions and control. We betrayed his trust we lied to him, when he was getting better, we were always the doubtful ones. For those years we had a tumultuous relationship of offhanded comments and avoidance of one another. He was kicked out more times than were understandable whenever he visited, and he spent much of his twenties couch surfing. He would tell us of new jobs some real and some fake, but the same reactions were always given.

So, what does a boy with such problems do, how could he even hope to get over them without any support system. Well, he couldn’t, and he didn’t.

The messages went dead one day, the calls stopped coming in. Then we got nervous, we started acting like real parents again. Calls went out to everyone we knew that he knew, but no answers came up as to his location. Nobody seemed to know he just up and disappeared. The cops in his city and a missing persons bulletin was put out. Tom booked a flight while I was talking to the officer. We were at the airport when we finally got a call that they found him. Flying made me sick, it always had. I wasn’t built for the sky like Jacob was. Tom massaged my back and gave me tender support, but I had that feeling we were in for a earthquake. They didn’t give us much information besides the fact that he’d been to the hospital but was alive and well at a Rehab and Mental health Clinic. When the plane touched down the sickness didn’t leave, the driver couldn’t have gone fast enough if he was driving a rocket ship. We hit the front counter running from the Car. Leaning against the wall our message came through shallow breaths to the confused but understanding receptionist. She did a search and found Jacob, but he wasn’t in the rehab clinic, the woman directed us down to the psychiatric ward. It didn’t take us long to find him, he was laying on his bed, reading a book on astronomy of course. But when he turned and looked, he didn’t smile, or not genuinely at least. He just seemed to give a look of acknowledgment. He’d been sober for a long time it turned out. The doctor couldn't confirm how long from the blood work, but she trusted Jacob's statement that he had reached a year. At least for the time it wasn’t alcohol it was something else.

From the nurses account he had been dropped off after an ER trip. A grounds keeper found him lying in the grass of a local park, peering at the sky. When he got closer, he saw Jacob’s wrists cut across and bleeding, Jacob didn’t resist he had lost most of his strength. He’d been missing for two weeks before he went through with it. His psychiatrist was a kind woman with a sweet drawl who put it calmly too us. She said he’d been planning it for weeks but only got up the courage a few days ago. She answered our questions for a while before it became too much. Tom and I walked outside and grabbed a seat out in the large courtyard. At the far edge of the courtyard spread out far and wide was a beautiful lake of striking blue. The color reminded me of Jacob’s eyes, their was an absence of waves just quiet movements of nature. Our hands were separated at the start, my eyes darted around the lake avoiding what I knew needed to happen. With the calm water swaying my nerves seemed to loosen and our hands crept to each other as we morphed into an embrace. My breaths came out ragged and he began to cry into my shoulder, we cried together husband and wife, Father and Mother, two pieces of a now fractured trinity. The hug turned into a talk, the whole thing a revelation to our failure. He was not a perfect child; he was our angel and a perfect miracle. But nothing perfect could come from such imperfect parents. It was unrealistic and we lived on a lie, he had been an easy kid. Many children are, but when the good times left and the stressed days started, we ceased being parents. We ignored, we doubted, and more often than not we were aggressive. Jacob went from total support to abandonment and doubt overnight. The Narcissism we had, his failures looked like a reflection on us, because they were. And in other cases, his normal teenage behavior was looked down upon senselessly. It took us longer than one bench conversation to figure everything out, but we gathered together are broken selves enough to face our son. Jacob still sat with that glassy look as we walked in. And that look stayed for most of the conversation, he was now in need of more help than just a simple “We’re sorry”, but it started with that. He came home with us reluctantly; he got a job at a machine shop apprenticing. We tried to step back as much as we could with our control, we slipped up here and there, but he was never afraid to correct us. We supported him as much as we could emotionally, and as the handcuffs loosened, our relationship started getting better. A few years back home he was able to get a new car, and pretty soon he was in college commuting, studying for a major in aeronautical engineering. Things were going great he was talking to a girl Rebecca who he’d known from school, and she seemed right for him, we thought it might be a fly by night relationship, but they had tons of fun together. not long-ago Tom started to have some mild complaints and regular checkups and appointments which raised some alarm. His doctor though assured it would just be tedious, he was a healthy man with a regular exercise routine and a steady diet, he would be fine they just needed to finish up the testing. So, Jacob drove him to most of the appointments when I was working, which grew their bond as they made their weekly outings. Things were going great. Then on a Friday two weeks ago Jacob called me a 10 ten to say he was going to a party with Troy. I wished him a good night and said “I love you” Tom called from the other side of the bed to say it too. Jacob laughed and said “I love you guys too” and hung up. Troy made me nervous, in college Jacob had been the loose cannon but Troy’s slide into addiction was ongoing. I tried to mention it to him that he was a dangerous man to hang around, but Jacob was ever the empathetic ear, and so when Troy texted him about a night out he said sure. That night Troy hid two single serving fireball bottles in his pocket on the drive in Jacob's car. He snuck off from the crowd when they said their greetings and procceded drink them in the guest bathroom, Looking around the first floor of the house he couldn’t find anybody, they’d all gone into the basement. It gave him time to raid the liquor cabinet, he took a bottle of wine and sat out on the porch in a hoody drinking on a cold April night. Jacob noticed that Troy wasn’t with the rest of them and after a brief search found him. He pushed back the sliding door and Troy turned Jacob grabbed the bottle out of his hand and began to restrain him. Troy fought back, he kicked and cursed drawing the crowd from down stairs. Jacob told the party he was taking Troy home. The party goers helped him get Troy into the passenger seat, and with a wave Jacob gave his final send off. They were coming to our house since Jacob figured it was the safest place for him in this state. Troy was belligerent the whole car ride, he cursed at Jacob and swore, all of it was ignored. But then as they were driving down a straightaway Troy began hitting Jacob lightly and then harder and harder eventually distracted Jacob turned his eyes off the road hiding from his sight a man pulling into his lane from across the road. Unaware the truck swung into the car flipping it off the road and into a ditch. The phone rang at 12, the cop knew us, it’s a small town. They told me about Jacob, he was unresponsive and in critical condition and Troy was left with a severe concussion and minor scrapes and bruises. I woke up Tom and we went to the hospital, on the drive his chest started to get tight we chalked it up to anxiety. We rushed up flights of stairs after directions from nurses and staff, we made our way to the room, the doctor greeted us with the news. Our son had died 2 minutes ago, right as we entered the front door. I turned to Tom and saw his face he started to collapse; his breathing started to delay I tried to call out to him through the fog but there wasn’t any use. I lay there on the tile floor the smell of antiseptic hanging in the air, as they took him and my son away. Life slams you down like dirty laundry when it wants too, healthy men aren’t supposed to have heart attacks. Young brilliant boys aren’t supposed to be crushed and compacted because of a kind gesture. I cursed them both for the past few days for leaving me, Jacob didn’t need to be so damn good, he didn’t need to give his life up to a selfish friend who threw his life to the pavement. “Why Jacob!” I wanted to scream at him now laying on a cold steel table.

And then Tom fell, if you had only gone to the doctors sooner, and gotten that testing done months ago maybe we’d be together in the sorrow. There weren’t any signs!?, you didn’t have a feeling!?. But of course there hadn’t been, because death brings it’s presents without notification, sometimes there never is a sign it just swings down. But it left me, left me to deal with the many more years I have. There was a gun in the closet from Tom’s pheasant days, I came so close last night, but I just can’t. It’s not some image of god or any of the religious feelings they say inspire you, it’s them. I still hear their laughs and see their eyes within me they play on repeat, and right now I’m still looking at my son. Our plots are already picked out, and Tom as already been cremated. We’d never discussed what’d we do when we died, but I decided that when I saw them side by side. Nobody gets to see them like this except me, it’s too vulnerable and if I had gone before I know they’d wish the same. This will be my last moments with them. I get up from my chair and walk towards my baby boy. I see him now as I did then an angel. I see him in my mind on a pillowy field in a child’s run keeping step with his father. They walk along a soft path of light, father hoists son onto his shoulders as they walk out of view. I bend my head towards his forehead and plant a warm final kiss, his skin is cold but for a moment it felt warmer. I walk out of the room and out of the building, there will be a small funeral in a couple days, I have to reach out to Rebecca for somebody to hold, it’d be nice to keep in touch with her. There isn’t much immediate family left so I think it’s time I do some traveling. There are many places I’ve never seen, I’ll be excited to see them in the shapes of the clouds and the color of the sky. And I know that when the time is fit, they’ll be waiting for me, and we’ll start walking together.


The House of the Wolf I was but twenty and one when I came to the New World. We arrived to establish some trading missions further inland with the local tribespeople and through my encounters as a Steward I encountered a great deal of peoples. But none had stood out to me so much as the people of the Red River for whom we called the “Blue Eyes” on account of their physical appearance, which was by far the most distinct from all the rest. Now the reader should not trouble themselves in attempting to read more upon them for now they have already been either destroyed by conquest or plague like many other peoples I encountered. But for a time they had lived upon a river which gained its name from the clay that stirred beneath it. (Though others would claim it was from the blood that stained the rivers after a certain woman murdered her babe in its waters. But that is a tale for another time). It should be known there were others before us who sailed fourth up that very river but few men returned, and those who did spoke wild tales of men who shifted into animals and attacked them and their band. Others spoke of Pagan natives sacrificing Islemen to their Gods, and even further even spoke of wolves the size of bears that chased men of their senses. Wether these tales were true or not was irrelevant, as our Lord Sir Arthur Dayne wished to seek his riches with the people of the River anyways and brought a host of men to ensure it was done. After a day of sailing upriver we came upon the village we were met by an incursion of their warriors and elders in a show of force, as our presence in these lands has been noted for some time. One can only imagine they expected the worst of us as their womenfolk and children daughter shelter either in their thatch covered homes or in the trees beyond our vision. Once we pulled our ship ashore and unfurled our banner of the Golden Stagg and a akward silence befell upon us until we made the gesture that we meant them no harm and offered them gifts of Bread and Salt like we did with the other tribes we had encountered down there river. Now the reader should know there were 12 of us in all: 6 men at arms, 2 stewards (including myself) 3 sailors and one knight. The last one, Sir Arthur Dayne was true to his mission and made sure we acted on our best behavior to the point of making us kneel before their chieftain when we finally met him (an act the King would find repulsive but nesscary no less). Relations however warmed as the river men brought us to our village and we were allowed to take a closer look into their daily lives for whom we had interrupted, and after a while even the women and children approached us. Though they dared not come very close as we must have looked something like goblins to them but it was here I was able to write down their features. Now the Blue eyes were not like the other tribes we encountered along the coastline. Their skin was pale like snow and their eyes were blue like the water and they had Black hair as the raven whereas the Bearskins that we had encountered on the coastline had brown eyes and brown of hair and were more thin in appearance than their brethren in the inland (if we could even consider them brethren). Their people were also curious of us in turn and more particular the arms we carried and the clothes we wore. However, much to his annoyance many amongst them stayed away from Sir Dayne when he attempted to speak to the Blue eyes. In general speaking to them was difficult. I myself asked them many questions as was my duty as a Steward. I asked them about their Pagan Gods they might have worshiped, how they lived and most importantly, where could pelts be found so as we may have something to show for our efforts. However in return they just smiled and nodded in the sign that they had no idea what I was asking in the matter most natives of the continent generally did. However it should not be assumed that these were an ignorant people. For their survival in these frigid lands of the North was a testament to their knowledge of the land and their knowledge of primitive bronze working I could see from the hatchets their warriors held and some of their people even wore shoes and belts like ourselves. The Village itself was also a small wonder in itself. Unlike the villages of the bearskins we encountered these people had assembled their village in a circular pattern along the river, with the smallest of huts leading to the largest one in the center of the village. For a time we assumed that this building, (for it was much too robust to be considered just some hut) was the home of the Cheif. But We did not realize our folly until the Cheif himself refused to be even nearby it much less ourselves and even less Sir Dayne whose patience was growing thin with our hosts. For some reason or the other however me and my colleague were allowed to study the building for a time (perhaps it was because we were the only ones amongst our retinue who were unarmed) , and it’s likeness I shall describe: unlike the other buildings of this village (or this land in general) it was made of cut stone blocks held together with a sort of cement. A pair of wolves the size of men carved in stone guarded its entrance that was 2 oak wood doors and upon them were several drawings of men dressed as wolves fighting against Staggs in some sort of mythical hunt. I once assumed this was some sort of ancient story amongst their people. Little did I know at the time it was a grave omen. Day turned into night as the Blue eyes became more welcoming of our presence and welcomed us by their fires. I had learned little in the time I was there frustratingly but things however changed when all the village people began to go to the building and for once they did not protest our being there. They opened the oaken doors and we entered with all the rest to find it to be some sort of Hall with the center of the roof exposed so we could see above us like a beaming light the full moon shining. From there we sat down on some tattered hides as they began their ritual. Nothing of this kind was unusual about this as we’ve witnessed many peoples of these lands do so. They would begin to dance in the moonlight as they dawned wolf skins and chant as they did so in their language and this continued for some time. Then a band of children welcomed Sir Arthur Dayne himself to this ritual tugging at his hand and laughing in a friendly manner. Sir Dayne being a God fearing man did not want to participate in such a pagan ritual but he did not want to disappoint the children and so he continued much to the laughter of his own men in good cheer. Sir Dayne stood there a bit akward staring at the men dancing around them as they chanted louder and louder when suddenly they drew their knives and without honor began to stab at him to death where his armor that bore the sigil of the Stagg could not protect him. His men at arms at once descended upon a fury to save their Lord as people screamed and acted wickedly as they Howled and such and descended into a mad frenzy of their own biting and attacking us in the process. I myself almost lost my life as I ran for the door when suddenly a woman no older than twenty and two grabbed a rock and bludgeoned my arm before drawing her arm back to crash my head in. If it wasn’t for the timely encounter of a sailor who drew his knife and killed her I would have surely perished in that Stone cornered Hell. Others were not so fortunate, for our Lord Sir Dayne paid for insulting God with his life. For even though his men tried their best to save his life he was too far gone and they could not reach him in time when he fell to the floor with blood flowing from his neck. The only honor in his death was that he died as he lived: with sword in hand. The rest of us descended to the ship from the Hall with the Blue eyes chasing us the whole way. A few men fell along the way but there was no saving them for we could not spare the time. We reached the ship with the grace of God and pushed off the shoreline. A men at arms who under ordinary circumstances would be knighted for his heroism pushed the ship so that it may take off before he drew his sword to keep our pursuers at bay and the last we saw of him he went down fighting upon the shore. We then decided to end our journey and return to our homelands for we had been gone many months now and if there was ever a sign from God to leave it was that. And so I end my testimony of the lands beyond the Red River and the death of Sir Arthur Dayne. I can now confirm the rumors that were once put fourth are not true. There are no monsters beyond the River only men.