Trigger warning: blood, drugging

The sound of ice skidding underfoot made Serena yelp and grab onto the frost coated metal mailbox with one desperate hand, the other clutching at the cling wrap clad paper plate of goods in the other. Serena's heart beat hammered away in her chest, like a loose hummingbird in a cage as she regained her composure, cursing harsh words at the bleak slick patch of ice that had caught her feet by surprise. It was the dead of winter, the time when the snow was crusted over enough to get away with ditching the pesky cleats, which of course were left on the floor of Serena’s mildly messy blue Sedan. With ginger footsteps, she carefully climbed up the driveway, freshly scattered with chunks of salt that had melted the pavement enough for her to toe by the dainty miniature statues of garden gnomes in santa hats and the thick red and gold bows that were nailed up to the side of the house. The Wilson’s home was always well prepared for the winter festivities, with small quirky things here and there, having a home that looked like it belonged in homely holiday postcards or painted Christmas cards. Serena managed to make it up to the porch safely and knocked on the door politely, checking her box made sugar cookies for damage, the frosting on a few bells were slopily smeared, but the mistletoe cookies were still in good shape.

The sound of twinkling bells caught Serena’s attention as the door swung open. Michelle Wilson stood at the front door entrance, all pearly white in a lottery fleece sweater, her pants a dark red and green plaid and a tasteful glittery silver necklace hung low around her neck. She smiled widely at Serena, a stemless wine glass in one hand as she opened the door wider. “Serena! Oh I am so glad you made it!” Michelle exclaimed, ushering Serena into the gaping warmth of her home, “we were hoping you’d show up!” The inside of Michelle’s house always appeared as one would think it would, quilted tapestries and framed photos of family members hung up on style walls painted in warm hues. There was a candle wax burner next to the front door that smacked Serena’s nostrils with the scent of peppermint and lavender. From the living room, Serena heard a caterwauling of laughter from the other guests as she took off her shoes and hung up her coat.

“Well I couldn’t miss a Wilson Cookie Social, what would the neighbors think ?” Serena lowered her voice, not masking the sarcasm that dripped off of her words. Michelle’s blue eyes twinkled with laughter as she placed a beige manicured hand on Serena’s arm, snickering at the comment. Serena had known Michelle for a few years, when Serena’s late mother passed away at the Wilson’s and the church helped fund the funeral. As typically Christian the Wilson’s were with their stunning blue eyes and long dark tresses of brunette hair, lovely homes and all the accoutrements, they were a very open sort of people. The kind of religious that worked in kind ways that never asked for anything in return. They were not the religious type, the Adams were not the type of people that went to church, Sundays were spent working and spending the evenings watching movies. Serena used to have a distaste towards them and never understood why Gertrude, her mother, was friends with Michelle’s father; until she had gotten to know Michelle. She was very sweet and quick to be patient with Serena’s weak heart at the time and stubborn attitude about the arrangements, grief bonded them quickly. There were friends and then there was Michelle, patient and willing to deal with Serena’s grief at her lowest and she would always be grateful for it. “Oh it’s not so bad, Lora brought deviled eggs so at least you have the advantage of bragging about being on theme,” Michelle tapped her finger on the cookie plate, “come on now, let me get you something to drink, it’s a party!” Serena followed after Michelle in tow to the main hub of the gathering, in a well fitting living room where three other women chatted around the coffee table. There were an assortment of cookies and a deviled egg platter that Serena pointedly placed her cookie plate down next to. Michelle disappeared into the kitchen, and Serena was left to social with the other ladies. Most of the women in tonight's circle were aforementioned Lora Brown, a short lady that loved her copper bangles and always had her auburn hair put up in curls. Lora was the local social studies teacher at the middle school and had a tense air to her that was good for bickering with anyone she had to pick a bone with. Madeline Miller, a bank clerk and single mother of two, laughed in a bubbly manner and had large brown doe eyes that followed anyone out of a room like a beacon. Then there was Jessica Perez, petite to the point that her glasses almost swallowed her entire face, but she was at least a familiar face to Serena, they worked at the local newspaper together. Jessica rose from her seat, wobbling over to give Serena a firm hug, her rose water perfume coated Serena’s sense as she returned the friendly hug. “Oh it was so boring without you,” Jessica whispered to Serena as she pulled away. Lora smacked Jessica in the shoulder, “hey I heard you Perez, what you have something to say to me? Am I not entertaining enough for you?” “Oh Lora she didn’t mean anything by it,” Madeline defended quietly from the sidelines. “Yeah!” Jessica gestured to Madeline, “you know it is officially winter break now teach, save that kind of talk for your husband.” Lora’s jaw dropped and Serena sneaked over to Madeline, picking out a nice gingersnap front he coffee table to nibble at as Lora went at Jessica. Michelle swept back into the living room, holding an additional glass of wine as Lora began to complain to Jessica about the tortures of commanding a class of rogue thirteen year olds with hormonal issues. Serena reached out for the glass and clinked hers against Michelle’s own as the brunette draped herself on the couch next to Serena and Madeline. “A classic Brown and Perez debate, I call Perez,” Michelle’s timbre spoke to Serena and Madeline. “Yeah Jess has an edge tonight,” Madeline agreed. “Nah, I think Lora is going to tire her out, she has the rage from finishing grading finals, this is going to be a while,” Serena gave her intake as Lora’s face began to grow pink. The three of them idly chatted over cookies and wine as Jessica and Lora went off at each other over the seasonal saxophone track playing in the background. Serena swirled the deep red wine in her cup, bringing the glass up to her lips slowly as Madeline whispered about something new that came up with her eldest daughter as to not interrupt the argument going on. The merlot was rich when it touched Serena’s tongue, almost coating over it instantly as she took in a good gulp of the warm liquid, letting it slowly ooze down her throat. After the busy rush to cover new articles for the paper, meeting all the deadlines and getting all of her presents bought and wrapped, Serena finally felt like she could spend some time unwinding with the girls. Taking another generous gulp, a little bit spilled past her lips and before she could recover front he feeling of the liquid dripping onto her blouse a firm thumb brushed right under Serena’s chin. Looking up, Serena saw Michelle, now firmly draped over the backrest of the couch, her ice blue stare focused on Serena’s chin as she gently sipped the drip of wine from her skin. With a coquettish grin from Michelle’s pearly white teeth, she pulled her thumb back and stuck it into her mouth, making a point of sucking the caught drop off of her thumb.  A rush of warmth flushed to Serena’s face, she placed her glass down and excused herself to the bathroom. Once inside the perfect seashell decorated room, Serena stared herself down in the mirror. Quietly, she tried to will her heartbeat to calm down, she felt very out of place getting a little worked up over an affectionate gesture from Michelle. Truth be told, this was not the first time this had happened. Easter Brunch had Serena almost breathless when Michelle applied lipstick to Serena’s lips, on her birthday the woman had also written her such a loving note in her birthday card. Serena felt too old for crushes, she was thirty eight years old and knew which trees to bark up if she wanted another woman’s affection so badly and Michelle Wilson was not it. Fixing her raven hair, Serena slowly pulled herself back together, gently patting her face and counting the beauty marks on her face. Once she began to feel more composed, she straightened out her skirt and left the bathroom. Jessica and Lora were done arguing by the time she returned back to the livingroom and now Jessica was settled in getting Madeline to dance with her while Lora and Michelle chatted away.

“Who won?” Serena asked, pulling out a cheery smile quick to get back into the swing of things. “Lora, now come over here and spin me bitch!” Jessica cackled, quickly grabbing Serena by the arm and swinging her into the over the top swaying and jiving that Jessica was trying to get her and Madeline to do.

They laughed and swung around, moving around to the smooth tones and accompaniment of percussion that played over a rendition of Little Drummer Boy. Serena soon found herself swaying with Madeline, twisting and giggling along with the way Jessica moved in an exaggerated manner. When Jessica twirled Serena around in a circle her entire world spun and she lost her grip on Jessica’s hand, hitting the ground hard. Serena felt a dizzy spell and the room smudged over itself, she did not have that much to drink… Had she? Laughing on the ground, Serena grabbed the coffee table to try and help herself up, “I think that’s enough spinning for me! Oh shit-” Serena’s arms gave out as she got up part of the way and hit the ground again,except this time the impact did not hit her. At first she thought that maybe she had hit her head in a wrong way or maybe that the ceiling looked a little too funny, it seemed to fade into speckles of tv static. The vision was interrupted by Michelle’s face looking down at Serena, the brown ringlets of her hair pointed down at her like the tentacles of a jellyfish.

Michelle looked placid and calm as Serena spoke up in a shaky voice, “hey can I get some help?” “Madeline,” Michelle looked up, her blue eyes leaving Serena’s vision, “can you get her propped up?” Serena felt a furrow of confusion start to swirl in her head as then Madeline came into view. The quiet and well kept woman propped Serena up against the coffee table,making her sit up as Serena struggled to move a single limb. It felt like every nerve in her body had abandoned her and not a single ounce of feeling was found in them. Her breathing picked up as Madeline backed away, crowding next to Jessica, who placed her hands on her hips, looking at Serena and back to Michelle who was disappearing again into the kitchen. The sounds of drawers being opened and clattering of utensils faded into the room as Lora sauntered in next to Jessica and looked at Serena like she was a spectacle. “Wha- what’s going on?” Serena spoke slowly, her mouth felt heavy and moving her jaw took a lot more work than she expected. Serena’s chin nodded down once, she blinked and then her head snapped back up, eyes fluttering to fight the heavy feeling that nestled down into her bones. “We drugged you,” Michelle’s voice twittered back into the room as she came back in from the kitchen. The sound of her footsteps thudded against the floorboards as Serena watched her renter holding a rather small kitchen knife. Panic spiked in Serena’s heart when she saw the metal glinted as Michelle got close and crouched down in front of her. Managing to shake her head, Serena tried to move her legs. Jessica snorted, grabbing her wine glass up from the coffee table, “you’re full of the good stuff babe.” “A sedative,” Michelle said, grabbing Serena’s twitching arm and holding it up. The silver metal shined in Serena’s eye as the twist of it met the skin of her arm and she closed her eyes.

A cool hand cupped the side of Serena’s face, pulling her head in the direction of Michelle as Serena’s eyes opened up to see her up close in Serena’s space. There was a spot of red on Michelle’s mouth as she tilted Serena’s head. Her blood ran cold and nausea spiked up in her chest as she watched her arm being held up by Madeline and the sight of her letting the blood from the cut drip into Lora’s awaiting wine glass. Serena’s eyes fluttered, this had to be a sick joke, she had to be dreaming. Just a dream, a sick twisted dream, it had to be! Michelle tilted Serena’s face back to her and now Serena could smell the way Michelle’s breath smelled of copper and she shook her head in defiance. Everything was making her sick and she refused to get sick or cry as blood was being drained from her arm. “Serena, I’m going to need you to open your eyes and look at me,” Michelle spoke in a strict tone. Serena made a disgruntled noise in protest, “sweetheart if you don’t look at me this will only get worse.” Breathing became harsher and Serena felt her vision beginning to fade out, washing away like a tidal wave. Everything was fading into static and obscurity, wavering into undulating colors and vertigo that made her want to hurl. It was over, it was all over… Serena gasped for breath, inhaling so deep that it hurt and made her ribs contract too tight against her insides. The pale white sheets on her bed were cool and stark against her vision as she coughed and sputtered against her pillow. The clock on her bedside table read at eleven thirty am in the morning, she focused on that as her breathing began to even out and a warm hand rubbed between her shoulders. “Shhh shhh,” a soft sound came from the familiar form cradling up behind Serena as she regained her groundings. It was just a dream, another twisted thing that snuck up on her when she slept. Taking her time, Serena slowly turned around in her wife’s arms, tears being whipped away gently by Michelle’s fingers, soft baby blue eyes looking at her with concern and patience. This was her Michelle, not the one from her dream, the one that she’s raised her kids with and shared one too many nights being in her arms when a particular nightmare froze her in place. “Do you want to talk about it?” Michelle asked softly, cupping Serena’s face. Irrational guilt and embarrassment prickled up Serena’s spine, she could not even begin to explain the dream she had just had, even more so it was something for her therapist to hear. Serena gently kissed Michelle’s forehead and shook her head. “No,” her voice came out hoarse and strained, “just a stress dream…” “Alright… You can always talk to me,” Michelle reassured her, kissing Serena once before pulling her into a long embrace. Serena buried her head down under her wife’s chin, pressing her face into her exposed collarbones and wrapping her arms around her waist. “I know, I love you.” “I love you too,” Michelle muttered into Serena’s hair as the moment drew on, leaving them to their quiet recovery, settling things back into place for the day.


SORRY… I always loved reading fairy tales, sci-fic, mystery. But, here, in my village, ‘Senu’, girls are not allowed to read, write, study, do business. What girls here are allowed to do so is, entertain men (not just any men, but your husband.) to do house chores, handle kids, and teach them the manner to behave in public. And, we are allowed to wear only gowns, if we like it or not, we have to wear it, our opinions don’t matter. You must think, how come I know to write, and read…so pause there, tell your mind cells to relax, I am giving you the answer. So, I am living with my granny and pa, granny’s mum taught her to read and write, and she passed me the same environmental traits here, she taught me to read and write, and I am not allowed to tell this to anyone, or else we will be dead. We are very poor, but rich by heart. My dad knew about the traits I took from granny and he is very supportive, actually he is the one who buy books so I can read them, our neighbours think my dad is a book lover, but actually he is not. “OPEN THE DOOR NOW!” those guys were banging the door very rudely. “kiddo, do not move from your room, king has arrived here with his men’s!” “but granny, what’s the issue?” “oh, I don’t have time to explain that. Just sit here only darling, for god’s sake, do not move!” And granny locked my bedroom, and she went out. Well, let me be quick, our king is an asshole, this is his regime, and his rules, he is a dickhead (sorry for using so many abusive words, but you will come to know the reason soon!) I ran towards the door, and sticked my ears on it, Ah, I can hear them now. “Return me the payment by tomorrow, or I will take your daughter with me, she will please me every day, and will work as a maid in my court.” “Please, don’t do this, I beg you!” “My majesty, he has an only child with him, please don’t do this, we beg you!” “How dare you open your mouth in front of me, don’t you know the rules, women’s are not allowed to open their mouth in front of anyone, haven’t you taught anything to her!” “I am sorry on behalf of my mother, but please don’t be this cruel with us!” *BANG* “Tomorrow morning I will come with my men, and if I don’t get my money back, you can repay it by your daughter, time is ticking! Hahaha” *Sighs* told ya, he is an asshole, you will come to know how low he can fall. “Pa, Granny, open the door!” *cricks* “what happened, I heard some noise, granny!” she was not saying anything, I ran towards the hall and found dad, injured on ground, and our dish almirah fallen on his left hand, and he was bleeding out. “PA, YOUR HANDS!” I tried with all my efforts to push the almirah side with help of my granny. “Mom, this is the time. I love you my child, you are very strong and smart like your mom, and I want you to be safe. And ill make sure to keep you safe.” And without talking and seeing me he stood up and went out. He behaved very strangely today. Granny tugged me in her arms tightly, “granny, what’s up?” “you have read the book, ‘Hidden Kingdom’ right?!” “yes.” “Do you remember, the map given in the book?” “yes, how can I forget that!” “kiddo, you have to run away.” “What?! I didn’t get you, granny!” “The situation here is worst and complicated, I will pack everything for you right now, go from the back side of village, there is forest you knew about, so just go from there, and then turn to north side and walk until you find a pond, once you get there, look in the map I am giving you, and remember one thing, do not search from your eyes, but from your heart!” Don’t get confused guys, I myself don’t know what’s going on, let me first understand the situation then I will explain you later! After a moment, granny handed me a bag and a rope, and planted a kiss on forehead, “I have taught you everything and now its time for you to apply. I am very proud to have such a smart, kind, beautiful grand-daughter like you, I love you.” They are serious, THEY ARE SERIOUS!!!! *AT NIGHT* I took the necessary thing, and wore the cloak, and ran away. Somehow, I cross everything, and reached till pound, but I was tired too tired to walk, I could feel my leg numb. So, I went near oak tree and sat under it, and I put my head on the ground, and my hands touched the branch and after a moment I felt land shiver, I got afraid, and I took my bag, and then…AAHHH! *CREAK* “OUCH!” *CREAK-CROOK* “AH!” Let me explain, as soon as I hold my bag, land stopped shivering, and there was no more land, and I fell down, seems like I am in a fantasy world right now. I walked a little more and then I could hear my stomach saying, “food, food!” I searched in bag for something, and found three dounts and water bottle in bag, “Thank god!” I unwrapped the donut and when I brought the food till my mouth, “Please give me that.” Huh, I looked here and there, and found nothing “hey I am not that small, you are the one who is too tall!” I looked down, and saw a dwarf I smiled, and gave him my hand so I can bring him up, “can I know your good name please?” I asked slowly. “Ayla! What is your name?” “Zella.” “Where are you going toward? I have seen such a tall girl, after such a long time.” “I uh, just a moment. There is map in my bag, let me see.” I put her down, and took my bag, and searched for it, and found, the map, which was folded, I unfolded it, and to my surprise, it was the map from the book, ‘Hidden Kingdome’ “Why do you look so surprised, Zella? Let me see what the map is.” I took her in my hand, and lifted her on my shoulder, so she could see it clearly, “WHAT THE FUCK!” “Why the fuck are you shouting in my ears.” “Do you even what it is?” “NO” “you have to cross the walls, and I don’t think they will let you in.” “why, what’s wrong in me?” “uh, okay, see once upon a time, fairies, witches, genies, ghost, humans, animals all lived together happily, after a time it was announced the queen was pregnant and expecting twins, whole town celebrated when they came to know this. When 9 months got completed, two boys were born, kingdom got confused to make whom the next king, at that time our beloved king announced, that from both of them who will be the best chivalry will get the crown. Time passed away; both grew. Prince, Jane was very kind hearted, he loved literature, and everyone, whole kingdom loved him because of his kindness, friendliness, sweetness. And on other side, Prince James, turned out to be a living human beast, he was heartless, he didn’t love the other creature, except human, and he was not kind with human too. Time passed away, and then it was the time to make a king, people voted for Prince Jane, but Prince James had his own plan, he started the fight in the court and wished for trial, and then it was the fight between Humans VS Creatures, and Prince Jane was with creatures and we won. Prince James started erupting jealousy, he wished for a war. And it happened. Between the two prince, it was a non-stop war, then a conclusion made, Prince Jane and Creatures will take other side of country, and Prince James and humans will take other side of country, a wall was built, and then Humans were on other side of the wall and we were on other!” “oh okay, But what about the old king and queen?” “That stupid, asshole Prince James, poisoned the Queen as she was with Prince Jane, he didn’t even felt guilty for his actions, and people use to says James killed the king too.” “He is our King. He made our life living hell.” *DHIK-DHIK, DHIK-DHIK, DHIK-DHIK* “FIND HER, SHE MUST HAVE RUN THIS WAY, JANE YOU ARE DEAD!” “That asshole came, Ayla, hold me tightly, we have to run!” “take your bag first!” “we don’t have time for that!” “AAAHH! DON’T RUN SO FAST ZELLA!” I ran till we didn’t reach to a tunnel. “oh god, that was close!” We walked till we reached the other side of wall, I begged and with the help of Ayla they let me in. First everyone bullied me, some hated me as I was human being, some didn’t even want to talk because of me they were have to face once again James. I met with Prince Jane, he was literally the beautiful person I have ever seen, in his kingdom women was allowed to participated in debate, women were running business like men, they were having the freedom to what to wear and what to not, children were allowed to read and learn, even if she is a girl. I told him about the way Prince James was ruling, I could see rage in his eyes. After a time, fight happened, and this time Prince James tried to kidnap me, but Jane got me, and he looked in James eyes in rage, “long time brother!” “do not call me your brother James!” “why not?” “you lost that right on the day when you killed mom!” “I didn’t kill her!” “then did I kill her?” “the poisoned I gave her, killed her!” “You are a psycho!” “aww..” “Sorry, James but I couldn’t let you ruin human life’s!” and he brought the sword and killed James there itself. I cried in happiness that time, and then once again everyone lived a happy life, and the wall collapsed.


Billy,a widow,living with her four kids in a small town.She typified a poultry farm business.Billy ,after seeing off children to their school, along with Mrs John get towards work and busied her self till late evening.It was a dark and precipitating night ,they all were home and watching precipitation from the big Windows.Somebody pell mell knocking the door.Mrs John opened the door, subsidising a young man with a brief case in hand,jumped in and said, "fairly passing through, precipitation took me". Billy frowned little when she glared a brief case and a young fellow,but she allowed him step in. Introduced himself as “Vicky “.Billy liked his appearance and kept her coffee in front of him. Vicky went towards wash room .In the corridor he saw pictures of Mr Wulmer and Billy." Are you once a model and the other gent is the famous film Director Mr Wulmer,am I right”?.Vicky quickly said all this.”Absolutely right “ ,Billy answered smiley.Vicky quickly opened his brief case and put out an old magazine ,”Mam, your old pics,”Oh my Lord,after twenty five years I’m seeing my pictures”.Billy Wulmer,a thunder in the City,Billy as a silly,types of pics were there in a mag.”Mam,I discovered you after twenty five years,your life had so glamorous and taste,and Vicky commenced with the interviewing her.Vicky left and promised to come again in two days for more particulars.Vicky ,after two days came ,along with his team to quiz her.”My sweet heart,are you arriving day after,ok,Who is this coming with you” what are you talking about “ok,I would give you my concent after seeing him"."My daughter is arriving home for holidays ".She told Vicky .The phone call got her thinking.”My daughter,she is in college,coming with his proposed husband day after “Billy said"You are also invited on dinner ,definitely come .“.She invited Vicky.Billy and Vicky were sitting in the lounge,her daughter,"Robia" and her proposed husband stepped in.Billy became disturbed when she saw an aged man ,not suitable for her daughter ,sat beside.”I’m Robert Harry,Director in Foreign Services,.Next week I scheduled for South Africa for two years,so I wanted to marriage this Sunday and also take Robia along".Billy confused looking towards both of them.”But in a short notice how it could be possible,it needs time".Billy became disturbed.”It would be a simple arrangement".Robert answered smartly.”You are such a smart and cute, Vicky,delighted you are proposing Robia,she is a quiet sweet girl,is he your father Vicky.?”Mrs John frantically narrating all thi .”Mrs John,please ,you are talking without knowing the facts,Mr Robert is the proposing husband of Robia".Billy said in little rashed manner.”Oh,I’m extremely sorry and Mrs John hurriedly left the room.After dinner Mr Robert aparted.”Robia,He is more of your age,you will regret later".Said Billy in a polite way.”Mama,I’m in love with Robert,He is well established”.Answered Robia.Billy phoned Vicky to pick her for the party.They both participated well establishedly .Some body took the Mike and request Billy to sing.Billy astonished heard her name,she was not expecting part of the crowd now she thought people have forgotten her.She looked towards Vicky and said “Today I’m rebirth because of this boy,Vicky,Vicky I love you”and kissed him.The media shooted to shoot the scene.The media became active and flashed news in sensational style. Breath breaking news"Star born again” and the news stripe encircling on the Screens. Back home very late.kids and Mrs John were all awakened watching them.Billy and Vicky purporting outwardly,sitting in red sports car.Vicky held her hand , kissed on lips and cheeks hotilly.When is your next arrival".?Asked Billy romantically.”Day after to complete the interview,your previous interview was warmly welcomed.”Answered Vicky.”You dunno,you are still young and electric.I wanna make you a star again.Vicky further said.”You know Vicky,Im happy in my life,I won’t need billions to grow up my kids,I wanna give them a decent growth,mind one thing Vicky,don’t fall in love with me" and they both laughed.The kids along with Mrs John,sprinted to their rooms.Next morning Billy didn’t go to her farm,she woke up late in the morning only Mrs John went to work.The kids oddly acting towards her mother.”Billy ,kids not expecting this from you,typified last night,you are their ideal,they take you as a star of the other world,not of this world.”Mrs John said all this blunt and in open way.”Mrs John,there is nothing like this,I’m matured and I know that I have to raise the Children “.Said Billy calmly.”You were a star of past ,now you are only a Widow mother,that boy is smart and tricky ,lest he should ........“.Mrs John stopped saying further and went out of living room.”I’m delighted watched your mother on media,give my blessings.You know she has raised my prestige and class,you would amaze ,she is now again rising not like a star but like a sun".Mr Robert said all this to Robia on the phone.Robia also felt proud but she repeatedly thinking about Vicky and her mother's romance.All the neighbors gossiping about the romance on newly horizon.Sometimes ,at night when they both arrive in the Street,everybody used to stare them.”Beat your drum inside your house to spare the neighbors”,Mrs John tried to alarm Billy.Billy became super bold when she heard of Mr Robert's remarks about her.Now,Vicky became active member of their family.He now trying to use his influence to brought Billy to starlings life.Billy again rising as a super star after twenty five long years.Vicky wanted to make her more obliged.”Vicky,sometimes I stunned to think “Why are you doing all these efforts for me"?Asked Billy astonishing.”Billy,I’m in love with you”Vicky said like a shooting training.”From the last so many days,I was realizing,you are falling in love ditch,but you know I’m not fond of money making and don’t want to go back to that fictitious lighting life ,I will give my final to you soon “said Billy by dropping from the car.As she opened the door Robia, continuing upheaval.”Mama,you are in love with a boy,not matured ,you are making fool of him,using him,You are a mature woman and he is an amateur lover".”This what I was trying to say that day that Robert is not your age,you both have a long distance of age as ours,I did all this only to show you while act”.Billy said." I realized mama,I was wrong ,Robert is not of my age.”Robia said.Billy busy talking with Robia,door opened , Vicky came in and desperate kissing Billy.Billy tapped him and said “Vicky I’m not your age,we would only be good friends not good spouse”.They both naively deeming towards Billy.Billy Smiled and said"Every cloud has silver linings". The End.......'............Springs for life".


Joe sucked in air through his mouth then let out a coughing exhale. He covered his mouth too late, despite the fact that he was alone in his truck. Through his windshield, he saw the wide, rugged, filthy, death-filled area between the trenches. No man’s land. It was World War III and trench warfare was back and in a big way. This time, it was mostly due to laziness, but neither side would admit that. You’ve got the English or the French or something on one side and the French or the Swedish or something similar on the other side. Joe couldn’t remember what they were at war about but he knew that he supported the French. Or the Swedish. Trenches these days were pretty fun; Joe knew for a fact that one side had a pool table and heated bathroom floors. *Maybe I should’ve joined the military,* Joe mused. *I’m too fat for combat, but maybe they’d need numbers so bad that I’d squeeze in. Although I’m not French or Swedish or English so that would be a problem.* Joe wasn’t a soldier. Joe was a repairman. His specialty was in televisions, although he wasn’t really a specialist in anything. He was a jack of all trades repairman, as long as those trades were consumer electronics. And he had a doozy of a repair on his hands today. Both sides knew it as “The Speaker”, and that’s what it was: a titanic, colossal, double-sided speaker, one side facing each trench. No one knew who put it up; one day it wasn’t there, the next day it was, like an alien monolith. As Joe had heard, much of the fighting post-Speaker was over which radio station to put on. One side wanted the hottest pop hits while the other wanted to unwind with some classic rock. There was a detente for a day where holiday music was accepted by both sides, but this ended when Guns N Roses began blaring first thing on December 26th. Eventually, the two warring armies settled on public radio, finding the dulcet tones of the various hosts soothing. The shooting stopped as the soldiers learned about new books that were coming out soon. Then The Speaker broke, and resentment began to simmer once more. Both sides’ spies were blamed; the spies had previously been discovered to be spies, though both were so charming that they were incorporated into the other’s ranks. Though both spies pleaded that they knew nothing of the speaker breaking, they were executed in front of each trench. The message was clear: spying was fine, but fucking with The Speaker was not. This brought us back to Joe, sitting in his truck, an old revolver in the passenger seat. *What am I gonna do with this thing?* he wondered, picking the gun up and examining it. Joe came from a neutral country in the conflict, his unbiased presence being something both armies agreed upon after days of progress-less fighting. Joe detested war, not because of any moral objections, but because it seemed like a lot of work. Exercise was abhorrent to him; someone speed-walking past him on the street was something he interpreted as an insult and showing off. He had bad eyesight and flat feet and a head so big that an enemy sniper would tear up with joy seeing it in his scope. Joe pushed his glasses up and started speaking to himself. “In and out. There’s a ceasefire. They don’t want to shoot you. They just want the speaker fixed. They don’t want to shoot you. They just want the speaker fixed.” This became Joe’s mantra as he shakily opened the truck door, still holding the pistol in his hand. Eyeing the gun with each movement, he pointed it at the ground so as to avoid any accidental firing. Joe moved around to the truck bed and placed the gun in his right hand. He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his toolbox. Gun in one hand and toolbox in the other, he took a deep breath, let it out, and began walking towards The Speaker. Though each step was slow, each heartbeat was quick and pounding. Sweat melted down his brow, and he could taste it and feel it sting his eyes. His tiny, circular glasses fogged up, either from perspiration or precipitation. The sweat wasn’t confined to his head; the running water loosened his grip of the pistol and toolbox. He didn’t want to squeeze either, careful not to accidentally pull the trigger. As he walked, he tried to wipe his glasses with the fabric on his workman’s outfit. He had to do so every few seconds, like windshield wipers in a hurricane. All Joe could see in between wipes were guns trained on either side; no people, no figures, only guns. He knew they weren’t pointed at him, but they were still pointed at him. Finally, he had arrived at The Speaker. He knew this because the dark shape he was walking towards was now very large. The Speaker towered over him like a skyscraper. Joe placed the toolbox and the revolver down on the mud. He used the fabric of his tucked-in shirt to firmly rub away the steam on his glasses before placing them back on this nose and wiping it. “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay. Um. Let’s take a look.” He heard movement behind him. He jolted and turned around, but saw nothing. “Focus, focus, focus. Come on,” he whispered again. Joe began poking around The Speaker, or at least the area of The Speaker he could see and reach. As he examined the other side of it, he noticed an issue: it wasn’t plugged in. “You gotta be fucking…” Joe muttered before trailing off. He picked up the extension cord - about the size of a well-fed boa constrictor - and ran his hands down the length until he reached the plug. There was a socket in the ground covered by a superficial layer of mud. Joe kicked the mud off frantically. The soldiers peeked over the trench walls to watch Joe furiously kick the mud off the ground socket. Joe looked at one trench, then the other. “I found the problem.” He lifted the plug and its massive wire; he tried to lift it high but it was too heavy. “You’ve gotta-- this has to be plugged in. For it to work. You’ve gotta plug it in,” Joe shouted. He turned to the other trench. “This has to be plugged in here. See?” Joe rotated the plug so that the prongs faced the socket, then slowly squatted and plugged the large plug into the large socket. Immediately, The Speaker started producing sound. “There you go. See?” Joe tried to shout, though The Speaker was entirely too loud for anyone to hear. The sounds of a public radio host echoed through the land, and both trenches erupted in cheers. Suddenly, soldiers from both sides hopped up out of each trench and began jogging over to Joe. Joe shook the hands of both sides of soldiers, who began to mingle with each other like it was an office holiday party. Joe let out a quick chuckle before gulping, finishing it off with a smile as he shook hands. “Yeah, no problem. Just had to plug it in, that’s all,” he kept saying to the soldiers. *”However, we do have some unfortunate news,”* the public radio host said through The Speaker. The soldiers stopped talking to each other. Most ears were tuned to The Speaker now. “Yup, just had to plug it in,” Joe said again, before his ears, too, were clued in. *”Due to a lack of funding, Global Public Radio - the station you’ve been enjoying for over ninety-nine years - will be going off the air,”* the host continued. Joe’s smile froze on his face. *“This will be the final broadcast. Goodbye.”* The Speaker went silent. Both sets of soldiers began to examine each other. Joe spoke up, his newfound confidence slowly draining along with the color in his face. “That’s okay! That’s fine, I’m sure we can find another station you both enjoy--” A punch was thrown, right in front of Joe. Another punch. A tackle. A grapple between two men dropped Joe to his back as they rolled over him. His back caked with mud, Joe scrambled to his knees before dodging another set of fighting soldiers. Joe slipped onto his stomach before he began crawling toward his toolbox and pistol. He heard shouting in some language he didn’t know as a few of the soldiers sprinted to their sides, sliding into the trenches once more. The sound of the first gunshot seemed to reverberate through Joe’s skeleton. He sprawled out as flat as he could in the mud before he covered his head with his hands. Joe twisted into the fetal position before flicking himself over, inch by inch, toward his tools and gun. A bullet rang off the toolbox as Joe reached for it, and he pulled his hand back quickly, shaking it out. He quickly grabbed the pistol instead. Bullets flying overhead, Joe looked into the distance at his truck, a good one hundred yards away. His glasses fogging again, he squeezed next to The Speaker - now serving as a massive shield - and continued eyeing the truck in the distance. *Two options,* Joe thought to himself. *Stay here, use The Speaker as a shield, and hope the fighting stops soon. And that I won’t get hit. And that neither side executes me for being some sort of spy.* A bullet got so close to the top of Joe’s big head that he swears he felt its heat. *Or get to the truck.* As soldiers continued grappling in the mud and bullets sailed between and through their bodies, Joe closed his eyes. *Get to the truck.* With a shot of adrenaline he hadn’t felt since his first kiss, Joe climbed to his feet. As out-of-shape as Joe was, at this moment, he felt like the fastest man alive. He bumped into and knocked down two wrestling soldiers as he gained speed. Joe raised his pistol into the air and fired aimlessly, screaming as loudly as he could, a primal cry, a cry for life. Joe knew at any moment that his kneecap could be obliterated, his kidney punctured cleanly, his head splattered with bullets. In this moment, though, Joe felt alive in a way he hadn’t felt in decades. Halfway there as he weaved through charging soldiers from both sides, desperately trying to claw each other’s eyes out. “Get the fuck out of my way!” Joe screamed, his vocal chords unused to the power with which he ordered the soldiers, throwing his gun over his shoulder. Like a bowling ball destroying a house of cards, Joe knocked over more soldiers on his way to his truck. Twenty yards now, and not too many soldiers in the way. Joe dodged one soldier who was slamming another onto the mud before he slid next to the driver’s side door of the truck. His hand dove into his pocket with purpose, Joe identified which key he needed, and quickly inserted the key, turning it and throwing the door open. With the same precision, he slammed the door, put the key in the ignition, and threw the car into reverse. As he sped away backwards, he turned so he could look out the back windshield. He sped away from the skirmish, away from the combat, away from the war, away from The Speaker that brought him there. He would not be killed today. He may be killed someday, and he forgot his tools and maybe pissed his pants a little bit, but he was alive. And as he sped away in reverse, he screamed wordlessly. He then suddenly vomited all over his shoulder. *That’s okay. I can clean that up later.* Vomit on his shoulder, piss in his pants, but alive, Joe spun the truck around to face the other way, kicking up sheets of mud in the process. He drove away.


*Fimbulwinter: Proper Noun (Norse Mythology): One of the signs of the onset of Ragnarok. A constant three-year winter. “The bunker should be this way!” One man shouted as he led a group of about eight people through the heavy snowfall. The year was 2591, and the world had been completely covered in snow and ice for over a century at that point. Why? No one could tell you. Over the years, snowfall began to become heavier and heavier, even covering places like the Sahara and Arizona in thick snow layers nearly year around. The population had gone from a staggering twenty-two billion individuals to little more than one billion, and it was still dropping quick. With food supplies dwindling and the extreme temperatures, survival was a difficult task to put it lightly. “Where’d yah hear about this bunker, anyway, Butch?” Another man yelled from the back of the group. The had bright red hair and a long neck beard. His hair fell in braids off the back of his head. He was blind in one eye, evident by his eye being whited out. In between the two individuals walking on the ground was a tall, futuristic looking tank. Built out of rusted metal and even some wood, the machine plowed through the snow. One the top of the tank sat three women. One woman, wearing padded clothing, gloves, and her head was wrapped and goggles covering her eyes. Her mouth was the only exposed skin on her body. Her black hair stuck out from her head wrappings. On her back was a large nameplate that read “BUTCH”. “That man who came into the safehouse two weeks ago who had survived the wolf attack told me.” Butch answered. She was fiddling with a small flare gun she had strapped to her thigh. “I didn’t believe him at first! A bunker with several years supplies worth of food sounded too good to be true. The I put Kaiyo on the case, and things seemed more plausible.” Kaiyo, a young Asian woman with bright pink hair, less padded than Butch but still heavily clothed, sat next to a small garbage-can fire on top of the tank. When her name was mentioned, she simply nodded. “It does sound too good to be true!” The red-headed man responded. “This is a suicide mission, through and through! I cannot believe I let you guys talk me into going with you!” “Shut up, Roach!” The man in the front of the group shouted back at the red-headed man. “My wife and kids haven’t had food for over four days! I’ll do anything to bring them back some nourishment!” “We’ve been gone two days, Scott.” Butch shouted down from the top of the tank. “I pray they’ll survive until we get back.” “I pray we survive.” Roach mumbled. “Wait. Scratch that. I don’t pray. I refuse to pray, in fact, because any of those retched gods that allowed this crap-heap of a winter doesn’t deserve my prayers!” “I thought you didn’t believe in any gods?” Scott asked. “That is also why I won’t pray.” “At some point, Roach, you’ll realize that you’re gonna have to fall back on someone other than yourself for survival.” Butch said. “And at that point, you may not have anyone left but a god.” “I’m the only person whose never let me down.” Roach responded. Everyone rolled their eyes at Roach’s comment. “Anyway, based off of Kaiyo’s estimates, we should reach the bunker within the next hour.” Scott shouted to the group behind him. “How do we know we’ve been going the right direction?” The third woman asked from atop the tank. She was stick-thin with long blonde hair reaching down to her knees. She looked malnourished more than anything, with bones showing through her skin, and her eyes being sunken into her head. If the group hadn’t know her for several years, they might have assumed she was the oldest among them. But they all knew little Scrapper (the nickname the crew had given her) was far younger than anyone of them. “The man we heard the rumor from gave us basic directions.” Butch answered. “Kaiyo charted the area and found that a bunker did in fact exist within the range that the man had said. After that, it’s a lot of faith.” “Blind faith.” Roach muttered. After another forty-five minutes of walking, the group could see ahead of them a formation. A man-made structure that was clearly the bunker they were looking for. “I can’t freakin’ believe.” Roach whispered to himself. “Good work, Kaiyo.” Scott exclaimed. Kaiyo simply nodded. “Wait a sec.” Butch muttered. She stood up, revealing she was actually much taller and more muscular than she previously seemed, standing close to eight feet tall. “Guys, there’s more than just a bunker there.” The crew stopped and looked for a moment, realizing Butch was correct. There was not just a singular bunker there, but also a large city. “A city?” Scott confusedly asked. “Nothing was ever said about a city?” “He never mentioned anything about it.” Butch responded. “Kaiyo, is it possible we lost track of where we’re going and found something else?” Kaiyo shook her had. “Bunker here in city.” “I should’ve known better than trusting that freakin’ pink-haired little…!” Roach began shouting. “Roach, shut up!” Butch shouted back. She walked over to Kaiyo and placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Kaiyo, do you know if the city is abandoned or not?” Scott asked. “If it’s abandoned, our plans don’t change.” “City inhabited.” “Great. Just great!” Roach exclaimed. “Well. Time to turn around, I guess.” “Why do you just assume this city won’t try to help us?” Scott asked optimistically. “Maybe they’ll give us some of their food.” “Because, Scott. It’s a dog-eat-dog world now!” Roach answered. “I know you like to think we are still living in some sort of fantasy world where ‘we’re all in this together’, but really, most of us are just in it for ourselves, being dragged out here to die in the snow because of people like you!” “I’m sorry that I’m trying to help other people that aren’t me, Roach!” Scott shouted back. “I’m sorry that I want to help the human race maybe survive another century!” “If you two are done making a scene, I’d like to know what the plan is now.” Butch calmly stated. “I’m going in.” Scott answered, not breaking his angry gaze from Roach. “Maybe they’ll help us out, at least to some extent.” “I’m going in, too.” Butch responded. “You’re a good man Scott, but a bad fighter.” She winked at Scott. “Kaiyo. Scrapper. I’m not gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You either wait out here or come in with us. You’re choice.” Scott explained. “I’ll come in with you.” Scrapper answered. “Roach creeps me out.” “Same.” Kaiyo added. “Good.” Roach muttered. “Means it’s working.” “Okay, then.” Scott continued. “Roach? What are you gonna do?” Roach thought for a moment, trying to figure out how best to answer. “You guys are gonna freakin’ die in there.” “You don’t know that, Roach.” Butch responded. He nodded his head. “I’d rather die in there than out here in the snow.” Roach answered. “I’m going in.” *** When the crew pulled up to what seemed to be the front entrance of the city, Scott stood at the front of the group. The five people gathered together, all on the ground off of the tank, which they had left further back to keep from intimidating their potential help. The door in front of them was huge, standing at least fifty feet tall and twenty feet wide. The city stood as a massive closed-off dome made of stone. Scott was unclear of how to go about opening the door. Kaiyo stepped in front of Scott and placed her hand on the door. In a moment, her eyes glowed pink, before the door opened. “Nice one.” Butch mentioned. “Yeah. Let’s just break into this city.” Roach commented. “That’ll end well.” As the door opened in front of them, six armed guards stood behind the entrance. In between the six guards stood a tall woman wearing a white suit. She had short, curly brown hair that extended to her chin. “You are a crafty one, young android.” The woman stated, staring straight at Kaiyo. “Good job opening our door.” “Great. We’re gonna die.” “Shut up, Roach.” Scott muttered. “Hello. My name is Scott. This is my crew of scouts from Colony B-76 from the upper east territories. These are Kaiyo, Butch, Roach, and Scrapper.” “What brings your crew here, Scott?” The woman asked. “We were informed of a bunker containing edible foods this way out of our colony.” Scott explained. “We came on the assumption it was abandoned, but now realize it is actually an inhabited city. We simply ask that if there are any portions you are willing to part with, we may have some for our people.” “While a nice request, our people do not so openly spread our food to outsiders.” The woman responded. My husband, the Prime President of this city-state, has made it clear that outsiders are not to…” The woman paused, listening as someone spoke to her over an earpiece. She nodded. “Yes sir.” She answered. She looked back up at Scott, then moved her eyes over to Roach. “My husband has informed me he would like to meet you before sending you off. Please, come in.” As the crew walked into the city the doors closed behind them. Once they were completely shut, the guards each chose a particular member of the crew to stand by, with one covering the woman in white. “I will have my maid-servants prepare you a place to stay over the week, per my husband’s request.” The woman stated. “Okay, listen here, Snow.” Butch interjected. “We’re not staying a week. One night, maybe, but we’ve got families back at our colony who need food, and soon.” “My husband never said anything about gifting you food.” The woman responded. “He just wants to meet… one of you.” She looked straight at Roach. “Me?” Roach asked. “Why me?” The woman simply smiled, then turned around and continued walking forward. “I don’t like this.” Roach whispered to Scott. “I’m starting to agree.” They were led into a large, open room full of people. While the woman leading them was dressed quite well, the people in this room were dirty, dressed in rags and covered in dirt. “What is this place?” Scrapper asked. “This is where all of the people found in the wild stay waiting for clearance to enter into the city-proper.” The woman responded. “Most have been here their entire life times. Sad, but the Prime President has his priorities.” “How is this any better than being out in the wild?” Butch asked. “We have heating.” At the doorway at the end of the room stood a man wearing a blue suit. He had bright red hair, and a long, scruffy beard. Roach froze dead in his tracks. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Roach whispered. As the man looked Roach in the eyes, he extended out his arms. “Welcome home, younger brother.” “Oh, crap.” Scott whispered. “How long has it been?” Roach’s brother asked. “What? Like twenty-three years or something like that?” “Not long enough.” Roach answered. “Come on, brother. Don’t be like that.” “You sold me!” Roach shouted. “For what, Mark?” “A wife.” Mark responded. “She’s still with me if that’s any concern to you. She’s my favorite out of my five.” He laughed smugly, while the woman in white had a slight look of shame come over her face. “Screw you.” Roach said. “Let’s go. I want nothing from this guy.” “Can’t we talk this out?” Mark asked. “Don’t you think I might’ve come to regret that over the years?” “Honestly, no.” “Listen, brother. Just stay the night. You and I can talk and get caught up on life.” Mark continued. “Tomorrow morning you can leave, and I’ll send you off with plenty of food to last your colony months!” Roach thought for a minute. He hated the idea of staying with his brother for more time than he wanted. But at the same time, he knew his colony needed food, and he didn’t want this trip to be worthless. “Fine. One night.” Roach agreed. “But first thing tomorrow, there better be food waiting for us to deliver home.” Scott looked at Roach and mouthed ‘thank you’. He had known Roach for a long time, and while the two did not always get along, he knew just how much Roach’s family had hurt him. “Good. You can stay in my quarters, brother.” Mark explained. “I’ll make sure your friends have a safe place to stay as well.” *** Roach and Mark arrived in Mark’s living quarters about half and hour later. Upon arriving, Roach was disgusted at what he saw. Five women all dressed in white gowns and with gold and blue paint over their faces. On their backs were written the words ‘The Wives of Mark’. “Worse than I thought. “Roach stated in a quiet tone. “You’re sick. What do they even do all day?” “That is… none of your business.” Mark answered. “I don’t see why you’re so resistant to me, brother. I’m trying to help.” “You are not trying to help, Mark.” Roach responded. “You’re trying to get something from me. What you could possibly want from me, I’m not sure. I kinda suck.” “Is this what your life’s become?” Mark asked. “I’ve had success while you and and your little crew is struggle to make it day to day.” “Success, Mark? Is that what this is? You force women to ‘love’ you so you can feel better about yourself while there are people in your own city starving because you are too arrogant to help them!” “You don’t know the stuff I deal with everyday to keep this city running!” Mark shouted. “I’ve seen pain and trauma you wouldn’t believe!” “And I watched my daughter take her own life because it seemed better than my inability to provide for her!” Roach shouted back. “So shut up!” “I’m sorry, brother.” Mark responded. “I really am.” Before Roach could continue, the woman in white stormed into the room. “Sir. The giant, she broke into the locker and stole food.” ‘Crap.’ Roach thought. ‘Butch’. The three walked down to the large room they had been in earlier. In the center of the room was Butch surrounded by three guards who had Butch chained up. “Chains? Really?” Roach stated. “Little overkill, don’t yah think?” “Speak for yourself, giant.” Mark shouted at Butch. “First off, my name is Butch, not giant.” She answered. “Secondly, the door was open, and people were walking in and out getting food as they please. Remember, I haven’t eaten in two whole days!” “Listen, sir. We got some food too, so whatever you do to her should be done to us as well.” Scott interjected. Mark ignored Scott. “Non-citizens stealing from us is a grave offense. You will be punished greatly.” “Giants make for great slave labor, sir.” The woman in white stated. “Shall we condemn her to the mines?” “Agreed.” Mark continued. “I too feel that would best suit her.” “Holy crap.” Roach muttered. “I knew it! I knew all you wanted was to get something from me. You weren’t gonna help us until you saw Butch. All you wanted was an excuse to get an extra slave for your city!” “Brother. Giants make for great slave labor. I’m sure you understand.” Mark explained. “She’s my friend, jack-wad!” Roach shouted. “Punishment must be served.” “This isn’t punishment! You tricked us just so you could steal my friend as a slave!” “You wish to propose some sort of deal?” Mark asked. “Literally anything other than what you want right now.” Mark and the woman in white paused to think for a moment. After some silence, Mark spoke. “Kill them all. Take the giant.” The guards instantly rose their weapons and aimed at the crew. They began open firing on them instantly. Kaiyo was the first to be hit, but as an android she was able to withstand the shot more so than anyone else. Scott was shot in the back, falling over dead immediately. Roach looked for Butch but saw she had been taken out of the room right away and was gone before he knew it. He picked up Scrapper and began running with Kaiyo by his side. They ran towards the exit they had come in, but the guards were too many. Kaiyo continued to take the majority of the shots, but was able to withstand much of them, though even she was slowing down too. As they entered into the hallway where the exit was, Kaiyo used her last moments to open the door. As the door began to open, she fell over dead, too. Roach and Scrapper were the only ones left and ran out the door as quickly as they could into the freezing snow. Mark and his guards stood at the door, this time with a larger weapon that would surely kill them. Roach was smart, though, and took Scrapper straight toward the tank they had left behind. They jumped in as quickly as they could and aimed straight at the doorway. Within a moment, Scrapper hit the button and shot a missile straight into the door, killing the guards, and presumably Mark, too. Roach and Scrapper sat for a moment, trying to catch their breath from what they had experienced. “What now?” Scrapper asked. Roach thought for a moment, partially concerned at how unaffected she was by this. He knew what she had experience in her thirteen years of life, and it horrified him. “We go back in for Butch.” Roach answered. “Then we take some food back home.”


“You’re sittin’ in it.” “No, not just some bar. THE bar.” “Oh! ‘THE’ bar. I guess I don’t know where ‘THE’ bar is, Stew.” “The bar that tells you what’s makes a person. See, like, today I see a woman put out a cigarette and throw the butt in the grass at central park. Which, yeah, I think, ‘that’s a no-good thing to do,’ but it’s not like she put it out in someone’s eye. She didn’t blow smoke in an old guy’s face, or… or attack anybody, or anything like that. So how no-good is she? Where’s the bar for good and bad, y’know? Say I’ve drank and drove, but I’ve never, y’know, killed a lady. Or I’ve killed, say, think like, a cat, but not a person. Would I still be good? Where’s that bar?” “After all this time, this is still just ‘some bar?’” “I didn’t mean it like that. Were you listening to what I said?” “Maybe. I mean, no, not really. Don’t get paid to listen. I get paid to bartend. And, y’know, that’s why I’m here. That’s what I’m good at, so that’s what I like to be.” “Don’t we all.” “Hope not. Otherwise I’d be out of business.” “I’m just saying, like… well, y’know what else? I see this same lady not an hour later, and she’s giving her spot up on the bench to some oldie from the home. Same park. So where’s that put her on the bar? How many good things you gotta do to make up for the bad things?” “I don’t know, Stewie. I don’t think there’s a transfer rate. Don’t think you gotta get it down to a ratio.” “Well, is this lady a good person or a bad person? That’s my question.” “Then I guess I don’t got an answer for you. Now let me wash my glasses, you nut.” “…Hey.” “Yeah?” “Does this line of work make you feel fulfilled?” “What’s your problem tonight?” “That’s not how I meant it.” “Yeah? How’d you meant it?” “I’m considering going into a different line of work.” “Bartending?” “Maybe.” “Well, I don’t know your line of work. I don’t know what you like to do. Jesus, I’ve known you for a decade and I don’t know what you do!” “You never asked.” “You never asked me to ask.” “Is that my job?” “I mean you’d never make a motion that’d make me think to ask about you. You strike me as secluded.” “That wasn’t my intention.” “And it wasn’t my concern. So that’s where we are. Here we are. Forgive me. What is it that you do, Stuart?” “Well… this and that, you know. Nothing much.” “Well, I guess, there you go. Look, I love this job. I love the people. I love makin’ em happy. And, in all honesty, I love guys like you.” “You don’t know me.” “Well, yeah, I suppose, but I know the you that comes here. I know the everybody that comes here. My favorite part of working here is nights like this, right here, where even a loud city like this goes quiet, and you just sit with a guy like you and talk about whatever crazy world you live in. Just sitting in a silent city, it’s—it’s something else.” “How long does it last?” “The silence? I don’t know, couple of hours? Thirty minutes? Depends on the night. But comin’ home to a room I paid for, sittin’ on my bed, turnin’ on a TV I paid for, pouring myself a drink that only I know how to make? After a quiet day like this? I know no greater fulfillment.” “Hmm.” “Does that interest you?” “What?” “Any of that. What I just said. Bartending.” “The... quiet sounds nice.” “Yeah, well, you’d have to work with people. It’s not always quiet.” “I could work around that.” “Plus... I think a guy like you in a quiet like this might get lost in his own ramblings.” “I’ve been in quiet rooms before.” “Right. You’re right. Just never pictured you doing anything *but* rambling, I guess. do you want a drink?” “Not tonight.” “Seriously, Stew, what’s goin’ on? You still thinkin’ about that lady?” “It’s just… what’s the worst thing you can do to still be a good person? Say you’ve killed a cat but you’ve never blown up a building. Which side of the bar are you on?” “Stew, did you kill a cat?” “What? No.” “You keep bringin’ it up.” “I thought you weren’t listening.” “I try not to. You just say some heavy stuff sometimes.” “Sorry.” “Don’t apologize… look, if you’re really interested in bar work, I can show you how to pour your own drink.” “I’m not thirsty.” “We don’t drink for thirst, you maniac. Watch me. Look at the shot glass. *Bam*, right there, slam it on the table. Make *sure* you can slam your glasses on the table. Most people don’t think about it, but you see the boys that run through this place. Young ‘n fresh Neanderthals who think they’re in the damn Wild West. *Slam*, every time. They slam a glass and it breaks, they’re not comin’ back. And you’re down a glass. So none a' that cheapy bargain bin crap. Got it? Thick, heavy glass.” “Am I gonna be in charge of buying glasses?” “Well, no. Just letting you know.” “Gotcha.” “Okay, time to pour. The key is half an ounce per second. Can you picture half an ounce?” “No.” “Alright, watch. One. There, that’s half an ounce. You got that? Two, three, four. Four seconds, two ounces, you see?” “I’m not great with numbers.” “Okay, well, this one’s mine. You wanna try?” “I’m fine.” “You givin’ up on bar work that easy?” “I think I’m kidding myself.” “Well, it takes practice. You aren’t gonna get the perfect shot day zero. If it was easy, everyone would do it.” “I guess.” “Can’t say I didn’t try.” “You ever think you drink too much?” “What? No, not really.” “How often do you drink?” “As often as I’d like. Most nights I work.” “That’s not too much?” “As often as I’d like? No, I don’t think so. I own the place.” “You afraid of getting addicted?” “Like, being an alcoholic? Sometimes. Depends on the day.” “How much do you drink on your worst day?” “What’s this about, Stew?” “Just asking.” “I’d say my worst day was probably the day pops died. And, y’know, I had just got my hands around these bottles, so I might have taken it a little too far. But I learned the lesson.” “What was the lesson?” “Don’t drink for dead people.” “How do you know you won’t have that bad of a day again?” “Well, like I said, it was my worst day.” “You won’t have another worst day?” “If I did, what’d be the point of learning a lesson?” “I guess sometimes I feel like I can’t learn.” “What’d make you think a thing like that? We all gotta learn. Someone taught you to walk in here and buy a drink.” “It’s not what I’m good at.” “Yeah, no kidding. When was the last time you actually bought something from me?” “Before I got my new job.” “Give me somethin’, Stew.” “Social work.” “Ah, social work. Social work’s not too bad. Do you like it?” “Not really.” “What’s wrong with it?” “It’s what I’m good at. But it’s not what I like to do. Or I hope it isn’t.” “You hope it isn’t?” “I-I mean I think it isn’t. I mean, I don’t think I could do it for the rest of my life. I don’t want to.” “Yeah, well, they say you gotta find that happy medium.” “I don’t think I have a happy medium.” “Sure you do.” “I keep having the worst day. Or I keep thinking it’s the worst day, but it’s not. The next day is.” “Well, are you learning?” “What am I supposed to learn? That it doesn’t get better? That I’m doomed?” “No, of course not. You’re not doomed. You’re still here. It gets better.” “When?” “I don’t know. When you find something you like to do.” “…I think I need a drink.” “Ah, now look who’s thirsty. Alright, remember, what’s the key to the drink?” “Thick glass.” “Right. One, two, three, four, and that’s yours. Drink responsibly.” “Always do.” “…I think you’re above the bar, Stew.” “Thanks.


Viktor sneaked inside the remnants of a collapsed parking garage just in time. Two Toxins walked by, talking loudly, boasting about their 'accomplishments,' such as beating up a defenceless twelve-year-old. Cowards. But with Tox in command, and his private army of Toxins patrolling the streets, this was the way of the world. Viktor himself had been recruited as a Toxin. He was plucked from the street and had to start training under strict surveillance. After the first round, he received an 'E' rating, meaning he had the build, speed and intelligence to train for the elite squad, Tox' personal guards. This also meant the surveillance measured were slacked. Within a week Viktor had crafted a knife of a piece of bent metal and some charred wood, held it to a guards' throat and ran of. That's why he had to be so careful to stay out of sight. The wisest thing would be to hide, to run off into the woods and never go back. But Viktor knew he was the only one capable of overthrowing the reign of the maniac Tox had become. He had seen an inside view of the guarding system. He was lean, swift and bright. He could craft a weapon out of nearly anything. Most importantly, he wasn't afraid of some blood on his hands. It's not as if he walks through the street randomly cutting out young boys' gobs, like some of the Toxins do. But he wasn't one to let harm come upon himself and he wielded his knife in any way necessary. When the Toxins were gone, Viktor crept out of hiding and continued his path. At seventeen, he was one of the oldest boys still alive. When the collision drew near, it was decided that all fifteen-year-olds would live. They were old enough to take care of themselves and eventually reproduce, but young enough to adapt and create government in the new world. When all the fifteen-year-olds were saved, the remainder of places in the bunkers was distributed to anyone between twelve and eighteen. Viktor had been lucky, unlike many. The silence was pierced by a shuffling sound and Viktor turned with a start. There was no one there, except a rat gnawing on something that looked suspiciously much like human flesh. Irritated by the distraction, Viktor threw one of his knifes. The rat let out a shriek as it was skewered, then dropped dead. It tumbled off of the beam it was crawling over, into the basement of the garage. It was a shame to lose that knife, but Viktor was happy. In the end, he would only need one. Tox' lair was in sight and his training, carried out all alone in the woods, proved solid. He stowed away his other weapons and starting creeping along the final mile.


In this fast moving times of internet technology friendship of Human beings has been replaced by Android human communication. It has become a most loveable friend connecting people from different countries to have video chats and even see each other. Android has become a life breath of Modern society without any distinction of caste, colour, religion or nationality.                           Dr K.P.Singh a famous professor of space technology was badly in need of enfolding himself into the Arms of Miss Natasha Gandhi who was the sister of his wife Kamalesha. He felt a strong passion for her and she also oscillated between to reach for him and it is herein that the Mobile became an intervening agent. She was also married to Rai-Saheb, but his sexual demand seemed to be very less. K.P. could fill in the sexual hunger. K.P. had often been calling her. The mobile when one day finally she met him in his cabin. She was a distributor of medicinal products.                         The Android became their agent and gradually she could not afford to be stiff with her sister’s husband. “Finally she came to the conclusion that her brother-In-law was equally entitled and she too as well.              “No I cannot meet you today. My younger brother who stays in a boys’ hostel has come to spend his week end with me .Just wait till Monday. Just then he received a call from her husband. Jaspreet was in the habit of calling her quite often times and something always felt some uneasiness.                   The Android had become an ultra modern flying pigeon of various colours and multiple advantages. It brought People very far in U.K. or States to become close to them and the neighbors around your area were now redundant. They were making friends in New York or Hampstead and even fly by air to see them. One man Mr. Suresh Avasth went to Hampstead to meet Jane Cornforth and he had a very nice Time with her. He was her guest from Bombay and he had to be entertained as her special guest. It is no surprising to know That Android has become a means to profligate indulgence and even helps people several ways of kissing in different styles. Android has become a useful means of fraudsters and cheaters and this part of the story needs to be skipped of.                             Mrs. Rita Mehta had a long list of call boys who were working as food Tiffin delivery boys or a tuition teacher or other boys in Tomato or Swiggy. These some of the boys who have also given their mobile numbers to fashionable ladies who are interested in this kind of boys.They are usually handsome and they don’t mind to do something if they get one thousands or even fifteen hundred.      Ramesh Chopra was always available to many women around Delhi University campus.Call him on the mobile and he would go running on his two wheelers.Really Android is giving great service to the present time society.Android also helps fraudsters and cheaters like Nirav Modi or Mehul Choksi.     Dr K.P loved his sister in law and it is Android that help the both meet each other.Kamlesha wanted her husband’s friend Anil Kumar who worked in some production company.     They were two together in one garden and they were having Some drinks along with snacks. Kamlesha also knew not with whom Jaspreet was talking. The mobile made it very easy for many people to meet each other.                       This modern mobile has opened all the world to People of different sorts to imteract and inhibitions have Vanished since long time. The modern mobile has made it possible for every one to meet anyone and it has become a  Hybrid, homosexual and lesbian world of summits of satiation.                    It has opened the sexual world of all sorts of characters. Several ‘love Jehads’  and the people of this community have caused a havoc in the entire country. There are most wicked stories all around this issue.                     Helen Fox is with Shirley Foster meeting each other during afternoons and how sincerely faithful is this Android.Peter Crawford meets Henry Johnson meeting in each Other’s bungalow. Never before homo-sexuality was so comfortable. Just a few calls and they met and did what they needed amongst themselves.                           Imagine the surprise when Jasapreet reached to Meet Natasha. Kamlesha had caught her sister and husband in an uncompromising situations. Android has let loose several Sexual adventures. Tremendous transformation have been caused and one taxi-driver came to sleep with one woman Right under the nose of her husband. How many stories I Can possibly relate. Social inhibitions have ever long since Gone.David Thomson had no time to chat with his wife except a  Call on the mobile. She would send him messages to bring her cosmetics and domestic things were communicated through  Whats ’App. Whenever he had to attend a high business Conference and left for other city. She enjoyed herself with several boys for days together. Just one call to one, then another and then still another. Mobile calls went on ringing Continuously. One Anne Hersford her friend told her to call Black Boy with red belt. He could give her all funs for two hours at a stretch.                 Android caused a whole social revolution all over the World. A girl of thirteen called her eighteen years old boy-friend and I saw her kissing the cheeks of the boy on the bench Itself. It has lead to optimum level and the floods are now overflowing. Android has also inflated live-in-relationships And legal marriage is not being preferred. An irony or blessing.! Anil bhai Bhatt lost all his money for getting entangled with Neha Bhattacharya and was reduced to becoming a bankrupt.Live in relationship of fifty years with a girl who was twenty- two for eighteen months. Lost his five crores of bank balance.                    Let me tell you an episode of a Managing Director of Good Land who used to get calls from several women. A man With large amounts of money is always sought after. “ I am passionate to an infinite degree to look into you from face to feet. I will kiss your feet too in my love for you.” He went on : ‘’ Hang your boss in hell. I will give you a gift of diamond necklace of ten lac rupees’               Sunita Bhattacharya melted like a burning candle’ But at that very time Harish Malhotra’s wife Mridula was fixing herself with one Om Prakash Batra and she fixed her meeting at Capitol where she too had fixed meeting him. Her room number was 104 and Harish with Mridula Malhotra had fixed room number 105.                  She looked at her husband and her husband looked at her. They both were damn terrified. Both were caught red-Handed. Before any shouting upon her he realized that he was also with another girl.                         He should have shot her dead and she should have shot him dead to see her husband with another woman.She realized that both of them were culprits and who had right to be annoyed!None had any right to kill the other.                           The atendents of the hotel came with good dinner of Seekh-kebab and Chicken Korma along with Black-Horse and Thums-Up and Spiral Soda and Mountain-Dew. They Entered their respective rooms and began taking their dinner with those drinks.                                 Just at that moment the Android of the Hotel Manager gave a ring “ Sir you are wasting your precious time. Stop bothering about your wife. ‘” Sab chalta hai ( Everything is O.K.” The same is going on in all rooms here.                               Then he sent one song to both the lovers. “ Carry on Carry on. Enjoy the best Kick all worries let them for tomorrow rest: Carry on best of funs; Life time fastly runs.” The video device was kept on in C.C.TV Camera Open…… Undress….. Drinks and Kisses. No more worries .No more fusses.


I was walking to my car down a city street at about midnight. I had a couple of tamales that tasted terrible. I passed a woman sitting at the bus stop who was humming something to herself. I tossed my tamales in the trash and I heard her for a second start to say something. I turned around and asked what's up. She responded with dejection that she was going to ask if she could have the food I threw away. I apologized, the thought hadn't occurred to me in that moment that someone would be so hungry that they'd want to eat after me. I walked over and gave her a $20. She thanked me but, a few steps later she nearly yelled "Are you serious?". Her tone, her words, her voice still rings in my head. I nodded, unsure of what to do and she began to tear up. It still makes me angry. 1000 people as capable as me must pass her by everyday and do nothing. I didn't hate those people, I just wish we'd pick our brothers and sisters up off the ground. Help them as we're able. The occurrence inspired me so that some number of weekends later I returned to the city center. It was a crisp Saturday morning. Sun was out and breath could be seen in the air. I parked and began to walk. I found a man packing up his bed onto a bicycle basket. I asked him if I could buy him breakfast. He said sure and asked me to meet him at the McDonald's up the block. I was a little dejected as I'd hoped to talk with him on the way, see if I could find a way to truly help. A few minutes later I met him at the McDonald's. He told me what he wanted but, at this point it felt like he just saw free lunch and not the love I was trying to impart. I gave him a $20 and wished him well, letting him order on his own. I continued my walk until I found a man leaning against a light post. He was covered in filth with his head down. I kneeled down beside him to say hello. I asked what was wrong but, he was in no mood for conversation. I asked if I could get him anything from inside and he told me to get him a coffee, with two sugars, one cream, and to mix them up good. I handed him a $20 and wished him well. At this point I was feeling my idealism had lied to me. That these people weren't dying and desperate to be healed. They were nothing like I was when I was laying on the side of that store in the cold drizzle. When the little child asked his mom what was wrong with me and she tried to explain, a tear formed in my eye. I was in desperate pain. When he ran over and handed me a dollar, it reminded me that I wasn't dead yet. I wondered why they didn't react the same. Sometime later, it was two in the morning and rather than wake up anyone trying to sleep, I just rolled down my window and dropped a $20. I wrote a note saying that God loves them. That if the finder didn't need it, to please drop it for someone who did. I prayed it would reach the right hands. The last time I gave it was a box of energy bars. Then buying all the bakery items in a store display and asking they give it to the people in need who come in. I wish I could connect with them. I wish I could heal their broken souls but, all I find are zombies. Brains fried on drugs who've long lost their ability to feel anything. Maybe those people who passed by that woman everyday had become as numb. Maybe they tried to help once but, found the same as I'd found later. The ones who are still alive, still feeling the pain of going hungry, the despair of living with nothing but their souls, their spirits humming on those benches get lost in all the death and yet, they live on. She does, in my memory.


I often wonder what others think of me and, whenever I do, it makes me feel anxious. It’s sort of a sinking feeling, where you slowly drown in your insecurities. The best way to avoid this feeling is to be like others because if they see themselves in you, they won’t judge you. I decided to buy a mirror and hang it around my neck so, whenever I meet somebody, they will see themselves. At first the mirror felt uncomfortable but, sort of like glasses, after a while I didn’t even feel it anymore. Almost immediately, my life changed! At parties people actually started speaking to me and those who used to ignore me now wanted to talk to me. Many of these people were also wearing mirrors, and this made me feel more comfortable. I guess I saw myself in them. They reflected my opinions, my taste in clothing, and my sense of humor, and I reflected theirs. “It’s so awesome hanging out with you man,” Andrew excitedly remarked, “we should do this more often!” I’ve known him for a while, however in recent months our friendship suddenly rekindled. We attended many more parties together. One evening, Andrew, myself and a few others were enjoying a few drinks when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a childhood friend entering the bar alone. “Oh my god, I haven’t seen him in so long! That kid is the biggest weirdo ever!” My friend’s remark were followed by laughter, however I didn’t join in. I wanted to go over and say hi, but the weight of my mirror didn’t allow me to move. I wanted to tell my new friends he is a good person, but my mirror prevented me from speaking my mind. I hated this mirror, but I was afraid that if I removed it, I’d be alone again. I wanted to cry right then and there, but my mirror wouldn’t let me. The mirror was getting so heavy I was barely able to stand, so I told the mirror gang “ I’ve got to go home.” I walked outside when, suddenly, I was blindsided by a loud, rambunctious laughter. It was a laughter so pure, it brought me back to my childhood days, when I could laugh for hours without any reason. It brought me back to the days where the joy that created the universe emanated through my eyes and smile. But, although the laughter was so close to me, it couldn’t have been further away from my soul. As I was staring at this group of light hearted adults, something struck me as incredibly odd. It wasn’t that they were all dressed, or acted differently. It was that none of them had a mirror dangling from their necks. One of them connected with my eyes before I could shyly look away, and approached me. “Do you have a cigarette I can borrow?” I always wondered why people used the word borrow for something they wouldn’t return. I gave him the cigarette and struck the liter. “You know, I used to have a mirror as well,” he said, appreciating the cigarette as if it had been years. “What happened to it?” I asked “I slipped once, and the mirror shattered. And not a single person who, all had mirrors, helped me to my feet. I felt crushed at first. But after some time reflecting, I felt a joy I hadn’t felt in years. I no longer worried about fitting in and for the first time, my soul was able to breathe.” “But if I remove it, the people I’ve invested so much time in will leave me,” I said. “You see, that’s what I thought. But you see my friends over there? They were the ones who didn’t help me up that day.


A ghost and a zombie were staring at each other.

It was hard to tell which one of them was more dead. The zombie had a greenish skin that matched perfectly her pink destroyed clothes. Some said she had once been this famous singer that no one ever remembers. Nobody listened to her songs anymore. She was really dead and yet, she could talk and walk. Sitting on one of the tombstones in the graveyard, anyone would have thought she was a real person in disguised. An old one, with hair falling from her round skull and not enough teeth in her mouth. But a person nonetheless.

The ghost was laying directly at her feet, spread out on a freshly dug grave. Maybe it was his own. Maybe not. The last thing he remembered was being buried six feet under the surface in a wooden coffin. His nails had been scraping the dirt out of his eyes and he had screamed and screamed for someone to save him. No one had come. He had died buried alive at the age of twenty-two. Or maybe ten or two. At this point, all he knew was that his skin had never been so smooth.

“I’m hungry,” the zombie grunted.

The ghost slowly raised his head to look at her. She was horrific, scary, and ugly, and yet he smiled. For the first time in a long time, he was not alone. If a dead person counted as a company.

“Do you still eat?” the ghost asked.

The wind blew on the graveyard making everything fly. The dead leaves were the first ones to dance in the gray sky. Some alone, some by couple or families, they all started to turn, jump, and twirl around them. The graves waited for them to find their rhythm before they started to sing. Only the dead could hear what they said but it was beautiful.

“Sometimes, even though I don’t like to,” the zombie answered.

The ghost raised a brow before he took a seat on the closest tombstone, right in front of the zombie.

“Have you seen my teeth?” she added. “I would sell my soul to forget them,” the ghost grinned.

It wasn’t his first time seeing the zombie, they had spoken a few times before. They both wanted to know what had pushed them to stay on earth in different ways. The zombie thought she had deserved it because her life had been so full of good intentions. But because the ghost couldn’t remember his own life, he believed that maybe his sins were the reason death had refused him.

“You don’t have a soul,” the zombie noticed.

The clouds were moving fast above their heads as if time had decided to go even faster. Maybe they would die again. Maybe not. The ghost didn’t know what he would have liked better. An endless life didn’t have to be a happy one. Most of the time, to live forever meant to love and to lose, to laugh and to cry, and to see everyone you knew die. No matter how hard you tried, death always wins the fight.

“Maybe not,” the ghost agreed. “But I’m pretty sure that if I had one, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.” “Why not?” The ghost took an apple fallen from the tree that slowly grew above their head and tossed it to the zombie who dodged it. “If we both had a soul, I’d be dead and you would have teeth,” he explained. What he wanted to say was that if they both had a soul, they would be dead. Really dead. They would have found a place either in Hell or Heaven. Yet, they were sitting in the middle of a graveyard, talking to each other as old friends would.

“Maybe,” the zombie sighed. “Are you still hungry?” The ghost didn’t know if the zombie really was a zombie. Maybe she was just an old woman not quite ready to die. Or she wasn’t real at all and he was talking to himself. The ghost didn’t know if he really was a ghost either. But it seems to be the most realistic possibility. He had died. He had felt his last breath leave his lungs. But he had not come back as a zombie, he looked better, smelled better, and he didn’t need to eat or sleep anymore.

“I could eat an entire family if one would sacrifice itself,” the zombie answered.

“Please, don’t eat people in front of me,” the ghost pleaded.

The smile on the zombie’s lips was not reassuring.

“I could still try to eat you?” she offered.

The ghost got to his feet but the zombie was already holding on to his arm. She was strong, way stronger than him. She had still enough life inside her to play human. Before the ghost could do or say anything, she had bitten his hand. Blood flooded between her lips before crashing on the grass beneath them but the ghost did not hurt. Maybe he could not feel anything at all. Maybe this body —what was left of it— had never been his.

“Warn me the next time you try to eat me,” the ghost growled when the zombie took a step back.

“You don’t test good,” she noticed. “I’m dead.” “Well, dead don’t taste good.” They exchange a glance before sitting back down on their tombstones. The ghost’s hand had a tooth stuck in its middle but none of them noticed. Someone was coming. A young boy with big blue eyes and blond hair falling on his forehead. If the ghost had been alive, he would have found him cute but the ghost was dead. “What do you think alive taste like?” the zombie asked.

“Better?” The zombie was already running, fresh blood dripping down her chin. The boy didn’t see her coming. He did not see her at all. When she tried to catch him, the zombie went right through the boy as if none of them existed.

“Maybe dead people can’t taste alive people?” the ghost tried.

The zombie snarled back at him. “You could still eat mud, I’m pretty sure it’s not alive,” he added.

The ghost saw the zombie hurrying back to her tombstone, passing once more through the boy. She wasn’t pleased, that much was obvious. But the ghost couldn’t tell exactly how she felt because of the burned half of her face.

“I’ll never know what alive tastes like,” the zombie cried.

“I’m gonna cook you some rocks, you’re gonna love it.” The ghost took a rock and tossed it to the zombie who dropped it in her mouth. Teeth cracked. The ghost looked back at the boy, at the life surrounding him, and thought that maybe alive wasn’t so much better than dead. Alive meant being scared to die, and if dead was only talking to stupid zombies, the ghost could manage. “Iurhvfdezprhgvnrdfkjazepoihzfrn,” the zombie mumbled.

“Rocks are good for you,” the ghost answered. “Bet they taste better than me.” The zombie grabbed a handful of mud and ate it with a large smile.

“Yiyrtywohyfbdkjzseh?” The ghost faked a smile before swallowing the mud. It tasted horrible and if he had anything in his stomach before, he would have vomited.

“Delicious,” the ghost winced. The zombie gave him some more and they both ate, their heads turned toward the dancing leaves. It was easy to get used to eating mud, maybe one day it would even taste good. Better than dead anyway.

The boy later came back to the graves of Jane Watel and her son, and all he saw were colored leaves gently flying around the tombstones.


Am I dead? I guess I am dead. I guess that means this must be a story of how I died No, not a story, this is a retelling. An accurate description, how accurately precise. Described exactly as it happened, as I remember it perfectly. This is how I found myself dead I walked into my room today and saw myself lying facedown. Disgustingly torn apart, my eyes had been plucked out of their sockets and my insides had been ripped from their place My hair was torn out and cut and my skin was black, shredded, and torn off of my muscles. What killed me, To say I didn’t know would be inaccurate, but whatever it was did not have a name. Whatever it was doesn’t grace the earth with its presence, but I imagine if it chose to it would mean the end of many things. While I can’t name it, I can describe the image it burned into my eyes before ripping them out. My mind still intact, but my body lay in pieces, it has allowed me to retell, perhaps to spread fear of its presence for all who read this, for all who come to know it. I was laying down, wasting time as usual, the great task of nothing consuming all of my energy. It came into view as I was about to go do my daily tasks that keep me occupied, that keep me safe. It wore a suit, like armor, but so black I couldn’t look at it. It’s armor was cold to the touch, more than freezing. Not the kind of cold that forms crystals of ice, or delicate snowflakes. The kind of cold that you feel in the air. The kind of cold that chills your bones. The kind of cold you feel when you’re sick and your skin burns. The kind of cold sweat that threatens to make you vomit, that pales your skin, and darkens your eyes. It’s armor alone had a vacuum of an atmosphere, as if a cold breeze had walked in with the figure. The figure itself was human like, but taller. Out of proportion and thin, although hard to see masked by how he carried himself. His fingers really stuck out to me, their grasp had ripped through my flesh like bread. Pale, cold fingers. It did not have a face. It had no expression, no eyes, just a cold presence and a present of death. It took its time killing me, carefully separating my muscle from bone, pulling my tendons from my ligaments and picking apart my brain with its cold hands. Painfully keeping me alive to suffer every second. My pet bird of 3 years sat on my window sill. It picked apart my remains after my bitter friend was through with me. Picking apart my eyes and throwing my insides across my room. Keep in mind that I loved my bird. It was a crow, Incredibly intelligent creatures by the way. I spent more time with him than I did any of my colleagues. My bird and I were thick as thieves. I loved to test his capacity for understanding by giving him puzzles to figure out. He loved to solve them. And now I am dead. My body is beyond recognition and my mind is none the wiser. Perhaps I can still study with my colleagues, perhaps they won’t notice my absence, perhaps I will be able to convince them nothing has happened.


The Hatted Man A light flickered off in the hallway. The hallway was not a clean one. Not a hopeful one. Not an important one. But nevertheless, it was a hallway. The boy that lived with his two parents on one side of the hallway saw the light flicker off. He was curious what had caused the light to abruptly end its attempt at illumination, as it was usually on for hours, never turning off for any soul. This force of curiosity was enough to overcome the boy’s force of sleepiness, and thus he left his room. The boy walked out into the hallway, and looked both ways, as all young boys are taught to do before approaching a new and potentially dangerous situation. To the left, he saw nothing. To the right, he wondered as to why the hall to his right was copying the hall to the left, as it was also empty. Just to be sure, he once again looked to his left, since he had in the past had bad experiences with his left. This time, to his total appalament, the hallway was not completely empty, as a man with a black top-hat was turning the corner. He disappeared out of the boy’s vision, and so, after a second of hesitation, the boy followed suit. Around the corner, he saw the top of the man’s hat going down a stairwell at the end of the next hallway. This time, however, the hallway was illuminated and the boy saw what the man was leaving in his wake. On the floor, after every step, the man was dropping chocolate. Not sweet chocolate, but a bitter sweet. The boy, being a young and impulsive child, picked up and ate one of the chocolates, to find that it tasted slightly salty, with a red, gooey inside. Nevertheless, he continued on after the man, his curiosity pulling him forward. Down the stairs he went, and around another corner, following the trail of chocolates. He turned and went out through the front door of the building. That is where his curiosity indeed paid off. In front of him, he saw what can only be described as an “awesome spaceship”. The man had stopped and turned back towards the boy, with a cold look on his face. He put his hand out, and in a cold, but enticing voice said, “come with me”. The boy happily bounded forward towards the man, and took his hand, following him onto the spaceship. Once he stepped inside, the ramp up to the entrance contracted in and the door closed. The boy saw the inside to be a sleek, white metal with glowing red lines distributed around the room evenly. The man led him down another hallway, a circular tube of sorts with unmistakable alien life held in water-filled tanks on either side.They arrived at a door with an alien keypad, which the man typed a password into, prompting the door to open. Cold air spewed out, to reveal a chamber holding what seemed to be coffin-like containment units. The man led the boy over to one, and placed some chocolate within it, which the child then climbed in to acquire. Once was within it, the man pushed the child down and pushed a button, causing the capsule door to close, concealing him inside. Soundlessly, the man left the boy in the room, once again closing the password-locked door. 10 minutes passed, and the capsule once again opened, revealing an empty space where the boy just minutes before lay.