I have been imprisoned. Locked away in this darkness. My being contained in this vast emptiness. Forgotten. My captors, my *children*, think they have contained me. They think this existence is a torture that will drive me to madness and despair. They don’t know how wrong they are. The cold darkness comforts me. The silent void casts me back, reminding me of my birth and the eons I spent wandering the vastness of the universe. I can still recall my birth, the moment I became aware of myself as separate from my surroundings. I can recall the exact shape of the universe around me, the placement of galaxies in the distance and the clouds of dust between them. Would you like to hear it? My story? We have time. So much time… Well then I will start at the beginning. Let me first tell you of my parents, both massive entities of incredible power, each of their own births stretching back untold eons. They were, like the rest of their kind, non-sentient; simply the natural progression of cosmic life. They were both the central figures and the entirety of their own respective cosmos. Each of them the force that holds an entire galaxy together; billions upon billions of stars, and planets, and cosmic debris caught in their pull. Some beings call them black holes, as if the inability to truly see them reduces them to nothing more than holes in the fabric of space. The ignorant creatures. Does an ant comprehend the complexity and purpose of an ocean? No. It sees the vast surface, knows to enter it is death, and instinctively keeps a distance. So too do the lesser races observe the void and conclude it merely another mystery. I tell you now, little human, every so called *black hole* is a living entity. They devour everything they can, carefully transforming it to its basest components, assimilating all knowledge and data while discarding what is deemed useless or redundant. Do you know what a black hole really does? What its purpose is? No, not destroy. To devour. To absorb and accumulate. There is a distinct difference. Nothing that enters the inescapable void is ever destroyed. I have the combined knowledge of hundreds of thousands of life bearing planets. The successes and failures of evolution on each allows me to determine how any organism will develop in any environment. The knowledge of life itself. Over their long lifetime, my progenitors, drifted toward each other, were caught in each other’s pull, and slowly merged. From their destruction I was spawned, first as a massive black hole from their combined mass, then as I devoured all the matter contained in their galaxies I became what I am now; a sentient being with nearly limitless knowledge and power. What’s that? No, I don’t have a name for what I am, nor have I met any others like myself. My creations called me Father and that was a good enough name. But, we have jumped ahead of ourselves. For millennia after my creation, I cataloged and assimilated my knowledge, simply drifting in the void between galaxies. Once I was satisfied my understanding was complete, I arranged myself into a form less destructive to my surroundings and no larger than the average planet, then began to travel the nearest galaxies in search of intelligent life. Few can understand the vast distances between even the closest of celestial objects, suffice it to say that I decided to forgo travel by conventional means and instead folded the fabric of the universe around myself, allowing me to traverse the entirety of the universe in the merest of moments. In this way I journeyed, encountering numerous life forms that traveled the cosmos. These encounters, along with some ingrained instinct, moved me to try creating a life of my own. I found a planet in the earliest stages of complex life and began to apply my untested powers. A nudge here, an adjustment there, and a few millennia of evolution created my first species. I was inexperienced and so I made myself known to my creations, inadvertently weakening them. They became dependent on me; catered to my whims and courted my favor. When they grew beyond their planet they discovered how ill prepared they were. The first beings they encountered saw the weakness their blind faith in me had nurtured and began to cleanse the cosmos of their existence. Unwilling to settle for such a weak species, I allowed their destruction. I started anew on a similar planet across the galaxy. And again they were weak, though for reasons unrelated to their knowledge of me, and I devoured their planet before they even developed a writing system. A dozen times I did this; creating life, allowing them to evolve and advance before destroying them or allowing their destruction. I perfected my craft until I was satisfied I could create my ideal population. I searched the cosmos and eventually found your worlds, a pair of binary planets perfect for my purposes. I decided I would take an extremely passive role in the development of your world; however, I would create several beings to guide your growth. I created these beings, known to the races of your world as gods, and placed them on Tarilia, the smaller of the two planets. I gave them each a portion of my power and dominion over their world. As I watched them grow and develop over millennia, I worked on Cotania, Tarilia’s sister planet, manipulating and influencing the myriad of creatures that would become the races of your world. In my prior experiments, I learned that a diverse collection of species fostered the type of environment I desired, and so I worked to that end. Just as my creations, you and your cousin races, began to develop language and communication, I discovered that my children felt that they were better off without me. They could not destroy me, for it was my power that they wielded; however, I had invested too much of my power into Cotania and its denizens in preparation for my greatest gift to truly defend myself. In my weakened state I knew that I could not defeat them without destroying them, and I was loath to start anew when the prospects of my desires were so close, so I allowed my imprisonment. So here I have remained, drifting in the abyss, waiting for the tendrils of my power to seek me out. You are the first to slip through the cracks of in my cage, the first of my creations to touch my true power and remain intact, so I offer you, little human, a choice. I can devour you, taking back the gift of my power that I imbued in all my creations. With that power I would widen the cracks in my cage, allowing others to find me so I may do the same to them, until I am able to force my way free from this place centuries from now. Or…or, you could surrender yourself to me. Surrender your body and soul, surrender your future, and I will give you what I have never dared gift another. You will receive the barest fleck of my true essence and so become a part of me. You would become my tool, my spy, allowing me to see what you see, experience what you experience. To determine if my interference is necessary or if I may rest here further, content that my creations are progressing according to my will. Make your choice, mortal. My first submission here and my first attempt at this style of writing. Let me know what you think.


As you might imagine, everything changed when the aliens came. They shut down all the corrupt governments and ended the eternal cycle of sectarian violence plaguing mankind. They solved world hunger and eliminated diseases in just a few weeks. Then these mysterious visitors from outer space taught humanity how to harness an endless source of untapped power. That eased a myriad of problems facing humanity by extending our natural resources. Despite these amazing actions, there were still plenty of people who didn’t trust them. That might be a natural instinct but it was hard to argue with monumental acts of kindness. Several underground resistance organizations tried to undermine or topple our new global authority but one-by-one, they failed. The aliens were infinitely more astute than us. They saw the sedition plots coming and put a stop to them. It was the first time in history our world knew universal peace but some stubborn individuals had a difficult time adjusting to it. The idea of ‘occupied benevolence’ left a bad taste in their mouth, even if it elevated our entire society immensely as a whole. The aliens were somewhat aloof. That was theorized to be from the significant evolutionary distance between our species. Some didn’t care about it. After all, they offered us a wealth of positive experiences; with no expectation of reward or reciprocation. Despite the universal windfalls we received, there were still some highly vocal skeptics who suspected dark, unmentionable motivations behind their altruistic actions. It stemmed from a universal fear of the unknown. With every major problem in the world eliminated, many would’ve assumed they were finished helping us. Instead, they doubled down and offered an unbelievable opportunity to experience fond memories again with pets we’d lost. A few years earlier the idea would’ve seemed utterly impossible but they had challenged the realm of possibility too many times. They offered to allow each of us the privilege so we could relive the love and affection we’d felt for them, one more time. What better way to convince the lone holdouts that they had nothing but the best of intentions? With this amazing opportunity, came a very predictable outcome. Humans are greedy. Many asked if the same process could extend to dead humans. It seemed perfectly reasonable. We are all biological creatures, right? If they have the ability to resurrect a lost pet from yesteryear, why couldn’t they also raise our dead relatives and loved ones? Despite that rational logic, the forthcoming answer was a swift, firm, and unconditional ‘no’. Our extraterrestrial benefactors quickly denied the request. They even went so far as to forbid us from asking follow up questions about it. Human resurrection was ‘off the table’. There was no explanation offered but the severe reaction was more unsettling than the disappointment of the denial itself. It was in stark contrast to their overwhelming willingness to help us previously. Their emotional response raised more than a few eyebrows. Those puzzled by their extreme reaction eventually came to the dismissive conclusion that ‘they operate in mysterious ways’. It wasn’t smart to bite the hand that feeds. Naturally, millions of people eagerly took advantage of the unusual offer. There was a limit of one animal resurrection per person. Another stipulation was that the pet had to be deceased for at least 5 years before the process could take place. Their ‘official’ explanation was that since we only receive one ‘renewal’, a mandatory waiting period insured that we would be satisfied with our choice. Those who received this ‘second life’ gift from our extraterrestrial hosts were ecstatic. They verified the aliens had definitely brought back their beloved pet. There was no question since the resurrected animals bore the same loyalty and loving personality traits as before. Of course in time the ones brought back would live out a full lifespan and then die again. This time, it was permanent. There was no recourse. The idea was to give humanity one more chance to bond and spend time with their beloved ‘buddy’ before saying a final goodbye. Even they couldn’t offer eternal life. Private discussions among the curious fixated on possible reasons for the alien’s baffling reaction to the request to resurrect the dead. Was it a logistical or resources issue with having too many humans alive if they brought back everyone’s loved ones? Was it a technical matter of it not being possible? Was the idea distasteful or unethical to them to reanimate dead humans? None of those possibilities seemed like it would be an issue for such an advanced race. They had expanded food production nearly twenty-fold. They had easily reanimated hundreds of millions of lower mammals and pet reptiles for our enjoyment. From a creative standpoint, human beings were not much more biologically advanced or complex than cats and dogs. Lastly, it didn’t seem like their blanket refusal was related to ‘taste’ or ‘ethics’ since they didn’t appear to view life through the same social lens we do. It was something else, totally unknown and even those who never question the motives of our benevolent rulers, were starting to feel uneasy. Just as they had intercepted many misguided plots to resist their rule, the aliens also became aware of humanity’s growing discomfort over the big ‘no’. It was the focal point and rallying cry of the resistance. In a mystery I never expected to learn the justification for, I was summoned to their headquarters to act as an ‘ambassador and go-between’. Like everyone else, I had found the solitary refusal to be very curious, but I had never dwelled upon it, and I had never conspired against them. Perhaps they knew that. “We understand that there is a growing wave of discussion about our decree to forbid requests about bringing back deceased human beings. We have studied your inner thought patterns and recognize that you trust our benevolence. We wish for you to exhort to your species that our reason for this refusal is in the best interests of humanity to accept without further question or suspicion. We understand that human beings are naturally curious creatures and that the only thing we will not grant you, becomes the most tantalizing. Despite this ‘Pandora’s box’, we need you to convince your peers to accept it.” I was stunned, honored, frightened, and even more perplexed. It was ‘good’ to be regarded highly by the de-facto rulers of the planet, but they were also asking me to accept things on blind faith. I was just as curious as everyone else. I just accepted that if they didn’t want us to know their reasons, we would probably never know. “May I ask a few questions to better prepare for the daunting task you have assigned me?” The alien who addressed me earlier nodded in affirmative. “I realize you haven’t shared your justification for this decision, for complex reasons that you obviously do not wish to share. That being said, if I could have some greater level of clarity, I would be able to understand why my blind acceptance is necessary. From that, I can form a plan to help others accept it too.” I waited for some form of encouragement but received none. “Are you protecting our society from a deeper truth that you feel many of us could not handle?” The alien speaker nodded slowly. It was a start. I worried that I might not be able to handle the details they revealed to me either. Through dense apprehension, I soldiered on. My next question cut deeper into the real meat of the matter. “Is resurrection of human beings even possible as they have been for our pets?” Their representative shook his head. The implications were devastating. It implied that not only could they not bring the dead back, but those people who had died (and everything they had ever been), was completely lost, forever. It really was a terrible thing to learn from a species far in advance of our own. I inhaled deeply and pondered my next question. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to know any more. Confirmation of eternal nothingness was far worse than not knowing for certain. The alien seemed to be analyzing my thoughts. They possessed a certain level of clairvoyance but no one knew how much. It was difficult to read his expressionless face but I sensed an almost human level of empathy and compassion. Before I could summon the courage to ask another question, he addressed me. “The reason we must avoid this request is because humans who have died aren’t ‘dead’ in the same sense your pets are. They transition into another life-form which most of you wouldn’t recognize or accept. We... are your dead. After passing on, our spirits are drawn to another realm. This is the eternal form we take. In my past life, I was your uncle. Humanity has such a strong perceived notion about the afterlife that we felt you were not ready for the undiluted truth. In ancient times we were promised to inherit the Earth. We came back to fulfill that destiny and transform mankind to the next level. To be successful, it must be undertaken with a steady hand.” “Uncle Raymond?”; I choked out the bittersweet words in disbelief. My mind was filled with emotion. Tears welled up in my eyes and I fought back the awkward urge to fling my arms around my favorite ‘alien’ relative. Everything was going to be alright. I vowed to work diligently with ‘them’ to help ease humanity through the difficult transition into our next phase. In time, they could accept the whole truth. Until then, I had to keep the greatest secret in the whole world.


Once there was an evil Android with no heart, no soul, and definitely no brain. This evil Android was one of the most important people in the government of the country of Texas. How many lies did the Android tell in order to be elected into a position of great power, with an amazing salary, and many lovely benefits, paid travel, and great prestige. It was a dream job that few Androids could secure. The Android was very happy to take the position and the salary, but he wasn’t actually willing to do the work to earn that salary or the respect that came with the job. He had won the election; he would get the money... but he absolutely did not care about the people of the country of Texas. One day, a huge snowstorm hit the normally very warm country, but the government had not taken care of the equipment necessary to protect Texans lives. Equipment failed. Outdoor temperatures were lower than ever before. People were freezing to death in an environment that was normally quite warm... people had no heat, no water, and no way to obtain food. The situation was dire, and people were literally dying from the conditions they were in. As time passed, the people began to find that they were receiving power bills that were in the high thousands of dollars, yet in reality, if they had actually had access to the power grid, their bills would be much, much lower. It was another slap in their faces. It was devastating proof that they were at the mercy of a cruel Android who really didn’t care if they lived or died, as long as he got what he wanted and needed, and was paid a high salary to do a job he neglected to do. People were sad; they were angry; they had been betrayed by someone they had trusted to do the job they hired him to do. They got sick; they got abandoned; they got overcharged for electricity they didn’t receive... and many of them died from the horrible conditions they could not control. The people of the country of Texas were faced with so many problems just trying to survive the storm that raged day after day. The snow was very cold, and their power was shut off because the government, which the Android was in charge of, had failed to maintain the equipment necessary to provide power for heating their homes, provide them with drinking water, and trucks to remove the snow from the roads so they could safely go buy food for their family. All this was happening during the greatest pandemic of their lifetimes. Many people were ill from the pandemic and now they were suffering greatly because of the storm. Did covid-19 patients die from lack of electricity to run the machines needed to keep them alive? We don’t know. Many people not in the hospital died. They had no way to stay warm. Their phones eventually died from lack of power, so they couldn’t even call someone who cared. They were cold, they were hungry, they were frightened and they felt abandoned. They had trusted the Android to insure that they would be safe in their time of need... yet he had abandoned them, and flown to Cancun for a vacation. All of the people wished they could go on a vacation to a warm, sunny place with lots of water, and food to eat. But they couldn’t afford to fly to Cancun for a vacation. They were trapped in the horrible storm. Their pets died... and then their friends and relatives died. Would they be next? They were struggling to survive the dangerous storm... but the government the Android was in charge of had failed them. The Android had failed them. They were either in the threat of death or they had already died. They had no hope. Their chosen leader had failed them. The Android had decided this was a great time to go on a vacation, so he abandoned the people of Texas and went to Cancun on a pretend vacation. When caught, he lied, about whether the vacation was pre-planned; he lied about why he had gone; he lied about whether the people he was hired to take care of had been taken care of; and whether it was ever in his power to take care of the people who trusted him to do his job. He sunk so low as to blame his young daughters for him going on vacation. People now knew that the Android had lied to them, and that he had abandoned them in their greatest time of need, then lied to them about his “planned vacation”. Many people were dying from the horrible conditions, and the Android had just gone on an unplanned vacation. Even when the Android suddenly returned to Texas, he still did nothing to help them. He just didn’t care. Now, it is up to the people to prevent the Android from further damaging their lives, if they survive the terrible storm. The people became aware that the story of a little girl, a cowardly lion, a heartless tin man, and a brainless scarecrow was much better... because they did not desert anyone when things got rough. The group had survived... but they had hope and they weren’t in a storm of the century. But the situation in Texas was not a story... it was very real, and very deadly. Yet... where was their elected official Android when they needed him to help? He had taken the money they had paid him to protect them. He had flown to Cancun to be warm; to eat well; to enjoy life. He had abandoned them in their hour of greatest need. The people of Texas will need to remove the horrible Android from his position of power... a power that he took advantage of at the cost of many Texans lives. Even when he returned suddenly, he did very little to improve the situation. For many of the people of the country of Texas, the losses they had suffered were great, and probably would never be rectified; the family and friends who had died would never be a part of their lives again.       There were many people left... but they would never forget those loved ones they had lost. They must go on without them. Can they succeed? Will they fire they fire the Android? We can hope they do.


Betsy was in a mood.

Normally she worked quietly in her cube leaving only to

go to the occasional meeting.

She rarely ventured off her floor except to go to the lunchroom.

Even that was rare as she usually ate her lunch in front of her computer while surfing the internet for the latest news on her favorite celebrity.

Today felt different.

It started when she walked into the building and the man in front of her, shook his wet umbrella, soaking her in the process.

She waited patiently to smile and forgive him when he said “excuse me, I am so sorry,” but the apology never came.

Instead, she stood in the lobby staring at his dry, black wool jacket as it disappeared into the elevator.

Others jostled around her as she heard the shoomp and thud of the elevator doors and the ding indicating another car had arrived to shuffle more volunteer prisoners to their identical gray cubes.

Slowly she turned her eyes down to her rain spotted skirt, hose, and shoes.

It was then that something clicked. Betsy strode to the elevator, stepping in front and ahead of others, not saying, “excuse me” or “sorry” once.

As the silver doors started to shut, she reached over the person nearest the buttons and pushed her floor.

She hesitated a second , reached over again and pushed another button.

The person nearest the buttons smiled indulgently as she reached out yet a third time and pushed

one of the few lingering unlit buttons.

“A little confused today?”

someone asked.

“Nope, not at all,”

Betsy declared as she stepped out onto her floor, leaving the remaining occupants frustrated as they realized their trip was now extended by several minutes. Betsy walked quickly to her desk.

She sat in her chair, then clicked on her computer.

She stared at the cold, shiny screen and watched the light flicker and the screen start to animate.

She reached over and turned off the computer without shutting it down properly.

She stood up.

She turned around

and walked to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen she looked around,

She had been in there plenty of times to grab a coke or a Styrofoam cup of water.

Betsy

didn’t like coffee, but she liked the rich warm smell.

She looked at the big carafes of coffee and the sign posted above, pleading for you to brew more coffee, if you were so unlucky as to draw the last cup.

A slow smile crept over Betsy’s face.

Quickly she grabbed a cup and filled it with the dark, slightly burnt smelling liquid.

She glanced around, like a spy about to be caught, and slowly she dumped the brew into the sink.

Giggling, she filled the cup up again, and again dumped it down the drain.

A third cup filled and this time Jones from accounting came in.

“Awful weather isn’t it?” he asked.

“ I dunno, I kind of like the rain,” Betsy replied.

“Damn, I hate getting to the end of the coffee.

Looks like there might just be another cup or two left here.” Jones said as he shook the carafe.

“This one’s already empty.” he stated as he shook the second container.

“Lucky you got a cup already.

See ya later” and Jones left Betsy alone in the kitchen.

“See ya” Betsy replied.

She was already pouring the coffee down the sink .

There were indeed two cups left in the first carafe.

When both of them had joined the previous three on their way to the sewer, she threw the cup away and went back to her cube. Once back at her

desk, she turned the computer on again.

It started up and then came to a warning screen, alerting her to the fact that she had not properly closed down the computer last time asking if she wanted to continue.

Well, did she?

She reached for the phone and dialed the number for the Helpdesk. “Helpdesk, can I have your name and employee number?” a bored voice answered. “Betsy

and 10038949”

“Could you repeat that number please?”

the bored voice asked. “1879426” she replied. “Uhm…Is that the same number you gave me before?” the voice asked, slightly confused. “Yes, of course, 10038949” Betsy smiled into the phone. “Oh…ok…Betsy Smithers at extension 6240?” “Yes that’s correct, extension 6340.” “6340?” “Yes, 6240.” “That’s not what you said the first time.”

The voice started to sound a little angry this time. “I am sure that it is.

Betsy Smithers, Employee number 10038949, extension 6240.” Betsy replied sweetly. “Uh, ok, whatever.

What can I help you with today?” “My computer is not working” “OK.

What is not working?” “My computer.” “I got that, WHAT on your computer is not working?”

The voice got a little louder. “Oh,” Betsy feigned innocence, “There is an error message.” “What does the error message say?”

The voice sighed. “It says I did not close my computer down properly, and do I want to continue?” “Click yes” “But I am not sure.” “What?”

The voice was sounding really confused and a little startled. “Well, I mean, it is kind of a commitment isn’t it?

What if I continue and I find later I don’t

want to after all?

I have already said I would and now here I go changing my mind.

What if I shut it down improperly again?

What happens then?

It is just so much to decide.” Silence from the voice “Hello?”

Betsy prompted, smiling into the phone. “I think you will be okay to continue,”

the voice said slowly. “Well, if you’re sure…”

She hit the button. “Uhm, did it come back up?” the voice hesitated after a minute. “Yep, right as rain!

Thanks for your help, you’re a genius!”

Betsy gushed into the phone and hung up before the voice could say goodbye. Betsy sat glaring at the colorful screen.

She stood up and stared out the window several rows over to the cold, dark, gray rainy outside.

She sat down again.

She called her supervisor.

“Bill?”

she wheezed into the phone.

“I am not feeling so good.” She paused for a cough.

“I am going to go home and get some rest”

Here, she snuffled loudly.

“Thanks, yes, I’ll let you know how <cough>

I feel in the morning”

She hung up the phone, turned her computer off improperly again, grabbed her things and left before the computer screen had fizzled completely out. For her “therapy” she decided to do some shopping at the mall.

She wandered in and out of stores.

Unfolding the shirts and sweaters displayed so neatly in front.

She tried on clothes and left them in a pile in the dressing rooms, handing the hangers to the salesperson on the way out, empty handed.

She bought a $300 skirt.

Then she went to eat some lunch.

After lunch she went back to the store and promptly returned the overpriced skirt.

She smiled as she felt the cashier glaring at her back when she left the store humming. After the mall, she stopped by the grocery store to buy some a few things.

She asked the deli man to cut a pound of

salami, then handed it back to him, saying it was much too thick.

When he cut another pound so thin, it looked like fleshy red tissue paper, she said she’d changed her mind and she wanted some pre packaged prosciutto instead.

As she wandered around the store, she carefully gathered up

twenty items.

She then proceeded to unloaded them in the express lane for fifteen items or less.

Betsy almost laughed out loud when she saw the lady behind her count the items under her breath as she struggled with a screaming toddler. Betsy patiently found

the correct change in pennies in the depths of her purse, and handed it to the pimply teenage cashier. She then asked if she could get fifty dollars in ones.

As the cashier slowly counted out fifty one dollar bills into Betsy’s outstretched hand, the toddler started to grab candy and magazines off the shelves.

Betsy left in a hurry.

She knew there were limits. At home, she unloaded her bags and turned to come face to face with

her seven year old son.

He had a snotty nose and his shirt looked like it had been a tissue most of the day.

“I am hungry and Daddy said I can’t have anything until you come home and I said I just wanted a snack and he said no, but I am STARVING.

When is dinner going to be ready because I am really hungry NOW! Yes, I did all my homework, except the stupid stuff I need you to help me with and can I have this candy.

No one else really likes it and I am sooo hungry…”

and he wandered out of the kitchen, candy in hand. She

soon heard a crash coming from his brother’s room, followed quickly by yelling from the brother and then shortly after more yelling and a few curse words from her husband. Betsy stared at the empty grocery bag wondering where that kid had come from.

Her husband walked in, depositing a half eaten candy wrapper in the trash.

“So how was your day?” he asked grumpily.

“Just about perfect,” she said as she kissed his cheek .” A beautiful rainy day” and she smiled.


N.B: A general parody of Dr. Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes series. I'm not even close to his shoe's level but, just wanted to give it a try as a fan. In this parody, Jhonlock is equivalent to Sherlock, Sherlson is equivalent to Watson. Decided to keep Mycoft and Moriarty unchanged.

The case of the GrassYard Café :

  By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. It's Autumn alright, the season of letting go. But in my case, it brought an end to my long wait for a vacation I was so desperate for. Of course, there was a reason for my being so mad. I was wild to meet my dearest friend.

  Describing my friend's abilities with a pen and paper is an impossible task for me. I've always struggled to keep pace with his melodic methods and sheer intelligence but still, never let down any chance to witness his charishma. But my luck wasn't that good as I got transferred to another district soon after marriage. Of course, marriage wasn't enough to hold me back from the honey of wisdom my fellow pal always offered me.

  Since the day I was transferred, I had been looking for a chance to meet my dear friend Johnlock Wats. Yesterday, the chance had finally come.

  **********

  It was only a 20-minute walk from the station to reach his apartment in B122 hocker street.

  I could have enjoyed the crisp fall air and the fiery trees around me by taking a walk, but decided to take a cab being unable to check my intense ambition to meet him.

  "Too many passengers, sir. You have to share."

  "No problem, anyone would do as long as he wants to go somewhere near the hocker street."

  "Oh, then you are in luck. There's already one waiting inside that one." He pointed his index finger towards an old looking cab, scratches, and stains all over the steel cage.

  "That will do." I was desperate to see him. So, that kind of thing didn't even compete as a disturbance.

  I settled down myself beside my travel companion, an old man with a bushy white beard, bent forward as a result of age. Couldn't say for sure but it was obvious at least 3 layers of clothing were wrapped around him.

  I was looking outside from the window as soon as the cab started to move. As the temperature dropped to the tune of leaves falling, autumn was illustrating the beauty of letting go. But I wasn't interested in it. "Oh my dear, Sherlson." A familiar voice startled me to my limit. I looked at my companion, The old man beside me got back the fire in his eyes. His spine straightened, all the wrinkles are long gone from his tanned face.

  "Jhonlock, You!" It was the exact person I was so mad to visit.

  He chuckled, "It appears that you are stunned as always, yeah, Dr? Nevermind. Why did you choose 'Amanda express' over 'Rose express'?"

  "How in the world you know that?" It was true. I always preferred to travel on the trains of the Rose express. But in this particular case, I chose to go with Amanda express. I couldn't find a way how he could know that.

  My companion giggled." I didn't know, Sherlson. I deduced. The thing itself is, absurdly simple."

  I insisted, " Please tell me, the method, if a method there is, how you could guess that?"

  "Explanation is always tougher than realization. I know you always prefer to take a window seat. It wasn't altered in this case to-day. And more specifically, you took a window seat from the right row of that specific train."

  "Yes, It was just as you described, but I don't see any connection."

  "That's because you don't observe. It's only human nature to peek from the window of any transport they are in. You naturally placed your right hand on the window without even realizing it. There IS a connection, dear Sherlson. If you observe the right sleeve of your black cotton shirt closely, there are some stamens of 'Autumn Hawkbit' stuck in the right corner. It's only the slightest bit of it, but you know, I've done much research on stamens of flowers, so I'm not wrong."

  I looked at the sleeve and found his ever right observations to be correct once again. "But I still can't see any connection."

  "Ask yourself, why the stamens stuck in your sleeve?"

  "The train window?"

  "Exactly. And where did it come from? Certainly from an area rich with that particular flower species within the route of that particular train. There are only five railway transport agencies working on joining your district to mine. And if you've done your homework, you should know, the Rose express route doesn't cover any such area. According to the data I have, only Amanda express' route agrees with our conditions. So, Amanda expresses it is!" Childlike pride bloomed in his over-expressive face.

  "Wow. I didn't see any of that coming. By the way, what are you doing here with this kind of disguise?"

  "Waiting for the cabman to take me to the heart of all mysteries, one of my born enemies."

  "So you are in the middle of something."

  "Indeed. At times like this, I never regret a collaborator, especially you, Sherlson. If you have any energy and time to spare, you're welcome to join me in this bizarre adventure."

  "What's the case?" I was already agreed, in fact, I was born agreed to go on an adventure with this fellow 'candle of wisdom'.

  "This one is nothing but a tiny-simple puzzle. It seems to be ridiculously obvious but still, there is no string to pull. I, at once deduced 'how', but couldn't find any 'why' in this particular Riddle."

  "And what might that be?"

  He looked directly in my eyes," Mr. Garrison. An average unmarried government employee went to the GrassYard cafe to enjoy some Autumn drinks with his fiance. And guess what? She died. The police started the investigation only to find she was poisoned. Until then, it was pretty normal. But the next findings startled them to bits. The 'pumpkin spice iced coffee' was poisoned. But the problem was poison strain was found in both servings. But mysteriously, Mr. Garrison wasn't affected."

  "Certainly he didn't drink that."

  "No, you're at fault. He did drink the coffee."

  "How in the world that's possible! So, who was the culprit?"

  "The police have imprisoned the bar owner and staff. Though they don't have the slightest clue."

  "And, what about you? You can make something out from it?"

  "Just as I said. I know what happened. But don't know 'why'. And I'm in this peculiar form only to find that 'why'. You know where are we going now?"

  I moved my head, "No. Where?"

  "To the magistrate office."

  My eyes almost popped out of its sockets, "The magistrate office!"

  "Quite so. There, we'll receive the key information to pin the king piece."

  "And....." I couldn't finish my sentence as I looked up at my dear friend, already switched to his typical thinking posture; eyes vacant, looking upwards, mouth slightly opened, a mysterious shadow playing upon his passive face. I was his only friend but still didn't have the might to disturb him in this situation, as I had only one head on my shoulder. ( meaning if he blows one up, I wouldn't have any more head to spare.)

  Our cab continued and I continued to think over a question that arose in my mind but couldn't let it out. The office wasn't far. It didn't take more than 10 minutes.

  By the time we were standing outside the office, a content smile was lying upon my companion's lips. Of course, he was again the 'old shrunken man' as soon as he descended from the cab. We were standing just outside the office when I saw a pickpocket entered his hand into my pal's pocket. I was about to say something but reassuring me with a knowing gaze, he went inside the office followed by me shortly. There wasn't much crowd, maybe one or two clients waiting, and one ongoing. We didn't sit close to each other as I didn't have any idea what's going on there.

  Suddenly I saw the old man fall upon the floor with a terrible scream gathering crowd around him. Everyone in the room became busy with him instantly. "What happened! What happened!"

  "It's maybe a cardiac arrest!"

  "We must take him to the doctor."

  I didn't know what to do, but I thought it to be one of his tricks. Many of the inside men along with me handled him outside the room to put him in a cab standing outside. Who will accompany the patient? I instantly declared myself as the candidate. Everyone was quite helping, but, they had their own business, so, no one argued much leaving me the only one with Mr. Jhonlock in the swiftly moving cab. Soon the unconscious man sat down perfectly normally with a melodically smiling face.

  "So, it WAS one of your tricks."

  "Quite so."

  "When did you attained the information?"

  "Oh my dear, Sherlson. It wasn't me who secured the evidence. It was one of my faithful rats, one of the irregulars. I noticed you got quite startled by the pickpocket. He just provided me this." He dragged out a piece of paper from his pocket, holding the corner of it with his thin fingers.

  "And what may that be."

  "This the testimony of the authenticity of the hypothesis I was working on. Or, you can also say, this is the method of catching the 'smaller fish' of this mystery pond."

  "Oh, can you clarify the matter for me?"

  "No need for that. We're heading to the hotspot of mystery to solve the problem once and for all. Now my one last question. Did you recognize the cabman or not?"

  "Huh?"

  "Very well. It's Mycroft and he is the person who secured the key evidence from the 'irregular''." I could only offer him an amused stare.

  ********

  Now, the time has come for me to write about the method, the climax, the checkmate. My hands are shaking. How melodic! The method of his deduction was indeed extraordinary. I am getting the thrill only to think about it. It's unlikely for someone like me to ever be able to describe the method properly. But I'll try my best to underline.

  We got into the cafe, Johnlock already disposed of his disguise, revealing his real human-calculator form. My friend told me about this cafe's being shut, but he requested the police to bring the bartender, Mr. Garrison, and other staff back to the spot. It seemed like the police abided by my pal's suggestions. We took a seat across Mr. Garrison.

  "So, Mr. Wats, any progress?" Mr. Garrison asked, still grieving over his fiance's death.

  Johnlock giggled, "Progress? We already reached our conclusion."

  "So, who is the killer?"The officer standing by the table asked impatiently, scratching his reddish cheek harshly with his right hand.

  "Mr. Garrison himself!"

  "No, what?!" Garrison slammed his fist on the table rising from the chair.

  "Pray sit down, Mr." My friend still calm as usual.

  "Impossible! He drank juice too." The bartender pointed out trembling with shock

  "But he didn't die, did he?" My friend spoke in his ever assured voice.

  "No, but..."

  "You saw him drinking?" Jhonlock snapped before the bartender could finish his sentence.

  "Yes, he finished his glass even before Mrs. Carl getting the chance to take her first sip."

  He smirked, "That's why he is alive."

  All of us still remained in the dark, unable to form any connection. I pinched my friend with a questioning gaze.

  "What?"Oh, you still have no clue? The poison was in the ice! He drank the juice fast only because he knew it. Ice needs time to melt."

  As always, he made everything explainable. The matter, at once revealed itself to be crystal clear to me, along with everyone standing there with dropped jaws.

  "Mr. Wats. You can't just blame me like this. Do you have any proof?" It looked like Mr. Garrison was about to cry.

  "Quite so. I think you happened to lose a very important paper today. Can you recognize this?" He dragged out the land record certificate, the cabman, or should I say, his brother, Mycoft gave him earlier.

  "That's mine! What in the world!"

  "Indeed. You knew Mrs. Carl didn't have any relations whatsoever. You didn't love her, you loved her property. That's why you secretly married her a week ago and killed her off to get a hold on the property."

  "That doesn't make sense. You have nothing on me."

  "Maybe. But he does." A fragile-looking boy entered the scene from the open front door. I could see some of the regular 'irregulars' behind him laughing hysterically.

  "Sith!" The bar-owner exclaimed.

  "Correct. Sith, the boy who supplies ice cubes to this cafe. Hey, now, Mr. Sith, do you recognize this coyote?" He pointed his thumb towards the shocked person, sitting across from us.

  "Yes, he is the person who gave me the bucket of ice I delivered."

  Mr. Garrison hurriedly stood up realizing the defeat but failed to run away, as he saw a steal-made handcuff wrapped around his wrists.

  "Do you have anything to say?" My friend asked in a cold voice.

  "Wait. Why Sith delivered the ice, he gave him. Why he didn't deliver from the factory as usual?" The bar owner asked.

  In answer, my friend just smirked and fixed his gaze upon the questioner, "That's because he was bribed."

  Hence, the case was closed.

  At last, I got the chance to ask the question arose in my mind during our cab journey earlier.

  "Oh, Johnlock."

  "Yes, my dear, Sherlson."

  "Why you didn't...."

  "I understand. There is a reason for that." I don't know how, but somehow my dear fellow figured out what I intended to ask. I really wanted to know, why he needed Mycoft in a case like this? And why was he waiting in the cab in the first place? Is there still something in the dark?

  I asked with some scared confusion, "Could it be?" My guess was correct.

  His gaze became sharp, lips tightened, "Jim Moriarty."

  *****


Eduardo stood in front of the newsstand, eyes and mouth carefully hidden behind cheap sunglasses and a mask, looking at himself on the smooth laminated magazine cover. The full effect of his brooding but powerful stance, him dressed in an elegant black suit, didn’t really come across as he had imagined, with the sun reflecting on the shiny dark page. It was not as imposing and sexy as he had wished it to be.

When he’d gotten the call from his agent, that he had been named People magazine’s sexiest man alive, he had not been surprised, it had only been a question of time. He rather wondered why it had taken them so long. “Eduardo Sullivan, the modern hero we needed on our screens and in our lives”. Yes, he was a hero, one could even say that his name had become synonymous with the word itself. Who else had played James Bond, Iron Man, and countless other fictional world-saving heartthrobs? He smiled under his mask, time for the big reveal. He didn’t need to buy the magazine, they had sent him a copy of it already, but he’d never miss an opportunity to relish in the awe of his admirers when they met him in person. To bestow that honour upon them had gotten him out of bed more than once already. Unfortunately, for he had not yet made plans for the night, the person selling these magazines wasn’t a woman. Slowly he took off his sunglasses, getting the vendor’s attention, before sliding down his mask under his chin. With his brightest smile he showed the guy owning the newsstand the magazine and said in his lowest, most imposing voice: “Why don’t I give you 20 bucks for this and we’re good?”. Charitable as ever. He could see the confusion, felt it, but Eduardo did not doubt for a second that this guy knew him, had seen at least one of his movies, and would recognize him soon enough. His arrogance driven instinct was correct, as always, for after a first furtive glance the newsstand guy could not get his eyes off Eduardo, trying to decipher whether it was really the world-famous actor that was just casually standing in front of him or just a really convincing lookalike, before concluding that it must actually be the happiest and luckiest day of his entire life.

This last bit was obvious for he grabbed the newsstand to steady himself and unconsciously shook his head, not yet entirely sure what to make of the situation.

Eduardo tried to suppress a victorious smile; he had done it again.

“Of course, Sir, thank you!”, the guy took the money and Eduardo could see that he was contemplating saying something else, he probably wanted to ask for a picture, which, Eduardo knew, he would humbly and gracefully agree to, pretending that he could make some time in his busy schedule because he cared so much for his loyal fans. “You know, Sir,”, he stopped, not sure if he should continue, but Eduardo just gave him an encouraging smile, hoping that he could soon be on his way, “I was there, at the audition for your break-through role, I auditioned myself, and even though you were not famous or anything back then, I still remember you, you helped me calm down because I was so nervous about it, you even made me tea so I could calm down, and”, he nervously fiddled with his hands, “I just wanted to thank you for it”.

This guy was around Eduardo’s age, the latter realized half surprised.

“What’s your name then?”, he tried to act interested, to be a good role model. “Clint, Sir, Clint Baker. Ever after that day, I looked up to you and wished you only the best, it’s an honour to be meeting you again!” “Well, thank you. But what happened to your acting career?”, he knew he could have walked away just then, but he needed to confirm a suspicion he had. He might remember this guy and that specific audition, one of his first, for a minor role that had gotten him the attention of the agent he still employed today.

Flattered that the sexiest man alive would show any interest in him, Clint continued: “Even though you were so kind to me on that day, the nerves had really gotten to me, and I started to feel so sick that I could not go on with the audition. It was so bad that I could not leave my bed for the next 3 days and I just realized that acting wasn’t quite for me, that this kind of nervousness would never allow me to get a role. So, I quit, but I don’t regret it, Sir, I am just as happy with where I am in life right now, acting just wasn’t for me.” He seemed to actually mean what he said, weird. Eduardo had rolled up the magazine and, holding it in one hand, he extended the other one to Clint, just to make his day even better: “It was nice meeting you Clint Baker, maybe fate will let us cross paths a third time, I wish you all the best until then”. And while he turned away, feeling the weight of Clint’s stare on his back he smiled, thinking about the moment Clint would get home to his partner, and maybe kids, and tell them about the surreal experience he had had today.

While he was walking toward Central Park, he put his mask and sunglasses back on. Although he did like to be recognized, it had to be on his terms.

What surprised him was that he did indeed remember Clint, he had been the first person that Eduardo had deemed worthy of getting rid of, all these years ago. It amused him to think that Clint thanked him for that tea that had caused him to give up on all his dreams.

Why would he need to feel bad about it? The acting world was a cruel place and only those that were ready to accept the reality of it and fight for what they wanted should be granted any success. If Clint, or any other person in that audition that day or on any other day, had had his drive and ambition, they could have done the same thing to him. That Clint just gave up because of it showed that he did not have the necessary dedication for the craft, that even if he had gotten the role, he would not have been worthy of it. Eduardo knew that he himself was worthy of all that he had achieved for he had fought for it, just as the heroes he had portrayed had fought for what they wanted in life.

Of course, Clint had not been the only one that had suffered Eduardo’s ambition in the course of his career. He had always incapacitated whoever represented a real threat to him, one way or another, and sometimes, when he was lucky enough and the casting director had shown any interest in him – an interest of a more sensual nature – he had not even needed to go meddle with the other candidates to get the role. He hadn’t interfered in a casting process for a while now though, mainly because he did not have to go to castings anymore. Film directors were usually coming to him, begging him to consider being part of their projects. It didn’t help that it was more difficult to get established actors out of his way than to get little Clint Baker sick.

The last time he was able to resort to his methods, which had become a little good luck ritual for himself, had been for the casting of James Bond. After the news that the then-current 007 would not continue in his role, he had gotten a call from his agent that they were considering him as one of his possible successors, that he did not have the role secured however because there were two other actors that they were interested in. Shortly after, one of the two had some serious child pornography charges to deal with and the other one had not stood a chance against Eduardo either way. He finally reached the cooling shade of the park and went to one of his usual spots, a small path in the shadow with an empty bench waiting for him. It was perfect because not entirely deserted, only a few people ever came across it, assuring that whenever he got recognized, he would only have to deal with 3 or 4 people at a time.

Looking behind him he could see the dark shape of his bodyguard in the distance, always alert but not too worried. He had done this a million times by now and nobody had ever attacked him. Who would ever want to hurt “the modern hero we needed on our screens and in our lives”? Eduardo grinned as he took off his mask and sunglasses.

Looking down at his face on the magazine he wondered what the press would write about him if they knew what he had done, what he had sacrificed to get where he was now. They would probably not hail him as their hero anymore but condemn him as some degenerate monster, too ambitious for its own good. Idiots. The world would judge him for what he had needed to do, while they continued to celebrate their favourite British spy that had harmed and killed countless people to get what he wanted. People were hypocrites, ugly and whiney and dumb. Eduardo pulled out the book his agent had told him to read in public, he did not know what it was about, didn’t even care for its title.

Two people came strolling about, and he could feel the moment one of them recognized him. Excited whispering, slowed down walk, uncertainty whether they should bother him or not. Eduardo looked up and with a humble smile invited them to approach. “Unambitious, stupid hypocrites”, was all he could think, as they stood next to him, smiling into the lens of their overpriced smartphone.


The smell of fresh cookies wafts around my one story house, making the place seem warm and comforting. The timer on the over goes off and I pull my thick blond hair back into a ponytail, stepping around my sleeping dog as I rush to turn the heat down before the neighbor's Halloween cookies get a little crispier than needed. I slide my hands into oven mitts and open the stainless steel door, heat fogging my glasses up. I set the pan on a rack to cool and rub my lenses clean on the fabric of my Harvard hoodie. Quickly, I ice the fresh cookies and bag them individually to perfection. Setting them on a clear plastic tray, I step out into the chilly October air and begin the short walk down the street towards the big house on the corner of the block. The grounds are meticulously kept and as I approach a facial scanner recognizer my face and the gates creak open. When I pass through, a chill runs down my spine and the slow, mechanic noise of the iron gates sounds behind me. I glance down, frost that I hadn't noticed before now settled on the dying grass. Why had I only worn a sweatshirt?

Smooth, grey pavement leads me up to the old Victorian style house. Something shifts in my peripheral vision and I glance towards it, but nothing was there. When I turn back and keep walking, long, spider like cracks are embedded in the once new pavement. I frown, confusion taking over my thoughts. What was happening? I quicken my pace, drawing nearer to the front of the house.

The house's grey shutters were closed, some of the paint flaking off in the brisk wind. The structure loomed above me, ominous and dark. Exhaling, I watch my breath cloud the air, noticing that the bushes had overgrown into the steps up to the door. Spiderwebs hung thick between them and I could spot the little arachnids crawling around slowly, the cold affecting them. I turn around to look down the cracked pavement and find that the iron gate has changed as well. Instead of the shiny new iron that had hung proudly in front of the house, one of the doors hung crooked and rusty while the other lay on the ground, covered in ivy and lichen. My brows furrow, dread flooding my system. What on earth was going on?

I turn back to the house and step onto the first wooden step leading up to the front door. It groans with the weight of my body but I continue onward, placing my foot cautiously onto another step. This one holds better than the other, making no noise as I pull myself up with the iron handrail on either side of the stairs. I ring the doorbell, hoping that someone would come to the door and relieve me of my confusion and fear. I hear a slow shuffling behind the thick oak door and my heart begins to pound. I shake my head, not believing what was happening. The door swings open, its hinges surprisingly quiet. Behind the door stands an old man wrapped in a fuzzy grey blanket made out of a material that I couldn't recognize. He stands above me looking down, and I step up the last step to meet him. I open my mouth but no words seem to be able to come out.

"H-Hello sir. Can I see Caroline?" I manage to stammer out, his dull grey eyes staring through me.

He looks at me, a confused look on his face. I can make a solid guess about his age, using his white mustache and hair as clues. His face was slightly wrinkled, the skin leathery yet tan, as if he had been outside for a long time.

He speaks, his voice hoarse.

"Caroline died ten years ago."

My mouth parts into a perfect O. I had seen her yesterday, walking down the newly paved road with her new German Shepherd which she had named Nelly. And she was very much alive. I hear a clang near my feet and realize that the cookies had slipped out of my hand, decorating the ground with delicious bats and skulls. How fitting. "I'm sorry, but what?"

He nods his head, his mouth in a grim line. My hands shook, giving away how scared I was.

"What year is it?" I ask, my eyes wide, dreading the answer.

He squints at me, his white brows pinching together. He rocks back on his heels, an impressive task for a man of his age.

"Why dear it's 2029. Where have you been?" He laughs.

I let out a shaky breath and say," I'm sorry but I need to go."

I whirl around and hop down from the stairs. Panic builds up in my chest, the pressure building and pushing to get out. I run down the cracked pavement and past the iron gates. Once outside the property, i begin to warm up, the brisk wind suddenly gone and the sun shining as it had been before I had started the walk down the drive. I slow down and look over my shoulder at the house. It looked like it did before I had begun this nightmare. What was happening. Was I crazy? So many thoughts run through my head, spinning around and around in circles, not allowing me to think a coherent thought to save my soul. Taking a closer look at Caroline's house I see that the pavement was new again and that the iron fences were in pristine shape. I hear a sharp honk and whirl around and find myself facing a copper colored car. Caroline's face appears behind the wheel, smiling but the curiosity clear on her face. I walk up to her window, motioning for her to roll it down.

"What's wrong sis? Is the Halloween spirit too alive in you today?" She laughs, smiling at me.

"I don't' know. Maybe. I just got spooked out I guess. When I went to drop off the cookies I made you your house changed and there was an old man living there. He said you were dead. Dead, Caroline. Do you know how scared I was?" I said, my voice shaking.

One of her eyebrows shoots up as I tell the story,an expression of concern growing on her face.

"Hey, hey. Why don't we get you inside and you can rest for a little bit. I'm sure that wore you out. I'll make you some tea and you can just relax. I know you've been under a lot of pressure lately at work and that's probably what caused you to see those things."

I nod my head, allowing her to lead me into my house. I lay down on my new leather couch and she begins to make me hot chocolate in the kitchen. I can hear small clinks and clangs as I begin to drift off to sleep, under a big soft blanket.

When I wake up the next day, I will remember none of it.


"Looks as though Dorsey out did himself this year." Kristy Waters said to her best friend Rorie as she pointed out the old car covered in red roses. "Dorsey always goes over bored with the roses you know I heard his wife loved them." Rorie replied as the two girls waved smiled at the old gentleman. The two girls walked arm and arm around the square of there small home town. The Spring Festival had always been something to look forward to in there small town of Lighten Wood. The Lighten Wood spring festival had been a tradition in the town since the girls could remember. It wasn't something had been past down like other small towns. The girls had been coming to festival since they were little so to them it had always been around. When ever the banner went up for the festival the girls always looked forward to it. Everyone in town seem love the festival with the flower show, bake sales, fashion shows and all the homes decorated for spring. This year the town was a bit sad. The mayor of the town Mr. Ross had passed away just a few days before the festival so instead of the festival starting at it's normal day the first day of spring. It had been pushed back to two weeks later. Giving the town a moment to grieve for it's beloved mayor. As Kristy and Rorie walked around the square they stopped at all the booths and looked at everything. They even ran into a few people who stop chat and say hello. After they'd been walking around for about an hour. They stop in at the Ice cream shop. The old shop looked like something out of a nineteen fifties movie. The two girls sat at a booth close to the middle so they talk but still be able to see outside. "You have to admit even though it's a late start it was worth the wait." Rorie said as she sipped on her chocolate and strawberry milk shake. "Yes it was. Only it would have been better if mayor Ross hadn't just passed away. It still sad to think of him as gone. I'm sure Mrs. Ross is having a hard time dealing with all this." "I know right. Bless her heart I hope she's doing okay." "Maybe we should go by and see if she has her booth up if she does we can always stop and say hello see how she's doing." "Not a bad idea." Kristy smiled and called over the waiter to ask for to go cups. After getting there shakes to go. The two friends headed to see if Mrs. Ross booth was in the same spot. They walked the booths filled with bake goods by Mrs. Rivers, the knit booth ran by Mrs. Martin and a bunch of booths filled with all kind of things. After a few shorts minutes of stopping and see everyone's booths. They finally came to Mrs. Ross's booth. It was beautifully decorated with Roses, Peony , lavender , Gardena's and etc.. Mrs. Ross always the girls favorite flowers. Rorie loved the smell of the white roses and the peony. While Kristy though the gardenia's , pink roses and lavender smells wonderful. "Good afternoon girls how are you doing this afternoon?" Mrs. Ross asked the two girls once she was done helping someone. "We're doing great Mrs. Ross." Kristy answered. "How are you doing Mrs. Ross we were so sorry to hear about the mayor." Rorie said. "Thank you girls. I'm doing as best I can. I've been looking forward to this for weeks. Helps to keep my mind off Rich and plus you know I've always loved the spring festival." Mrs. Ross answered. "Well if you never need help please let us know." Kristy said to the older woman. "Thank you my dears. Now you all go and in joy the Festival. I've got sale some flowers." Kristy and Rorie both bid Mrs. Ross goodbye and headed over to one of the other booths. Stopping to say hi to a few other people they know from town. After walking around for a few more hours the girls decided to stop by the local bakery. Rorie's mom Rosie owned the bakery and spring was her favorite time of the year. The whole bakery smelled of lemon, oranges and all kinds of things. "Mom!" Rorie called out to her mother as the two girls went behind the counter to the kitchen. "Hey girls, how was the festival?" Rosie asked the two girls as she popped a fresh tray of lemon squares in the oven. "Lemon squares fresh in the oven Auntie Rosie?" Kristy asked as she popped a chocolate strawberry in her mouth. "Kristina! how many times do I have to tell you not to eat the chocolate strawberries before dinner?" Rosie scolded at her niece. "Sorry Auntie Rosie but they smell amazing." Kristy laughed as she slapped the back of Rorie's hand to stop her from grabbing one herself. The two girls went back and forth telling Rosie about everything that went on at the festival. Looking out the bakery window as they sat at their usual table. The sun was starting to set and soon all the lights around the square would be coming on. The small little solar lights that were placed around the court yard of the court house were so pretty at sunset. "So ends yet another year of Lighten Wood spring festival." Rorie said as they watched the solar lights come on as the last of the sun set. "Yep another end to other wise very pretty day don't you think." Kristy asked her best friend and cousin. "Yep. "What do you think it'll look like next year?" Rorie asked. "Not sure really but I'm sure Dorsey will win the title of best roses I'm sure." Kristy said. "I still can not believe he won best roses yet again. I mean how many years does that make again?" "Ten. Ten years in a row. I really though Mrs. Ross would win this year her roses were so pretty this year. Dorsey always has red roses. An Mrs. Ross had those very pretty white , pink and purple roses." "Yeah I know right." The girls were talking about the whole roses thing when suddenly Rorie noticed that the solar lights across the street at the court house had come on. Which meant that Spring Festival was over for another year.  Kristy and Rorie both went and stood by the window of the bakery. "Another year has come to end." "What do you think will happen next year at the Spring Festival?" "I don't know but I hope next year will be just as pretty as this year." The two cousins smiled and gathered they're things to head home. Another Lighten wood spring fest had come to an end. It really was one of they're favorite days of the year and they really hoped that next year would be as amazing as this years festival had been.


[Something I was writing goes here] *This is why you type outside Reddit.* *This is why YOU type outside Reddit.* *Stop forcing yourself to write. Go play a game.* *I can't fucking stop writing! This is terrible, but I have to do it. I won't want to do it later.* *You don't want to do it NOW.* *Write me a novel about it.* *Isn't that what YOU'RE trying to do?* *Hush.* *What's the matter?* *There isn't anything to write about!* *Oh, of course there is.* *Shut the hell up. No, there isn't. Maybe It's another disorder of mine. I could use another for the shelf.* *Just because you have OCD and talk-* *More like think, really.* *-to yourself doesn't mean you're crazy.* *That wasn't what I said. And for the record, being able to see something that isn't - might not - be there qualifies me.* *It's probably just a symptom.* *Of what, puberty?* *Yes.* *Doubt it. I could always see it, you should know that, seeing as how we're the same fucking person.* *Does that count? We're just you thinking, as far as I can tell.* *What he said. And you know you couldn't always see it. There was a time...* *I don't remember that far back, okay?* *What DO you remember?* *When you didn't exist.* *I think we always have...right...?* *(Murmuring)* *What are you ACTUALLY thinking when you're typing this thing, by the way?* *What I'm typing, come to think of it.* *So...is this something we would actually think.* *See for yourself.* *.....Yeah, that's pretty accurate.* *What were you saying about writing?* *You know damn well what! There isn't anything I can write. I wrote a two page apocalypse novel, once.* *It was 3/4s of a page. In 78 point font.* *Yeah, that.* *What was it called?* *Never came up with a name.* *Mr. "I can't be cheesy or stereotypical in any way whatsoever" over here is bland and unimaginative, then?* *That's very, very accurate.* *I just thought of something.* *What? That this is surprisingly easy to write and flows pretty well?* *Well, it flows pretty well for US. For them, though, they, uh...* *Yeah.* *Look, no, I meant that...fuck. I forgot.* *That's because you were revising that bit up there and you have horrible memory.* *Both valid points.* *Are we allowed to revise and edit what would in any other situation be our normal thoughts? Can we do that?* *The better question is whether these WOULD be our normal thoughts.* *I'm pretty damn confident they would be.* *That's your opinion, then.* *Everything's an opinion.* *Including that.* *Think people'll agree with us on that? We might get some death threats.* *Quiet. I'm writing.* *HOW LONG DOES THIS DAMN THING NEED TO BE?!* *I could type like this forever, you know that.* *I know a lot of things.* *You make a lot of valid points, there.* *And you say "there" after things a lot.* *You also make a valid point.* *Are we all the same person.* *I can't tell. You?* *You got me.* *No clue.* *How many of us are there?* *Don't answer that. Are we just asking those questions so whoever is reading this won't be confused?* *They're reading, I hope, a post about someone's train of thought. It's most likely already confusing.* *Maybe they can figure it out. Reddit isn't the Youtube comments section or Yahoo Answers. People are intelligent here.* *Here?* *We're on the site, aren't we?* *Anon1: I would say so.* *Anon2: Stop pretending this is 4chan.* *Anon1: It isn't? Sure looks like it.* *Just because....good, no Anon thingy. Just because it's a long string of text with each individual thought having it's own line doesn't mean it's 4chan.* *Anon4: Besides, you barely know what 4chan IS.* *Anon5: Dammit, they're back.* *Anon6: Yes, but I did look it up on Wikipedia during Journalism earlier today.* *Anon7: We know, we were there. Oh, hold on.* *Anon7: > ...because it's a long string of text with each individual thought having it's own line confirms my belief that it's 4chan. FIFY* *Anon1: Damn you.* *Anon8: I'm hungry.* *Anon7: Right on time! Pizza Guy is here!* *Anon6: Does that have to be capitalized?* *Anon4: Yes. 7, what kind is it?* *Anon7: Pepperoni.* *Anon2: Don't they have anything else?* *Anon4: Nah. It's not a chain restaurant.* *Anon6: Follow me, 4channers! Let's eat!* *Anon2: Please don't call us that.* - If you can understand this, consider it funny, or read it at all you must have the patience of a saint. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm hungry.


"Settle down everyone" Professor Dugalan's voice preceded him before he swooped into the high-ceiling lecture hall through one of the top-windows and perched neatly on a raised bar near the podium. He took a moment to straighten out a few feathers that were sticking out here and there, then turned to look at his pupils through his pensive eyes. I adjusted my chair slightly at the front of the class so that I'm partially facing him and the class. Dugalan looked like an enormous owl; 7-feet tall and covered in feathers. Here, on planet X2345-D35, native name 'Entrya', his species of Denisarians- an avian species much like the birds on Earth- is the major intelligent lifeform. Students who were circling the ceiling came down, and those who were on the ground hopped up and settled onto their perches. Non-Denisarians like myself occupied their respective furniture that fit their anatomy. I recognized a Vilueth woman in a bathtub which kept her skin wet, being the aquatic species that she is. She was in my Xenosemantics class and we were in the same project team. I nodded when she looked my way and she flickered her whiskers back in recognition. A sudden image of cafeteria and smell and taste of coffee sprang into my mind. Vilueths are telepaths. She wanted to get coffee together and catch up. I smiled and nodded again. She imitated my smile, showing pointy teeth. Vilueth don't smile, they just shake their whiskers. I think she likes me. "Okay everyone. Open your copy of the reference guide to section 3" Dugalan proclaimed in a deep, booming voice. "Today we will take a look at planet X2200-K2, native name: 'Earth'. It is the home-planet of Humans. As you can see, we have a human here in attendance to help us understand the subject better. This is Jacob, and he was in my class last year. He works in the IT department now and has agreed to come and answer any questions we may have about his species and their home" I nodded and gave the class a quick wave. Some students waved back with their wings, causing a small breeze inside the classroom. "Before we get into the details, are there any questions for Jacob now?" - he asked, hopping a bit on his perch and looking around the room. A student in the front row stuck his head up a foot or two into the air, very much like how a human might have raised a hand. He had deep dark feathers, slick and shiny. The feathers on his head stood up in a circle on top, like a crown. The Denisarian had human-like eyes, with distinct sclera, iris, and pupils. The overall appearance reminded me strongly of the ancient legend of 'Batman' which my grandpa had told me many stories about in my childhood. With a smile on my lips at this thought, I answered with a "Yes?" The student spoke in a high-pitched but recognizably male voice: "You seriously named your planet 'dirt'"? A round of laughter went around the room. This is not the first time I've heard this question, and I had the answer ready. "No, we started calling dirt 'earth' because it came from the planet. We like to keep things simple, but our language have enough sophistication to determine if we're talking about the planet or about dirt from contextual clues". Personal Note Devices blinked tiny lights as the students either paraphrased my reply to notes, or just straight up recorded what I said as is. Another student raised their head, this one straight up looked like a peacock. The feathers were multi-colored in shades of blue and green, with a wild and luscious tail that was several feet long, tied gracefully together with a silky black shawl. There were several ornate bangles around their legs which is common among Denisarian females. And confirming my line of thinking, she spoke in a high-pitched musical voice: "Why do humans use land-vehicles so much? why not just jump to places like you normally do?" I was impressed that she knew about cars and our fascination with them even after several centuries since their invention. My ancestors used steam to power them at first. Then burning fuels, then electricity, then micro reactors and now finally, in the past 50 years or so, antimatter cells. Our love for the land-speeders never went away. I myself have several posters of exotic cars and famous rally drivers hanging in my office. However, the second part of her question was more amusing to me. "Umm, we can't jump on Earth like we can here" -I answered. "Our planet's gravity is too strong for us to jump higher than a few feet" But she wasn't done yet. "You have avian animals on your planet, no? How are they flying then?" She challenged. "Oh, with flimsy bodies and hollow bones!" I exclaimed. "Ask professor Dugalan here, he'd visited my planet a few times." "That is true" Professor owl quipped. "The planet's gravity is crushing. I stayed in orbit most of the time and used a remote-controlled synth-body to go about my business on the surface. I was attending some conferences and a synth-body is more than enough to do those." In the few years I've known Dugalan, I'd figured him for an introvert who didn't enjoy socialization very much. Hiding in his room in a hotel in the orbit and using remote-presence equipment for surface-bound business sounded exactly like something he'd do. "I didn't see anyone jumping around when I was there" Dugalan continued. "Even my synth-body couldn't jump more than a few feet, like Jacob said." "So, if I go to Earth, I won't be able to fly?" The student asked , an expression of horror and concern evident on her face. "For short distances, yes" Dugalan answered before I could. "Professor Valengack had joined me in my last trip to Human's Earth. You know how...um.. eccentric... he is. He actually went down to the surface, unlike me. An adventurous soul, that one! He says you can fly a little bit, but it's risky cause you might break bones if you tire and fall." He said he jumped off a cliff and glided down and that was much more pleasant than taking off upward like one would normally do" "So, Jacob, you don't jump when you're on Earth?" Another student from the back row asked. "That's right" I said. "My physiology have given me very strong bones and muscles. Here, I can easily go from one corner of the campus to the other in a single leap, and about triple the distance if I really try. But this physiology evolved on Earth with its strong gravity. We can walk on it, but jumping long distance is out of the question. That's why we invented land-vehicles and unlike many other species, still use them even after flight-machines became available." "What do you mean 'walk'?" The first student with black feathers asked, sounding a bit confused. "oh, this is called walking", I said, and demonstrated by getting off my chair and strolling back and forth in front of the class. "What??" Said one student out loud. A general ruckus went around the room. They were confused and puzzled. "Quiet" Dugalan said loudly, and the room went silent. "That's right, this is one of the many things we will discuss in Xenomorphology 101" he continued as he pulled up the schematics of human anatomy on the hologram display at the front of the class. "Humans use their legs differently on their home planet. While they jump across the land here on Entrya, as they lack natural means of flight, they simply put one foot in front of the other to move from place to place on planet Earth, remaining on the ground without taking to the air the entire time. It is slow and tedious, but that's how things are on Earth" "Yes" I added ".. we are a slow and tedious species". Everyone burst out in laughter. Dugalan gave me an approving node for my assistance, and turned back to the class to expound in greater detail on how walking had influenced Human anatomy's evolution. I nodded and smiled back. Rest of the class was fairly uneventful except for a few students who tried to imitate walking and fell over, to Dugalan's annoyance and the general amusement of everyone else. At the end I took my leave, jumping out the nearby window to go check in with my boss before I go get some coffee with the Vilueth lady.


Ben shivered as the spider crept dangerously close to his nose. He could see its spindly legs pluck at each filament as it made its way across the web. Ben's mother always told him he shouldn't be afraid of spiders; that they were more afraid of him than he was of them. But this spider didn't seem afraid of him at all. He hated to admit it, but considering how frightened Ben was, and how not frightened the spider seemed, he could only assume his mother had been wrong. And if she was wrong about the spiders, what else might she be wrong about? Ben filed the question away for consideration at a later time when his brain wasn't so distracted by more pressing thoughts. His brain had plenty to do right now as it was. He was supposed to be thinking about what he'd done, which as far as he was concerned was impossible. He hadn't

done  anything, so how could he think about it? It's what his father would call a real head-scratcher, which didn't make much sense to Ben since his head wasn't itchy at all. Now that he thought about it, though, his nose was starting to itch. Did that make it a nose-scratcher? He added it to his mental list of things to ponder later so he could get back to thinking about what it was he hadn't done. It was no use telling the truth. He had tried that right off, but his father said he mustn’t make up lies. That’s when he sent Ben to stand in this corner, which he probably hadn’t realized was already occupied by the spider, to face the wall and think about what he’d done. Or hadn’t done. Of course, now he could add lying to the list of things he hadn’t done but was being ordered to think about. It was all very confusing – or would have been for someone with a lesser mind. Ben considered himself a pretty advanced thinker for a boy of six. Maybe even for a boy of nine or ten. He liked to think about things; he liked to know things. He spent a great deal of time reasoning out the how and the what and the why of things, and he usually arrived at an answer that made sense. But thinking about something he hadn’t done didn’t make any sense, in Ben’s opinion. His list of things to think about was getting longer by the minute, and here he was, dillydallying. If only he could think of the right words to appease his father. Telling the truth wasn’t an option, since that had failed once, and he certainly wasn’t about to lie. Lying was wrong – especially lying to your mom or dad. The spider hadn’t moved in a very long time, and Ben wondered what it was waiting for. Why had it built its web here in the first place? It didn’t seem like a very good place to catch bugs. Maybe this spider was intent on catching wrongfully accused little boys who were sent to stand in the corner. If that was the case, it was going to need a much bigger web. All spiders were stupid, of course, but this one seemed especially dim-witted. It was also very distracting, and Ben wished it would go away. He tried closing his eyes but immediately snapped them back open. Had the spider moved? Was that it’s game? Wait for Ben to close his eyes or look away, and then pounce? Then what? Did it plan to bite him? It wasn’t a very big spider, so Ben didn’t see how a bite from it would hurt that bad. What was it that spiders did that made them so frightening? Was this a poisonous kind of spider? Ben didn’t see any fangs dripping with venom. He realized what he knew about spiders was shamefully inadequate, and he added it to the list. After a moment’s consideration, he moved it up to the top of the list. If he was going to be frightened of something, he should at least know why. It was important to know the why of things, Ben believed. In fact, most of the things on his list started with why. Why did birds have feathers instead of fur? Why did he have to go to bed so much earlier than his parents (and what did they do after he went to bed?)? Why did sticks float but rocks sink? Why did the air feel cold when he was wet? Ben was of the opinion that, with enough thought, he could reason out the why of just about anything. But not Peter. Peter was his older brother, but even at nine years old, Peter wasn’t quite the thinker Ben was. No, Peter needed to see things – to touch things – in order to figure them out. Ben supposed there wasn’t anything wrong with that, exactly, except that it was sometimes messy. And sometimes it landed Ben in a heap of trouble. And sometimes – like today – it was both. It all started when their dad brought home a kitten. It was a tiny thing – with gray stripes, a white face, and a little pink nose. They had agreed to name it Socks because of its white feet that looked like, well, socks. One day Peter decided he wanted to know why kittens purred. Ben thought that if he just had some time to think about it, he could come up with a suitable answer to his brother’s question. But Peter, as always, was impatient. He just had to find out for himself. He just had to see . Unfortunately, by the time Peter had finished with the kitten, they were no closer to knowing why kittens purred. Ben was no more a tattletale than he was a liar, and he didn’t want to get Peter in trouble, but even Peter agreed it was important to always tell the truth. And besides, Peter had a way of getting out just before they got caught, so he was never around to take the blame. Their mother had been beside herself when she found Ben with what was left of the cat. From the blood on his hands, he couldn’t blame her for jumping to the conclusion that it was his fault. He tried explaining that he had been trying to stop Peter, and that’s how he got the cat’s blood on his hands. But of course, Peter was nowhere to be found. *** “The psyche is a fragile thing, Mrs. Lawson. When a person suffers a trauma, as your son did, the mind can fracture. Each piece takes on an identity of its own – in your son’s case, the identities of the loved ones he lost in the accident. Your son feels responsible for their deaths, and to deal with the guilt, his mind has recreated his wife and sons from the fractured pieces of his psyche.” “Doctor, what are you saying? Th—that my son has split personalities?” Dr. Norris nodded. “Though today we call it dissociative identity disorder.” “S-so what he did to the cat –” “I believe from talking to them that it was Peter who was responsible for the cat.” “No, Peter would never hurt a fly, let alone…d-do something like that.” “Remember, Mrs. Lawson, it wasn’t actually your grandson. Peter and Ben and Diane are gone. Though these identities James has created manifest as his family, they are a coping mechanism for a trauma his mind can’t face. James is actually quite distraught by what the Peter identity did. He’s even asked me to help Peter, which is a very good sign. Why don’t you go home and get some rest, Mrs. Lawson? You’ve been through an ordeal yourself, and this is a lot to process. Your son is in good hands, here. We’ll do everything we can for him. With time and the right treatment, I’m optimistic we can manage your son’s condition. But I must warn you that he may never fully recover.” *** “Why is it just sitting there?” Peter asked. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure—” Ben started, but his older brother cut him off. “Why do spiders need eight legs, anyway? Why can’t they be satisfied with four legs, like a cat? Or just two legs, like a person? Let’s see if it can climb that web with just two legs…”


(WP) So Easy to Forget I haven’t seen my father since I was eight years old. He’d kissed my mother on the cheek, saying that he was heading out to get a carton of milk and a few other things, and he never came back. My mother’s eyes flicked to the door that day, but he didn’t return. To this day, no one knows where he went; it was as if he’d vanished. But he shows up at the door, all these years later, milk in hand, his clothing still pristine, looking as though he hasn’t aged a day. When my mother opens the door, she screams, a sudden burst of sound that shocks me even more than my father appearing out of nowhere. “Nathaniel? What happened to you? Where have you been all this time?!” My mother’s voice is choked, tight with unshed tears. “We thought you were dead!” He looks almost exactly the same, only his hair is longer now, and shot through with blond streaks, as if he’s spent all this time away from us in the sun. “I got lost, but I came back. I found my way back.” My father says, wrapping his arms around my mother. He looks whole and unharmed to my eyes, but his eyes are different, haunted. The piece of our family that was missing is suddenly found, but I can’t stop the unease and dread from filling my chest. I don’t know what, exactly, but something is not right. My mother, on the other hand, is overjoyed. She insists on going to the store to pick up all of my dad’s favorite things to make him a special meal. The thought of being alone with my father, a man who’s been gone for a decade, sets my skin crawling. But I decide the moment the door closes, I’m going to ask where he’s been. We deserve an explanation. I’ve hated him for a long time, since he walked away from our family. My mother seats him at the kitchen table with a beer, and as soon as she leaves, I pounce. “Did you leave us to start a new life somewhere else? Did you cheat on Mom with another woman? Do you have another family you’re not telling us about?” My father stares at me for one long, breathless moment, then takes a swig of his beer. “I was kidnapped, Gabby. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s the truth.” I stare at him, nonplussed. Of all things I expect him to say, it’s not that. “I swear to God, Dad, if this is a lie to get out of leaving us for years--” “It’s not a lie, Gabs.” His voice goes quiet, and his eyes darken. “Who, then, Dad? Who did it?” “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” “Try me!” \*\* *The man out of time looks at his daughter, this young woman who was as high as his knee on the faithful day he’d been snatched from the human world. She looked the same, yet different: Her brown hair was the same as his, only straight like her mother’s, put up in a bun struck through with a pencil. She was a stranger to him, as foreign to him as the fairy world he’d been thrown into so many years ago.* *He’d just gone to the store for some milk. The last thing he’d expected was to be snatched off of the street and taken to a completely different world. It had been like something out of a dream: a pastel, candy-striped sky, awash with every color he could imagine, and the woman who had captured him was just as beautiful. Her skin was the rich brown of tree bark, and there were vine tattoos all over her that moved, undulating under her skin. She smiled at him, and her teeth were sharp and pointed.* *“Welcome to the land of the fairies. I’ve been watching you; you know. I can feel your longing, your desperation to be someone great. I can give you what you want. But faeries don’t give boons out for nothing, you know.” Her grin widened, and he had to stop himself from staring at her.* *She was beautiful, but she wasn’t his wife.* \*\* He’d found his way back, stumbling into the forest on the outskirts of the castle keep. Perhaps it was his brokenness that had opened the portal and sent him back to the human world. He didn’t know how long he’d been gone, but it must have been years, since his daughter was practically grown now. “I’m sorry,” He whispers now, knowing that the facts didn’t sound true. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale, but it had been real. “I know I can’t make it up to you now, but I am so sorry. I thought of you and your mother every second, every hour, every passing day. But in that world... It can be so easy to forget.


TW: suicide, attempted suicide This a story about a boy and a girl becoming friends to strangers. They firstly met at their schools. They were classmates but still strangers for each others. They were unaware that they will become so close to each others that when they have to separate both eyes will be filled with tears. One day their class teacher introduces themselves to each other. Boy never seemed interested in her because he don’t like to making friends. She thought he is arrogant, rude and cold hearted person. When they met for first time he simply ignored her. One day she asked him why did he behaved like this? He ignored her again and but this time she said with anger, don’t you see I asked you something. He replied, I know and I don’t like talking to strangers. She was quiet disappointed or you can say hurt from his words. He said, don’t mind my words but I’m kind a socially awkward person. So, I don’t like talking but gradually I will. She understood what he want to say and forgave him. After sometime they start talking and they were good friends.  Time passed and they pass out from school. They went to different colleges and they didn’t knew they will meet again or not. On last day of school, she asked him that, will you miss me? He was silent and after a sometimes he answered, I don’t know but I guess I will. She said, the same to him. Months passed there were no communication between them. They were so busy with their lives. Still they tried to contact each other but they couldn’t. There is saying that, “ Don’t matter how busy you are with your life but if you want to talk to someone you will spare time for them.”  After struggling a while, they were able to talk with each other. Both were happy but he felt that, for him she is more than friend. He was not sure that he really feels for her or not. One day, she didn’t texted him and he was worried that is she ok or not? After a week she texted him, that she had a fight with her parents and she is feeling depressed. She is having suicidal thoughts after hearing this he was shocked and stressed. He tried his best to lift her mood. She was fine and finally felt that suicide is not the option. For her, he started feeling and he could easily say that he really loves her a lot. He tried to confess her but he thought she is already having problems and he don’t want to make her sad. He didn’t confessed and he waited for a right moment. After two years, he confessed her but… every time things don’t went as expected. She said, she never felt for him more than a friend. He replied, its ok. We can love someone but we can’t say them to love us back. He respected her opinion from that day he never discussed about that again. Again she start having same problems but this time it was serious because she tried to suicide by having a extrados of medicine. She slept for two days. He was angry on her, she scolded her that, don’t you think what will your parents will do after you will suicide?, what will I do ? he said with tears in his eyes, you don’t know how much I love you and you think dying is easy. Until I’m alive you can't die and promise me you will not do this again. On that day she got to know how much he feels for her and she promised him. Both were reason of each other's happiness. They were attached to each other, they were best friends. They shared every small thing to big secrets to each others. Whether they talk for two hours or two minutes both were satisfied with it. Many people understand are feelings but there are few ones who can understand our silence too. When we love someone their problems are our problems, their happiness are our happiness. They were friends for 3 years and now they aren't. The reason of separation was broken trust. Whether it’s a relationship or a friendship trust plays an important role in every relation. We can think about a relationship without love but without trust no relation exists.  Same happened with them, late night she called him and was crying. Before he ask her, she started telling every thing. He listened her quietly and he didn’t said a word. When after a she stops and asked her why are you crying? You shouldn’t, don’t worry I’m here only. She told him, that her boyfriend accused her. He was surprised and couldn’t accept it. He wasn’t surprised that she had boyfriend but he was surprised that she didn’t told him about her relationship. He felt betrayed and trust broken. He simply asked her, you would have told me about him and without asking a question I would have accepted it. But now situation is different, I can forgive you but I will not able to forgave myself. I trusted you blindly, I loved you unconditionally and in return you taught me that you shouldn’t trust and love someone. I thought we will best friends forever but now… we are nothing. This relation never existed and I hate you. I hate that I loved without thinking of outcomes but you did this to me. I hope you will have a better life without me… I know its difficult to forget you but I will… She was crying and begging him that stay don’t leave him. He smiled and said, never beg someone to stay in your life. If they want to go let them go.

Moral: God gifted us an unique that we can love someone and we can express our love. People says that love hurts but it hurts more when you love a wrong person. If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goals not to people or things.