I have never been so mortified in my life.

I was standing in front of the most beautiful man I have ever seen, in just my towel and it’s definitely not in the way you’re thinking. He doesn’t look surprised to see me but I’m as confused as you are. Okay, you’re probably wondering what went on that led to this moment. Let me explain… And to do that, I’ll have to go back a bit. Not too much, but just so you get the gist. My name’s Samantha Anderson but that’s not really important. I’d finally gotten a well-deserved vacation and there was no better place to spend it than The Maldives. I took my laptop, neck massage pillow, a bottle of wine, and a glass and relaxed on the most comfortable spot on my worn-out couch. I pulled up the search engine and typed in vacation bookings in the Maldives. I found a promising site and after doing some searching, I realized it was above my price range. I got the email off the site and sent them a message expressing my love for their dealings but how far it was from what I could afford. I got a reply almost immediately asking how much I was willing to pay. We did this back and forth thing until they finally agreed to a booking at a price a few thousand lower than their initial fee. That should have been my first sign that they weren’t all they claimed to be. But I was on my third glass and the fact that I had more thousands than I budgeted to spend touring, blinded any reasoning of mine. So I booked my flight, bought my ticket and went to my room in search of my passport and my hottest bikini. I got my suitcase and started packing. I didn’t go far before the drowsiness of the alcohol got me crashing. Don’t worry, I made sure I drank enough water before that to prevent a hangover. *** I was woken up by the sound of my alarm, I reached out and smacked the stupid thing on my nightstand. It was 11:00 in the morning and I had a slight headache. I must have snoozed it more than ten times. I should have turned it off as soon as I got the news of my vacation. I got up and went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. I took an aspirin for my head and moped as I made my way to the tiny kitchen in my apartment. I made a quick sandwich and cleared the couch off evidence of last night. I had managed to get a flight for tomorrow, how cool was that? I needed to pack but there were showing reruns of How I met your mother . So I decided to watch a little before packing. I found my spot on the couch and devoured my sandwich while laughing at Ted . *** I shouldn’t have watched that show, I didn’t realize they were showing marathons that lasted basically the whole day. I know what you’re thinking, no I didn’t spend my whole day on the couch, I got up to pee and get more snacks. That counts and I’m on my vacation bite me. Either way, I basically spent my day doing nothing and I forgot to pack. Now I’m paying for it. My taxi is going to be here in less than ten minutes and I haven’t even decided on carrying a playsuit or suspenders. I shoved what I could in my suitcase and duffel and got dressed. I got a text from the driver and I carried my bags out of the apartment and into the elevator. I’d gotten like two more texts and a missed call before I finally came out of the building.

“I’m here, I’m here.” I shouted as I dragged my bags behind me towards the car. The driver came to my aid and we were on the road in less than five minutes. We got to the airport with twenty minutes to spare. I went through the whole boring airport thing I won’t bore you with that and I could finally take a breath on the plane. It was a ten-hour flight so I got comfortable and caught up on some much-needed sleep. *** I woke up two hours before the flight landed so I gathered my stuff and double-checked my bookings with the hotel.  I asked for a burger and water from the air hostess and ate to my fill. I was so excited to see the photos on the site for myself and I couldn’t wait to get a tan. I got my iPod and air pods and spent the rest of the flight listening to music. The plane landed, I got my bags and waved for a taxi, I gave him the address of the hotel and I couldn’t keep my eye away from the window for the whole ride. It was breathtaking; the people, their clothes, the buildings even the fine brown sand was mesmerizing. I couldn’t wait to get to the hotel. We arrived at our destination and the driver helped me with my bags. I walked into the beautiful building and up to the receptionist. I told her about my booking and she gave a grimace. Second sign I failed to notice. I was high on the beauty of the hotel. She gave me my suite key and told me to have a seat, the manager would like to have a word with me. “Hmm…can it wait? I really want to pee and I would like to freshen up so I won’t scare him away with my sweaty and horrible outfit.” “No problem but please be here as soon as you can. The elevator is that way.” She said pointing to her right. I smiled and dragging my bags, I took the elevator to my floor. I found my suite and it was just like the pictures two doors leading to two en suite bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. It was perfect. I chose the room by the left and dropped my bags. I know you’re wondering why I got a suite with two rooms. It was the only accommodation available at that time. With my toiletries in hand, I made my way to the bathroom to have a nice long shower. Wrapping myself in a clean towel I walked out of my room to take a tour of the suite, which didn’t seem like a bad idea at that time since I was alone, only to find the most beautiful man I’d ever seen looking indifferent to seeing me. Now you understand why I am confused right? Good. Chapter 2 “What in the world are you doing in my suite?” I asked clutching my towel tighter around my body, my naked body. “I’m supposed to be here, I paid for this suite.” He replied moving around me to walk into the room on the right. I quickly made my way to my room and brought out some clothes from my bag; I’ll be free to argue when dressed. He walked out of his room just as I was shoving my legs into my slides in the living room. “You mister, have a lot of explaining to do.” I know what you’re thinking; who still says ‘you mister?’ don’t look at me, I have no idea how that came out. “Haven’t you spoken with the manager?” he asked. “I’m going there right now and you have to come with me.” I opened the door, stepped outside, and motioned for him to take the lead. He rolled his eyes but stepped out of the suite. We made our way to the lobby and trust me; the elevator ride was awkward. I walked over to the counter, the receptionist saw me and smiled. “The manager will be out soon; you can take a seat. Would you like some tea or coffee?” “I’m good thanks.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the comfortable-looking couch in the lobby. “Name’s Andrea, if we are going to be living together for the next month, I should at least know yours.”

“Samantha, and we aren’t going to be staying together, there’s probably a misunderstanding or something.” “Yh Sure.” His words were laced with sarcasm. A short bald man wearing a charcoal black suit walked up to us and I pulled Andrea up with me. “You must be miss Anderson, I’m Jacobs, the hotel manager; nice to meet you.” “Just Samantha please, nice to meet you too.” “Ah, I see you’ve met your suitemate, Andrea.” “My suitemate? You never said anything about a suitemate when I was speaking to you. I didn’t agree to this.” “Miss Samantha, you cut down our price far more than what I was expecting, the only way the hotel was going to make a gain was if someone else paid what you couldn’t and that means you’ll have to share a suite.” I was mortified for the second time in less than an hour. He didn’t have to say it like that, it’s not like I don’t have the money, I just have a budget. “I understand but why wasn’t I told beforehand? A warning would have been nice; is there anything you can do now? I can pay for another room or you can take Andrea to another room; anything?” “I apologize for not telling you about this before your arrival but there is nothing I can do now; we are fully booked as you are aware. See this as an adventure, you two can get to know each other and have a wonderful time. If that is all, I’ll take my leave now, enjoy your stay.” He shook our hands again and walked away. I fell back on the couch and started thinking of different ways this vacation could go wrong. What if he’s a rapist? Or a robber? A stalker? A serial killer? There are many things he could be. How was I sure I and my properties are safe? I’m going to die; I’m going to freaking die. I won’t get to see the beach or the nice cabins on the sea, I probably won’t make it to the morning… “Can you stop looking at me like that? I’m not a rapist or anything like that.” “That’s what they always say.” “Geez, get up, let's go to our suite and you can think about your life there. People are staring.” He waited for me to get up and our roles were reversed, I was the one being pulled. We waited for the elevator and rode up to our floor. He shut the door to our suite behind me and was about to walk into his room probably to unpack. “Are you okay with this? Aren’t you going to do something?” “You heard the man, there’s nothing we can do, just accept it, you can start by unpacking your bags and how about we go out for a cup of coffee or something’ get to know each other, my treat, what do you say?” “Fine, but only because you’re paying.” I walked into my room and copied him. Chapter 3 I just finished unpacking; Andrea and I are about to leave for the coffee shop. “I’m done. Let’s go.” I grabbed my pause and changed my footwear. “Finally, you take forever.” He got up and waited for me at the door holding it open. “Thank you, kind sir.” Wow, I’m on a roll today; ‘you mister’, now ‘kind sir?’ even Andrea gave me a look. “Let’s go before you get any weirder.” “I agree.” We made our way out of the hotel and walked to the closest café, not to worry, we used Google Maps, we’re not trying to get lost. We walked into the cafe and got a sit almost immediately; our orders were taken and we were sipping from our hot mugs in on time. “So… why The Maldives of all places?” he asked me and relaxed into his chair. “Sure, just jump right into the interview.” “What? We have to start somewhere.” “Fine, it was the pictures of the cabins on the sea, I had to check it out for myself. You?” I answered taking a bite of my doughnut. “Nice, I just needed a change of scenario. Home was getting too predictable.” Oh, yeah I need a tan too. “I guess we could go to the beach together someday.” He might not be bad, I shouldn’t judge yet; but I’m going to keep my guards up, just to be safe. We spent the rest of the day getting to know each other and we went our separate ways at the end of the night. *** I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, I counted my finger and toes; complete. I looked around the room to check if I was missing anything. Well, I don’t think he would actually steal or kill me on the first day, but what do I know? I went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. I walked into the living room and the smell of pancakes led me into the kitchen. “Did you make breakfast?” Maybe he’s not that bad. I sat on the barstool by the counter. “Nope, room service.” He dropped a plate on the counter and sat down in front of me. “Did you at least order for me?” “How was I supposed to know what you wanted?” The nerve of some people. “Of course, I did, your plate is on the heater.” He said laughing at the look on my face. “I would have said thank you but I don’t play with food.” I stood up, grabbed my plate, and joined him at the counter. “Any plans for today?” “Nah, probably just get a tan, you?” “Good, I’m having friends over. You can stay at the beach until they leave.” The nerve. “Hello, I live here too and I’ll come and go whenever I please.” I picked up my plate, walked into my room, and slammed the book behind me. What was I thinking? My vacation is ruined, how am I supposed to live with someone like that. He’s not the boss of me, this is my suite too. I was angry but the pancake didn’t have to suffer for it. I finished my food and dug out my hot bikini. When I walked out of my room, he was nowhere to be found. I exited the hotel and walked to the beach. *** After hours of tanning, I walked back to the hotel. When I got back the suite was empty. It’s not like I obey him and came late, I just lost track of time; yes, we’re going with that. He walked in not long after I did and dropped on the couch. “We need to talk about a suitable living arrangement.” I said. “Okay, what do you have in mind?” I did not think this through. I haven’t even thought about what I was going to say, I expected him to put up a fight. “Hmm…” “How about this; stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine. I won’t tell you what to do and you won’t either. Sounds good?” “Good.” It seems fair enough. “Cool, I apologize for my actions this morning, I had a rough night. Let’s go out, my treat.” Wow, if this is how he apologizes, I might have to set traps for him (not really (really.)) “It’s cool, where do you have in mind.” Wow, free lunch twice in a roll. I might actually have a wonderful time.


After a brief hiatus, we’re back for more spotlights from our recently concluded cycle of Serial Saturday! Now all that’s left to do is prepare for the upcoming season and spotlight our fantastic authors. It’s been such a treat to watch people evolve their flash fiction serials with us and bring arcs to a close that for some have been with us for quite a while. For a good handful of writers on Serial Saturday, their stories are continuations of serials started on Theme Thursday weekly threads. One such story comes from /u/Ryter99, a regular from /r/writingprompts. Ryter is a member of our community who never fails to entertain with his wholesome, zany tales, whether they concern knights of considerable ego, or Santa and his double-crossing elves, or anything in between. When I discovered that Ryter would be continuing the Sir Jamsen tale with us on SerSat I could hardly wait to kick this program into high gear, and of course Ryter did not disappoint. Here at we thoroughly enjoyed Ryter’s story of bravery, wit, comedy, and adventure. But don't take my word for it! Here's a small teaser: >Sir Jamsen Farnsworth and his squire, Drann, have faced all manner of foes during their long adventuring careers. They've defeated invading armies, slain countless goblins, and battled fearsome dragons of legend. But now, they face the gravest threat the realm has ever known... adorable bunny rabbit looking creatures? > >*(Does that opening make clear this thing is an absurdist Comedy-Fantasy story? Okay, great! Ahem… continuing...)* > >These ‘Bundarr’ are a cuddly yet vicious species with terrifying psionic powers and a hunger for destruction on an unimaginable scale. Drann and Jamsen must race to learn more about their foes, prepare defenses, and recruit new allies if they have any hope of defeating the adorable threat to their world. For our first run of Serial Saturday at it was important for us to get author impressions of how their experience went with us, and give readers a peek at the "behind the scenes" of creating a flash fiction serial. Here's Ryter’s take on that: >I’ve been writing Drann and Jamsen stories for a couple years now and Theme Thursday’s on r/WritingPrompts was an awesome venue for me to put them into fun and new scenarios each week. > >Those one-off adventures were all I really planned. Quite frankly, I only started this serial because my pal u/JustLexx was so energetic in his enjoyment of the bundarr that I decided to devote a serialized plotline to the bunny menace haha. > >The number of people who enjoyed my characters/world during their TT run was extremely humbling and encouraging, but Serial Saturday is where I feel like I learned the most about the characters, how they could interact with the world, and how to pace their story. > >I have a novel in the works (set well before the events of this story) and without a doubt it’s benefited greatly from writing this series week by week. I’m grateful to u/ALiteralDumpsterFire for running this feature and to everyone who gave me valuable feedback and encouragement! > >And finally, special thanks to Sir A-Lexington, Lady Booke, Lady Rubbishfyre, and the Great and Powerful Xacktarri. Your enthusiasm for this series kept me writing it in the earliest days. I hope that enthusiasm was repaid by enjoyment participating in and reading the completed story! > >Umm, that’s it! SerSat rocks! Fluffybuns forever! With the tale of Sir Jamsen and the Bundarr horde at an end (for now) there is only one thing left to do: show off this newly finished story for obligatory bragging rights here on . Let the bragging begin! Without further ado, here's Ryter’s Table of Contents. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ You can check out more of Ryter's work by going to his subreddit, r/Ryter (highly recommended, check out the additional serial he writes, featuring Drann in the first person and even moar hijinx). Congrats on finishing your serial, Ryter, and we can’t wait to see what you do next. <3 from the team at , , and Serial Saturday. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ *For more information on the Serial Saturday program feel free to check out our* *.* We have members from all around the world and who have all kinds of schedules, so there’s usually someone awake to talk to. We also have scheduled readings, oration critiques, spur-of-the-moment story time, or even just random hangouts over voice chat.


Part I

The woods were ancient. The tall trees dominated the land, giving refuge to the many critters and creatures above and below. Pillars of bright light pierced through the vibrant green canopy. The lush undergrowth gave shelter to the many animals stirring as spring began her slow thaw of the land. The snow that crept down from the mountains, now retreated up the rocky hillsides once more.

Cy walked leisurely over the gnarled roots which claimed most of the obscured path winding through the majestic trees. Cy’s red robe could be seen passing between the massive trunks as she walked. Along the trunks bright red toadstools sprouted out of the shelf fungi to give homes to the smaller fairies roaming these parts. Cy’s eyes passed over the red, spotted mushrooms seeking out any pixies awakening from their winter slumber. As her gaze travelled along the trunks, she spotted a great stag further in the distance. His slow graze through the fresh greens had her pausing to admire his nobility of the forest before she quietly continued her hike towards the nearby town. Cy reached the top of a small rise in the path and stopped to admire the vast mountains along the horizon. Their mighty expanse protected this land from the harsher beasts and weather on the other side. As she gazed out, Cy heard a familiar faint whirring and quickly turned, searching for the source. The sound brought her back to her childhood of searching for the will-o-wisps, but they evaded her sight this time. She tucked a loose strand of brown hair behind her pointed ear while scouring the area, knowing it was still too bright to see them.  “Wow, what pretty ears you have!” A tiny voice said below. “But what’s a fae doing out here, Mama?” Cy looked down and saw three hares munching on a patch of green grass while bathing in a small pool of sunlight. The larger one looked up to Cy as she answered, “I am not sure why any creature would travel these woods alone .” Cy swore she saw the mother hare glare at her. “Which is why we…?” The mother trailed off and her two offspring chimed together. “Travel in groups!” Cy’s lips curved slightly as she went on her way. Prey, she thought to herself, always controlled by fear. Part II

Cy bent down to the freshly melted water of the lake and splashed the frigid water on her face then refilled her canteen. After snacking on an apple and some cheese from her pack, she sat down next to the shore for a rest. She gazed out at the beauty before her. The reflections in the water made the forest and mountains seem surreal. Her gaze drifted over the nearby shore but stopped when she saw the giant wolf. The beast’s white and brown fur shone in the spring sun as she lapped up some fresh water. Cy stood quickly and called out. “Blaidd!” The wolf spirit of the forest looked up slowly as Cy waved to her. The giant wolf merely tipped her head in acknowledgement then slowly turned and left the lakeside.

Cy packed up her few belongings and began her short trek back to the trail. The trees in this area were more dispersed and reached higher, letting more sunlight through to the base which allowed the smaller, vibrant bushes to grow. A flurry of motion went off to her right, followed by another to her left. Someone was herding her.

“I know you’re out there!” Cy shouted as she reached for her two small blades strapped to her low back under her pack.  “Those won’t do you much good against us, princess.” Cy looked to her right and saw a dark coloured wolf staring down at her. More wolves of mixed colouring slowly revealed themselves. She was surrounded.  “Took long enough at the lake. We were getting worried you wouldn’t show in time for lunch.” The wolves chortled, the only laugh a wolf could do. “Leave me in peace and I won’t hurt you,” Cy doubted she could fight them all off, but she had to prove her village wrong. The wolves all chortled again at her false bravery. “With that cloak, you’re lucky we were the ones to find you. There are far worse predators in these woods.” He snarled and began stalking towards her.

“Spoken like a true fox,” Cy shot back. The wolves all growled in unison. “Foolish, weak fae girl. Out alone wearing that,” the wolf snarled. “You are ringing the lunch bell for any creature in your vicinity.”

His words resonated with her, like a bell. Cy took her hands off her blades and cupped them around her mouth as she filled her lungs with air. “Blaidd!” Cy screamed as loud as she could, repeated the yell three more times before facing the head wolf. “I’m not so sure your boss will appreciate your attitude towards the new clan leader.” Cy gave him a smirk as the other wolves began scampering off, ears and tails lowered. The wolf stood his ground a few more seconds before his ear twitched, hearing the crashing in the distance. “This isn’t over, girl,” he growled. “A female leader will not last.” He turned and ran. His departure was right on time as Blaidd came crashing through the nearby brush and growled at Cy and the empty area. “Cyfrwys!” Blaidd growled. “You cannot use me to get out of trouble.” “It was your wolves causing trouble! They know the laws.” Cy began her hike up to the path. “As do you, young one. You must be on the path. Use your head, girl.” Blaidd took a deep breath and walked beside Cy who put out her hand and rested it on the giant’s shoulder. The soft fur brought back memories of a much smaller Cy falling asleep on Blaidd’s back on her family’s trips between the towns.

“How has the spring been this year?” Cy attempted at small talk. Blaidd’s side expanded under Cy’s hand as she gave a big sigh through her nose.

“Spring has it’s usual beauties,” they both paused to watch an intricate blue butterfly float pass them. “But there are shortcomings. We are losing more land to the nearby farmers and more deer to the hunters. This will be another tough season.” She eyed sidelong at Cy. “What brings you out to the forest so late. And alone?” “I’m visiting Mhamo, I have her medicine that mom makes. Mom didn’t feel up to the trip with… everything.” She gripped the fur under her hand as pain laced through her chest. “I am sorry for your loss little one,” Blaidd said quietly. “He was a great warrior and leader.” Blaidd let the silence carry on, both walking in comfort until reaching the path. “You must be smarter from now on. It is late for this long of a journey, especially on your own. I won’t be able to save you from everything. Keep your wits about you, and keep those blades handy.” Cy smiled as Blaidd gave a wolfish wink before trotting off into the bushes. Cy took a deep, steadying breath and continued on, careful to stay on the path. Part III

With the sun sinking below the horizon, shadows lengthened, attempting to blanket the world. The symphony of birds and insects had died out, the forest encased in an eerie silence. Cy’s heart sank as she gazed at the path ahead. What was once an easy trail had become a dark, marshy hollow with close-set trees blocking out any remaining light. The ground was covered with white mold from the melting of the snow and moisture in the spring. The white netting resembled spider’s silk too much for Cy’s taste, but she had come so far, so she pressed on. She felt for her two blades at her lower back and kept a steady pace, eyes and ears alert.

The path dipped down lower into a small gorge, rock walls rising up to her shoulders, then slightly over her head as she continued a slow descent. The walls on either side were slick with mud, the temperature dropping significantly. She could almost feel the cold radiating off the land around her, as if attempting to suck any heat from the living.

Cy froze, eyes scanning the dark terrain, her pointed ears listening for whatever was pricking her senses as chills crept up her spine. She couldn’t hear or see anything but goosebumps rose along her arms as the stench of rot grew. Her heart rate began to rise and panic began to tighten a vice around her lungs. She felt him then. A cold presence drifted around her side, ice permeating through her clothes. Cy’s bowels turned liquid as her gaze met the dead spirit’s glowing eyes.

His essence was like a cloud, not fully there when she focused on him, but solidified when she looked away. His face was male, though his flesh was rough, like rotten tree bark. A wispy, dark cloak covered what was left of him as he floated in front of her. There was nothing friendly in the wraith’s sharp eyes.

“What is a pretty thing like you roaming around my home?” The wraith rasped as he circled around Cy. She knew the old false tales that wraiths only gain power over you if you gave them notice. But she also knew the truth behind the warning- do not give them any power over you.

“I am minding my own business. As you should be.” Cy stood tall and tried not to let her shoulders shake as the temperature continued to drop. Her hands itched for her blades, but she knew they were useless. She was useless against him. Her heart beat faster and harder in her chest, fear building. She should not have come. “What pretty eyes you have.” His face came over her right shoulder as his tattered cloak draped and flowed in the non-existent breeze. ”So pretty... to be alone.” His voice was a deep, soothing sound. “Alone. In the forest.” He floated closer, his mouth near her neck, blowing freezing, dead air onto her as he spoke. “ My forest.” His voice changed from a smooth melody to an angry rasp then back again. “Wearing such a beacon as this.” He reached for her red cape, she stopped breathing when the material moved under his thin, skeleton of a hand. Do not give him power over you. “Such an... inviting colour. Not one I get to see often.” His cold voice was calm, patient as his bright eyes met hers. Cy tried not to move, not to show signs of her fear as his cold essence soaked into her soul.

Cy broke the stare by closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, ignoring the growing stench of rot, and tried to clear her thoughts. Screaming wouldn’t help, neither would fighting. This wraith must have died this past winter, taking over this part of the forest as his haunt. He probably died from the elements... “You must be cold,” Cy said as calmly as she could, opening her eyes but staring straight ahead as he floated around the small area. “You must be in need of a new cloak.” She spoke with no emotion. The wraith stopped his circling and drifted in front of her, waiting. “I have a spare.” Cy slowly took off her pack without moving her gaze. She extended the bag to the dead fae in front of her, who was fading slightly. “There is a cloak in here,” she lied. The wraith paused, as if waiting for a trap to spring, then shot forward for the gift. But Cy was faster. She threw the pack into the woods away from the path. The wraith gave out a shrill shriek that resonated through the ground and woods as it flew after the cloak. Cy sprinted out of the lair, refusing the urge to look back. She kept her eyes on the wet ground, jumping over rocks and logs until she was back out into the warmer wooded path where she turned and emptied her stomach into the nearby bush. Part IV

Disappointment had slowly replaced her fear as she neared the town without her Mhamo’s medicine. The entire trip’s purpose was lost to foul luck and unacceptable naivety. She chided herself knowing that her mother and clan would be disappointed at her failure.

She left the forest trail and walked along a pebble path that ran alongside the town’s wall. She turned north, heading towards the gated entrance. The sun had completely set, giving the torches along the wall the only source of light. As Cy approached the last turn before the gate she saw a small group of inebriated males who were drinking and smoking on the path. Cy tried to ignore their gazes as she walked by, holding her head up high and not giving them the satisfaction of unnerving her.

She passed in front of the small group, eyes ahead, until a sharp smack hit her backside. “What a nice ass you have there, darlin’?” Cy froze in shock. “Too bad it’s covered by that red atrocity.” Cy turned in anger. “Whoa ho!” The drunk male’s gaze went to her chest. “And the front’s not too bad either!” Icy rage coursed through her veins as all four males took in her figure and hooted. She shook with rage and couldn’t muster a response. “Dressed like that, you’re asking for a spankin’! You should be grateful me and my friends are here to protect you. There are some creeps in this town. Some women oft’ get hurt bein’ by themselves.” All four men nodded with leering smiles on their faces. “Touch me and I’ll report you to the town guard,” Cy said as sternly as she could. “Baha! What’s them idiots gonna believe? A strange female or four males who ‘appen to be on good terms with the council?” The males stalked around her.

“You mean the council of older fae males?” The main guy nodded, a sinister grin plastered to his face. “You mean the council of fae males who my father had frequently-” before she could finish, one of the males darted forward and restrained her arms behind her back.

“Yer daddy ain’t here to save you, though. Is he?” The man reeked of alcohol as he spoke mere inches from her face. Cy felt fear creep yet again into her heart. They were right, no one would believe her over them. She was alone. Cy thought about her father then, about everything he taught her. His blades strapped to her back. The male holding her pressed himself firmly against her back, pressed his mouth into her neck and inhaled deeply. Cy smirked and took her opportunity. She threw herself backwards forcing the male to stumble back giving her the space to slam the heel of her boot on to his foot. He yelled out in pain and released her while she screamed hoping the guards at the gate would hear. Before the males could grab her again, she reached behind her and finally unsheathed the legendary blades bestowed upon her by her warrior father. Who had taught her well. “I am female, but I am not weak,” Cyfrwys said as she lunged.

Welsh translations: Cyfrwys = Cunning Mhamo = Grandmother Blaidd = Wolf


Am I Here? H.E. Ross My city is seven miles by seven miles, maybe a little more or less on either side but essentially is a round-edged square. San Francisco is the kind of place you come to or leave. All of my life’s memories of that beautiful place are captured in rum and ice movements with only one big and important memory-box showing me sitting still and that was the day I started sailing. I sat on a rock beneath a small port entry light at the Marina Green and saw for the first time slanted sails driving spear blade hulls through foam above the grey green bay waters. I was hooked on something I lived with but never saw. I was grateful to the forces of my surroundings for the first time since I was a kid and touched a buffalo hoof in the middle of the Golden Gate Park.

San Francisco blended my heartbeats in jazz and congas and parks and laughing schools and hurt knuckles pounding my colour into black and white kids’ faces. I grew up moving to the Haight-Ashbury and matured looking back at the ‘Mo District and appreciating the smells of my parks. There was dew on grass. There were bent eucalyptus twigs, tree ferns, ponds, small creeks, ridge-lines and dells. My first kiss and sex. The French witch with no underpants. My dog, Rover, shaking mud to a fine white fur. The plane landed and I bumped to attention. I had to remember my overhead luggage and overcoat. I had to go through immigration. I had to get a ticket for the bus into the City. I had to take a piss and wash my face and brush my teeth. I had to get something to eat so I could sober up. I woke up as the bus moved over the hill and sat up to see my favourite site… my City emerging from the soft crest of this hill. The city hall luminous and the seven hills undulating in mid-day light. Pastel boxes of whitenesses rolling up and down and spreading to the lower bay.

‘Image Is Everything’ said the rectangular billboard where there were no billboards before. Two tennis shoes stuck in my face. I blinked strongly and the billboard was blotting out the city hall, disrupting the pastels and contours. Where was I? At the bus station people seemed to be moving faster than my memory recalled. I was only gone four days but I had to look at the street signs to reassure myself that this was San Francisco. I had returned to the City many times from slow paced places and went right into gear, but something had changed… The last thing I concluded is what we all fear concluding: I had changed. Now, that is scary. I tried to tell myself that it was the booze and fighting and surprise family things. A lot had happened and I was not coping well, is all. I walked the wrong way to catch my bus, but decided to take a walk to the marina as an award to fate. I went into a liquor store and bought a half-pint of the word rum on a bottle and continued my walk. I mounted the hill above the tunnel and looked out at Chinatown. I stopped and sat on the cement rail above the tunnel and sipped from the bottle. It burned my throat and made me take a slug this time. I wanted to get drunk, I thought out loud. I was in my City and I wanted to be a San Franciscan. I wanted to get good and drunk. The breeze caught me up on that rail and I remembered my Lizard King sitting at her berth and wanted to be there right now. Capping the bottle I put it in my overcoat pocket and put the overcoat on, shouldered my bag and skipped down the steps into Chinatown. Chinatown makes me who I am every time I smell and walk its streets and alleys. My youth was spent courting those pretty little ladies who found me exotic, I was smiling now. Looking around at laundry hanging in droops from secret windows on blocks of buildings that I always guessed contained half of China’s population I breathed like I was back in town. I took another pull while walking and spilled a bit on my overcoat but did not care. I was at home. I was sweating now since I was not being touched by a breath of air passing from one familiar street to an alley shortcut to a street. I pulled off the overcoat and hung it through my bag strap, careful for the bottle’s easy access. Into North Beach and sunlight. I thought I should celebrate something. I was home? Na, I always celebrated that one. I was representing a nation, delivering its heritage? Yes… yes, that would do.

I stopped passage and turned at Washington Square, looking at the statue of Benjamin Franklin at its centre and crossed the street to enter Grant Avenue and some good bars. Years before it was the Anxious Asp. A cigar smoking lesbian midget ran the place. I was sixteen looking like I was twenty-five. I met two good friends there. One is dead now and one is a house-husband. Both were bad muthas, then. What was I now? The Asp is gone. A blood I had met in Mexico had bought it and moved it to the Haight during those latter stages of the hippy landings but it had failed. I did not like that guy anyway. Mike’s Pool Hall was gone also. It went when topless came in… almost to the day. Mike’s was wonderful and introduced me to the hierarchy of San Francisco’s underworld. Genovese to Sicilian to Bloods, all funded by Chinese. The heroin, pot and coke were routed through the toilet at Mike’s and deals were made at the pool tables for more than samples. Mike’s smelled like a German Beer Hall and had crushed peanut shells soaking up anything on the one foot up levels of its two floors.

Now, I was at Specks in his own tiny alley. Across from Vesuvio’s and City Lights Bookstore. The bouquet was memory. I poured the last of my rum into the last contents of my beer mug and ate my traditional cheese from the big slicer on the bar. The bartender saw me but knew me since I was a kid. I was home.


Chunk was walking along the shore with his head down, looking for lost things that he might be able to sell. But he wasn’t having any luck. Chunk found a cracked tin cup, a busted flip flop, and a waterlogged fashion magazine. The page was open to an advertisement for Miami Beach. It pictured a girl standing on a coastline with sand like sugar, and sapphire blue water. He was staring at the page when Zippy came along.

“Hey, Chunk. How’s it going?” “Terrible. I haven’t had a job in weeks and nobody will give me any food.” “Don’t worry,” said Zippy. “I know where we can get some free hot dogs.” “Let’s go!”

So Chunk followed Zippy through the woods to Monsanto Farms. The fields were surrounded by tall, chain link fence topped with barb wire. Atop one post was a camera. On the other side of the fence, the rows of hot dog trees stretched out long, lush and green beneath the blue sky.

They walked for some time. The sun was hot, and there was no shade. “How much farther is it?” said Chunk.

“Quit ‘yer bellyaching,” said Zippy. “It’s just up yonder.” Before long, they came to a hole in the fence and crawled through.

“Alright, let’s start digging,” said Zippy. “Digging?” said Chunk. “I thought we came here to eat.”

“I ain’t risking my neck for a few lousy hot dogs! Now, come on. Pick a tree and start digging before the guards arrive.” “Guards?” said Chunk.

“Yeah!” said Zippy. “You do not want to be here when they show up.”

The boys each picked a hot dog tree and started digging. In the distance, a siren began to wail. “Here they come!” said Zippy, dragging his hot dog tree over to the fence with his dirty hands. "Hurry!" Chunk began to yank at his hot dog tree in a panic. When it ripped from the ground, Chunk tumbled backwards onto the dirt. “I hate this!” he shouted, then scrambled to his feet and dragged his hot dog tree towards the hole in the fence.

The boys slipped into the woods before the guards arrived, carrying the hot dog trees over their shoulders.

“You know...which way...?” said Chunk. “Sure,” said Zippy. “I know these woods like the back of my hand. Come on!”

Chunk followed Zippy down a narrow path through a dense section of forest. Behind them, Chunk heard a popping sound over the rustling leaves of the hot dog tree.

“Holy crap,” said Chunk. “They’re shooting at us!” “Hurry up!” said Zippy, picking up speed. “It’s just around the bend.” Soon the gunfire subsided.

If Chunk thought he was hungry before, now he was plum famished. “I can’t take another step.” “This here’s good enough,” said Zippy.

“Let’s eat,” said Chunk, inspecting the tiny hot dogs on the tree he risked his life to steal.

“Naw, naw,” said Zippy. “You can’t eat ‘em dum-dum. They ain’t ripe yet.” “But you said…free hot dogs…those men…shot at us…” Chunk was so hungry and exasperated he couldn’t even talk.

“We gotta hide the trees and come back later when they’re full grown,” said Zippy.

“I’m going to kill you,” said Chunk.

“Come on,” said Zippy, and then he climbed a tree and planted his hot dog tree on a branch. “These things are genetically modified to survive in any environment.” Chunk couldn’t climb. He was so famished he could barely stand up, so he dug a hole where he sat and planted his hot dog tree. As he dug he daydreamed about beach buffets, immaculate white sand beaches, and blue water.

As they walked through the woods, Zippy was talking out loud about what he would do with his crop of hot dogs. “I’m gonna make me a sign, paint a big ‘ol hot dog with ketchup and mustard, and I’m gonna sell ‘em on the roadside for a quarter apiece. What about you Chunk? What’re you gonna do with your hot dogs?”

“I’m going to sit down on the shore and eat every last one of them.” “All of them? Shoot, I guess you really are hungry!” A week later Zippy and Chunk went back to check on their trees. Zippy’s tree was dead, but Chunk’s tree was as tall as a house, with thick branches full of plump, savory hot dogs. “I’ll climb up and collect the hot dogs,” Zippy said, and he shimmied up the tree, leaving Chunk alone on the ground.

“Throw me down a couple,” Chunk said. But, what with all the walking and climbing, Zippy realized that he was very hungry and began to eat. “What are you doing up there?”

Before he knew it, Zippy had eaten all of the plump hot dogs himself.

Feeling full and content, Zippy stretched out on a branch and took a nap. Chunk was so hungry and angry—hangry!—he decided to teach Zippy a lesson. So he gathered some sharp sticks, and stuck them into the ground beneath the tree. Then he shouted: “Hey, Zippy! The cops are coming! 5-O! 5-O! Let’s get out of here!”

Zippy was so startled that he fell from the tree onto the sharp sticks and was killed. Then Chunk cut Zippy into pieces, salted them, and dried them in the sun. The next day he made a sign and walked up and down the beach. He sold his jerky to a group of kids who were friends of Zippy, and made a good profit.

As he was leaving the beach, Chunk called out, “Stupid punks! You just ate your friend, Zippy! How’s he taste?” Chunk tried to run, but Zippy’s friends caught him and dragged him to a nearby shack.

“Let’s cut off his arms and legs with this saw,” said one of them. Chunk laughed and said, “That’s a great idea! I’ve tried so many ways to lose weight, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Then one of them said, “Let’s throw him into the ocean.” Chunk couldn’t swim, so he cried and begged them to let him go, but the gang carried him to the end of the pier. One of them said, “Guess where you’re going, fat boy.” Thirty feet below, the dark green water churned. Chunk couldn’t see the bottom, just fish and candy wrappers and dead jellyfish bobbing in the rolling waves.

“If you let me go, I’ll give you a hot dog tree,” said Chunk.

“Hot dogs?” said a boy. “You know what they put in those things?” And with that, the gang threw Chunk over the side of the fishing pier. Ker-Plunk! Chunk made a huge splash before sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The gang was lined up, peering down from the railing, seeing only foamy yellow bubbles, and then none.

They figured he was dead, and were about to leave, but then someone said, “Hey, look!” Below, a large, white object began to emerge from the green water. It was Chunk. But that wasn’t all—as his body rose to the surface, they could see that he was straddled on the back of a dolphin.

“Whoa!”

Zippy’s friends were surprised and delighted by this, and begged Chunk to teach them how to speak to dolphins.

Chunk called out, “I told him that I was a lost manatee!" and as he was riding away, "See ‘ya later, losers!” The dolphin carried Chunk far away, all the way down to Miami Beach, where he would go on to live a long and fruitful life.


INCOMING TRANSMISSION….SENDER: HIGH COMMAND……….DOWNLOADING…….4% ……. 36% ……. 78% ……. ERROR! TRANSMISSION MISSING CLOSING REQUEST. DECODING PARTIAL TRANSMISSION….. _______START PARTIAL TRANSMISSION_______ [SOL 127 - 0724 ] Sergeant Jay Hopkins, you are to head east of the town of Grenrik. Our foot soldiers are being pinned down from Imperialist artillery fire in that direction and data shows you are the only Javelin in the area who is capable of dealing with the threat. Reconnaissance suggests two artillery guns with t… _______END PARTIAL TRANSMISSION_______ “Well shit,” said Jay as she re-read the transmission. “The rest of that message could say anything. Artillery guns with the most dangerous soldiers this side of the Red Line. Artillery guns with the best brownies recipe stabled to them….Hey K-5, any chance of getting the rest of that message?” The 30 foot tall bipedal mech stood towering behind Jay, with it’s rifle sweeping around their perimeter. “I’m sorry Jay,” said the computerized static voice coming from the Javelin’s external speakers. “Seems as soon as High Command started transmitting to us, the Imperialist activated a radio jammer. I’m not receiving any external communications or data at the moment. Although a new brownie recipe would be a nice change of pace.” “Yah, I figured that must be the case,” Jay said looking at a blood smeared picture of what looked like a happy family from a time long ago. She tossed the picture and dropped the bullet ridden bag it had come from. She had been inspecting the Imperialist troops her and K-5 had just killed while on patrol. These troops were nothing more then grunts. Possibly doing some reconnaissance to see what defenses we had. By the looks of their gear, the Imperialist did not expect a Javelin pilot to be making the rounds since they had no armaments to deal with such a threat. Standing up and brushing the dirt off her pants, Jay started walking back to K-5. “I guess we better get going. These grunts don’t have anything useful. Do you at least have our heading?” “Yes Ma’am. I cross referenced the transmission with our own downloaded maps of the area. If we head south east at our usual pace we can arrive in 15 minutes. I’ve sent the data to your PDA.” Jay looked at her wrist PDA to see a detailed map of their current location, heading, and projected path. She furrowed her brow, analyzing the new data. “We don’t know what we’re walking into. There’s some high ground just south of the artillery. Lets go there first and see if they’re hiding anything.” “Roger that Sergeant.” Jay walked up to K-5 who had knelt down and opened it’s cockpit in the center of the javelins bipedal body. She climbed up the lowered hatched door and sat into the padded leather interior of the mech. With familiar gears whirling and a final airlock hiss, K-5 closed its hatch and stood up. “Passing controls over to you Jay,” came the computerized static voice inside K-5’s cockpit. ______________ Jay and K-5 could hear the artillery fire before seeing it. It’s thunderous booms rattled Jay’s eardrums, even through K-5’s thick hull. About half a kilometer from the source of the explosions, Jay brought K-5 to a halt. “We’d better keep a low profile until we know what we are really dealing with,” Jay said as she hoped out of K-5. “I’ll go ahead on my own, you hold down here.” As she crested over a crater filled hill, Jay noticed 300 meters away, a small enemy foxhole dug into the side of a cliff. It looked like a wave of dirt and rock hovered over, ready to crash onto the Imperialist underneath. She could see two long range anti-personal artillery rifles surrounded with sandbags. Each artillery rifle had four grunts assigned to it, working in unison to fire an anti-personal round every two minutes. Beside each artillery rifle was a single Scarab Class Javelin posted on guard duty. “Son of…” Jay whispered to herself. Scarab Javelins were tough little machines. Hard to kill, but thankfully they were no where near K-5’s Class, Mantis Javelin, fighting power. Scarabs were more like thick exo-suits then mechs. They had no A.I. like K-5 and were completely driven by a pilot. Standing only 10 feet tall, they were usually equipped with basic grunt weaponry. However, their thick armor can cause some problems. Normal bullets won’t penetrate it. Luckily K-5 comes prepared for any situation. Jay continued to survey the encampment. Watching the Imperialist shoot shell after shell. She committed the enemy soldier’s movements to memory, analyzing every nook and cranny, looking for vulnerabilities. K-5 was the only mech around that could deal with this threat. All other’s were probably on the Red Line. If Jay failed this mission, the town of Grenrik would be a loss for sure. Jay couldn’t let that happen. As Jay was turning around to crawl back down the hill, she noticed pressed inside the wall of the dug out cliff, a 10 foot metal door. “Interesting…” Jay whispered. Jay continued crawling down the hill. When Jay reached K-5, he was watching the perimeter with his rifle aimed. Jay began to talk in a low voice, “K-5, looks like Command’s intel was accurate. Two artillery guns maned with four infantry. We’ve also got two surprise guests, Scarab class Javelins.” “Those are easy to take on. How do you want to do this?” K-5 responded, continuing to watch the perimeter. Jay looked at her wrist PDA and reviewed the maps K-5 had sent her. “Ok K-5, I’ve got it. I want you to go half a km west of their foxhole, towards the town of Grenrik, and hide. We can’t signal to each other since they’re jamming us. So when our clocks read 0810, I want you stand up and start sprinting towards their encampment to draw their fire. If my timing is right, you’ll be their focus as I swoop in and kill them all.” “Roger Jay, beginning to move to position. You stay safe Ma’am.” “You too. See you at 0810.” ______________ K-5 reached 500 meters east of the enemy encampment. Looking around, K-5 noticed tall shrubs to hide in until it was time. Wood branches scraped their tough metal armor, as he laid down. Hiding from anyone who’d be taking a stroll in the battlefield; not that it was likely. K-5 never liked it when Jay would separate them. Their primary goal was keep her safe and with maneuvers like these, it was never a guarantee. Jay and K-5 had been in their share of fights together, so he knew to trust her judgment and intuition. But does not mean he had to like it. 0805, almost time to go. K-5 laid there noticing the clouds lazily drifting by and thought, “Jay, please be safe.” K-5 continued to lay there until an alarm sounded in his system. Turning it off, K-5 pushed out of the shrubs, unintentionally taking some branches with him, and ran towards the enemy artillery. It did not take long for the enemy to notice K-5. He was a gigantic mech trampling war torn farmland with pieces of branches stuck to him. K-5 shooting his rifle at them didn’t scream subtlety either. But K-5 would do it’s job to the letter if it meant having all the attention on him to keep Jay safe. K-5 could see the encampment clearly now, both artillery rifles were spinning towards him. The artillery grunts were screaming at each other to move faster. The Scarab Javelins broke formation and charged their oncoming foe. This had been Jay’s plan all along, K-5 rightfully assumed, because as soon as the Scarabs had left the encampment, K-5 could see Jay cresting the cliff above the encampment. K-5 planted his feet and raised his rifle at the oncoming Scarabs. Focusing his rifle on the closer of the two, K-5 unloaded the rifle into it. Bullet after bullet slammed into the closest Javelin, slowing it down. The Scarab raised his hands, deflecting the oncoming bullets. K-5’s rifle fire wouldn’t be able to penetrate the Scarab’s thick armor, but that wasn’t the point. K-5 wanted to slow them down and do everything possible to hold their attention away from Jay. The suppression fire only helped for so long as the other Scarab Javeline readied it’s own rifle and started shooting at K-5. While K-5’s armor was very strong, he wasn’t impervious to gunfire. One stray bullet, hitting the wrong place, and K-5’s systems would be in jeopardy. K-5 knew this, so he jumped to the nearest mound of earth to use as cover. K-5 put his back to the earth mound and waited. The Scarab continued to fire, trapping K-5 while they advanced. K-5 waited, tracking the Scarabs as they closer. 100 meters. Thunk, thunk, thunk. Bullets continued to drive into the dirt behind K-5, sprinkling dirt over his chassis. 50 meters, the Scarabs were almost on top of him. Relentlessly shooting and cutting through the earth. 20 meters. The branches still stuck to K-5 started splintering from the gunfire. 10 meters. K-5 holstered it’s rifle and bent into a crouch. It’s gears winding up and hydraulics pressurizing in it’s legs and arms. 5 meters. “Now,” K-5 thought to itself. K-5 grabbed the top of the mound and used it’s whirling mech arms and legs to push himself up. Leaping over the mound and landing inches from the nearest Scarab. “Nice of you to come to me.” K-5 belted out of his speakers. K-5 grabbed the arms of the Scarab’s with his own and with one swift movement, ripped the metal arms off. Oil and hydraulic fluids spewed from the Scarab’s open appendages. K-5 could hear the pilot’s scream as it looked like K-5 had also ripped the arms off of the pilot inside. “One threat eliminated.” K-5 exclaimed towards the remaining Scarab. The last Scarab, stunned, looked at K-5 who was still holding the limp arms of his fallen comrade. The remaining Scarab pilot howled in horror, raised it’s rifle, and sprayed bullets in K-5’s direction. K-5 swiftly dropped the appendages and grabbed the fallen Javelin mech. He then raised it between him and the enemy. Bullets screamed off the armless Scarab as K-5 advanced closer to his target. The enemy Scarab’s pilot bawled as his fallen comrade inched closer and closer. When within range, K-5 reeled back and threw the lifeless mech at his friend, knocking him over. The pilot tried using his Scarab’s arms to push his fallen comrade off of him, but it was too heavy. As K-5 walked to the defeated man, the pilot started cursing at him. “When my men are done with you, your soul will be dragged into the deepest pits of hell where it belongs!” K-5 leaned directly over the Scarab pilot, blocking out the sun. “Luckily for me, we AI don’t come equipped with souls.” K-5 clasped his right hand’s fingers into a spear like shape, and stabbed into the Scarab. Piercing through the thick metal armor straight into the pilot’s chest. K-5 removed his hand out of the now slumped enemy’s body. Unfolding his blood soaked hand, K-5 began shaking off the filth. He stood up and looked to where Jay was hunkered down. He could see Jay smirking back at him from atop the cliff. Raising his right arm K-5 gave a thumb’s up to her. “He can clean himself after we get through this,” Jay thought to herself. A thunderous explosion erupted below her. Ears ringing, she saw the horrific site in front of her. An artillery shell streaked towards K-5, ripping through K-5’s chest, shearing the cockpit and sending him back 20 feet. Jay watched from atop the cliff, helpless, as K-5 landed on his back, lights flickering. “No! K-5! You fucking bastards!” Jay screamed through gritted teeth. She took out two grenades, pulled the pins, and lobbed one to each of artillery gun. Two concussive explosions were followed by screams of pain. With her rifle armed, she slid down the cliff looking for survivors. She noticed a disoriented soldier who was struggling to his feet. Jay kicked in his knee with a gut wrenching crack. The enemy cried out in pain, falling back down. There was no sympathy in Jay’s eyes, or pause, as she turned her rifle to his head and fired. Silencing the man instantly. Jay risked a quick glance at K-5, lying there. His lights looked out. A crack of a bullet whizzed by Jay’s head. She instinctively crouched behind the closest artillery crate as more bullets peppered the air she used to occupy. “You scum!” A surviving Imperialist grunt screamed at Jay. “We’re going to fill you with holes like we did with your robot friend over there!” “Yah! You’ve got nowhere to go! " said another grunt. Both recklessly shot at Jay’s cover. Splinters of wood struck her face as she peered around her cover. “Shit,” Jay whispered, assessing her surroundings. There, within arms reach, she noticed a dead soldier within. She patted the soldier down, finding a smoke grenade in his breast pocket. “I can make this work,” Jay thought as she pulled the pin and dropped it at her feet. Thick green smoke billowed all around her, making it impossible to see anything, including her. “You think we got them?” The first Imperialist grunt said cowering behind a wooden crate as the second continued to shoot into the smoke. “How would I know? You should go check. I’ll cover you from here.” The second one had stopped firing but didn’t dare take his eyes off the thick green smoke. “You kidding? I’m not going to walk blindly into some smoke where a crazy soldier is waiting to ambush me. You go in there!” The second grunt ponders, weighing his odds. “Fine, how about we both wait and keep watch. The smoke will eventually stop and they can’t go anywhere. We’ll pick them off then.” “Good idea! We can just wait and see!” Both men agreed, trying to hide the fear in their words. A female voice came from the smoke, “Thanks for talking dick wads. You make this much easier.” A bullet streaked through smoke, creating a thin vortex protruding from the green cloud, slamming into the second grunt’s head. The first Imperialist yelped as his fallen comrade hit the dirt floor, blood leaking out of his head. Screaming in terror, the last Imperialist scrambled to his feet, attempting to dash away, jumping over dead bodies and spent artillery shells. Jay, stepping out of the green smoke, aimed her rifle and fired. Crack! The last Imperialist fell. Panning the area, she confirmed the area was clear, and sprinted towards K-5. Jay screamed at him, “K-5 are you ok? K-5 respond! Damn it K-5 respond! That’s an order!” Jay could now see black smoke coming from K-5’s chest as she got closer. “K-5! Failure to follow orders will cause immediate discharge. Now you get your ass up!” K-5 remained motionless on the ground. Jay’s eyes started filling with tears. “No. K-5,” Jay choked in a whisper. She slowed her pace upon seeing the extent of K-5’s wounds. His body was littered with dents from gun fire, oil from other Javelins or his own, and one big hole at the center of it’s chest where the cockpit used to be. Tears streaked Jay’s dirt covered face as she knelt next to him. “Come on K. Can you hear me?” Silence. She lowered herself into what was left of the destroyed cockpit and looked around. She prodded at the remnants of a central control panel, tearing off the screen exposing five control drives. These drives were what stored K-5’s core functions and saved data, basically K-5’s soul if he had one. Three of them were cracked, who knows if they’d be salvageable. She undocked each one carefully and put them in her pack. Jay slumped down, legs folded into her chest. “You can’t leave me K-5, ” Jay whispered. “I need you. We need to finish this war, together.” Jay laid in K-5 for several minutes before standing up. She stepped out of his metal body and brushed the dust off. A rough smoker voice echoed in the back of her head. “Buck up your bootstraps Jay. Mission’s not over.” A faint smile washed over Jay. “Roger that Dad,” Jay whispered. Jay walked through the battlefield, stepping over javelins bodies alike, to the mysterious metal door. She examined it, noticing it had not been opened and didn’t appear locked. Jay readied her rifle and rested herself next to the iron door. She listened for anything on the other side. She could hear computer beeps and what sounded like chains moving. Jay grabbed the door handle, took a deep breath and the flung the door open, aiming her rifle into the unknown. As sunlight bled into what looked like a small warehouse, Jay’s eyes adjusted to see the contents. Jay gasped and lowered her rifle. ______________ INCOMING TRANSMISSION……SENDER: SERGEANT JAY HOPKINS……….DOWNLOADING…….2% ……. 28% …..57%……. 95% ……. SUCCESS!….DECODING TRANSMISSION….. _______START TRANSMISSION_______ [SOL 127 - 0958 ] Command, the artillery east of Grenrik has been taken care of. Tell our soldiers in Grenrik to get a move on. I’ve destroyed an Imperialist jammer causing the issues with our communications. You wouldn’t be receiving this otherwise. You’re welcome. Reporting single casualty of the Mantis Class Javelin “K-5”. Retrieved memory drives for possible recovery. Returning back to Frethlin base to resupply. Will not be alone. Requesting eight fresh beds. See you in two days. Over and Out. Jay _______END TRANSMISSION_______


Staring down intently, Aevia watched her target as he wove his way through one of the many crowded markets in Vace City. He was a noble, born of wealth and not afraid to flaunt or abuse it. She had been following him for several blocks now, using the rooftops of the tightly packed buildings in this portion of the city. With a graceful ease, that would seem effortless to any onlookers, she leapt gaps from two feet to eight feet without strain or concern. Her black hair, with streaks of bleached white showing throughout, streamed behind her as she went. When the nobleman reached his destination, a well guarded inn built of heavy stone blocks and polished wooden timber, he gave a nervous glance over his shoulder before being ushered inside by two doormen. Aevia crouched low, waiting on an adjacent roof with an ever vigilant eye on the doors and windows within her view. She pulled out her small crossbow, light enough to wield with one hand as needed. She grabbed a bolt from the quiver on her back, running a finger over its tip and blade out of habit. She snapped it into place, where it would hold fast until she pulled the trigger to set it free. If anyone got in her way, she would be ready. With it ready and loaded, she clasped the weapon back onto a strap over her shoulder. When she felt the appropriate time had passed, based on her recent observations of the nobles patterns, she raced across a series of rooftops in a roundabout way to the least guarded, most shadowed side of the inn. It did not take her long to locate the window to the room the man had taken, as she could hear the voice of the woman she had followed a few hours earlier to this same inn, the woman who had been sleeping with the noble in an effort to earn his offer of marriage. Aevia reached into one of the many pouches attached to her tight leather armour, finding two small, iron balls. The patrol guard, who did laps around the building every ten minutes, was now on the opposite side of the building, leaving just the stationary guard who seemed more alert than she would have liked. Waiting any longer could make things worse, so she proceeded to toss the balls several feet away from the guard, in such a way that they would roll further down the side of the building away from where she was. When the balls struck the cobblestone street they made a loud sound, catching the attention of the guard immediately. As they continued to bounce, a trail of grey smoke trailed behind them, quickly filling the street with a haze. They emitted a hissing sound, as the minor enchantment within them ran its course. The guard dashed towards the thin smoke and odd sounds, with his sword drawn and his posture showing he was ready to kill. Aevia took the opportunity to make a running dash towards the end of her rooftop, leaping the much larger gap of fifteen feet between her roof and the Inn. She sailed across the gap with a practiced ease, and minimized the sound of her landing with a crouch and a roll before spreading out her body and grasping at the wooden tiles of the rooftop. The impact was a bit painful, and she grimaced as some of the stiff, curled edges smashed into her armour. There would be bruises for certain, but nothing she hadn't experienced before. Not wanting to waste a moment, she slid herself to the edge of the roof, then dropped down, grasping the ledge of the roof. A quick glance saws that the smoke had risen to eye level, and was starting to disperse. It would not be long before the guard realized the distraction for what it was and began an alert inside the Inn. Thankfully the Inn was a haven for more than just this noble, it was an establishment for many of wealth to seek out their sins in secrecy. Aevia had placed herself exactly where she had wanted to be, swinging herself forward directly into the closed wooden shutters of the nobles room. The shutters swung inward, as she knew they would, for she had fixed the hinges and bypassed the lock several hours ago when she had uncovered where the mistress would be waiting. Bursting into the room feet first, Aevia landed on the plush carpet at an angle and slid forward on the plush carpet a few feet, falling backwards onto her outstretched hands. With the elegant grace and strength of a spider, Aevia snapped back forward into a standing position as she drew her hand crossbow and pointed it directly at the chest of the startled woman, who was already down to her underclothes from the nobles hasty fondling. "Don't move." Was all Aevia said, in a stern yet quiet voice. He made no effort to protect her, and actually fell away to cling to a nearby wall as she stared in shock at the weapon aimed her. "Take what you want, anything at all!" she shouted at Aevia, raising her hands in the air without a thought of self defense. Aevia kept her outstretched weapon arm pointed at the woman, while turning her attention to the noble. "Harvin, Lord of Gnost… she stated, her slanted eyes showing no emotion. "Y..yyess…" He stuttered, while wetting himself in the process. "Your lady has a message for you, the Lady of Gnost that is." The noblemans' pupils expanded with a fear far beyond what he showed from her arrival. The stories of the nobles wife told her to be a very protective and wrathful woman. He didn't even attempt a response. "Return to Gnost, forget this mistress of yours, and understand that this will be the last time your adulteress habits leave you intact... or possibly even alive." Her deadpan tone, and unblinking stare, left no doubt as to who would be fulfilling the threat. The man fell to his knees as he pressed his palms together in a prayer motion. "I will, I swear! Just don't tell her about the others..." He groveled, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Aevia hadn't known about the others, in fact she had only just found out about this one a few days ago when trying to figure out her next source of income. The Lady of Gnost had no idea who Aevia was, or that her dear Lord was ever disloyal to her. None of that mattered though, all that mattered was that he believed it, and he was certainly demonstrating that he did. "Toss me your coin pouch," she said, tilting her head to the table he had placed his belongings on. "If there's enough there then your secret is safe." "There's others!" the scantily clad mistress shouted out, realizing what he just admitted too. She dropped her hands and was about to rush at the Harvin in a fit of rage. Aevia let the bolt fly, after angling it downward. The woman's dash turned into a fall as the bolt tore through her bare foot, pinning it to the ground. She screamed in pain, clutching at the foot and trying to stem the blood with the bottom of her shift. Harvin tossed the pouch at her, while Aevia reloaded her weapon with a quick and practiced ease. She picked it off the floor and lifted it with one hand. "Twenty, that covers you for week." Aevia said, wondering how much she might get out of this wretch before he decided it wasn't worth it, or began to doubt her. She pressed a bit further. "That ring, give me that and I'll forget about you, and your whores." "That's worth a small farm!" He gasped, "I can't poss..." "Your choice." Aevia said curtly, turning towards the window. She knew the gaurds would likely be at the room soon. "I'll see you in Gnost." "It's yours!" He snapped, frantically trying to pull it off his finger. He kept trying, but to no avail. "But I can't get it off. I can send it to you, just don't tell her!." Aevia didn't have any desire to see this man again, or risk and future encounters with him or his connections. Time was running out. "Use her blood, now!" She snapped, pointing her crossbow at the wenches foot. Although the noble was shocked at her request, he dashed forward and shoved his fingers into the small pool of blood that had formed on the floorboards, then was able to pull the ring off with a few twists in the slippery crimson liquid. The woman didn't object, just wimpered in pain and frustration with what was transpiring. He tossed the ring to Aevia. "When you get to Gnost, speak nothing of this." Aevia said, making sure her words were clear and firm. "The Lady does not want to be reminded of why she sent me, and your silence is the only way she will forgive you. Should you speak of this, she has told me she will hire me to permanently prevent you from sleeping with others again." Aevia motioned her crossbow towards his pelvis as she said this, and the color drained from Harvin's face. "Understood?" she said, now perched in the ledge of the window. The noble grasped at his manhood with his bloody hands, nodding fervently but saying nothing else. Aevia jumped up and out of the window, grapping the roof ledge with a firm grip. With the elegance of a gymnast, and the strength of a climber, she then hopped and spun a half circle before grabbing the ledge again. A quick jerk of her upper arms and chest pulled her up onto the roof, where she heard a guard down below shout out "There, I see 'im up there." Aevia dropped down to the rooftop immediately, narrowly avoiding an arrow that whizzed overhead into the night sky. Breathing a sigh of relief for avoiding the attack, she crawled forward a few feet before making a relatively easy escape across the rooftops of the crowded city quarters. Her newly earned coins and ring would be able to support her for several months if she ran out of targets... although she never had run out of targets before.


But when she took me home to her place, the bloody sock was a huge red flag. Red means stop. As we stumbled arm and arm up the stairs to her apartment, I stole a glance at my phone, but dammit, it was dead. She slammed me against the wall and kissed me violently, my hands covered familiar territory as I kissed her back. My heart was pounding as I absorbed the warmth of her lips, so soft and tasting like hot whiskey. She reached in and unbuttoned my shirt as she fumbled for her keys. This was a roller coaster near the top going click click click--no brakes no way to get out, it was all straight downhill from here. It had been a dull night at the bar until she showed up and picked me up. She broke away from our embrace for a second and in one smooth motion unlocked the apartment door and kicked it open. I froze for a second when I saw the bloody sock on the floor. I've never seen a bloody sock before. And yet here it was, just a normal sock saturated with blood. *Lots* of blood. Maybe it was red paint or some sort of varnish? She seemed to read my mind and said, "No, it's blood. One of the painters had an accident and had to go to ER, thank goodness for the plastic...." Maybe I watched Dexter a few too many times but clearly this apartment was wrapped in plastic and -- "Dexter, the TV show, ever watch it?" She said as she held my hand and led me inside. My head started racing and quite frankly I was feeling a bit woozy. Maybe I drank too much. Earlier that night I was sitting at the bar with one of my single friends when she approached and asked if I knew what band was playing. I said I didn't, but to me they sounded pretty good so far. She said her name was Kate and shook my hand and flashed a smile. She had a short black dress and her hair was spiky. She looked to be maybe 25 with sharp green eyes and just the right amount of makeup. I gave her a drink and we made small talk. I recognized her accent and guessed she was from Chicago, she said it was Wisconsin and was surprised I could tell. I was smitten. — As my eyes adjusted to the gloom of the apartment, I realized that everything was wrapped in plastic. The tables, the sofa, even the walls. "Um yeah. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea and..." suddenly my mouth went numb as my legs turned to jelly. She helped me to gracefully collapse onto the plastic covered floor. This isn't good. Not at all. "This was a *great* idea", she said "The ketamine I dropped in your drink at the bar should now be taking effect, and this won't hurt a bit. Well maybe a little." She started to laugh as she hiked up her skirt and sat on my chest while casually donning a pair of black latex gloves. "Actually, this is going to hurt a *lot*". Then the lights went out and the music started.


#Welcome to Micro Monday Hello writers and welcome to Micro Monday! It’s time to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic, you ask? Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I provide a simple constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. This rotates between simple prompts, sentences, images, songs, and themes. You’re free to interpret the weekly constraints how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.**   *** #This week’s challenge: - **Sentence: Freedom felt so far away.** - **Bonus Constraint:** A map plays a meaningful role in the story (this means it needs to be more than a passing reference). / This week’s challenge is to include the sentence “Freedom felt so far away” in your story (it is required). **You may change tenses/pronouns and/or add onto it, but the original sentence must stay intact to receive credit.** The bonus constraint and use of the included image and song are not required. **Please ensure that you follow all post and subreddit rules.** **Note: Don’t forget to next Monday!** (The form usually opens at about 11:30am EST Monday.) You get points just for voting. You can check out previous Micro Mondays .   *** #How To Participate - **Submit a story between 100-300 words in the comments below.** You have until **Sunday at 11:59pm EST**. (No poetry.) - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and rankings. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post, exclusively. Micro serials are acceptable, but please keep in mind that each installment should be able to stand on its own and be understood without leaning on previous installments. - **Come back throughout the week, read the other stories, and leave them some feedback on the thread.** You have until **2pm EST Monday** to get your feedback in. Only **actionable feedback** will be awarded points. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please follow all subreddit rules and be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here; we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. You can find a list of . - **Nominate your favorite stories at the end of the week .** You have until **2pm EST** next Monday to submit nominations. (Please note: The form does not open until Monday morning, after the story submission deadline.) - **And most of all, be creative and have fun!** If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail.   *** #Campfire - On **Mondays at 12pm EST,** I host a Campfire on our server. We read all the stories from the weekly thread and provide live feedback for those who are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Everyone is welcome!   *** #How Rankings are Tallied We have a new point system! **TASK** | **POINTS** | **ADDITIONAL NOTES** |:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:| | **Use of the Main Prompt/Constraint** | up to **50** pts | Requirements always provided with the weekly challenge | **Use of Bonus Constraint** | **10** pts | (unless otherwise noted) | ***Actionable* Feedback** | up to **15** pts each (5 crit max) | You’re always welcome to provide more crit, but points are capped at 75 | **Nominations your story receives** | **20** pts each | No cap | **Bay’s Nominations** | **20 - 50** pts | First- **50** pts, Second- **40** pts, Third- **30** pts, plus regular noms | **Voting for others** | **10** pts | Don’t forget to vote before 2pm EST every week! *Users who go above and beyond with feedback (more than 2 in-depth, actionable crits) will be awarded Crit Credits that can be used on r/WPCritique.* Note: Interacting with a story is not the same as feedback.   *** #Rankings for - - u/OneSidedDice - - u/ZachTheLitchKing - - u/oliverjsn8 ###Crit Stars - u/OneSidedDice #Rankings for - - u/GingerQuill - - u/oliverjsn8 - - u/MelexRengsef ###Crit Stars - u/GingerQuill *** ###Subreddit News - Join to chat with authors, prompters, and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly Worldbuilding interviews, and other fun events! - Experiment with tropes and different genres with the brand new feature on r/WritingPrompts! - Explore your self-established world every week on ! - You can also post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


She awoke in a dungeon of her own creation. The physical manifestation of her mind: a semi-circular room offering dust-gray walls, ebony doors, black marble floors, and an ebony table and chairs. This was her first time seeing it—but not her first time trapped here.            She had expected no better. Her surroundings represented a life fragmented by memory lapses, blank spots that she struggled to explain to puzzled coworkers and her boss, to whom she couldn’t afford to reveal her affliction. Some days, she woke in the morning, and, next thing she knew, she saw the moon in the onyx-black sky, and she spent the rest of the night wondering what she had and had not done during the missing hours. She could not plan; how could one know what one was going to do at any given time if one didn’t know who they would be at that time? She had hoped that her father’s death would solve the problem, but it hadn’t. And so she had had to seek help elsewhere. She had found it via an online advertisement. “Struggling with Dissociative Identity Disorder? I can cure you in as little as one session!” written in navy blue Courier New font on a lavender background. Beside it, a photo of a thirty-something woman with a white smile and perceptive-looking brown eyes. Adeline Carrigan, M.D. Jeanie had had her doubts but found the prospect of a quick fix for a condition she’d expected to struggle with for years, if not the rest of her life, too enticing to pass up. The following day, she’d landed on Dr. Carrigan’s burgundy velvet chaise lounge, telling her story. Dr. Carrigan listened, nodding and scribbling on floral-print stationery. When she finished, Dr. Carrigan said, “I’m so glad you found me, Jeanie. I’ll have you healing in no time.” She explained the process, after which, eyes sparkling, she proclaimed, “As I’m sure you know, nobody’s ever tried anything like this. It’s a huge breakthrough—and a huge help to people like you.” They got right to it. Dr. Carrigan told her to lie back and shut her eyes. At first, panic gripped her, as it always did when she did so, but then Dr. Carrigan started talking, sculpting her words with cashmere-soft hands. She felt herself slipping away, into darkness. Only this darkness didn’t scare her. This one embraced her. Now, she found herself wishing for that darkness again.            The door on the straight wall opened, and in walked her doppelganger. The sight stole her breath, and she collapsed against the nearest chair. Yes, she’d known what she would face, known that Talia was her, at least in the physical sense. Yet seeing her in the flesh brought a weirdness no one could possibly have foreseen.            “What’s the matter, Jeanie?” Talia drawled. “Astounded by your own beauty?” She sauntered to one of the chairs, sat down, and folded her hands on the table. “We need to talk,” Jeanie said. “Yeah, I know what you’re here for.”            “You…you do?”            “I’m not an idiot.”            Her father would have begged to differ. He had declared both of them as such what seemed an infinite number of times, like during his conference with her seventh-grade algebra teacher; the teacher had told him that Jeanie had been having a hard time with variables, and he’d snapped, “Well, what’d you expect? I’m sure you know by now, kid’s more than a few beams short of a house.” Jeanie’s cheeks had grown so hot that it seemed a wonder that their flesh hadn’t melted off their bones.            Much like what she felt right now.            Talia gestured to the chair before her. “Park it.”Legs wobbling, Jeanie did so. Talia speared her with a glare. “So you wanna get rid of me—after all I’ve done for you.”            “No, I wanna integrate us.” She’d read enough articles on the topic to know that alters were not the other one felt they were, but, rather, another side of oneself that would, rather than disappear, meld with one’s “host” personality when one achieved integration. Apparently, Talia either didn’t know that, or didn’t want to acknowledge it.            Talia leaned back, the parentheses beside her lips darkening. “So that’s that. You take away my autonomy, and, boom , a happy ending?”            “I didn’t say that.” She didn’t know whether she’d have a happy ending, even if she did get what she wanted. She simply knew that failure to do so would make that impossible.            Talia shot her a glare icier than any of which she’d thought her own eyes capable. “Don’t play with me. I know what this is: You got what you wanted outta me, and now you wanna dump me. At least own up.”            “I’m not saying you never did anything for me,” she said, bristling. “I’m just saying, I can’t do this anymore.”            Talia’s face reddened, her eyes glinting like fiery coals. “You don’t get it, do you?”            “Get what? What’s there to—“            “He called you a waste, did you know that? A waste of a body.”            She felt as if skewered through the chest. She didn’t remember that. Why didn’t she remember?            “And he shocked you,” Talia continued. She shook her head, a humorless smirk stretching her lips. “Man, he loved that taser. Bought it just for you. It hurt like hell…But you don’t remember that, either.”            No, she didn’t. It sent her mind spinning, recalling cop shows on which she’d seen people enduring what Talia had described, writhing in agony, their screams stabbing her despite the crimes that had invoked the punishment. Talia had committed no such crimes.            “Oh, and the time he tried to drown you in the bathtub. Remember that?”            Jeanie slammed back against her chair, the room tilting and smearing into a whirl. Drown her. He’d tried to drown her. She’d had no illusions of him, with any facet of his being, loving her as a father typically did his daughter. But she’d had no clue that he’d despised her enough to do something like that. And Talia had had to find a way to live with it. She opened her mouth but, for several moments, couldn’t speak. Finally, she managed, “I…I had no idea.”            “No, you didn’t.”            “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”            Her gaze sharpened still more. “I didn’t have to go through it, Jeanie. I chose to go through it, for you. ‘Cause, if I didn’t, that would’ve been it.”            A part of her wanted to argue, but she knew that Talia had spoken the truth. She’d barely survived what she had endured at his hands. If she’d suffered the events Talia had described, she wouldn’t have held on to the very little sanity that she still possessed.            Twisting, searing pain bloomed in her chest, coupled with longing to fold within herself until nothing remained. Instead, she told herself to focus on here. Now. Regrets would not make amends. Finally, she asked, “Would you…would you wanna talk to someone? Get some help?”            Talia’s expression changed in such a way that it left her face nearly unrecognizable. Her eyes flickered and then sharpened, staring at Jeanie as if seeing her for the first time, and shocked that such a creature could exist. She said, “You know, with this little shortcut and everything, I didn’t think you’d go that way.”            “What—“            “You wanna integrate? Is that what you want?”            “Yeah, but—“            “As long as you know what you have to do.”            Questions danced in her head, but she didn’t have time to sculpt them into words before Talia closed her eyes, leaned back, and started fading, becoming translucent. That rattled her so much that she still couldn’t articulate her inquiries, or anything at all. Talia continued fading, fading, fading. A ghost. A film. A wisp. And then nothing at all.            She stared, eyes nearly popping out of her skull. A rumbling sounded. The room vibrated. The wall crumbled, revealing the rest of the chamber, which looked identical to this half. A pile of splinters had formed on the floor, but, soon, they, too, disappeared.            She felt her mind stretching. Expanding. Remembering. Standing in the living room, a paperweight slipping through her fingers and shattering on the floor. Her father screaming. Worthless. Pathetic. A waste of a body, a waste of space. Her mother should’ve aborted her.            Her father gesturing toward some laundry she’d folded. Telling her that a five-year-old had more sense. Reaching into his pocket, producing the taser, aiming, and shooting. White-hot pain wracking her, agonizing even in the abstractness of retrospect. Weeping on the floor while he sneered above her. Praying that he wouldn’t go another round.            Her father confronting her as she came in the door two minutes past her curfew. Remarking, “If you’re not gonna be here on time, don’t come back at all—Actually, my life’d be a helluva lot better if you didn’t.” Tears running down her face as she apologized. Her father telling her that he’d had enough of her whining. Grabbing her by the hair. Yanking her into the bathroom, where he filled the tub. Pushing her head under the water. Scorching pain wracking her skull where it hit the porcelain, her nasal passages and throat as water rushed in. Flailing, clasping, desperate for something, anything, to relieve the pain, finding nothing. Her father letting go. Her shooting up, coughing and sputtering, flames in her chest. Wondering whether she should allow herself to feel relieved that he’d stopped this time, or whether she should feel terrified because, next time, he may not.            A flash. The sense of zooming through space and time. A jerk. She opened her eyes to see Dr. Carrigan looking at her. “All good?” she asked.            “All done,” she said. But definitely not “all good.”


At this very moment, Sally feels uncomfortable. The umbilical cord has wrapped around her arm causing her terrible pain. In her attempt to get comfortable, she moves and collides with Saulo, her twin brother. Saulo, furious, lets a kick escape inside the belly of Mary, their mother. Mary isn’t having a good time; she is forced to drop the last intact porcelain plate that remained from the *Cisne Royal* collection obtained from the marital property inherited by her grandmother. “Fuck” she says. Mary has no one to help her picking up the porcelain. Her husband, Víctor Alfredo García Rojas de Zúñiga, is signing the last page of the contract that will appoint him as the sales manager of the furniture distributor *Cositos&Cositas*. Víctor Alfredo wouldn’t even tell the news to his wife Mary, because he plans to celebrate with Daniela Costa first, the niece of the executive director. They have arranged an appointment at the *El Paraíso* (two stars) Hotel, and Víctor Alfredo has already bought the perfect *pisco*. But Víctor Alfredo García Rojas de Zúñiga is not insensitive; he had already planned to reserve the first of his salaries as sales manager on a Super Duplo T soccer ball that he would give to Saulo, his future son. What he doesn’t know is that, 13 years and 2 months later, Saulo would be selling the same ball in his attempt to save up for the sex reassignment surgery he planned to do since he was 8 years old. “You disgust me” his twin sister, Sally, would say to him. “Why would you do something like that?” “I feel it’s the right thing”. “Mom says that God only created man and woman…” “That’s not even relevant to this debate, stupid” Saulo would respond. “And don’t you dare tell Mom or Carlos about this”. Sally tells Carlos, the famous “Talara’s real estate guru” with whom Mary managed to marry after finding two used condoms wrapped in toilet paper inside the second inside pocket of Víctor Alfredo’s shirt. “I can explain it”, her ex-husband had told her. But he couldn’t. Carlos, the real estate guru, is alarmed by Sally’s accusation. He knows he would be a terrible stepfather if he goes around with the gossip to Saulo’s mother and a bad husband if he keeps the secret from her. “This bullshit wouldn’t be happening to me if I hadn’t married”, Carlos thinks as he remembers the last afternoon he spent feeding his fish Pepe, the only consolation he had during his miserable elementary education. At that time, the real estate guru was molested by Felix, the son of the whore Tula Cantonera (stage name). The brawl had begun when every fourth-grader found out that Carlos liked to collect *Clementoni* puzzles. “Little fag!” Felix shouted at him in the middle of the tumult. Thirty years later, the real estate guru listens to the same words again. While he and Mary are in *Cositos&Cositas* looking for a crib for the baby they were expecting, he is attacked by Víctor Alfredo García Rojas de Zúñiga's insults and provocations. “Carlos, do something!” yells Mary in light of her ex-husband’s threats. But the real estate guru doesn’t move. “This bullshit wouldn’t be happening to me if I hadn’t married”, he thinks again as he decides to leave his pregnant wife in the middle of the store. Three weeks later, Mary loses the baby in a miscarriage. No one feels less affected by this loss than her daughters Sally and Saulo, who now prefers to be called Sara. They receive the news in the middle of the purification retreat “*Mente Sanasa*” that happens in Calca. “Everything goes wrong in my life. No man loves me”, cries their mother Mary on the phone. “In the blink of an eye you’ll have already turned 20. All my life I have been alone”. Sally doesn’t know if it’s due to the effect caused by the *ayahuasca*, but she doesn’t feel like continuing to listening to her whining speech, so she hangs up. The two sisters leave the place and sit next to an old carob tree. Sara cries. Sally comforts her. “What’s happening?” Sally asks. “Everything is happening”. They remain silent, but it never feels uncomfortable. At a certain moment, Sara stops her crying and observes the sun hiding between the *Sahuasiray* and the *Pumahuanca*. “Do you realize that we could’ve been born in any other body and could’ve had any other life? For example, look at that peddler down there in the square: he’s old and sad, isn’t he? But what if he was thinking the same thing at your age? What happens if that were your hypothetical future?” “Nonsense, Sara. Nonsense”.


If Crawley were in America they’d call it a bumfuck town. There’d be hillbilly’s living on the outskirts and two thirds of the residents in the town would have the same grandfather. This is Britain so only half of the residents share the same grandfather and, being British, he’s not quite as vocal about his racism. We’re far more polite about our prejudices. You’ll be pleased to know I’m one of the other residents - with a different grandfather. And different skin. And a different accent. And I went to a different primary school. But don’t worry, my dad works at Gatwick just like everyone else’s parents, so we’re united on that front. Marcia’s different too, we sit next to each other in maths and she lives on the road behind me. She doesn’t share my deep love of Kerouac, or Sylvia Plath, or Salinger, but we do share a love of Japanese horror and a gaudy desperation to leave this place behind. My phone lights up with a message to say she’s leaving now and I regret telling her I was almost ready. Only mildly disgruntled at my lateness when we met on the corner, she quickly dives in to tell me about how amazing Bad Orange’s new album is. I drink in her enthusiasm, and make the right noises for her to continue effortlessly, as she describes the lyrics and how they make her feel; the sampling ‘to PERFECTION’, and reeling off references I never understand but adopt into my own repertoire to sound more cool than I am. I’m a good parrot in that way. Our knees knock together as she hands me half a headphone to listen with her. She wants me to understand, see? The cinema is mostly set up for parents to take their kids for a couple of hours of peace, Disney movies and rom coms but, in some strange small effort to unfuck this bumfuck town, they’ve tapped into some funding to also show ‘culturally relevant content’. So we’re watching Black Water, from the same director as The Circle and The Circle 2. Yes, it’s Japanese horror. No, we aren’t technically old enough to get in. The person on the desk either doesn’t care or Marcia’s strange ability comes into play and the tickets are in our hands without any questions. Marcia wears footballs shorts everywhere. She’s great at PE and in the football team so she somehow gets away with it throughout the school day when I get picked on for my tie not being knotted quite right. And then - like this - getting into the cinema or buying beer. Either people just like her or they don’t believe anyone would be dumb enough to try to buy anything underage while dressed quite so much like a teenager. Whatever, it works and I benefit. There’s no one else in the whole theatre. ‘No more subtitles for you, Crawley’ I think. At least they tried, eh? The movie starts. We’ve sat ourselves at the back at the top right next to the speakers and the fear makes me tingle as much as the bass. My way of dealing with fear is to stick my fingers in my ears, Marcia’s is to squeeze my hand very hard and open her eyes even wider at the screen. The whole room is very dark and in a moment of almost silence (the black water is very still right now and no one is being murdered, currently) I hear a click and notice a sliver of cold light creep through the wall a few rows down from us. ‘Fuck, Marcia, look’ I whisper. She looks. She darts up and clambers over the seat as I hiss at her ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ I don’t know why I’m whispering. No one else is here. Out of respect for the characters on screen who’re hiding from a maniac and soon to be decapitated, I guess. Her hand grabs the crack of light and opens a small door before disappearing through. I sit motionless before her head pops back round the door. ‘Come on then!’ Half expecting a time portal behind the pale light, it’s disappointingly pedestrian, just a sparse steel ladder leading up into darkness. She’s already half way up when I start climbing and she bangs the hatch at the top open to reveal the night sky. You can’t see many stars, Gatwick lights made sure of that. But it’s warm and there’s a view of our town I’ve never seen before. It’s strangely quiet, just the constant hum of the motorway in the distance and I suddenly feel very alone. Marcia has found a slightly higher spot where you can better see over the walls surrounding the roof. We could be on the top of a mountain. Or in a tree house. But we’re on the roof of an imax in the world’s worst town. Marcia points up to the inky night sky ‘could be Black Water couldn’t it.’ I follow her gaze, mouth open in wonder at the vastness above us. A seagull shits in my mouth. I wish this were a joke. A seagull. Shits. In. My. Mouth. And I’m transported straight back into Crawley. ‘Fuckkkkk’ Marcia is rolling around, crying with laughter. I’m spitting and gagging and rinsing my mouth with overpriced doctor pepper. ‘Fuck Marcia you cannot tell ANYONE about this!’ ‘Only in Crawley babe. What happens in Crawley stays in Crawley.