My village is long gone, reduced to ashes that the wind has long since scattered. My sanity fled the year my child would have turned seventy, leaving behind a hollow shell that echoes with memories. How does one deal with being ageless when everything tethering you to life vanishes in the blink of a battered and bruised eye? You don’t. You survive because the curse demands it. But I refuse to merely exist. There is only one thing that keeps me moving forward now—the purpose that drives my every breath, every motion. But that purpose remains locked deep within me, hidden behind a mask of compliance. My smile is chiseled in place as I watch him glide across the room like a phantom. His movements are fluid, every step a dance of grace and authority. The candlelight flickers across his pale skin, making him seem almost ethereal, a being untouched by the darkness that claws at my insides. His life’s vision, so meticulously crafted, is now complete. His people adore him; they whisper and gasp as he pays each person within arm's reach a personalized compliment. “Lord Diagine, it’s wonderful to see you back.” “Madam Kar, your visit to the new tailor has paid off beautifully.” The King’s voice is a smooth purr, each word carefully chosen to delight his subjects. He grants each of them the compliment he senses they crave, his tone dripping with honeyed charm. They feel loved, seen, and understood. It is only I who sees him weaving his magic, turning them into simpering fools. He takes his time making his way to the throne, relishing the adoration that follows him like a shadow. But I focus on the others—the ones who stand on the outskirts of the room, shrouded in the cool darkness where the light of his charm does not reach. These are the people who don’t swoon at his every word, who don’t beg for his scraps of empty praise. They are the worthy ones, the ones who are no longer under his spell. Their eyes are sharp, their expressions guarded, as if they suspect that not everything is as it seems. They are the ones who come to me, seeking understanding, solace in the shadows. My frozen smile is unwavering as I watch him take his place on the throne. His people adore him, but their adoration is shallow, a mere reflection of the power he exudes. My thoughts remain my own, locked away from his prying eyes. "My Queen," his voice intrudes on my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I blink, the King has stopped beside me, his fangs glinting in the low light, his expression a sickening mix of concern and condescension. The cold, metallic scent of his presence fills the air, mingling with the heavy perfumes and the faint, sweet aroma of blood that always lingers in these halls. “Are you well? Do you wish to be excused from the proceedings?” "I am well, my King," I reply, my voice smooth as velvet, though laced with a practiced sweetness. I bat my eyelashes at him, a gesture he takes as demure compliance, and he gives me a slight nod, satisfied, before turning away to sit on his throne. My stomach churns at the words—my King—but I force myself to keep the smile in place. I have played this role for centuries, and I will continue to play it, until the time is right. A maid rushes forward, her hands trembling as she kneels before her King, holding out a roll of parchment. She does not look upon him, for that is forbidden. She is human. Pure human, and terrified, as she should be. Her skin is pale, her eyes wide, and I can hear her heartbeat—rapid, frantic, a drumbeat of fear that echoes in my ears. All the pure vampires track every tremble, their hunger ignited by the anxiety rushing through her veins. The King lightly takes the parchment from the girl, his fingers brushing against the paper with an almost dismissive grace. He does not spare her a glance, believing that by ignoring the human maids, he will encourage his people to do the same. But he is so very wrong. I see the flood of blood-red eyes tracking her as she skitters out of the room. Her retreat is swift, like a rabbit fleeing a pack of wolves. I, too, watch her, but my eyes are cold, devoid of hunger or desire.

The King reads the parchment aloud, his voice filling the room with a dull cadence. His people listen as if he were a priest reciting psalms in Latin, their attention rapt, though devoid of true understanding. He assigns tasks, keeping his people busy with his grand but futile goal of preserving nature. ~~ A sharp feeling halts me mid-sentence, but I continue reading from the parchment, though my eyes flick to the Queen. Her gaze follows the maid as she rushes from the room, her expression inscrutable. The room feels colder now, the air thick with tension. A chill runs through me as I sit on the throne, allowing my people to discuss my latest plan among themselves. I take this moment to push into the Queen's mind, a skill she knows I possess but one I’ve always kept surface-level, gleaning only superficial thoughts. Her mind is a storm, roiling with thoughts and emotions that are kept just out of reach, shrouded in a mist that I cannot penetrate. It’s as if she’s hiding something—something I cannot see, and that troubles me more than I care to admit. I drum my fingers on the armrests. The cold stone beneath my fingertips is a stark reminder of the control I must maintain. This is indeed troubling. Her demeanor has changed subtly over time, and I have been too preoccupied to notice. I have worked my entire life to bring us to where we are today. I cannot allow anything to disrupt the delicate balance I have achieved. My Queen has grown distant, her thoughts harder to read, a subtle shift that stirs unease within me. Purebloods are naturally stronger than the turned, but even the mightiest being can be undone by what festers in the shadows. I fear what is brewing beneath her silence. Standing tall, I address my people, “My apologies, everyone. Please discuss and prepare your questions regarding the newest venture, and we will reconvene tomorrow.” After acknowledging their surprise with a nod and offering a reassuring smile, I turn and offer my Queen a hand. “Let us take a break, my Love.” As her eyes meet mine, her face remains unreadable. She takes my hand, but there is no warmth in her touch. The air between us is thick with unspoken words. We walk hand in hand from the room. Those who linger to discuss plans bore their eyes into my back, sensing that something is amiss, craving to know more to stave off any unwelcome surprises. But I cannot give them any warning. As the heavy doors close, sealing off the assembly room and the swirling emotions within, I feel the crisp, clear air. We are alone in the long gallery corridor. The sour scent of her bitterness sharpens as she pulls her hand from mine. “I shall return to my rooms now, my King.” She performs an elegant bow, and without waiting for my response, she escapes down the hall, her golden dress trailing behind her like the fading light of dusk. I watch as she reaches the end and turns out of sight. When I can no longer hear the click of her heels on stone, I snap my fingers. My familiar, a sleek black cat, unfurls from the shadows. Poised with tail flicking in agitation, emerald eyes piercing through walls towards what even I cannot see, he awaits my command. “Choose three of the best and meet me on the human level,” I command, my voice flat, my mind already placing my heart in a protective box. What comes next will carve a scar through my entire being. The cat slips back into the shadows, awaiting only the confirmation of my intent. A familiar sees all and obeys, bound to me as its sole tether to a physical form. I once attempted to name him, as humans do with their pets, but he rejected it. He is an excellent companion, but he remains nameless. I don’t follow my Queen. I know where she will go eventually. Instead, I turn in the opposite direction. My pace is measured, my pulse quickening with anticipation. I follow the hall to the curved staircase that leads upward. The top floor is for the humans. They work in the background of the castle, doing all the tasks their kind are so accustomed to. They love windows, so we give them the floor with the most, and they even have access to the roof. Vampires dislike windows in their living quarters, so we live below. The stairs lead me toward the faint glow of natural light, something most turned vampires cannot endure but which we purebloods can tolerate. My mother, a priestess who claimed I was the son and heir of a god of chaos, believed that this connection to divine power allowed me to thrive where others could not. Though I rarely seek out the light, her words echo in my mind whenever I feel its warmth. I walk the halls, taking in the beauty of the art that decorates every available space. Most of my collection comes from human history, but there are a few new vampire works scattered throughout as well. I encourage my people to partake in the leisure arts; it has proven to help immensely in balancing one’s self. The dusk sunlight from the windows catches motes of dust, making the world sparkle. I cannot hide my smile, even as the sun's rays itch at my skin. I traverse to the sleeping area for the humans. Each family has its chambers lining the hall. As I turn a corner, glancing at the family names above each door, a hiss filled with rage and hatred greets me. The Queen is standing in the hall, snarling at me, her pure rage outlined in her tense posture and curled fingers. Behind her are two males, not as angry as their queen, but more desperate—a desperation that can be even more frightening than anger itself. I let out a huff, attempting to defuse the situation and give her a chance to back down, to see the error of what she is trying to do. “How dare you read my mind!” she growls, spit flying as she grasps for words to fling at me. “You promised never to read my mind! You are a liar and…” “My love, what you are choosing to do is a concern for not only me but every soul here,” I interject. Her face turns pink as her rage boils over, her power surging forward. “How dare you!” “We must talk. Let us take a walk to the kitchens; we will get you a refreshing drink.” My words are useless; they fall on deaf ears. “I will save us all!” she screams, a wind starting to howl through the hall, the smell of bedlam riding on it. My mind briefly grieves for the art that will be damaged, but thankfully all the humans are hiding from the sight of vampires rampaging in their halls. “You will save no one by killing the humans.” I take a step forward, but her grin makes me hesitate. She opens her arms wide, encompassing the entire space. The wind gains speed, whipping the hair of her followers wildly, though she remains still. Only the sleeves of her gown are affected by the now howling wind. “Stop this tantrum now, or you will compel me to retaliate,” I say, widening my stance and pushing down the urge to unleash my full power. “I am the eldest vampire, the most powerful among us. Would you challenge your king?” She laughs, a crazed, acrid sound that reverberates in my bones. Something has gone terribly wrong with my Queen. She must have reached her expiration; her bloodlust has taken hold. Her kind never last long. They always bicker and kill each other off. But as Queen, she has lived a long life. It saddens me that I didn’t recognize the signs earlier. “You torture my kind. You leave them in ruins, in decayed homes. You feed them useless sludge. You wish to purge us from the world while holding the humans in gold-plated prisons.” “You will remember that I gave the turned humans a good village outside the castle. I gave them protection, houses, and food. The world of misery they live in is entirely of their own creation.” I allow my power to manifest. Darkness envelops the hall, even as her wind stings, slicing across my exposed skin. “You will cease, or die!” The shadows press down on her and her men, forming a barrier that traps the wind within. Her scream tears through the air as she rushes toward me, her nails reaching for my face, her eyes burning with madness. I mold the shadows around her, trapping her in the deepest darkness, unable to move, unable to see. My familiar takes this moment to stroll through the chaos and plop down at my feet. I glare at him, but he ignores my look, lifting a paw to delicately wash. Before I can ask if he was able to complete my orders, I hear the hissing and fighting as my men subdue hers. I have won. But what should we do with the Queen now? Her men will need to die, but the Queen requires a ceremony to signify her end to the people. Slightly elevated in the air she struggles within the shadows, elbowing the air, frantically kicking and circling like a caged animal—classic signs of bloodlust. I sigh and lessen the darkness surrounding her, tightening it to prevent her movement. “You think you have won,” she sneers, her fangs piercing her lip in her frenzy. Her thick, dark blood coats her teeth as she smiles at me. “Of course, I have won. Did you think I would let you drive an entire race to extinction? I am your King. You will be put away until I decide how to proceed.” I turn as I flick my hand, commanding the shadows to bind her and drag her along. “You. Are. Not. My. King.” Her breath hitches from the binding shadows, but the seething intent behind her words is unmistakable. I pause, turning back to her. I have let her live far too long. This is my fault. I should have been more aware of her change. How did I not notice it? I open my mouth to speak, but her crazed laughter makes me stop. My familiar is suddenly on edge, back arched and hissing. Her eyes bulge, but her laughter doesn’t stop—it only grows more jagged and sharp. In a sudden, violent burst, she shatters the shadow binds, her power overwhelming my control. The darkness dissipates as her wind surges forward, knocking me back. She lunges toward her followers, her hands clawing at the shadows holding them down. With a guttural roar, she tears through the restraints, releasing them one by one. “You think you can stop me?” she snarls, her voice raw with fury. “I will free my people, and we will find a place where your rule cannot touch us!” A fierce wind surges through the halls, nearly knocking me off my feet. My heart pounds as I fight to stay upright, the powerful gusts tearing paintings and tapestries from the walls as if they were mere paper. She glares at me one last time, her eyes burning with hatred and defiance. “This is not over,” she spits, before turning to lead her followers down the hall. I stand frozen in disbelief as she flees with her men, her power unleashed in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The art that once adorned these walls now hurtles toward me in a storm of chaos. The weight of the situation presses down on me, the realization sinking in that I may have underestimated her strength and resolve. I could chase them, end this here and now, but something in me hesitates. The shadows ripple around me, sensing my indecision. My familiar, now silent, watches the Queen and her followers retreat, his eyes narrowed. The hall falls eerily quiet, the wind and chaos leaving a strange stillness in their wake. “Hmmm,” I murmur, feeling the need to say something. “This will have to be dealt with.” My men, still in shock, exchange uneasy glances. My familiar, however, lets out a sound that can only be described as a disdainful snort.


We are meeting at the fenced off old amusement park tonight. The one with the signs warning about danger and not entering, and we are going to ride the roller coaster that is still under official investigation after that terrible accident there last month. The one that claimed two young lives and inflicted what the mealy-mouthed call life-altering  injuries on two more. We will walk past the deflated bouncy castle, where pools of water have already gathered in the flaccid, fading plastic folds, and past the waltzers that waltz no more, and past the dodgem cars that do not bump into each other with flashes of fluorescent light, and past the ghost train where the synthetic screams have been silenced.

     I have never much seen the appeal of roller-coasters, though I’m not afraid of them of course (and this is a simple statement of self-evident fact, not a boast). But we believe in playing fair, and Naomi loves roller coasters and fairgrounds. It’s my turn to pick next month. I have already made my mind up. We are going to dash back and forth across the railway line, and we are going to do it where it comes close to that old-fashioned and over-priced hotel where I once stayed for a couple of nights, listening to the trains as they disappeared into the woods and the limbo land between stations. I love trains. Perhaps someone arriving late or early at the hotel will see us, and will tut-tut, and will report us, maybe, but will end up feeling either foolish or frustrated, because we will not be caught.      Last month it was Ian’s choice. He fancies himself as a scientist, and perhaps he may have been one, if things had turned out differently. We wandered around the laboratory that was inside an electrified perimeter fence with skulls and crossbones signs and spent a strange sort of night surrounded by all manner of bacteria and viruses and chemicals and radiation. I had thought it would be rather boring, but there was something oddly compelling about the equipment and the constant half-light. I was reminded of when I started at college, and ended up getting hopelessly lost (I never did have a sense of direction) and wandered into the science block though I was a languages student. Looking back I realise that what I caught glimpse of was a bog standard chemistry lab in a bog standard campus university, but it made me think of science fiction B movies.

     There is an element of hypocrisy about being reminded and remembering. It is not actually forbidden as one of the rules of the society, but it is disapproved of, it will “serve no purpose”. But we all do it. Mike, who took us to the forest where the wildfires were raging the month before last, said it might be better if we had all lost our memories. But I don’t think he meant it.

     I fancy this place was dilapidated and well past its prime even before the accident on the rusting roller coaster. The little stalls that once sold doughnuts and ice cream and candy floss and cones of chips are now blind behind their shutters, their paint flaking. It is a place that seems lost and forgotten. Which is suitable enough for those who are lost and forgotten.      Except, of course, we are supposed to call ourselves The Immortals. We are the ones who have dared death, and who have escaped its clutches, and now we cannot die. I have heard a rumour that there is one way we can be released, but I don’t believe it.      To be sure, some great writers and artists and composers have evoked our ilk. But they are like legends and fairytales, even to us. Especially to us. We are the dull and drab ones, who are not swathed in soaring music or winding words or glorious colours. We are the second-grade, the mundane ones, who are left to our own devices, to organise our own meetings.

     Our newest member, Andy, doesn’t seem to quite get it. He is barely old enough to scrape in. He asks why we seek out danger when we know there is none. He will learn. I daresay all of us asked the same question once, even when we were older. He is sitting on one of the down at hoof horses on the carousel that always did moan and creek and disappoint, and looking as if he is trying to figure things out, and I wonder if the scream will come tonight, the scream that you think will never stop but does, eventually. Or does not. It will be a few months before he is allowed to decide where we meet. The power has come back on now. The carousel is turning and we can ride the roller coaster. I have dull, futile thoughts about those young lives that were claimed and maimed. I do not pity them. They would not pity me.

     “Beware,” says Henrietta, quietly. We are supposed to be equals, but of course that is so much nonsense, and she is the leader, or at least we act as if she is. But we all know what is meant by the single word “beware”. It does not, of course, mean be careful, or watch your step. It means that there is at least a chance that someone who is not one of us has penetrated, unwittingly, our meeting. Two things can happen now. The first is the more usual. They can go away, or their own volition, or with some presentiment prompting them. Then they will have strange dreams, and wonder why, and avoid the place where they had trespassed, and all places resembling it, and not be able to explain it, but they will have had a lucky escape. Or they can choose to investigate further and give in to the promptings or curiosity and daring, and then they will become one of us, but never wholly one of us. They will be in a limbo within a limbo. For reasons I don’t quite know I am willing the intruder in the amusement park to feel uneasy, to realise that they have made a mistake, and to slip back through the barrier they have somehow penetrated without the skills that we have.      They have not. They intend on staying. They have paused by the chipped and closed booth where cones of chips used to be sold. And I have a sudden urge to break the rules, to break one of our most strict rules, and to try to meet them. The consequences of this could be so awful that even we only speak of them obliquely.      I jump down from the apex of the damaged roller coaster and land safely on the concrete beneath, ignoring the warning cries of my companions, who truly do seem to have been stirred to a sort of panic. Andy is still on the carousel, as if he hasn’t quite grasped his unasked-for powers and doesn’t want to go on the roller coaster, and makes as if to follow me, whilst unable to believe what I am doing at the same time. “Dora, where are you going?”      “Stay there!” I command. He obeys.      I am coming nearer and nearer, and see that the person standing by the booth is a woman. Quite an elderly woman, though still, I think, sprightly enough, despite her slightly bowed posture. She is wearing a dark green coat that seems to glow both darker and brighter green in the lights of the amusement park, and seems to be lost in thought.

     An emotion is swelling through me that is both terrible and wonderful. When I was at school we once went on a trip to an amusement park, and I did not enjoy it. Perhaps because I’d had a tummy bug lately anyway, I had turned queasy on the roller coaster and, as I thought, shamed myself, and I had started crying. But our class teacher, Mrs Holt, could not have been kinder. She cleaned me up as best she could, and told me she’d had something similar happen to her, and looking back I wonder if it was a kind lie, but at the time I believed her. She took me to a stall to buy a cone of chips to “put a lining on my stomach,” as she said. They tasted good and the world became a slightly better place again. She had been wearing a green coat that day.      I am vaguely aware of voices calling, warning, unable to believe that I am breaking this taboo of all taboos. They seem to fade into a grey mist. Mrs Holt is smiling, and holding out her arms, and says, “Dora! What a lovely surprise!”

   It is a warm, human voice from a kind person whom I had almost forgotten. But she had not forgotten me. And that is what matters. I step into her arms, and there is peace.


 A Ghost Story   Grace lay quietly in the hospital bed. Her heart monitor showed a slowing of her heartbeat. Her husband sat beside her bed crying. Grace felt as if she were melting into the bed. She tried patting her husbands’ hand, she felt cold creeping up her body. Her legs felt like ice. She breathed through her mouth gasping for every breath. Her husband kept raising her gown to feel her legs. He could feel the cold moving up her body. Grace quietly wondered what was on the other side. She was sure that there was life on the other side, her Baptist faith had taught her that. What would it be like? A nurse came in and checked her vitals. “Nurse, how long will it take me to die?” Grace quietly asked. The nurse looked down at her and smiled, “The process always takes about two days.” Grace sighed and lay still, feeling as if the melting was quacking.   She slowly drifted off to sleep.

  Grace woke up, the room seemed bright and she felt o.k., she sat up and pushed herself off of the hospital bed. Her husband was sitting in the corner crying and signing some paperwork. “Joseph, Joseph, I feel so much better.” She walked over to stand beside him. She looked down at the paperwork he was signing. She reached out to touch him on the shoulder. “Joseph, look, I am better.” He did not glance at her, he continued filling out the paperwork. She felt frustrated and turned around in anger. She noticed a body still lying on the hospital bed.   She walked over to it and saw that it was herself. It suddenly dawned on her that she had died. She reached down and pinched herself to see if she were dreaming. She felt no pain with the pinch. She stepped back and suddenly a tunnel appeared before her. It looked black around the edges, but there was a bright spot at the end of it. She knew she had to follow it through to the end.   Grace walked what seemed like miles to the end of the tunnel and stepped out on the other side. She followed a path of gold bricks through some woods and as she topped the hill, she saw the golden city on top of a high hill. The gates seemed gigantic and hewn from a single pearl. A man sat on a stool by the entrance. He got up and walked towards her. She felt embarrassed as she stood there in her hospital gown. He held out a hand towards her, “Welcome to the gates of heaven, please wait and I will open them for you.” He walked over and pulled on a golden stranded rope; He waved his hand for her to enter. She walked in and suddenly saw a group of people huddled off to the side. They turned and approached her. She blushed as she realized her nakedness standing there. The gentleman reached out his hand, “Welcome to heaven.” He said, his gaze did not fall from Grace’s face. The woman pushed her way gently towards grace, “Don’t worry about one thing, we will see to all of your needs and set you up with a house here.” She smiled broadly. Grace smiled, can I see my Grandmother and Grandfather?” A man behind the woman nodded, “You may visit your relatives after a three-day settling in period here.” He smiled at Grace. The woman looped her arm through Graces, follow us, we want to take you and show you your new home.   They walked down the streets of heaven; Grace saw people in every manner of dress even from centuries past. The gentleman beside her smiled as he looked down at her, “everyone here dresses in the way they did in life. It helps everyone feel comfortable here.” Grace nodded, “I see.” The streets were crowded with people, No one seemed to pay attention to Grace’s hospital gown. They approached a beautiful Victorian home, the man who had addressed Grace and welcomed her dropped the keys into her hands. “This is to be your home here.” Grace’s hand flew over her mouth, “Really?” The group nodded and hugged Grace. “Grace, get settled into your new home and I will come around for you in about two hours’ time and we will go pick you up some clothes. Grace nodded, “that would be great!” The group waved goodbye and left Grace standing there on the front porch. She turned around and inserted the large skeleton key in the lock. The door swung open and she walked in looking at the grandeur of the home. It was beautiful! She walked up the stairs, and into the bedroom. She looked around and glanced out the window to the street below, she saw a couple with a child walking down the street below. She opened the closet and glanced into the closet, there were no clothes there. She looked at how spacious the closet was. She walked down the stairs, through the dining hall and into the back kitchen. It was spaciously laid out. The furniture was ornate and looked Victorian in design. She walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. She noticed there were no clocks on the wall so she could not decide on how to tell when to expect her company.   The sun shown brightly through the window, Grace got up and pulled back a panel of the heavy velvet gold drapery.   Soon a rapid knock came at the door. Grace walked over and opened it. “Hello again, I have come to take you clothes shopping.  The woman pulled out a tape measure and started taking all of her measurements and writing them down on a pad of paper. Grace turned and posed as asked. “How do you like your new home Grace?” The woman asked. It is grander than the one I had when on Earth. The woman smiled, she waved for Grace to follow her. They walked out into the street and followed a winding path which was lined with shops. Grace saw people walking with bags in their hands. They finally stopped and entered one. The woman approached the proprietor. “This is our new citizen Grace. She needs a wardrobe for here.” The woman smiled, “Welcome Grace.” The woman studied Grace’s measurements and stood up rubbing her chin. “I have just the thing for you.” She walked out among the racks and pulled hangers off of the racks left and right. She handed them to the woman. She motioned for Grace to follow her. They walked back into the dressing rooms and started trying on outfits. Grace picked out her favorites that she had enjoyed on earth. “How do I pay for these,” she asked, the woman smiled and laughed, “You do not dear, shop keeping over here, is a service to others. All work over here is in service to others.”  She smiled, placed the clothes back on the hanger and handed them to Grace.  “Hand these clothes to the clerk and just let her scan them out and place them in a bag for you.”     Grace did as she was instructed. “May I wear an outfit out?” Grace asked. “Yes of course the woman said with a big smile on her face. “Grace looked at the woman, what time is it?” “We have no time here per say, it is never dark here either.” She laughed softly and opened the door, “There is a wonderful little restaurant down the road that I think we should stop and eat a bite.  Eating is not a necessity here, but new commers usually take a while to adapt to that aspect of living over here.” Grace smiled and swung the dress bags over her shoulder and followed after her friend.     They followed the golden brick along to a section of town with a lot of restaurants and the woman chose one and opened the door for Grace.  “What do we eat over here?” Grace asked. “Mostly fruits and vegetables.” They chose a place close to the window and sat down. They picked up the menus and perused them, Grace instantly requested the pear salad.  The woman stopped and smiled sweetly, Grace, “I never told you my name.” Grace smiled, “No you have not.” She looked at the woman gently.  “I’m your great, great grandmother, that you have never met in life. I am Mary Terrell. Grace placed her hand over her mouth, Great, Great Grandmother.” She looked at her intently. “Yes, and I am so happy to finally have met you.” She smiled.  “I am going to be your best friend and help you settle into things here.” “Grace, I think I will take the Pear salad as well.”


Howard Wilkins, sixty-three (Widower, arthritic knee) Rose that morning, despite his pains, With one purpose: spotting trains  For Howard lived to see in action The roaring behemoths of traction To see them roaring through a station That - to Howard - was true elation  To see trains was to feel alive Hence his house, in Chaffinch drive From every surface displayed this passion (*Wilfully* disdaining fashion)  In photos hanging from the wall Stood trains from large to very small Here trusty freights, there record breakers Some scrapped now, they’d “met their makers”  Model sets stood proud on shelves 1:10s and 1:12s, And in pride of place, TMST (That’s eurostar, to you and me)  Though if one really sought to look In each cranny and every nook Though the collection was a delight Something there was not quite right  For though Howard’s pictures, bright and shining, Showed royal engines, carriages for dining, Amongst them all could not be seen A single engine built for steam.  For Brunel’s monsters, pride of Britain, Which left his fellow spotters smitten, Could not in Howard Wilkins sire A tiny inkling of desire.  Men in the club would chide him often, (Especially chairman, Roger Mofton) “Howard, chief amongst your evils, Is your blinkered view of diesels”  And Howard, inwardly seething, Would distract them, temper even, Smile warmly back at their harangue “Time for food - Vi’s made meringue.”  He had to say, he thought with pride, In fact he’d told her, as she died, Vi’s cooking was the best he’d eaten, In bed he’d called her “Mrs Beeton”.  Yes she’d not been that bad all told Until she’d started getting old And Vi, with all her aches and pains, Had took up all his time for trains  He wrung his hands - they still felt dirty, *But anyway, it’s gone 4:30* Time to get the show on the road *Or on the rails -* his joke of old  The morning’s fun still to begin He started whistling, was it a hymn? He’d sang it at a funeral Though quite when, couldn’t recall  He gathered up his torch and flask \-Equipment for this morning’s task- Satisfied he’d packed it all He hurried onwards, down the hall  As he passed the living room Glowing softly, from the moon Was there a shadow, clear and neat Lying by the three piece suite?  No - there was nothing of the sort His mind was just a little fraught He shook his head, left by the door Locked it, checked, then checked once more  Sat neatly round him, sleeping sweetly, But most importantly, *discreetly* Stood modest semis, in a row, Mrs Comstock’s bungalow,  Shiny cars and well-kept gardens (ignore the gnomes outside the Mardens’) Announced the folk who lived within: Proper, *private*, just like him.  He’d always liked that - Vi had too When they’d moved in at sixty-two Neighbours *greeted*, but nothing further - Even if you screamed bloody murder  He knew they’d never have any trouble Safe in that like-minded bubble He’d thought of that as Vi grew sicker Thought of it, when they would bicker -  He shut the gate and started walking.. Now Vi was gone, he missed the talking Though the house, where he’d turned violent Was never really - truly - silent.  He turned up the path, slightly uphill Braced against the morning’s chill All was still, all was sleeping No neighbours prying, no deliquents creeping...  But wait, that woman, up ahead? Had she cut across that flower bed? Caused that cursed dog to bark, Creeping round here, in the dark?  He peered out through his anorak - She didn’t move, or gesture back He called in greeting, but more in warning “What are you up to here, this morning?”  As soon as he spoke this aloud The moon shifted behind a cloud A ray of moonlight lit the scene - The woman? Nowhere to be seen.  At his call he’d noticed twitchings From forty-nine, old Mr Hitchens The estate was private, his neighbours shy But nothing passed old Hitchens by  And Howard, sweating only slightly Waved and nodded, quite politely Then he turned and walked on, briskly To give Hitchens gossip was far too risky  The danger of the old man passed He started on his way at last To the station, a walk away Across the old dual carriageway  No traffic or lights, glaring or strafing His feet along the pavement chafing For Vi, (her thrifty matched by nought) Had bought him shoes a smidge too short  She never had quite understood The way Howard felt in his blood That order and perfection mattered He’d thought that as her blood had spattered...  But pushing Violet from his head And focusing his mind instead On the purpose of this sortie The diesel pulling the 05:40.  He huffed and puffed, feet hot and screeching To the quietest station saved from Beeching Although that was a grand description For a small brick building, caked in lichen  The station’s guard, a man named Devine Would not be here til five past nine And as this stop had but one commuter Howard stood alone, in moonlit pewter  He took out his notebook, paper witness Spotting was a detailed business Much information needed amassing Firstly - the time of the train’s passing,  He sighed - why were trains just so unable To keep to their own set timetable? He checked his watch now, growing restless Why was the whole world just so feckless?  Then in the distance, he heard it coming The familiar metallic drumming But too came a sound, a moment later Was that the haunting song of vapour?  His heart ran cold, an old affliction The dark side of his train addiction The part that he so vainly tried To obfuscate, cover over - hide  Vi had asked once - she’d loved to pry * She hated trains, so God knows why - “Those old steam engines your friends mention - Don’t they capture *your* attention?”  He’d told her it dated back to Father Who’d been a soldier - conscripted, rather He’d taken steam down to the ferry That took him off to death by Jerry  That wasn’t quite the truth, all told What really happened made him cold For Howard Wilkins, duller than most Had once - and just once - seen a ghost  A ghost train to be more precise A hellish and profane device But it was true, real in its vocation And what’s more - it was at *this* station  Lost in this memory, blind to his eyes With a jump he realised Up the platform, looking back, Stood that woman, dressed in black  Now then, again, no-one was there He stared at dark and empty air He had a thought (quickly despised) Was her face one he recognised?  But then from down the track, like rain Came the whistle, a beast in pain He whispered aloud now, quite deranged, “I think the timetable has changed”  It was true, zero dispute A steam whistle (the devil’s flute) At five hundred yards, now maybe four The very train he’d seen before  The pistons slowing, metal clanging The wheels protesting, boiler banging Howard watched on, nerves quite distraught As the engine slowed to a halt.  Last time the train had roared right through As from its funnel, fire flew He’d only had a glimpse inside At those on their eternal ride  On seats of fabric, worn and fraying Sat bodies of the long decaying Though were they corpses? Hard to say If they could claw and scream that way?  Men and women, first class to third Screamed past the platform, the image blurred Steam billowed around young Howard, burning These memories flocked back, returning  And worst of all, source of his fears Words that haunted through the years As the train rushed past, lit by the moon A voice had called “You’ll join us soon.”  His heart beat faster in his chest The train came slowly to a rest The engine now was right before him Purring loudly in the morning  He gazed in wonder, or maybe fear To see the impossible stop so near Engine, tender, carriages black Clear as day, sharp as a tack  From outside all was quite serene * Apart from the atrocious steam - But inside - now there one could tell That this was truly a train from hell  The corpses screamed, whooped and cried, Turned handles vainly, locked inside They clamoured, their dead arms a’beckoning Inviting Howard to his reckoning  A tall man from the rear descended Checked his watch, his face offended “So sorry that we’re running late, I do try to be on time for fate.”  He gazed at Howard, from top to floor “Ah! Mr Wilkins - I’ve seen you before I knew it then, I’m never wrong This train is right where you belong”  “Now if you please, we need to hurry We’ve four more stops (and that’s just Surrey) If you would kindly step aboard I think you’ll find your just reward.”  As Howard started his approach To the nearest black and gleaming coach The beasts on board roared and knocked, Protested Howard “The door is locked.”  “Not so fast” the Guard’s smile was wide “What makes you think you’ll sit inside? ‘Replace the stoker, until repentance Coal and fire’: that’s your sentence”  A blackened man stepped from the tender His eyes red hot, charcoal ember His body broken, bent in double Produced for Howard a filthy shovel  The spade was hot - no wooden handle Melting his hands, as wax on candle Howard screamed, he dropped the spade Jumped back from the unholy crash it made  “How” said Howard “Am I expected To use that tool as you directed?” It can’t just be me that understands That to shovel coal I need my hands?  “Mr Wilkins, do you not comprehend Just where you are, and to what end? You’ll shovel coal, make no mistake Until I hear your backbone break.”  “You’ll be in pain, and you’ll carry on For Howard Wilkins, you’ve done wrong This train must run, this train needs coal And if you stop: I’ll burn your soul.”  “Now on the tender, and quick about it My orders are not to be flouted Though yes! I do have one nice surprise Someone’s here for their goodbyes”  And the woman, dressed in black Haunting him, was once more back She pulled down her laced and ornate veil To show a face, waxy and pale  There hadn’t been an open casket After the knife from the bread basket And though the mortician had done good work Her face remained a jagged smirk  She’d never made that smile alive While sat with him in Chaffinch drive “Hello, dear.


Rohan : Ok Rina : “ what ok , its not a joke” Rohan ; “ I will do it” Rina : what are you talking about , have you lost your mind , it is matter of your life Jitesh : hey Rina why are you coming between us , if he said he will do it let him do , don’t interfere in men’s matter. Rina : Hey , why are you provoking him to do such task that will risk his life. Jitesh : He is interested in doing it . Jitesh challenged Rohan If he can jump from 100 feet height without any equipment’s. Rohan was a fitness geek so he accepted the challenge , he thought that there is nothing in the world that he can’t do . Rina who was very good friend of Rohan was always aware about evil mind of Jitesh who was their colleague. Jitesh always used to create problems in others life , and enjoys watching others in pain . but Rina was a very tough girl Jitesh tried so many times to get her away from his way but Rina every time came with an idea to solve problems of others. Rohan was one of the most hard working employee of the company. For him work was worship , he just enjoys the duty he was given and due to these qualities he was going to get promotion . His seniors were very happy from his performance and they were looking to give him the position of marketing head. Jitesh was very jealous from him because he was 4 years senior from him and he was at the same position were he joined the company. He was well aware that Rohan always looks for adventurous things in life . so he gave him challenge if he could jump from a 100 feet rock to the sand he will give him a grand party. Rohan said yes to him without thinking about that it could be very dangerous for his life. Rina was there when they were talking about all this , she has never told Rohan but she liked him when they joined the company . they joined the company at same day and got training together . They were from different cities and from different culture but they soon became very good friends . Rina liked Rohan from the day one when they met but she didn’t know that if Rohan also likes him or not and she never shared her feelings with Rohan because she was afraid that she will loose a good friend . Rina was totally against the idea of doing this stunt, but Rohan was very excited to do this and he didn’t thought the consequences of it and Jitesh keeps on provoking him and he also told him that if you will not do this I will spread the word everywhere that how bog coward you are. Rina was helpless now she was thinking what she must do to stop this nonsense to happen. Their senior manager Mr. Swaminathan was very supportive to them , he always liked Rina and Rohan as a hard working employer. Rina thought I should talk about this to him , but she was feeling that it is junior employees personnel matter should she talk this matter to him. But there was no other elders in that city with her to whom she can share her problem and get some valuable suggestions. She knew that Rohan was bit childish she need to act fast before he do some harm to himself in search of some fun. She went to Mr. Swaminathan and told him everything . Mr . Swaminathan “ I knew that Idiot Jitesh is jealous of Rohan , he is the most useless person in our company who joined just because some of his relative is in the board of directors of the company. He always creates problems for others but this time he has gone too far. Wait I am coming I will talk to Rohan not do this “ . Mr. Swaminathan and Rina went to Rohan’s desk after sometime but he was not there then they looked for Jitesh but they didn’t find him too. They went to security guard and asked him if he saw Rohan and Jitesh . Security guard said “ There shift was over so they went home. And yes Today I saw a weird thing that today Jitesh gave lift to Rohan in his car as they went together, Jitesh Sir never gives lift to anyone in his car. “ Rina became very worried about Rohan as were they have gone he just wished that Rohan safe till now. Mr . Swaminathan told her to keep calm he will call his fiend who is in traffic monitoring headquarters , he will help him find both of them with the cctv cameras records. Cell phones of both Jitesh and Rohan was switch of , Rina was sure that Jitesh played some trick and made Rohan phone off. Soon Mr.  Swaminathan gets call from his friend that the no of car which he told went to the direction of Kailari hills . Mr.  Swaminathan rushed to his car with Rina and they also took security guard Nandu with them. Soon they reached the Kailari hills , Rohan was standing near the cliff , it was a sandy his about 100 feet high . Jitesh was shouting from behind jump, jump. Rina got out of the car and rushed towards Rohan to stop him . She shouted “ Rohan please don’t jump wait a minute listen to me. Rohan looked at Rina and also saw Mr .  Swaminathan with her, she ran to Rohan and hugged him and said “ I love you Rohan I liked you from the first time when I saw you , Please don’t jump for the sake of our friendship.” Rohan was surprised to know that she loved him as he always looked for a girl like Rina to be his life partner. Soon Mr . Swaminathan reached close to them and told him get back to the car and go home. Jitesh was very afraid he never thought that Someone will tell this too seniors in the company , he thought that he will manage everything after the incident , but things were different now. On the very next day It was decided in the company that Jitesh will be fired and won’t get any benefits from the company also he wouldn’t get any experience certificates after what he was going to do with an employee of the company. After 1 month of this incident Rohan and Rina got engaged to each other. Sitting at a beach on evening Rohan asked Rina if Jitesh will not have asked me to do that dare would she accepted that she loves me.  Rina just looked into eyes of Rohan and smiled; Rohan got his answer. The sunset was beautiful it looked like sun was going inside deep water of Sea to get fresh and rise again next morning. Rina leaned on the shoulder of Rohan watching this beautiful moment.


He wasn't much good at waiting but walking into the office of the woman you've loved for decades unannounced wasn't a great tactic. The fact this version of Heath Breeland stood seven inches taller than the original only added to his conundrum. It would be one thing if LeeAnn recognized him and totally another to explain it.

The last time they spoke, Heath the OG made a lighthearted remark, suggesting that if he could only find a portal to a parallel universe, he'd show up at her door, flowers in one hand, hope in the other. And, in the spirit of that impossibility, LeeAnn gave her harmonic laugh and readily agreed to let him in.

Now, a week since that fateful conversation, Heath stood in the shade of a weeping willow, anxiously awaiting to capture the heart he so craved.

He remained partially hidden and cool while keeping the front door of LeeAnn's interior design business in plain view. Rechecking his watch told him only five minutes had passed since his last glance, and it would be another hour before LeeAnn closed up shop.

While his transformation would cause some difficulty in identification, LeeAnn was unmistakable. Standing nearly six feet tall, the woman was slender, strong, and elegant. Flowing blonde hair that often carried tints of bronze or twists of ginger bounced, swayed, and floated to the middle of her back. If she wore her hair up, it revealed a long, graceful neck, small ears, and a well-shaped, feminine jaw.

The centerpiece of her beauty lay in a smile that beamed warmth, kindness, and good humor, and above a delicate Nordic nose were eyes that dazzled in a yet unnamed combination of blue, green, and gold.

Heath had known LeeAnn for nearly forty years. From early childhood, laughing and playing in the innocence of youth, through their teenage years until a break caused by the arrival of adulthood and all that goes with it. In the decades since their paths diverged, Heath had yet to lay eyes on a woman as beautiful as her.

Inexplicably, the universe decided to grant his wish, and Heath hoped, maybe LeeAnn's too.

*** Being an archeologist was rarely, if ever, like scenes from Indiana Jones. During his accomplished but dull career, Heath never discovered lost cities secreting treasures guarded by booby-trapped corridors. The closest he'd come to anything like that was helping excavate the foundations of buried structures that surprised him with a few snakes and spiders.

Everything changed when he was summoned to the site of the ancient Phoenician site in Sardinia, but he wasn't on his hand and knees scooping primordial soil into a sieve when he saw it.

Adhering to the Italian fashion of shutting down work in the mid-afternoon hours, he'd taken his lunch pack and walked to a lone olive tree sitting in a hollow on the hill. Having eaten a remarkably delicious Italian tomato and cheese sandwich and enjoyed the overly sweet but addictive limoncello carbonated beverage, Heath made a headrest from his pouch, then stretched in the shade of the tree with the air warm against his skin and lulled by the rhythmic wash of the sea against the shore.

Still unaccustomed to napping midway through the day, he'd rolled over, turning his face toward the twisting bark at the base of the tree when the glow of a soft blue light caught his eye.

At first, he'd thought it was a reflection off his watch, a stone, or something else catching the sun, bouncing back a spot of the azure sea, but instead, the light seemed to be emanating from within the root structure. Being a digger, he began scratching away the earth from the tangle, and as more the light shone, the soil around began to fall deeper into a void beneath the tree. With hardly any work, the small opening grew to a chasm pulsing with a blue hue.

Before the Phoenicians settled the area, the land was home to the Nuragic, a civilization dating back to the 1900s B.C. Not much is known about those peoples despite leaving the landscape dotted with over 700 structures, including the 350 Tomba dei Gigant- Tombs of Giants , and the awe-inspiring water temple, named the Sanctuary of Santa Maria, an intricate designed subterranean well that aligned with moon phases experts declared would be hard to replicate today. The fact primitive peoples made it remains unexplained.

Heath quickly ran through his mental notes on what he knew of them and their history, but nothing about an olive tree with roots of blue light rang a bell.

He dug deeper. The hard-packed earth, a mixture of limestone and clay, began to soften until a wide swath of it sloughed away into the hole below, and now Heath could see that the blue light came from somewhere further down. The shimmering that caught his eye was a reflection bouncing off the congealed sap that clung to the root structure in great globs. The opening, large enough for him to easily slide into, left him with a choice; go or stay. Curiosity is crucial to being a successful archeologist, so he'd only faintly considered the latter.

With a final look over his shoulder, Heath grabbed his pack and slid into the abyss.

*** By the time he'd jogged across the parking lot and crossed the street, LeeAnn had locked the door behind her and strolled around the corner. An unrealistic fear of having her vanish around the turn gripped his heart.

Dressed smartly in a loose white blouse decorated with floral stitchings of pinks, purples, reds, and stems of green over top form-fitting blue slacks, LeeAnn strode along in a pair of white heels matching her shirt. With her head up and her long, wavy curls bouncing over her shoulders, the woman moved along the sidewalk with the grace and poise of a model, having forgotten the impact of her beauty on passersby.

"LeeAnn!" Heath called out between breaths as he hurried to catch up. It was a marvelous habit of hers–always greeting someone with a smile, and when she turned to address the source of her beckoning, Heath stumbled, then stopped. Standing still and gazing at her, he smiled. It had been too long since he'd laid his eyes upon her. And, as usual, he cursed under his breath, never able to process her beauty; "Lord have mercy." Her smile faded as she looked in the face of her caller. Her eyes held recognition and confusion. She took a step backward, then glanced over both shoulders to verify her surroundings before returning her gaze to the strange but familiar man standing before her. A burst of nervous laughter came from her throat as she braved a step closer, then, shaking her head, she spoke, doubting the words that left her lips.

"This isn't real. Heath?"

"Hello, LeeAnn," he replied, handing her a bouquet of exotic orchids, lilies, and roses. "Yes. It's me. Heath. I found it–the portal. It happened." “Hah-hah-ha!” She threw her back, her long neck extending and hair falling away from her ears, revealing a set of gold hoops swinging at a pendulum's pace. Clapping her hands made a crisp smack, and she responded with a robust laugh. "Nice try. He's clever, I'll admit, but this is going too far, even for him!"

Heath laughed, at her, himself, the absurdity of the situation, and the impossibility of having to explain it convincingly.

Waving a long and beautifully manicured finger at him, she replied. "And I'm a member of the Royal Family living in obscurity rather than a single mother and over-worked decorator!"

Heath stepped closer and watched LeeAnn's smile evaporate once again. She narrowed her eyes, looking him over closely.

"But. It can't be–can it? " she asked, moving a step closer to him. "Can it?" "It can't, but I promise it is. It's me. I'm real. It happened." With an avalanche of words, Heath recounted the events in Sardinia, what he found, how it happened, and how he came to see himself standing before her today, the same man, albeit much taller and slightly slimmer but with the same white in his hair, the same face and eyes.

Listening without interruption, LeeAnn erased the remaining space between them, raised a hand to his face, and finally spoke. "But how? How are you taller? How can you be different but the same?"

"From them, the Nuragic. Consequentially, they are real, living in underground cities you can't imagine. You have to see it to believe it, and in case you were wondering, the legends are true–they are giants." Looking up at him, LeeAnn ran her fingers through his thick hair, her fingertips softly brushing along his chin, then she took the flowers from his hand and giggled. "You're more handsome as a taller man."  Suddenly becoming aware of the two of them standing in the street, she dropped her hand from his face and took his hand. "Okay, this whole business requires a drink. Come with me." The fold of her fingers over his sent waves of indescribable contentment through his entire body, and Heath, having known long ago that he would go anywhere LeeAnn led him, readily followed along.

A few minutes later, the pair were seated at a table in the corner of the bistro, LeeAnn gazing with disbelief at Heath while he tried not to faint from the overwhelming joy of being in her company. It was all he could do to focus on answering her questions, of which there were many, and give answers as plainly as possible.

"So, you want me to believe you fell asleep like Snow White under an olive tree, then fell into a hole in the earth and landed amongst a lost civilization of giants in underground cities." she recounted. "Then, out of the goodness of their hearts, they gave you some magic beans to make you sprout up nearly a foot, then showed you a door where you can jump through time and space?" "Space, yes. Time, not that I know of. As far as I can tell, everything is as it was. Nothing is different except that I am here, with you, precisely how I had dreamed about a million times. And it wasn't beans, but a type of corn--I think."  Heath looked sheepish momentarily before screwing up the courage to tell her the rest. "It wasn't random; me being here, taller, and to see you," he confessed. "They asked me to tell them my dream, and my dream is you." LeeAnn looked at him quizzically. "What about you-you? The original version? What happens to him?"

Heath smiled. "That's the best part! At least, I think it is." He began to explain as best as he could understand. "He's back up top in Sardinia, scraping rocks and gathering dirt into buckets–the Nuragic exist with twin souls. Each of us has a double, one that exists as a separate entity while the other remains in the community or ventures out to discover other experiences."

LeeAnn raised the glass of Pinot Grigio and took a long drink, then set the glass back down with her impeccable French-tipped nails drumming on the stem. "And you–he, will go on living life the same way, doing the same things, thinking the same thoughts, without any knowledge of this-you running around in the world?" "That's how I understand it, yes," Heath answered, calmly trying to mask his eagerness to tell her the next piece of information gleaned from the Nuragic giants.

LeeAnn comically dropped her chin to her chest and shook her head, sending her long hair blustering about like a lion shaking his mane and then shrieking with amusement.

"What's so funny? Besides everything about this?" Heath asked, reveling in the sound of her laughter.

"OG you!" she answered. "You'd better not run into him; that guy has a very serious crush on me!"

"Hmm. Yeah. There's a rule about that," Heath answered. "The giants made it rather clear that the twin entities must never converge. Observing the other from a distance is fine, but apparently, bad things happen when you get too close." "How do you speak with them?"

"It's telepathic, as far as I can figure. Their lips move, and they hum more than annunciate, but you hear everything in your head in plain English. It's rather remarkable, really." "I bet it is," she answered. Then LeeAnn looked at Heath with serious eyes. "So, what are you going to do? Why are you here?" Heath took her hand. Light as a feather, it rested in his. "I'm here for you, LeeAnn. I said I would come. You know how I feel about you–what I want." Her eyes flared, and a beat of blush rose in her cheeks, then she drew her hand away. "You know that's not possible," she said. "What about my kids? My life? I can't just walk away and disappear. Sure, you showed up looking exactly like I wished for a time or two, but that doesn't mean I can drop my life and run away with you, even if I wanted." "You don't have to. But, if you want to take the chance, to trust me, and let me love you the way I want, in the way you deserve." Heath paused. This was the scary part, and he'd run through a thousand versions of what to say and how while he waited for her to finish her work day. He swallowed and silently prayed for the right words to come.

"We can make portals anywhere. We can manifest whatever we want. The Nuragic showed me the universe is just a system of channels tuned to different frequencies," Heath explained. "Why, you could change anything you wanted. You can try being shorter or having hair as black as coal." A mischievous smile appeared as he offered his following words. "If you wanted to know the feeling of being more curvaceous, all you have to do is think it and wink," he said, referring to LeeAnn's past complaints of being small-breasted. "Everything is possible."

 Heath reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth sack. Slipping off the tie, he turned the pouch over and emptied it onto the table. A gemstone the size of a walnut, rolled across the tablecloth. The nugget pulsed with blue light.

"The only requirement is that your desires be true. If you believe in what you want, it's only a matter of asking." Heath explained and clasped her hands in his. "Nothing changes here. Your kids have you, and this you continues on this path."

Heath took a gulp of air and forced himself to be vulnerable to her, the woman he'd loved as much as his other life allowed, as much as it was possible. "You can't imagine how well I could love you. I mean, I already do, but I can show you happiness. I can give you the things you've been wanting for so long. All those spaces inside of you that have ached for the kind of love I can give."

LeeAnn felt the trickle of tears running down her cheek as she sat listening to this man who had somehow stumbled onto the impossible, found the answer to the inconceivable, and bared his heart and soul–for her.

Through all the years of his unwavering attention, silly, romantic, comical affections, and unyielding declarations of admiration, he was here, presenting himself to her, having overcome the final, superficial, but concrete boundaries she had held.

All he wanted was her.

She sniffled, gave a short burst of laughter, and took her hands away from his, seizing a cloth napkin to dab her eyes. "You're going to ruin my makeup," she remarked and laughed again. But when she finished wiping her tears away and looked at him again, Heath had never seen such a beautiful face. Nodding as she spoke, her heart sent the words her mind could not find.

"I'll never understand what I've done to make you feel this way about me," she said between laughing sobs. "I've hardly given you any attention at all, and I've never led you to believe something that wasn't true. But, ok. Yes." Then a whimsical, joyous bubble of laughter broke from somewhere deep within, and she repeated the word. "Yes." Feeling like he was going to explode into a billion atoms, Heath was about to speak, but LeeAnn sprang from her chair, leaned across the table, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. "Now take me with you, and don't you dare break my heart!" she commanded.

Squeezing her hand, Heath looked into her dazzling, sparkling eyes and told her the truth he knew. "You are my heart."


The Last Time I Cried In truth, I am not an emotional person. I do show my emotions, but only with a smile or a frown. I used to cry a lot. In fact, I can tell you that most people enjoy a good cry. Although, I haven’t cried since the year 2014. Wondering what happened then? I’ll tell you. Betrayal. It’s such a strong word, no? Over the years, I have found that people tend to overuse it, along with words such as ‘hate’ or ‘love’. Well, I can assure you that, in this case, I do not exaggerate. In fact, I believe I handled it all very well. So, it all started in January 2014, I had just gone back to school after Christmas. School back then was fine, you know? Not too hard, not too easy. Just… fine. Or at least it was. The thing you should know about me is that I am rather inept when it comes to making friends. Truthfully, I suck at it; I start talking to someone and then I get so afraid that they’re not going to like me that I decide that I’m not going to like them first. This happened every time I would try to socialise. Of course, there was, as there always is, an exception. This exception’s name was Ruby. Allow me to tell you a little bit about Ruby. She’s my age (so was 9 at the time), has (or at least had the last time I saw her) long golden hair that smells of roses, and beautiful brown eyes. We had known each other since birth, as our parents were also childhood friends. I’m not sure if this is true or if it is just a lie my mum told me but the first face I saw after I was born was Ruby’s. She was my best friend and my confidant. Of course, nothing lasts forever. Ruby and I were never really interested in romantic relationships (because we were ten) and so all of our energy was focused on each other. You’d think this would get tiring but I can tell you that we never got sick of each other. We were inseparable. This made what happened next sting so much more. We were in year 5 and we had just gotten a massive project: the science fair. Now, in retrospect, this wasn’t that big of a deal but, at the time, it was the most important thing in the world. When a project is announced, you look around and try to find a partner. Of course, you’re supposed to be listening to the teacher, so this must all be kept under wraps. That group-finding experience is often the most soul-destroying activity that one would ever have to participate in in school (nay, in life). Naturally, as soon as a teacher announces a group project, you look straight at your best friend and make direct eye contact with them. Then, you both share a nod full of excitement but also covertness. That nod sums up everything about your relationship. This is what we do did every time… until once Now, the week before the fair was announced, Ruby and I had gone to TK Maxx with our mums so that they could buy trainers. The people to whom these trainers would belong would forever remain a mystery (they were for us). As is protocol in such scenarios, Ruby and I, while our parents were trying on their detour clothes (the clothes that people try on when they visit a shop, just to waste time and fill up their wardrobes), we ‘borrowed’ some money from each of our mothers’ handbags and awayed to McDonalds. When we got in, we were going to order but I needed to drain my bladder (as, at the time, it felt like I had a fish tank in my pelvis) so I went while she ordered (we both know each other’s orders (5-piece chicken select, large diet coke and chips for me and an entire share-box of McNuggets, a large diet coke chips for her (we weren’t fat, we just had large appetites))). While I was gone, Ruby had an encounter. This encounter was with a boy named Elliot. First, let me tell you about Eliiot: he had chestnut-brown hair and piercing blue eyes, he was charming, handsome, everything most girls wanted and everything most boys hated. Despite their hatred for him, every single boy in the school seemed to bow down to him (all but one-me) and every single girl seemed to love him (all but one-Ruby). The standard reaction received from a girl when encountering Eliiot was something along the lines of ‘Eliiot… wow… you’re here? That’s such a coincidence… Oh my god! It’s fate! Ha… Isn’t that silly?’ (even when they ran into each other at school). This is what made seeing Ruby encounter Eliiot all the more pleasing, as her greeting went something along the lines of “what do you want, ****wad” (yes, that is the language we used at the time). However, this day was… odd. This is because, while her initial greeting was identical to the ones of the past, their next action was a hug. Wondering how I know this? I was about to emerge from the bathroom, but I saw it all the door. Ruby collected our food and then sat down with the monster (Eliiot Price) at our table. I watched on in abhorrence as Eliiot munched on my fries. Although, I couldn’t help but notice that there was something off about Eliiot. There was something of with his face. It’s almost as if he was… sad. Shocked? Me too. But… what could the Eliiot Price possibly have to be sad about? Was he struggling that every girl in the school loved him? Was he frustrated that he was too handsome? I was stumped. Eventually, after devouring half of my fries, Eliiot stood up (as if to leave) and gave Ruby one last hug, loaded with suspicious innuendo, and got his almost weeping butt out of Ruby’s and my ‘straunt (as we called it at the time). After watching for about 10 minutes, I had had some time to calm down. Unfortunately, this did not come through in my greeting. In fact, the words that came out of my mouth were something along the lines of “WHAT THE ****, RUBY?” (past-me’s words, not mine), “You hate someone for years and suddenly he’s your best buddy? What’s that about?”. Her response made me eat my words: “Charlie… his mum died”. Instantly, my anger was quelled. I sat down. Suddenly, it was so blindingly obvious why Ruby’s hatred of all things Eliiot had been temporarily silenced-out of kindness, sympathy, decency, whatever you want to call it. Despite my hatred of all things Eliiot Price, this… event only made me respect Ruby more. About 10 days from then, came the ruling, judgement day the possible apocalyptic outcome. By this, I mean the day we chose partners for the Science Fair. That day, I woke up with a plan in mind-go to school pick Ruby as my partner, live happily ever after. However, it appears that Ruby had formulated a different plan-wake up, go to school, rip out my soul and stomp on it, live happily ever after. Melodramatic, no? Well I didn’t think so at the time. Nevertheless, the first 2 steps of our plans were similar: wake up and go to school, and so we did. As was the norm for us at the time, I was driven by my mum to pick up Ruby at her house , which was only a few streets away. We exchanged pleasantries with Ms. Rydohi (Ruby’s mother) and then we departed. What stings the most about what happened once we arrived at school is that, to Ruby, it was an ordinary morning, and we conversed accordingly, me completely oblivious to what would soon happen and her with the most malicious of intents. We arrived at school. Typically, we would have greeted our friends, taken our time putting our coats and bags on the pegs in the cloakroom and then lazily saunter to class. Today, however, our typical routines we rendered moot. This is because the entire year-which was really only the size of about 2 classes- was dying to get to registration first. See, the way pairs were chosen at the time is the first pair there would be together. Because of this, people would wait outside the classroom for their partner and then enter. And so, I did. Unfortunately, it seemed that Ruby had found a new default partner: Eliiot Price. That’s right, her vowed arch-nemesis, the Joker to her Batman, the Lex Luthor to her Superman, and suddenly they were best friends. Confused? Yeah, I was too! As I saw that idiot Eliiot Price walking down the corridor with my best friend, I was hurt to my core. It was like someone had reached down my throat and pulled out my heart, along with all my other organs, rendering me without means of living. Instantly, I relived all my greatest memories with Ruby, but, when I say ‘relived’, I mean ‘watched’, as my face was slowly morphing into that of Eliiot Price. Soon, I was erased from Ruby’s life and all I could do was merely watch while I was somewhat shunned from my entire life. It is a pain that I still relive to this day. You may be thinking “Oh my god, stop over-reacting; it’s just a science fair”. Well, I can tell you that it was not ‘just a science fair’. In fact, it was my relationship with Ruby. She was an endless well of happiness and comfort on which I could draw and, that day, she was taken from me or, more accurately, she left me. Unfortunately, this pain was not… swift. I then had to endure watching them both walk into registration and… be paired up. I couldn’t take it. The thought of them working together tore me apart. I knew that if I stayed a second longer I would break down. In prevention of this, I ran. I ran and I ran like the giant green monster was chasing me. Over the years, there has always been a safe haven for people in this situation: the toilets. I had my destination. My feet carried me, as if separated from the rest of my body. I didn’t notice how fast I was going until the classic corridor T-Junction, where I bumped into my headmistress, knocking her onto the floor, scattering her sheets of paper onto the floor. “Mr. Looker, what are you doing?”, she asked. Unfortunately, I was not in a position to answer such a question so the response she received was something along the lines of “I… Flannin…” before I panicked and ran even faster to the toilets. Thankfully, upon my arrival at the toilets, a stall was just being vacated, I was too distraught to notice the faint odour of faeces and old urine. I loudly opened the stall door, put the toilet seat down, sat on it, and wept. It was a cry like no other. Everyone knows it: silent, yet deafening, a soul-penetrating sob, an elegy for the greatest of losses. I didn’t go to the science fair. Obviously, there was an awards assembly and a week full of people congratulating the winners, but I just couldn’t stomach going. I know it seems stupid now but i never talked to Ruby again; I saw her in the corridor and bumped into her in Tesco but we never… talked. You know what? I’m quite happy it ended like that, because it was the last time I cried, and it certainly was a memorable one.


Hi there, this was my first short story i ever wrote, if you like please let me know! **Cocaine and Abel** The afternoon sun hit his face, waking him. Abel grunted as he rolled over, and blearily peered at the clock. A little before three. Thursday? Probably Thursday. Another week’s worth of lectures missed. Something about “Thursday afternoon” nagged at his mind, and he suddenly remembered the follow-up appointment with the doctor in an hour. Damn. His folks had insisted he either see a shrink, or come home, and he’d already missed two appointments with the doc. Sitting up, he rolled a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. He gathered up his discarded jeans and black t-shirt from the floor, dressed, and then waded through the empty spirit bottles littering the floor, searching for his bag, wallet, and most importantly, his earphones. They never understood. All they wanted to do was push pills on him to make him feel “better”. *Again, going to a doctor, as if that will help you. You’re pathetic, just kill yourself, it’d make everyone happy.* Better they always said, “Take this and you will feel better” they said. “These pills will help you sleep better, these pills will stop your episodes”. Pills, pills, pills and more pills. But it was all lies. They made him feel worthless, needy and sleepless. His life had become a shadow of what it used to be. While he was walking to the doctor’s, the voices in his head were drowned out by the music he was blasting in his ears. He was listening to a new metal band that he had found on the internet. That’s what he needed. Loud music. He arrived in the doctor’s waiting room and sat down, waiting for his doctor to come see him for his appointment. His mind wandered and thought back to two nights ago when one of his best friends had popped in to see him. “You can’t just shut us out Abel, you need to talk to us about this. Be strong, be courageous. Don’t let yourself be beaten by this” Jamie had said to him. *Don’t trust him. He’s lying to you, they’re all lying.* The words repeated and echoed in his brain. He knew he needed to talk about this, but he didn’t want to. It was easier to put on a fake smile and say that everything was fine. Abel’s doctor arrived and walked him into his office. “How are you today, Abel?” quizzed the doctor. “Fine” replied Abel. “Is the medication helping?” asked the doctor. “I’m starting to feel a lot better” he lied easily. *Liar, liar pants on fire! You’re not even taking your medication!* “That’s great news, but we still have a long road ahead of us. I’m happy that you have decided to get help, and I know it’s not easy. Don’t get beaten down by this, most patients feel better after a while. Stay brave, stay strong and keep coming to see me weekly.” said the doctor returning the smile. “Now that’s all for today, off you go”. *Lies, lies, lies and even more lies. Don’t listen to him, he won’t help you.* Abel headed towards the bus stop, wearing a smirk. He rearranged his bag, took the bus and went into town. He needed to pick up a delivery. He stopped at the train station and waited at the front, smoking his rolled up cigarette as usual. A man came up to him, shook his hand and the deal was done. He dropped the small package into his bag before quickly flicking his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his foot as he set off. A smirk crawled across his face as he took out his tobacco pouch and rolled himself another cigarette. He had decided to stop counting how much he smoked, since it made him feel more depressed than anything. Abel’s smile faded quickly when he saw a beautiful girl walk past him. A blonde bombshell that he knew from class. He really liked her but never had the guts to say anything to her. He couldn’t talk to her, especially when he looked like this, near death’s door. He hung his head hoping she would not recognize him, but she did. “Oh my god Abel, what are you doing here?” she asked with a smile. “Nothing, I just had some business to take care of” replied Abel. “Oh, you’re still taking them I see….” She muttered. “I have to go, I’ll catch you some other time” said Abel, walking off before the sentence had even left his mouth. *Couldn’t even ask her out properly. You’re pathetic, can’t even ask a girl out. There’s only one answer for people like you.* He needed to get home as quickly as possible. He didn’t feel well. His head had started to swirl and his vision was blurry. Voices were screaming in his ears. He needed to get home. Abel woke up at 6pm that night on his bed. He looked around and saw two people sitting in his chairs across from his computer. He recognized them. They were his friends. Well, they used to be, before everything happened. He looked through the slits of his eyes and saw them, Natalie and Jamie. Natalie had made three cups of tea, Abel’s one had two sugars, just how he liked it. He got up and sipped his tea, waiting for them to talk. “You need to stop” blurted Natalie. “Stop what?” questioned Abel. “All this drug taking, the not telling us how you feel, everything” she replied. “You’re not alone in this Abel, you need to talk to us. We’re your friends, we’re here for you. We love you and we don’t want to lose you” she continued. Abel reached into his bag and pulled out his tobacco pouch and rolled himself a cigarette. He looked Natalie dead in the eyes and said “You wouldn’t understand, no one understands, get out of my sight”. *And you think they’re your friends? They won’t even help you, just making things worse.* And with that, he was alone again. They had disappeared like the smoke from his cigarette into thin air. He crushed out his cigarette in his fingers, the burning sensation making him feel alive. Abel walked over to his bag and got out another small pouch which he had bought earlier that afternoon at the train station. He opened the pouch and poured the white gold onto his desk. He got out his credit card and cut the charlie into four small lines. The only way that Abel felt alive recently was with this stardust. He grabbed a five euro note that was in his back pocket and rolled it up. Two seconds later he felt like he was king of the world again. Invincible. He went to the bathroom to make sure he looked presentable before heading out into town for a night of drinking. His eyes were bloodshot red and his pupils shone like obsidian. The whites of his eyes had turned a blood red and his sharp pupils stared into your soul. His hair had started growing again, blonde stubble was growing on his head and his face was unshaven, his ginger beard growing all around his chin looking as if he hadn’t been groomed in a while. He left the bathroom, and then left his room. He locked the door behind him, plugged in his headphones and walked to the bus stop. As he was leaving he passed by some people, who as soon as he had his back turned started screaming at him. He could vaguely work out what they were saying over the Omni-present music, but to be honest, he didn’t care. Help. Talk. Pills. Mental. That’s all he heard. He arrived at the bus stop just as a man in a top hat walked by the bus stop. He suddenly stopped and sat down beside Abel. Abel glanced at him but no one was there. “Sleep deprivation” Abel muttered to himself. *I told you. You should be in a loony bin, not wandering the streets like a crackhead. At least in a loony bin they can treat your craziness.* As he walked onto the bus, a thought popped into his head that reminded him about his medication. He was nearly out and the doctor would need to prescribe new meds to him. He needed to take his medication because he knew what would happen if he didn’t. He was brave enough to have asked for help, the least he could do is follow it through to the end. But he didn’t care about that now. Only one thing mattered. The only thing that mattered to Abel at that moment was getting to a bar and getting drunk. Once on the bus, he got out his tobacco pouch and rolled a cigarette for when he would arrive in town. His head was spinning. Something was eating him up inside. Everything was eating him up inside. He needed a drink to calm his nerves. His music echoed in his brain. John Denver’s “Country Roads”, one of his favorites. It reminded him of his grandfather. Tonight wasn’t a night to feel sad, it was a night to have fun, to party, to make the most of everything. Abel walked off the bus and lit his cigarette. He took a long drag, closed his eyes and let the smoke fill his already tar coated lungs. He exhaled and opened his eyes, looking straight into the eyes of the person who had appeared in front of him. He recognized the person. It was one of his best friends. Or rather, someone who used to be his best friend. His headphones tumbled from his ears, and Abel waited for his friend to speak. He knew what he would say, he knew what he was thinking because Abel knew him all too well. He waited for the sentence that had become all too familiar to him recently, and without disappointment, his friend started talking. “I know what you’re going through Abel, you need to talk to someone about this” said Henry. “But, for now, let’s go have a drink” he continued. And so off they went, to their favorite bar. Henry ordered his favorite, a pint of Guinness and Abel ordered a Jägerbomb, as usual. No one uttered a word, they just sat drinking silently. The confortable silence was broken by a cough. Abel looked up from his drink and stared into Henry’s eyes. Henry could see the pain in Abel’s eyes. He could see the despair and he could see that Abel was hurting inside, even if he did a good job of hiding it. “We need to talk, Abel” muttered Henry. “What about this time?” grumbled Abel. “Why haven’t you spoken to anyone yet? You need to talk to someone, I can see the hurt in your eyes. You need to build up the courage and talk about this. You can’t stay alone all the time. It’s killing you.” Abel lurched to his feet, ready to confront Henry but he wasn’t there. He had gone. People at the table beside Abel stared at him, looking at him as if he was crazy. Maybe they were right Abel had thought to himself. He quickly downed his glass and took out his credit card to pay. Everything around him was a blur. He handed his card to the bartender, paid his bill and left. Abel wandered for around ten minutes before he sat down and took out his tobacco pouch. He took out a piece of cardboard that he had left in there and rolled it into a small, perfect cylinder. Now wasn’t the time for a cigarette, he needed something stronger he said to himself. What he really needed, was something to take his mind off of everything. He licked the paper carefully, rolled the “something stronger” into a perfect cone and stuck it between his lips. He lit it and breathed in the smoke deeply, letting it fill all the nooks and crannies in his lungs, spreading the buzz all around. His head already felt lighter, and as he exhaled, a grin crept across his face. He picked up his bag and lazily started walking home. His feet were light and walked easily. The smile plastered on his face stayed there, and with a spring in his step, he continued on the long road home. The alcohol and drugs had done their job and at that moment, he was happy. His mind was blank as his feet followed the path home that they were used to by now. Time passed and Abel’s mind began to wander. Why was all this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this? He passed by a bus stop and saw the man in the top again. He blanked the man and continued home. The road followed beside a river, and Abel stopped and sat down to roll another cigarette. As he had finished rolling, his eyes scanned across the river. It was a quiet night, and nothing was disturbed. The water flowed slowly and calmly, the tree opposite him swayed gently as a small breeze brushed beside it. It was almost picturesque Abel thought to himself, as he picked up his bag and left. His feet were getting heavy, and a different song blasted into his ears. *Only… Out... Suicide… End it….* “I’m on a highway to hell” Abel sang to himself. As he had finished the last lyric, a spot dropped onto his forehead. He looked up and saw the raindrops falling slowly onto him. If he stayed outside much longer, he would be drenched. By the time he had decided to light his cigarette, it was completely wet, he chucked it into the bushes and continued the long and windy road. As he approached some traffic lights, he saw him again. It was the man in a top hat. Abel walked near him and turned down his music. He looked straight at his face and was horrified at what he saw. The man seemed old, ancient. He looked as if he had been in a fire, his whole face was burnt. But what troubled Abel the most was his eyes. The black pits that gazed back at Abel stared into his soul, devouring him from the inside. The man grinned at Abel and walked away quickly. Abel shook his head, not believing what he saw. “I really need my medication” Abel muttered to himself as he dragged his legs home. The rain was getting heavy, and Abel rushed home. He entered his building and took off his jacket. He was soaked. Abel was in his room, alone. He turned on his computer, ready to sit down and listen to some music. A voice echoed in his mind. *You’ve lost everything, all of your friends hate you. What is the point in living anymore? It can all be over in a couple of minutes, it won’t cause you any pain at all.* Abel had had enough. Maybe the whispers were right. He sat down in front of his computer, and stared into the bright screens. He could vaguely see his reflection laughing back at him. *Crazy? You think you’re crazy? You know that’s true. You know to get better you need your medication. Go on, take the pills in front of you. Don’t forget, you’ve been crazy for a while now, take the right amount. Take them all…* Abel slowly opened the box of pills and put them one by one on his desk, mixing them with all the other pills already laying there. *First one, down the hatch…* One by one, he took them. His fingers trembling over his glass. How many had he taken? How many more did he need to take? *All of them. Don’t miss out a single one, you haven’t taken any since the start. At least thirty will help you…* He wasn’t sure. What if everything turned out alright? What if he talked to people and got proper help? Even with help, would it make any difference? Tears welled in his eyes as he sighed. Was this to be the end? *Do it!* Would all his hard work lead up to this? No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He would get help. He would talk to his friends about it, they could help him. They could make everything better, he knew it. He had found his courage, even if it was deep down inside him. He grasped at it with both hands and pulled it through the layers of depression, of negative thoughts, up to the surface, where it would be useful. *Don’t back out now, you’re so close to total bliss…* He blinked, and poured the pills into his glass of vodka. He downed it without hesitation. Abel’s head fell back with his eyes wide open and his mouth hanging. He slurred forward and fell off his chair, his mouth began frothing and his eyes began blinking rapidly, burning. Voices were screaming, telling him to stop, to give them another chance, to not let his demons take control of him, to find any last bit of courage to ask for proper help and take it. He could just distinguish the shape of a top hat on his desk as his eyes blinked furiously. The music echoed around the room. “I'm standing up, I'm a face my demons I'm manning up, I'm a hold my ground I've had enough, now I'm so fed up Time to put my life back together right now” But the demons had already taken contr...


Clash! Clash! Bong! Swish! “This is getting boring.” “Better surrender soon then, pathetic pirate of the sea, Jaya.” the ugly Captain Roob sneered, puffing his chess and holding his black sword above his head. “First of all, its Captain Jaya. And every pirate is technically of the sea.” “You aren’t even human, sea monster!” “I am a sea person, ” I swirled my sword dramatically, “You wound me with words more than your sword.” I skillfully ducked another jab to the right. “I have hair, unlike sea monsters, though it is of different shades of blue, green, and a bit of purple, glittering skin that has a bluish glow, I am a Sagara , I am no monster. " “You are no natural human, you are a threat to all of-” he roared, but I cut him off, quite literally with a swipe at his wrist, his hand cut clean off. He howled in pain. “I am clearly a threat to your non-sword hand, ” I laughed as he crumpled to the ground, his sword thudding against the crickety wooden planks of The Prowling Sailor . “What,” I tilted my face, baring my fangs in a grin as he whimpered. “Can’t handle being unhanded?” He leaned against the wall and pushed himself, staggering from the rocking ship. Around me, my crew and the crew of the Sailor were dueling, my crew, of course was winning, with a few wounds. It wasn’t even us that invaded, we only signaled a basic hello. But of course… pirates. “Go drown!” He yelled, swiping but missing. “I literally cannot drown.” “Go drown in a volcano!” “Why don’t you?” He swiped at my black joot-leather boots, to which I danced away from. “Damn you!” He stumbled backward. “This is getting boring,” I feigned a yawn. “C’mon, old man-” “Old man?” “Yes, old man, I see white where there s’pposed to be whatever shade of shite brown your hair is.” I smoothed down my white button up silk shirt, bartered from a prince who wanted passage in our ship and didn’t have much else. “You old man, picked a fight with my crew, trying to board my precious Floating Palace of the Sea, hoping to slay me because you are so prejudiced against sea people,” I shook my head, my wavy short hair shaking with my head. “And all we wanted to do is break bread.” I said with mock dismay. “I’ll never break bread with a monster. ” he growled, a foot back, ready to charge. “Fine then,” I too got back into form, shoulders set and feet firmly planted. “Lets dance, old man .” He charged at me, yelling, his mouth revealing disgusting yellow teeth. Pirates. Blasted, unruly pirates. Can’t brush their teeth, can’t stop drinking rum, can’t stop fighting. Pathetic. Makes us calm pirates look bad. I turned to dodge the sword, missing my stomach by an inch. That’s how I play, on the edge. He knows he’s losing, because he’s pushing harder now, clarity and his need to win fighting to be in control. He immediately turns, waving his sword. Clang! I hit his sword with mine. I pushed, making him walk backward, but he did not falter. I raised an eyebrow, my only show of appreciation for his endurance. He lowered his sword and faked a jab to my right and swirled to stab me on the left. But that’s his fatal mistake. Sort of. My golden sword stopped his black one faster than a blink. I used the momentum to send his flying through the air, like a crow flying away in fear. His sword landed dramatically on the middle of the boat, sticking up from the floor, in plain sight of everyone. I pointed my sword at his chest, making him walk backwards toward his weapon. The fighting around us stopped, weapons falling around us. “It’s over,” I drawled. “You’ve lost a hand and probably your dignity. Surrender.” “No!!!” He screamed. “NOOOO!! I cannot lose!!” He unsuccessfully grabbed his sword, which refused to come out. He howled in pain again and fell to his knees. “I will never surrender,” he said with fake confidence. “Kill me.” My crew erupted in laughter, his crew was gathered into a corner. “What do you think, my mismatched crew!” I called out to them. “What should Captain Roob his crew be doomed for?” “Dragged by the boat in the sea!” “Cut off his other hand!!” “Take his eyeballs!!!” Different voices shouted out different ways to torture Captain Roob and his crew. All varying between bloody and partially humane. No one here has the heart for the death penalty, let alone for very bloody punishments of course. However, there is the case that this man is one of the worst to sail the seas and walk on land. He’s burnt entire villages, lead raiding parties on defenseless towns, kidnapped children, and harmed women in unspeakable ways. He’s got wanted signs pretty much everywhere. Even in my kingdom where I am the heir to the throne, I’ve had merchants and village chiefs complain about Roob. “Haven’t we seen his face on them wanted posters in many towns, laddies?” I called out. Resounding chants of “Yes Captain.” “I say we find the highest bidder and turn him in!” Everyone muttered agreements, but seemed confused. “Oi captain!” Sarge, a pale skinned former soldier who joined my crew after his military captain kicked him out, called. “Who’s the highest bidder? Surya is offering a plot of fertile land and a barrel of gold.” “What’re you going to do with a plot of fertile land sarge,” I asked, the mention of my kingdom bringing me memories of father declaring rewards for catching high profile criminals. “Besides, its actually the cardamom spice estates the king owns, north of the kingdom. The barrel of gold is correct though.” Father loves barrels of gifts. “Right…” “Cap’n Jaya, permission to speak?” A young man from the opposing crew asked. “Hmmm…” I took large steps toward him, the rest of his buddies taking a shuddering step backward. “Go on, speak.” “I believe,” he gulped nervously. “The kingdom of Sicily, is offering enough gold to fill a ship,” he paused and jumped backwards after looking at my eyes. “Your eye’s became purple, that’s not natural-” “Ah tut tut, my eyes are not the topic,” I rolled my lovely color changing eyes. “Besides, the color change is natural to me, considering I am not human.” “Right, erm… King Guiseppe doesn’t take kindly to pirates, even if they’re turning in other pirates…” “You don’t worry your head about it,” I spun back around to face my own crew. “Who wants a ship load of gold!!” I yelled, grinning ear to ear and raising my sword in the air. “US!!!” “And as for the crew…” I looked across the other crew, some looked scared, others looked angry. “Whoever is still loyal to Roobius Stupidius here can go with him, I’m sure Sicily has enough space in their lowest pits of prison for them. Maybe they’ll be forced to eat dirty rats!” I laughed, throwing back my head. “What about those of us who renounce our loyalty to him?” The same man that gave away the kingdom with the biggest bounty said. “Surely you’ll show mercy?” “I don’t know if you’ve heard of my reputation…” “You’re also known as the Blue Pirate, the Sagara Pirate,-” “I didn’t ask to know my nicknames, but yes…” “You mark any pirate crews that try to attack you with some kind of symbol, a you give anyone who surrenders that mark and give them a second chance. If they cross you, you hunt them down, and punish them.” “That’s right,” I crept closer to him, he flinched when I tilted his chin upward with my sword. “What’s your name?” “Simon.” “You seem well versed with the world, Simon. Did you get an education?” “I studied trade, Captain Jaya. I studied trade in France, and then I was,” his voice cracked, tears slowly flowing down. “He-he took me he-” I lowered my sword, my smile fading away. “He kidnapped you didn’t he?” “I haven’t seen my family in years.” His voice cracked. I put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s more like you aren’t there?” Hushed voices murmuring yes resounded. “Alright, well we’ll help you find your families, innit true crew?” “Yes captain!” “I’m still marking everyone, just because… Well I didn’t get this far by trusting everyone.” With that, I got to work. With my magical sea sapphire ring, I marked each person, a blue circle with a blue seashell in the middle. The mark stays blue for a whole day, and becomes invisible unless I or a different magic user touch it. During this ordeal, I had Roob strapped to a pole swinging off the back. He was shouting curses as he was tied with silver chains. At least I had the bleeding from the stump on his arm tied. After taking dive to my ship’s underside, where I kept enchanted seashells that force the truth from who ever is touching it, I tested each of his crew members to see who is loyal and who was kidnapped. Whoever was loyal was chained in different parts of their ship, which was towed to ours with an enchanted chain. Those who were kidnapped stayed on my ship, under careful watch. “Simon,” I got the attention of the young man, probably my age from what I could tell. “Since you were brave enough to speak up, I give you the chance of joining my crew. I could use someone versed in trade.” “I’ll uh think about it, sir-m’am, I’m sorry-” “Close, I prefer Captain.” I started to turn, but he cleared his throat to speak. “Captain Jaya, if its not too bold, um, where did you come from? They say you floated up from the sea and had the fish build you a magical ship.” I snorted. I could say I was born in the Kingdom of Surya, one of the southern kingdoms of South Asia. I’m the firstborn of the King, making me heir to the throne. A curse from centuries ago found its way to me, an ordinary human baby, turning me into a Sagara, whenever the scent of the ocean dares to entire my nose. I feared the curse, bullied by other children even though I’m a princess, until one day I decided the curse is truly a boon. And so I took one of my dear Father’s unused ships, decorated, and became a pirate captain. An identity with no history, only a future full of adventure and freedom. Someone who disappears and reappears, someone to be feared and to be respected. A crew full of ragtags just like the captain… “I am simply someone who ran away for freedom,” I answered, tipping my hat. “And I hunger for adventure.” “There has to be more, right? C’mon, no one knows where you come from!” I turned and laughed. “How very human. ”