Blackouts don't happen everyday. All of Eagle County has come to a standstill , something that even the COVID-19 couldn't pull off 17 years ago. Three hours of no electricity can never mean anything good especially in a city with no proper government , organization or sense of community. Marge and the kids have never been without the internet for even half as long as this and are already starting to feel the need. Since all the drones are down no one received their daily dose of MSH ( Mental Stability and Health ) Pills nor their weekly essentials basket. Crime in the County is pretty much the only thing that is a certainty here and no lights , cameras or the tyrant AI Guard is definitely going to make things dangerous. Marge has been struggling with PTSD ever since the Civil War around 14 years ago and goes crazy without the MSH pills unless she keeps herself occupied. The kids have that taken care of almost all the time but right now I feel its only making things worse. Screams from panic attacks across the street breaking the eerie silence sent shivers down her spine. That coupled with the kids fear of darkness is surely going to tip Marge over. Ive seen Marge at her lowest and I know how hard it is to get her out of there. Furthermore , if shes absent even for one second , the kids are toast. Before the war, me and Marge absolutely loved going down to woods and camp by the river bank. The cool water kissing our feet would bring us calm while the world turned against each other. The chirping birds and the rustling leaves would propel us into song and fill us with a feeling of glee. The kids would loose their mind every time they saw a fish or butterfly or anything that didn't run on a battery. Even though the world was falling apart around us for just a few hours everything seemed happy, joyful and all are worries would just fade away. It was a thing of beauty, although those days are long gone, me and Marge still recall those heavenly times, in this dark age, we crave for days like those. I was lost in thought thinking about those fond memories when i heard the horrifying shriek my one true love would make every time she remembered the terrible, frightful days of war. I knew what i had to do , there were no pills available to turn our back on, no way to call for help as for some reason even our phones were dead. I could clearly see the only hospital in the neighborhood was suffering from a power outrage as well. There were no cars moving although that's a rare sight anyway since everything nowadays is done on the phone. There was still nothing moving across the land, going down the apartment and leaving the safety of our safe walls is practically suicide but it was a risk i was willing to take. 84 floors below us and 200 meters away from the elevator door lay an abandoned indoor nursery dome with a few trees and couple of squirrels.It wasn't much but i knew with the right tools i could give Marge something special and bring hope back into her mind. I told Quinn to keep an eye on his mother for me and tell her to bring him down to Nursery dome when she wakes up after i gave her our last MSH pill which probably gives me around an hour to whip up some magic. The toolbox my father gave me on my 14th birthday was stashed away deep in the over the head kitchen drawer along with the candles and some other old junk. The AK 47 we were given for the war is always within a meter distance of me and the spare magazines were in the bedroom drawer. The lantern me and Marge made out of nothing but some wood , oil, a candle and our bare hands during the war stood on the bedroom side table collecting dust to remind us of the horrors of the war, to make sure we never go down that path again.Lily cant live without her retro Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle backpack which i stashed with a water bottle, pocket knife , lighter, deodorant, a useless phone and a pipe completed the list of things i needed before leaving the safety of our 4 walls. I grabbed Lily by the hand tighter than a baby holding his teddy bear put on my retro limited edition Heelys, kissed marge and Quinn goodbye and the two of us head out into the darkness alone much like me and Marge did several years ago not to fight for society or overthrow the tyranny but just save each other and those who we truly cherished. Our footsteps echoed through the pitch black corridors filled with screams into the staircases whose doors to my surprise were locked up with an antique Pin Tumbler lock , i told Lily to get a good look at the rare sight and then step back as i pulled the wrench out of my tool box. Two good hits and we were in. A quick brisk walk got us to the 60th floor within minutes without much hassle. Across the corridor lay the express ramp built for the disabled with a synthetic surface and a glass roof which would curl around the outside of our massive apartment like a constrictor around a human arm was the quickest way to reach the ground and exactly what my Heelys were made for. As we breezed through the dark sky i realized this was the 1st time in years I had stepped outside. Even though it was totally dark and I could see nothing but the ramp ahead thanks to the lantern I could still tell the difference. 20 years ago around this time the streets would be buzzing with, musicians, homemakers, employees sports persons , people from all woks of life just living together without fear, with a lot of responsibilities and uncertainties but with freedom. Today everyone's a hostile to everyone , no one even dares to think of trusting a stranger and walking out into the open with only an AK 47 along with a 9 year old daughter is practically suicide. Luckily i had a plan, and even though there were going to be some difficult hurdles to overcome , the vision I had in my mind had to become a reality. It was up to me to keep Marge in her right mind. On the ground we realized the AI Guards that are oppressive 24/7 were inactive which was great news for us as i no longer had to reason with them to let me out. Outside the marvel of a building things seemed off. There were no guards constantly establishing their authority, no crooks trying to salvage some wealth , no mysterious groups trying to make me join their cults, it was quite , a bit too quite. I covered the lantern with my shirt to avoid catching any attention and the two of us reached the Nursery without any problems and initiated my plan. I put my tool box down, handed Lily the lantern inside the dome, told her to shine it towards the trees where i started digging, not too deep, but just enough for the water flowing through the pipe that i had attached to the sprinklers to form a stream. I spread the dug out soil around the stream to make sure the water wouldn't escape and my miniature river bank was ready. Lily realized what i was creating and immediately jumped and screamed in exhilarating joy. I scrambled to her as fast i could and covered her mouth with my fingers. After hearing the child's scream everyone's eyes would've turned towards us, even though the light was well covered within the dome i didn't want to take any chances. I picked up my toolbox, Lifted Lily into my forearms , covered the lantern with my shirt again and the two of us paced away as silently as possible and stationed ourselves behind a few large bushes around 40 meters away. 10 minutes passed and no one had arrived which was a great sign but Lily then started scratching my bare chest. I brushed my hand through her brown hair and soft face. It was wet, Lily was crying but i knew there was no way she was frightened or tensed , i reached for the backpack to let her play with the turtles 3D weapons on the bag and then it hit me. I had left the bag near the sprinkler, this was the worst mistake i could have possibly made and the situation now felt terrible. Lilys sense of calm was now out the window but i was able to comfort her just enough. Even though she was crying , she wasn't making any sound. One problem was partially taken care of but another much bigger one arose. The sound of the water flowing through the pipe had stopped , someone had turned the sprinkler off, we were not alone. I grabbed a stone lying on the ground and threw it as far left from the dome as possible and hoped that that would lure the person away. A few minutes passed and Lily was pretty much piercing through my skin now, the wind got stronger and the night quieter, I couldn't tell if it was scientifically possible for things to get any quieter. I had to set the dome up for Marge no matter what , it wasn't a choice. I placed my hand on Lilys shoulders, gave her the covered lantern, looked straight into her eyes and told her to stay put and call for me if she heard anything move or saw anything flash. I grabbed the wrench from the tool box tucked it into my pants and prowled towards the sprinkler. There was no one there , no backpack either , the dome was left untouched as well , I was relieved. The crook was probably satisfied with the many utensils in the Backpack. I prowled back to Lily faster than a cheetah running after a gazelle and after seeing her play with Leonardos Katana my heart dropped. An old man stood tall right behind Lily armed with a MAC-10 shining light over my daughter. I told the man i didn't want any trouble and would give him anything he wanted if he just left us alone. My left arm was behind my back clenching the wrench ready to pounce on any given second while i begged with my right hand. The man said in a Throaty voice but wheezy tone " son , I'm on my last legs , the last thing id want to do is harm your angel, I've sinned my whole life , sometimes to survive , sometimes because of innocence. " I saw him move his arm towards Lily and my instincts kicked in , the wrench was now inches from his face but Lily was hugging my leg. This man really just handed Lily back to me and even gave her her backpack without causing us harm in anyway. I apologized immediately and quickly retracted my tool. The man then told me he would've been dead if he was in my shoes. We got everything we needed , but i still didn't trust the man. What if he was part of a group or a clan and would inform them of our vulnerability, or what if he wasn't alone and people were watching us this very moment. There was no way i was going to let him leave my sight and my brain finally kicked in. I asked him what he was doing here and about the blackout. He told me he was looking for his son who had run towards this dome. I asked him why he would bring his son out at such a dangerous time , he told me they were leaving this place for good, i asked him why they would leave as the rest of the nation is probably in a worse state , he then asked me if i had observed the awkward silence and boredom across the neighborhood , he went on telling me how all the clans and groups had all left yesterday under the radar , he continued to talk about the fishy things taking place recently and i listened keenly until Lily pulled on my trouser, she quickly moved her head to the right to tell me to look at the bush. The bush was moving and my eyes were now sternly on the man, if it was any surprise ambush or anything tricky i would blast his eyeballs out with the AK. The man said in an authoritative tone " Trevor !, come here this instant boy ! ". The man wasn't lying , it was his son. He was a little kid ,an absolute goofball but i still wasn't trusting him. I figured if i had my eyes on the two of them at all times things couldn't go south. I told him i was trying to make a camping spot and would appreciate it if he would help. He told me his name , Tyson , the two of us shook hands each with a hint of suspicion and the 4 of us got to work. With two adults working things were set pretty fast. The artificial river looked fabulous, the dome provided a great view of the night sky and its endless stars while the now trimmed grass was as cozy as a sleeping bag. The roof of the dome was fixed with a one way mirror allowing no light to leave the dome. The nuts from our apartment would kick some life into the squirrels and the kids would take care of everything else. Only one issue remained, which i had around ten minutes to solve. What to do of Tyson. Tyson hadn't done anything wrong so far and was pretty much too old to be of use to anyone. While cleaning the dome i observed Tyson and Trevor , Tyson clearly fought for the other side during the war which seemed pretty ironic , his coat was screaming his political views to the world while Trevor was probably the first kid Lily had probably ever shared her backpack with. I had made my choice , Tyson was trustable as long as he was within my sight. Marge and Quinn arrived just as i made my decision. Marge knew instantly when her eyes fell on the river bank. We walked into the dome and it felt like eternal bliss. That was until she saw Tyson. The smile was wiped clean of her face , she pulled her knife out and was about to threaten him but i stopped her. I told her to look at Lily , I hadn't seen Marge like this since the day i proposed to her 14 years ago. Eternal bliss was an understatement now , Marge hugged me tighter than Lily hugging her backpack at night and i held her feeling more than love, for the first time in a long time it felt like there was something to look forward to in life. Not just hiding in fear and salvaging of scraps but there was hope , hope for a better tomorrow. The nuts Quinn brought along really got the squirrels out of their shells and the running water really did kiss our feet just like the old days. The kids were having the time of their lives showing each other the many faces they could made. Tyson fell asleep staring into infinity and beyond while the stars continued to twinkle. Me and Marge hadn't felt this good in a very, very long time. The outside world did not matter to us, we were surrounded by each other and a few gems of life , it couldn't be all that bad. We held hands and came up with games the kids could play together, argued about who would be the smarter kid, planned a massive recycle of the old junk we have been storing in the kitchen into kids appliances, we realized something tonight. This little camping trip showed us that even though we may have lost hope in society, humanity, faith, or even in each other our kids hadn't and they like Trevor are not alone and we owe it to them to at least try and make their life better than a living hell. We fell asleep in our little dome filled with a new found optimism and desire. Sadly our profound sleep was cut short when Tyson woke us up quite hastily. We could feel the floor shake, it felt like a stampede was approaching us , but how ? so many people had left and who would dare leave their homes during this dangerous time. I put my ears to the ground and i knew instantly. I told Tyson to stop the sprinklers while i killed the lights. It was definitely an army marching towards us, Marge knew it too we had been in this situation before, 15 years ago , the lantern got us through something like this once before and it was going to assist us this time too. My stupid brain finally clicked again when i realized that this wasn't just a blackout it was actually an enemy EMP strike. But who would do this ? people of both sides live here and  and eagle county isn't really worth much either. As the vibrations grew stronger, the chants got louder, they were not speaking English , it was an enemy from overseas trying to capitalize on a broken, divided nation. If this had happened yesterday me and Marge would have let them put us out of our misery but today is a different day, a new day , a new dawn , a new beginning for we have three weapons no piece of metal could ever match Hope , Desire and Family.


I don’t know if it’s a boy or a shadow I keep seeing but it follows me; to school, to my job, to my house, I can’t escape it. That’s the thing i guess, I don’t want to. That shadow saved my life. One night in late February early March. I went up the tallest building in my shitty subdivision, but you have to understand. I went up with no intention of coming down, well alive at least. The air was cold and still that night, hauntly like it is now. I took a cigarette out of my back jean pocket and lit it with my midnight blue coloured lighter. I wanted to take one last drag just to see if it would taste different, if the smoke felt different as it entered my withered lungs. The wind brushing my deep black hair out of my face. As the cigarette grew smaller so did my courage but fuck it I have been dreaming of this for too fucking long not to do this now. So I took my place of the edge of the office supply building, turned around, spread my arms like glowing wings and leaned backward. As I could feel the tips of my toes leaving the cemented roof. I felt a hand latch onto mine and explosviley pull me out of my subimisive state. That’s when I saw him, him in his cotton black sip up hoodie, old worn black skinny jeans. Eyes so deep the ocean couldn’t fill them. He didn’t look at me, he looked through me. He launched me back onto the roof, He came close and whispered in my ear, ‘no, you can’t do this now. I won’t let you’ his voice was so calming but before I could even complate what happened he was gone. He blended in with the darkness of night. I was left on that roof top sobbing. After that night he started making his appearance more known but only to dissapear after a blink. I want to say thank you or ask him why he saved me. I will never get the chance because this was two years ago and now he’s gone. I don’t know where you are, who you are but thank you and I hope life is treating you well.


Wood crackled and glowed in a brick fireplace. If you stared at it long enough with a cup of cocoa engulfed in your hands and had a woolen blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you could've fallen asleep. But the ominous goings on surrounding the mantle suggest otherwise. An old, wrinkly lady rocked back and forth in her faded green rocking chair. She was sitting adjacent to the fireplace keeping warm by the heat of the flames and was watching her favorite show, jeopardy. Her beady eyes squinted at the glow of the little t.v., scrutinizing the letters on the board being presented to the audience. She raised a cigarette to her lips with a shaky hand and sucked in. This was the most active part of her day. From across the room and past the custom made, red stone staircase, around the corner of the dining table that could seat twelve; and past the wood burning stove in the kitchen, the old, rackety kitchen door swung open with a long creak. The old lady didn't bat an eyelash, she didn't hear it open. A tall, dark haired gentleman in a tailored, pin striped suit stalked in, following the opening kitchen door. He made his way in and stopped at an angle in front of the old lady. She exhaled and let the smoke dissipate among the antique wooden beams in the high ceiling. The young gentleman stared at her, but she didn't notice. She just took another smoke and stared at the t.v. "Mother, I need to use the basement again," The man in the tailored suit said. There was a moment of silence. The old lady waved the cigarette from her face and glanced upward with a frightful smile. "How wonderful dear! Are you having guests over again? You must tell me these things beforehand, so I can have my smoke and put my pack away before they come in. I wouldn't want to scandalize anybody with my bad habit!" The gentleman rolled his gaze over the ash that sprinkled the carpet around the faded green rocking chair, then raised his eyes to the overflowing ash tray on the mahogany side table. He remained mute about the scene. "Don't worry mother," said the gentleman shortly, "it's only Dr. Sullivan, and his, er- his friend that are coming over." The gentleman stared coldly at the old lady, but she did not seem to notice. " Oh, how nice." Her voice was sickening sweet and high pitched; not altogether unusual though. The gentleman's gaze hardened, but he didn't say anything. The old lady croaked, "I do love it when Dr. Sullivan brings his friends. They are really the most interesting people I've ever heard of." She was almost enthusiastic at those last words. The old lady helped herself to the ends of her smoke and then smashed the cigarette into the overflowing ash tray. " Yes, well, don't let us bother you, Mother," the pinned striped gentleman said harshly, "the doctor's friend has had a bit too much tonight and er-, we gotta get 'im inside before the neighbors wake up." "I understand perfectly." At that, the man showed a shadow of a wince. The old lady rubbed the ash from her hands onto her worn out night gown then turned back to the show, her thin mouth shut tight as if she had not spoken in years. The young gentleman turned on his heel and went back out the kitchen door. It was pitch black outside. There weren't very many neighbors up in the hills surrounding the old lady's house, just two. One neighbor's house was to the left of the kitchen door if you're facing outside, and another across the street, nestled behind a long private drive. The little doctor was standing against a black Cadillac, beads of sweat racing down his forehead. He rubbed his moist palms on his sides and brought them in and out of his pockets indecisively. He was keeping a watchful eye on both of the neighbors' dark houses. The gentleman walked brusquely down the foot stone path from the kitchen, startling the greasy doctor. The doctor's eyes bulged out of his head as he stuttered out, "Jeffery," he pronounced his syllables very distinctly, "I think I saw someone looking out that neighbor's upstairs window," the doctor also had a raspy voice, "what if they saw us?" The gentleman in the pinned striped suit looked down at his Celtic comrade. " Relax, Sullivan," he commanded, " no one, lives in that house except an old man with Dementia," the gentleman paused, then added, "and some cats." The doctor still looked uncertain. " Across the street that neighbor is considered legally blind. If you ever see him driving a tractor though, it's none of our business. You know what I mean?" The doctor was confused but nodded. " Now, how's your cold friend doing, doctor?" The man in the suit asked. " Oh, he's doing just fine Jefferey, just fine. Been as silent as a rock this whole time." he added with a slight chuckle. The man in the suit stepped towards the back of the car. The doctor inhaled sharply as he opened up the trunk. There was a large black bag, almost six feet in length sitting in there. It looked like it weighed about 165 pounds. The man in the suit started pulling at it, whilst the doctor was still glancing around at the rural neighbors suspiciously, wiping his sweaty brow. " I don't like it," he said rubbing his hands together, "no, no I don't like it." " Will you relax and grab the other end Sullivan? I can't carry it all by myself." The doctor jerked his body in the direction of the bag in the trunk and scooped up the other end. The two men lifted it and started to walk up the path toward the kitchen door, carrying the large black bag on both ends. The gentleman at the front was walking backwards, facing the doctor. " Now, Doctor, remember to breathe. You've done this a dozen times." " Yes, but not so close to halloween," he said looking side to side. "Don't be a child, doctor" the man in the suit said pitilessly. " No, honest and truly I don't like the feeling right now. It feels like someone is looking straight at my,-oh!" At the cry the doctor dropped his end of the bag and there was heard an offended sound of hissing. The doctor leapt back in fear. " What.. is it Doctor?" the gentleman seethed out. "Oh, I-, I think I stepped on a cat," the doctor was very much agitated and scratching his head. The gentleman rolled his eyes upward, remembering the doctor's phobia for feline creatures. He looked to the left and saw the silhouette of a cat dart into the bushes. " Come on now, doctor it's gone. Pick up Mr. Kreuzenstein's feet. We don't want to leave dirty tracks on mother dearest's floor." He said the last line with a vile smirk. " Alright, Jeffery." The doctor picked up Mr. Kreuzenstein's other end and walked toward the kitchen into the house. " Doctor, " the gentleman strictly said once the trio passed the dining table that seated twelve," we are putting Mr. Kreuzenstein in the basement." A look of dire reluctance overcame the doctor. "Oh no Jeffery, I can't go into the basement again. Is there even anymore room? Oh, you know I can't. I can't spend another night again down there, aching and sweating. Please, Jeff, have a heart. For my sake, I'll help you put him down there. But that's it. Please." The doctor looked up with pleading, desperate eyes. The man in the pinned striped suit returned a cold menacing stare. " Doctor, you know you're duty." The doctor knew he had no choice. " Alright, Jeffrey, you win. But please let this be the last time." But the man said nothing and continued on. They walked past the custom made, red stone staircase where the door to the basement was off to the right. The gentleman reached back and opened the door with one arm and proceeded to step downward and backwards on the steps into the basement. The doctor looked to the left into the living room where the old lady sat rocking back and forth in her faded green rocker. Another cigarette was lit up in her hand, smoke billowing about her as if she could've breathed fire out her ears. " Your mother is always the same Jefferey. Every time she is the same. She rocks back and forth like this, raises a cigarette up and breathes the smoke in and out like a dragon." The man in the suit shot him a look and the doctor shut his mouth and said no more. The old lady scared the doctor half to death, he laughed nervously. The odd companions and their cold friend reached the end of their descent down the basement steps. The gentleman and the doctor released the bag and let it hit the floor with a heavy thud. The gentleman in the tailored suit flipped on a switch and a single light bulb turned on, producing an eerie ambiance much suited to the situation at hand. "Alright doctor, let us begin. Where did we go last time?" The doctor looked around the basement. " Last time Jeff, we were in that corner, over there to the right." The man in the suit glanced in that direction and then looked to the opposite side. " Okay then, we'll get to work over there," he said motioning to the corner on the left. The doctor nodded and walked over to a little closet under the basement steps and pulled out two shovels. He handed one to the gentleman. " We are going to make Mr. Kreuzenstein a nice bed to stay in, eh, Jefferey? " The other man only pursed his lips together grimly, removed his coat and neatly rolled up his white shirt sleeves. He then stabbed the shovel into the earthen floor and began digging. The doctor pulled out a flask and took several long gulps. He let out a sigh and said to himself, " Yes, we'll make a nice bed for Mr. Kreuzenstein." He licked the whiskey from his lips and went to work. After hours of digging, at nearly two in the morning, the two men finished Mr. Kreuzenstein's "bed". The man in the tailored suit hopped up and lended a hand to his short friend and yanked him upwards. " Alright Doctor, it is time to lay Mr. Kreuzenstien to rest. As you can see he's had a very long journey." They both looked down at the six foot bag laying limply on the floor. The doctor mumbled, " Yes, across five states in the trunk of our car, giving us no time for rest and we breaking our backs for hours here- ," the doctor stopped, "Mr. Kreuzenstein must be exhausted." The doctor wiped his brow again and took another swig out of the flask and said to the bag, " I hope you appreciate our hard-," The gentleman interrupted, "No one will know where he is now and there's no possibility it can be traced back to us . Isn't that correct, Doctor?" The doctor hesitated as he noticed the man's white collared shirt. There was no trace of dirt on it, remarkably. The doctor thought for a moment then nodded in agreement. "Yes, yes Jefferey. Let us hurry up now and lay Mr. Kreuzenstein down, shall we?" He took another long swig of whiskey. " I don't want to be down in this cursed basement any longer than we need to be." The gentleman assented and he and the doctor picked up the bag and on the count of three, tossed it in the ground. The doctor looked down at Mr. Kreuzentstein and gave a little cry. The gentleman in the suit looked aggressively at the doctor in irritation. "What?" The doctor pointed into the hole. The man walked over and glanced down. A single foot was sticking out of the bag. " He's missing his shoe!" The doctor exclaimed. The gentleman's face changed just a shade lighter. "Well, where is it?" The doctor thought for a moment and said, " Wait a second." He dashed up the basement stairs like a deer and ran through the house and out back through the kitchen where they had entered. He walked unevenly on the foot stones in the grass to where he had stepped on the cat. A single shoe lay there. The doctor looked upward in gratitude, swayed a little, then snatched it up and quickly ran back to the basement. He tossed the shoe in neatly next to its silent owner. " Well done, doctor." The gentleman in the suit said grimly. The doctor downed the rest of his whiskey and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He gave a weak smile. " Let's finish up." The man in the suit said. Still out of breath, the doctor said, "Yes, Jefferey let's finish this up." They both picked up their shovels and reversed the digging process. "Bon Voyage, Mr. Kreuzenstein," said the doctor. The two men walked back up the stairs when the earthen floor in the basement was flat once more. It was half passed three. They walked into the living room where the old lady was still in her rocker, unaware of the present moment. The gentleman in the tailored suit stopped next to her. " I'm going now, mother." The old lady turned toward the gentleman. " Did the doctor and his friend have a nice time?" The doctor stood back and nodded nervously. "Alwa-ays a p-pleasure, ma'am," he said with a wry smile and slight stutter. " Good, doctor. I hope you don't mind the smoke, I know how much you must disapprove of my habit." She gave another frightful smile. The doctor could only return a nervous nod. " Do come back soon, dear." " Of course, mother. The doctor and I will be going now." The old lady turned back suddenly toward the t.v as if she hadn't had a conversation at all. The doctor and the gentleman turned on their heels and marched out. The doctor seemed to be musing over something as they were walking on the footpath toward the black car and then he cried in a whisper, "Jefferey, what if the cops find out she's your mother? Wouldn't we be caught, dead? All they need to do is have one stop here and we're-!" He a made a slicing motion with his forefinger across his throat. His comrade was silent. The poor doctor went white and broke out in a sweat all over again, rubbing his hands together. "What if they connect all those crimes here, to her basement? And then they find it was us?" The gentleman in the tailored suit gave a ruthless smirk. " Relax doctor, relax." "But Jefferey, oh, what if she suspects something?" The gentleman stopped and stared hard into the eyes of his nervous comrade. "Doctor," he said, " we shan't be caught." "How are you so sure?" The gentleman's smirk returned as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He took his time while the doctor waited anxiously. He lifted the cigarette up , sucked it in and breathed out. He said, "I know we shan't be caught because that old lady isn't my mother." The gentleman exhaled the smoke into the night air casually. The doctor just stared. "She has Alzheimers and she thinks I'm her son." continued the gentleman. The doctor was silent then he smiled. "Oh, this is wonderful Jeffery." He said, almost with a laugh. " So we just use her basement whenever we want because she thinks you're her son, eh. She has no idea, huh? Who's all down there? Every time? Oh, you are too much, Jeffery, too much." The doctor was chuckling, slapping his thigh and then laughing maniacally. He stopped and regained composure, and wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked up as another thought struck him and stared at the gentleman for a moment, then said, "But what happened to her son, Jefferey?" The man in the tailored suit smirked deviously again and took another smoke before speaking. "He died a terrible death, Doctor. " He said staring at nothing in front of him. " How... how...how do you know that, Jefferey?" The gentleman in the pinned striped suit took another smoke and glanced sideways at the doctor. " You should know, Doc. You helped me bury him."


The sun set as the boy trudged through the woods. Dark and cold, the only sound was the crack of fresh frost under boots as he marched, searching. It would not get away. With each determined step, the scent of blood grew thicker. The boy nearly tripped, dropping his gun. He looked down, a wet gash in the forest floor, revealing dark dirt underneath, slick with cooling blood. The boy picked up his gun and followed the deep gash in the dirt, clawed footprints on either side. A cold winter wind gusted through the trees, driving the scent gore towards him. But the boy continued, rage inuring him to cold and fear. He came upon a clearing, alone, the scent of violence and death thick. The last fading lights of the winter sun shone through the trees, illuminating the grotesque thing on the other side of the clearing, a deep crimson line cut into the crisp white snow leading up to it. Long and snake like, the thing, slicked with blood, wore a goats skull for a head, curling its body into an undulating mass from which arms and legs would appear and withdraw. It leveled its head at the boy. He saw a small girl in the center of the of the macabre pile of flesh and muscle. Rage, white hot and forged hard like steel, guided him, he raised his gun, without a quiver of cold or fear, and fired. ■ The sun rose, light streaming softly through the window as a small girl played with her doll. She played lazily, nervously peeking out the window at the rolling hills painted white with snow, the path toward the village winding over and between them until it bent around one too far and she couldn’t see any further. She couldn’t see, but she knew that it led down to the village, and she knew that father should be heading back by now. She played and she watched, she saw her brother walk to the barn, tending to the animals. She played and she waited, her mother busied herself in the kitchen. Finally, after the sun just passed midday, she say him, small as he rounded the hill carrying a large bundle. She waited patiently by the door, until, finally, the door opened. She squealed and lept to hug her father, but he pushed her away, distracted, and walked passed her, toward the basement. She slumped by the door, and heard the basement door slam. After supper, her father had not returned. She krept to the basement door and eased it open. She made her way down the stairs silently, near the bottom she heard her father. He was chanting, then he stopped and swore loudly. She cringed back at the sound reflexively, but continued onward. He began the chant again as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She peered around the corner and she saw him, naked, bowing in front of a severed goat's head, dripping upon the metal spike that skewered it, he was draped in the guts of the thing, dyed crimson by them, and surrounded by a circle and symbols drawn in blood smeared across the floor. She screamed. His head snapped toward her as he finished his chant, his eyes igniting with rage. He bolted to her, grabbing her roughly by the upper arm and smacked his hand over her mouth, silencing her. He hefted her, dragging her toward the circle, throwing her into the center of it. She tumbled to a stop staring up the the spiked goats head. The flesh was now rotting off the thing, sloughing off in meaty chunks and landing at the base of the spike, where they slowly grew. She resumed her scream, only to be cut off by a swift kick to the stomach. Her father was swearing and yelling, not loud enough to be heard outside the basement. He was intense, gripped by an unholy rage as he laid blame upon the girl for his failing. He kicked again. She stared up at the goat, the skull was now clean, the flesh piled at the bottom into a thick mass forming a rough, bodily, shape. She watched the skull, no longer able to scream, as her father paced. He talked to himself, working himself into a rage, unaware of the monster or his daughter. Until she moved. He let out a curse and grabbed her and threw her again. She whimpered as he raised his fist. The skull watched. ■ The sun was setting behind the trees as the boy finished his chores around the farm. He went into the house looking for supper and was met with the smell of gore. Nauseous, he made his way toward the origin of the smell, toward the basement. Pulling the door open, he vomited. The air was sticky with the scent of death, the smell washing over him, permeating every inch of him. He made his way down the stairs, the feeling of blood in the air mixing with the smell of his own fresh vomit caused his world to spin, almost sending him tumbling down the stairs. At the base of the stairs he saw a splash of red on the wall, as well as the stuff pooling near the bottom of the last step. With pounding heart he turned the corner. Once in the room he collapsed, hands splashing on the floor, retching. The room, lit by candles and the fading light of the winter sun flowing through the small window near the ceiling, was bathed in crimson, dripping from the ceiling and walls. In the center of the room was a mangled corpse, twisted and broken, its entrails littered across the floor, lifeless eyes facing him. He recognized his father and his stomach dropped, grief and despair preparing to take root. But now all he could do was look. In the corner of the dark room, a small undulating mass of rotten meat wrapped around his sister. Above it, connected by crimson flesh, a pristine white goats skull. Like a flash the skull flew around his sister, wrapping around her like a macabre snake, and flew past him up the stairs, slamming into the walls with meaty thunks, and leaving streaks of crimson and pieces of gore in its wake. The boy pulled himself up the stairs, collapsing at the top then stumbled to the door. The thing left a deep furrow in the ground leading to the woods. He ran to his father’s room, found his old rifle, and ran into the woods after the thing, rage steeling his nerves.


"Fuck that. I won't do this to myself, won't do it to someone else, ever again." he said to himself after breaking up with her. She was beautiful but that's all there was to it. Facial features and curves can only take you so far. He knew it was a bad idea from the start, and he knew he should have ended it sooner. Years pass and everything changes. Severe mental health issues delay graduation. What a wild white knuckle ride that was. Deep depression, mania, depression again, repeat. Suicide sounded so comforting for so long. This is a different world for him now. Full of people who only understand him through his label: Bipolar. He forgets about the girl but he cannot forget about the way it feels to have someone special. Someone who really loves you and accepts you for who you are. He craves intimacy. Not the variety you find between the sheets. Just the little things: The soft warmth of kissing someone on the cheek. Falling asleep on the couch while you're watching a movie. The sweet smell of her hair. The first hug at the end of a long day. Holding hands in the chilly fall air. He's pretty stable these days... but the cravings are getting worse and worse. Visions of standing in the kitchen with her, flirting while he cooks. Listening to her stories. Exchanging fascinating ideas. Sitting in silence. The years roll by faster and faster. Where is she? Who is she? Is she even out there? Should he look for her, or just stay put and be patient? Nobody knows. But some day, the wait will be over. Hands on the nape of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. The first one. It's pure bliss. Three seconds of heaven, then prolonged eye contact, and a warm smile. Giggling while making out in the park like a pair of teenagers. Waking up next to her while she's sleeping, and thinking: "I still can't believe it." Associating songs with her. Movies. Books. Starbucks drinks. And it will just as good as he remembered it to be. No - even better. The wait is painful but it will be worth it. For her. Whoever she is.


\[ VI \] Matilda moved wearily as she wore her favorite feather and she swayed to her music: accompanied by her Golden Fleece. She had become exhausted of writing aboot her never ending battles, and with no caution began to pull at the silver intertwined webs that lay endless at her fingertips. To this folly she fell into a angst every time she saw the face of the Hydra being praised by the people of the World. She loathed this beast and often deterred her Indigenous Warriors from standing within proximity of the slick-tongued evil monster. She had watched the Hydra as it grew countless heads her whole life, but was told by her father to never trust the poisonous words that fell from the countless heads. The Hydra had once captured her father and he had barely escaped with his life, and instead threw himself into world battle at a young age, as the Indigenous American/Canadian boarding schools were controlled and terrorized by the Hydra. It would be to this history that Matilda sought knowledge on the beast, and found more questions aboot her father and his unending grumpy moods. For it seemed the Hydra was known worldwide for being both ruthless, avaricious, and most dangerously: a pedophile. The wide-eyed girl avoided looking at the Hydra at extreme lengths: despite his countless faces being found everywhere, and commercialized to the extent that others overlooked the sexual deviance the beast brought on all the children. Matilda was actually scared of this beast, as it seemed as though her father may have been too. She knew better than to ever seek the story of his battles: her father was the bravest man she knew, and his kept secrets well deserved. The Hydra had found ways to place its faces over the sea, and with this power: they kidnapped the Indigenous American children for centuries and raped and murdered them as they saw fit, Matilda’s father included. The beast ripped out the fingernails and mutilated the tongues of the children when they were unable to speak the language of their God. The Hydra had committed mass Genocide as it lined up the children and shot them in the masses left in shallow unmarked graves: to avoid being caught or the paperwork caused when it had kidnapped too many children to feed its desires. To this the Indigenous Warriors fell ill with the darkness of Hades and forcibly assimilated to the ways of the dead-eyed savages who had invaded the land. They had wished death on her and her fellow Indigenous Warriors as they brought with them and feed them to monster known as the Hydra. The beast was materialistic like the Boar and its insatiable desires were equally known to the public. The Hydra now angered by the lack of children sacrifices: began to to increase the rate it raped and the sloppy crimes committed, as the beast only cared aboot its own offerings and continuing its tradition of being a pedophile. Matilda frequently argued with the dead-eyed savages that roamed her land: protesting the well known intentions of the Hydra, and even lost companions over her objections. She had known too many Indigenous Warriors that fell victim to the Hydra, and with this knowledge she knew her Indigenous Warriors and her brave Argonauts would never be safe. She watched as natural disasters occasionally left citizens on her land with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and when they sought refugee and aid from the Hydra who had once promised them protection: they were met with negligence and given nothing more than empty thoughts and prayers. Matilda sat atop her hill silently judging the beast with countless faces, and knew the time had come to kill each and every head that dare continue to cast evil upon the children she called her own: because of its unattested and sickening ways as a predatory pedophile. There were not enough power of electric magic stored in the Golden Fleece to conquer the beast, and Matilda had fell ill from hearing the countless stories told aboot the Hydra from her fellow Indigenous Warriors. It took practice to hold the stories of all the children traumatized and raped by the Hydra. Matilda gathered the information deemed pertinent, as to understand the unpredictable countless heads that continued to grow back no matter where she traveled in the world. She felt disgust in the beast and its perverse ways, and offended as it continued to steal from the citizens. Like the Boar: the Hydra felt it stood above the law and often mocked the citizens with its blatant ability to advert from paying taxes like all the other citizens of the land. In sync with the Boar: the Hydra flaunted its sexual escapades and deviances: until it were forced to pay off its numerous victims, and continued on with its depravity unfazed. Matilda watched as the Boar squealed and snorted to the publics that are represented by the Hydra, and used the masses of the Hydras blind victims to perpetuate an image of false chaste and honesty, as the Boar too: had absolutely no issue with Hydra being a pedophile. Matilda watched as the two spike-lined tails stretched across the waters near the North Sea, and wondered how the Queen of the region had allowed such a monster continue to grow and hurt the children that she was responsible protecting. One tail pointed to the lavish castle of this questionable Queen, and the other tail laid Southeast to the Tyrrhenian Sea, directly to a village plastered with gold from wall-to-wall. The novelty of Western fortune meant nothing to Matilda, so it were clear to her that the duo tails held unequivocal importance to the Hydra and its countless heads. Matilda knew damn well that she’d be battling the monster forever if she formed strategy focused strictly upon attacking the unknowing number of growing heads of the Hydra. So she began to strike her weapons of silver and gold upon the backside of the Hydra, as there were only two tails, and nobody really expects or wants to be attacked from the rear. Ever. A lesson in tactics Matilda had learned directly from the Hydra, as she had studied the many heads of the cowardly deranged pedophile. Matilda was not an indignant or violent Indigenous Warrior, as she was still haunted and crippled by the darkness that had followed her from the depths of Hades. To this battle she knew her violence was fully provoked: she held mighty with righteous intentions, as she sought only to protect the countless children who had been raped by the Hydra, and to ensure further trauma would be cut short by the countless heads of the unstoppable beast. Despite not fighting alongside her famed Argonauts: this battle was personal, and the extremities of her might untested in war. If she were to be cast back to Hades in her next life, as to repent for this slaughter...she’d gladly go back to the dark abyss. Matilda had been raised by one of the finest Indigenous Warriors to walk her land, and to honor this man: she knew this battle was most likely to be her last and took victorious modicum to the taste of Hydra blood she now thirsted for. The time that this beast had reigned terror and sharp-worded lies had reached its end, and she felt the endless relief that she understood the full consequences of decapitating the beast herself. To this battle Matilda cracked her neck once more as she wielded tirelessly her weapons of gold and silver upon the ass of the Hydra, unbalanced by her own laughter in the midst of blood splattering. Matilda proved her indomitable might, as she hand-painted blood upon the walls of the questionable Queen and her lavish castle. She then bestrewn blood across the village plastered with gold from wall-to-wall...with the copious amounts of blood of the now slain Hydra. She needn’t injure the questionable Queen, or set fire to the faceless one that the Hydra had once guarded in the village plastered wall-to-wall with gold. Matilda instead chose to smear the blood of the Hydra along both of their walls as a gesture of final warning: to tell the two individuals that their decor was ostentatious, and to back the fuck up from her children. \-A Traditional Yurok origin myth composed and re-mixed with Greek myths by: Matilda Brooks US Federally Recognized Property #562-6146, Yurok Tribe, CA.


Sensitive content: Sexual violence, mental health Kate sneezed as she dropped another cardboard box in the dusty basement of her childhood home. Every time she felt accomplished in loading up an entire box, the room seemed to spit more things out to sort through. She felt annoyed that the sole responsibility for organizing and cleaning up her parents house fell on her. The least Jason could do is step up for once in his life and be a good son. Then again, she really didn’t want to have to interact with her brother, they’ve never had much of a relationship beyond awkward forced family get-togethers.

Since their parents died, the duties included organizing the funeral and the celebration of life, getting the finances in order, cleaning out the house, working with the realtor to get everything in shape for showings…. the list goes on. Jason had made no effort to help with anything. He simply showed up to the will reading, was pleased by the generous amount our parents left him and disappeared. This behavior was typical, as he’d always viewed our parents as some sort of ATM. He shows up to celebrate Christmas… because he knows there’s a nice Christmas cash gift. He loves you… but could you do him a favor? Tip for tap.

Meanwhile, Kate has focused her entire life on being the best child, the best daughter she could be for her parents. Always supportive, always there to talk to, showing up to every family gathering she could. She was reliable, trustworthy, always thinking of them first…. And yet, Jason somehow always ended up being the golden child. Despite his many wrongdoings, they just acted like he could do no wrong, even at the expense of Kate. She tried to push Jason and her parents from her mind. This is not the time. But, being in this house again… everywhere she looked something cracked the carefully built wall in her mind.

She needed to get out. She needed a breath of fresh air. She hoisted the full cardboard box up between both of her arms, unable to see her feet and started moving as quickly as she could to the stairs. Her foot caught something on the floor on her way out and in slow motion the box flew forward while Kate tried to catch herself. “FUCK,” Kate screamed. Despite trying to clean up her language, she always defaulted to swearing during a painful bump. There was just special something about the word fuck. Anytime she stubbed her toes or slammed an elbow into a corner, somehow ‘fuck’ truly relieved some of the pain. She gathered herself on the floor looking for the culprit- a heavy book-like object. OH. It’s the old family album. Kate hadn’t seen it in years. She slowly brought herself to her feet, bent down to grab the album and brushed off the dust. A huge sigh escaped. As she made her way upstairs she felt something in her body tense up. First in her stomach, then her chest. It was like her body was begging her not to open the album, don’t go there… The chair screeched over the old wooden floor as she sat down at the kitchen table. Kate stared vacantly at the album. This was the moment she could turn back, not open Pandora's box. Against her body, she opened to a random page - there in front of her was an old family picture. One of those pictures where everyone was forced to coordinate what they were wearing to appear like a united family.. Her mom and dad were both wearing red Jcrew v-neck sweaters while she opted for a white shirt/red cardigan combo. Jason of course was wearing something barely passable for the photo. Despite her parents buying him a brand new sweater, he opted for a heavily worn off color, long sleeve polo shirt that clearly had seen better days. This photo must be at least 10 years old, Kate being in maybe the 9th grade, Jason in 12th. After getting past the in-your-face color scheme of red sweater against blue background, Kate couldn't help thinking about that day. While everyone is smiling in the photo, the entire drive to the photography studio was painful. There had been a big blow out fight between her mother and brother, resulting in Kate hiding out in her room until it was time to leave. Sitting in the car ride over, Kate knew better than to try to involve herself in whatever the situation was, no one liked her opinions anyways. Or really, no one cared how it made her feel. Her father took the complete ignorance route. Truly, to this day, Kate has never met a man better at ignoring his life.

Looking back down at the fakeness of the smiles, Kate cringed.

“If only I could tell you, you’re going to be okay,” she thought, looking at her younger self. “You’re so strong and you’ll be proud of the person you become.” Kate felt her chest expanding and contracting. Every time she thought she had processed and dealt with her family trauma, her mind without a moment's warning would completely humble her. She stood up and fumbled through the junk cabinet in the kitchen and after scrambling through rubber bands, bottle openers and pins, she pulled out a pen. Next she grabbed a floating paper in her bag from the realtor. She was going to write herself a letter. Her younger self. After many years in therapy, Kate had finally accepted that her psychologist may actually know what she’s doing, despite how ridiculous the “homework” felt. Kate had been putting off the journaling/writing portion of her treatment for a long time. She felt like she needed to give this version of herself some support. A version of herself that was drowning in hurt with no lifebuoy’s in sight.

….. Once it was complete, Kate folded up the paper and tucked it away in her bag. She placed the shoulder strap over her chest and decided she was finished for the day. She made her way through the house, turned off all the lights and made sure everything was packed away before heading to the door. She paused in the open doorway for a moment and looked back inside.No matter how difficult confronting your own pain may be, once you allow yourself to face it, there was always a sense of peace and acceptance. The letter Kate wrote is as follows- You’re not cold and emotionless. No matter how many times you were told, no matter how much you started to believe this, you were not. Survival. That’s what guided the ups and downs, the choice of when to hold your tongue. Speaking up had consequences, or even worse, was met with empty eyes. Your feelings didn’t matter.

You chose to get out, you chose to find your freedom, but freedom had a price. Compliance. You had to comply with the things that were outside of your control. And soon, compliance turned into so carefully managing the chaos of the day to day. “Don’t rock the boat”, “I don’t want to make things harder for them than they already are, '' you repeated to yourself. A child. And you weren’t the child they needed to worry about. The cries for help you didn’t even understand took over your psyche. It’s easier to focus on your body than it is to face the sadness of your reality. A dimple on your thigh shouldn’t exist, your legs are wider than your friends and look how disgusting your eating habits were. Food was the only momentary escape, but nothing beat the extreme relief that washes over you after completing the ritual. Hanging over the toilet, finger down your throat, you release your demons. You can’t help but laugh at how euphoric the experience of "removing the weight off your shoulders” is. Even then, there was no need to worry about you. I’m here to remind you life is fluid, the trials and triumphs you experience are temporary. You will see growth, but with growth comes pain. Pain from the elements of your life that are buried so deep so you can survive each day. Pain from allowing yourself to question. You vividly remember when he touched you and logically you knew it was wrong, but you needed to survive. So you put it away. So deep, it feels like a distant dream with no emotions attached to it. Finally, years later, your body collapses to the floor, unable to ignore these memories burned into your mind. Only then do you realize the gravity of what happened. Saying it out loud will make it real. That’s too scary. It's okay to need more time for the words to make it to your lips.

These lessons, as hard as they may be, are truly what freedom is. The buttons that have been so carefully placed inside of you are useless now, they cannot control you anymore. You have freedom to live true to yourself. I write to tell you of your strength, of how much you will overcome. I write to urge you to be kind to yourself. To love yourself. Most importantly I urge you to protect yourself. Just because someone means well, does not mean their actions should be free of consequence. You have every right to be hurt, to protect yourself and demand boundaries. You don’t owe anyone anything. You weren’t created to serve someone else's purpose. To serve as someone else’s doll of accomplishments, thrown aside and ignored when you become too inconvenient, only to be pulled out to show off when it suits them.

You are more than just a good daughter. You are a light soul, full of love, full of creativity, full of depth to share with the world. You fill up others’ cups. It’s funny how you don’t even realize the difficulty of the twisted burdens you were forced to bear - a testament to your strength. Life won't go exactly how you think or hope, but you are a stronger person in the pieces of yourself you didn’t even know were weak. Be proud. A coddled grape makes a simple, uncomplicated wine. The best, most interesting wine is made from a grape that has struggled, deprived of water, fighting to live.


There was once this girl, okay, maybe a woman, not a girl, she was nearing 30 so was not a girl anymore. Anyway, to the point. This woman was appearing okay but in her little mind, she was finding life super, super hard. She was battling dark demons. They got a ton worse when she got put in isolation for 10 days due to a pesky virus that was spreading globally. The woman who we will call Jamie has a son who lights up her world and an amazing fiancé who supports her mentally and physically but she knows he has demons too. Though he hides it, she knows. The son is in isolation with Jamie but he's struggling, he is 5, he doesn't understand. He's such an adventurous child, he loves to be outside but they can't leave. If they leave Jamie knows they'll probably get an extortionate fine, that will make them demons a million times worse. Jamie longs for nothing more than their own home but they have 3 County Court Judgments between them, which means they're bound to get rejected for a mortgage. Writing is on of the many ways Jamie can escape, she has tried A LOT of things to help calm her but writing is the only real thing. Jamie didn't sleep again last night. Jamie spent an hour and a half watching some silly programme on catch up just to attempt to cheer her up. She still tossed and turned for 2 hours last night. She thought she'd sleep soon, but ended up staring at the spotlight on the ceiling for half the night. Her anxiety is driving her in some deep, dark hole. She knows she can't afford help. She'd rather the money go on her sons birthday and making his life better. She doesn't know what to do next... She longs to take a long walk to contemplate her next steps, she longs to have “alone” time walking through a really busy city centre, but she can't. Jamie is sat there at her kitchen table in her tiny 2 bed flat, starting at the rain hitting her window, trailing down like the tears slowly creeping down to her chin, dripping on to the marble patterned table cloth sat upon her tiny table. She can hear her son talking to his friends and teachers on the other side of the screen, she looks up and checks on him. He looks fine but is he? She watches how he talks. She notices how he's looking at his mother at the corner of his tiny, beautiful brown eyes, the same eyes as his mother, the ones that are pooling with water as she watches over her darling little cherub, in a trance, amazed at how she made this human, how he's turning out to be. She gets alerted when he turns to her and says “mummy it's finished”. Jamie snaps out of her trance and says “okay Darlin, let's talk about what you learnt about today.


We IV drug junkies like to use the little single-use, plastic syringes that diabetics use to inject their insulin to inject our drugs. They come sterile in a package and aren't meant to be reused, as the needle itself can bend or grow dull, the sterility is compromised, etc. *However,* everybody runs into a situation where they are on their last "rig," (Slang for the needle/syringe itself.) and running to Walmart, CVS, or the needle exchange isn't possible...so you make do. Note: The word "register" as used in this story refers to the act of inserting the needle into your skin and gently pulling the plunger back to draw blood into the barrel of the syringe and ensure you are injecting into a vein as opposed to muscle tissue. "Bevel" refers to the uneven cut in the point of a needle so it is designed to be inserted more efficiently. Hope you enjoy. This occurred sometime in March of 2015. A third of a gram of black tar heroin in a baggie next to me, and one rig with a sharp enough point to work. Single-use doesn't always work when your all money is going to heroin in the first place, so this one has been used 5 or 6 times. Inspect needle. 30 degree bend to the left. Bevel indistinguishable. Bend it straighter **delicately** against the bathroom counter. I'm not going to snort or smoke this shit like some fucking pussy. Relatively straight point. Pull back on the plunger. Audible squeak. Rinse gently with warm tap water. Pull plunger. Less audible squeak. Bingo. Drop chunk of tar into the spoon. Add dash of cold tap water. Stir. Apply flame to the bottom for a few seconds. Stir. Mud-brown liquid in the spoon. Pull the end off a Q-Tip and drop it in the spoon. Oh-so-soft plunge into the cotton as it soaks up the heroin. God help you if you blunt the tip against the spoon. Pull back slowly on the plunger to draw the heroin into the barrel. More audible squeak now. Oh well. Fill the barrel. Flick the air bubbles to the top and push. Align point on crook of right elbow. Find a relatively clean spot in your vein. Gentle push. Firmer push. Sink. Pull the plunger for the register. Draw back air. Slight adjustment, then sink again. Draw. Dark red floods the barrel. Go time. Plunge. No give. Firmer plunge. No give. Breathe in. Careful not to disturb the site, align the end of the plastic plunger against wall. Force against wall. Inadvisably hard push into wall. Give, injection. Slight burn, nothing major. Gratefully withdraw an intact point. Toss aside. 1, 2, 3, 4. Rush. Flood. Eyes roll back. Heroin draws a warm blanket around life and tucks you in. No toes hanging out for monsters under the bed to grab. Heroin: the problem eraser. Relief.


“I quit!” That was all that Louisa said, all those years of sacrifice were gone, and all because of Amber. Louisa had a hard childhood, however, when she was nine years old she found something she was passionate about. Riding horses, she couldn't love a single thing more than she loved horses. Horseback riding was her escape, the only thing that enabled her to escape her problems. While riding, Louisa felt a connection with the horse as well as with nature. The breeze on her face, that adrenaline that made her heart race, she loved everything about riding.

If you dare to ask her she would say her favorite horse was Luck, well she did not own him, however, she treated him as if she was his owner. Louisa lived not too close to the city, it was a rural zone where there were so many farms. One day when walking back home from school she saw an advertisement. Some farmers were looking for a strong and helpful employer who could work at the farm.

Louisa considered herself a strong and helpful woman, even though she was only nine. When she entered the farm and asked to apply for the job the farmers both laughed at her. “We are looking for a man, not even a boy and you are a tiny and weak girl”. Louisa didn't care, she kept insisting to them “I am strong enough for this job,” she said. A middle-aged farmer who owned a farm close to there was on that farm picking up some merchandise when he heard the girl. When the other farmers kicked her out, that one farmer talked to her “My name is Dave, and I also own a farm. Let me tell you, you are a very enthusiastic young lady”. Louisa liked that Dave didn't refer to her as a girl, he called her young lady. Then the farmer asked Louisa.“Would you like to work on my farm? I need some help”. Of course, Louisa accepted. The next day when Louisa entered the farm the first thing that caught her attention was seeing Dave riding a horse. Then Dave gave her a tour of the farm, it was clear what Louisa liked the most were the horses, which were kept in a stable. There was one horse in particular, it was as white as a cloud, but it had a dark spot on its back which characterized it. “What is his name?” She asked.

Dave answered, “More than a name, it is a meaning”. Louisa insisted so Dave told her the story behind his name. “This horse was a miracle,” Dave said while looking at Luck. “I was there when he was born, as well as the vet. When the vet took her out of the womb, he immediately die”. Louisa's heart stopped beating then, she wanted to know more about Luck's story. “What happened then?” she asked. “Well the vet gave up, she looked at me with that kind of face that tells you, there is nothing right. I didn't give up so easily, I put my hands on the horse's chest doing a CPR technique. The horse came back to life before I could tell”.

Dave trusted Louisa from that moment on, he had lost his daughter and Louisa had lost his father, it seemed that they were both meant to know each other.

After school every day Louisa went to the farm, she got used to all of the tasks and chores she had. Once she was done Dave taught her how to ride Luck, he started by teaching her how to saddle the horse. It took a few days for Louisa to get used to it, however, she seemed to be a natural. She was riding Luck as if she had done it for a long time, but speeding up was not one of her problems. The faster the better, that's what she used to say. After a couple of months Dave began to teach her how to jump through obstacles, he was surprised by how good Louisa was getting. One afternoon Dave gave Louisa a gift, it was wrapped in blue wrapping paper, Louisa had told him it was her favorite color. “What is this?” Louisa asked.

“Open it and you will see,” Dave told her. Louisa broke the wrapping paper, she opened the box and inside there was a riding suit. Louisa seemed to be confused, she thought farmers wear ranch boats, as well as hats. “There is this riding competition, I would like you to attend”. Louisa immediately smiled, no one had ever done something like that for her, she felt that Dave truly knew her. Louisa hugged Dave, and she whispered into his ear “Thank you! It means a lot”. Again, she accepted Daves's offer and would join the competition.

Louisa was ready for the competition a month later, it was a horseback riding club where people were taking lessons, and there were some girls older than Louisa. She was not nervous, Louisa was not like that. When Louisa did something she always felt confident about, this time was no different. She put on her helmet, then she kissed Dave on the cheek, and then went to the stable where Luck was.

“I am sure we are going to win,” she told Luck while smiling.

A blonde girl and two other girls were staring at Louisa, she looked at them waiting for them to say something. “Hi?” Louisa told them once she felt uncomfortable.

“What club are you representing?” The blonde girl said, another girl who seemed to be older said “You don't have a club uniform?” Louisa kindly told them “I came here with… with my dad who owns a farm”.

The three girls laughed at her, the blond girl told her “Good luck! You will need it”. Louisa was still confident, she would not let anyone destroy the confidence she had and she mostly feel loved, Dave was acting as if he was her father. Louisa's mom was an alcoholic woman, after Louisa's dad passed away when she was four her mother didn't have the strength to smile again. Since then Louisa was by herself until Dave found her.

The competition started, the horses and their riders were all at the starting point, and the first round would only be running. The first horse to reach the final goal would be the winner.

“Ready…. Set….Go!” The whistle sounded, and everyone was running as fast as possible, including Louisa. You could tell how focused she was, she didn't even realize she was the fastest until she reached the goal. The first thing she saw was Dave, he was shaking his hands while saying “That's my Louisa! Good job!” Louisa was proud, she patted Luck.

Louisa had won first place in the first round, and the blonde girl Luisa had talked to earlier was Amber, who won second place. When the other competitors reached the finish line they were surprised that Amber hadn't won, no one could believe it. “It was my horse, he stumbled,” Amber told them, she again stared at Louisa with an angry face. Louisa understood what kind of person she was dealing with.

The second round included jumps, again the whistle sounded and they were all running fast, this time Amber was beating Louisa. She did not seem to be enjoying the ride, she had a frustrated face and you could also see that she was suffering because she was giving much more than she should. This time Amber won, Louisa won second place, and she was still glad about it. Dave had never been happier, he was proud and excited since he trained Louisa, he had seen her turn into an amazing rider.

The competition was done, Louisa got a big golden trophy with a horse on the top, and she got a medal for winning second place. “Dave! Look what I got!” She said excitingly while running to Dave's arms. “Thank you!” She whispered.

After a long day, Louisa was exhausted, Dave took her home since it was eight o'clock Louisa thought her mother would be out, drinking. Dave hugged Louisa “Have a good night, little speedster”. Louisa laughed then she walked inside her house.

Her mother was sitting on the couch looking through the window, she had seen how an old man who she did not know hugged her nine-year-old daughter. She was not a role model mother, but she didn't want Louisa to end up like her.

“Who was that man?” Danielle screamed as soon as Louisa walked into the house. Louisa had no idea what to answer, so she stayed in silence.

“I am talking to you!” Danielle screamed again, and this time she punch the table with her fist, she made Louisa scared, it was not the first time Danielle acted violently.

Danielle started telling mean things to Louisa, she was about to hit her when Louisa raise her voice. “You have never been there for me, never since papa passed away. Why do you care who that man is?” Louisa took a deep breath, she was not scared anymore.

“That man has been like a father to me, and I want to live with him”.

Danielle let a tear out of her eye, she didn't scream or say anything. She went to her room, took a big blue suitcase out of the closet, and she started packing, putting all of the clothes unfolded from one side to another on the suitcase. Louisa ran to her mother's room, she was scared “Mom! Mom! What are you doing?” She said over and over again, but there was no answer.

When Danielle finished packing, Louisa kept crying thinking about what her mother was doing. Her mother finally said something “I'm leaving, I have not been a good mother because I don't feel like being one”.

“What do you mean?” Louisa asked her, her mother answered shortly “You did nothing wrong, now that you find someone who can take care of you is better for both of us”. Danielle left, and Louisa ran to her mother's room and used a chair to look in the highest part of the closet. Her papa's ashes were supposed to be there in an ash chest, she knew her mother was not ever coming back. If her mother took the ashes, her biggest treasure, she was forever gone. Louisa had a weird sensation, she had lost both of her parents now. She wanted to keep all of the good memories, some of them were blurry since she was so young when her family was complete. She first started tearing up until fear invaded her mind, she was no longer sure if Dave would accept her as her daughter. Louisa started crying, she got out of the house and then she ran to Dave's farm. The farm's fence was open so she went inside, it was ten already so Dave would be inside his house. She ran to the house and she started ringing the bell over and over again while screaming. Dave opened the door, and she saw how heartbroken Louisa was. “What 's wrong?” Dave asked her, Louisa hugged him with all her might.

“My mother left me, she is gone!” Louisa screamed, Dave was not catching what Louisa was saying, she was just screaming and he could barely catch some words she was saying. Dave understood one sentence Louisa said which melted Dave's heart. “Are you going to send me away from you? You don't want me as a daughter?” Dave grabbed Louisa in his arms, let a tear out of his eyes and he said “I will never let you go, you are my daughter now”.

For both of them life changed that night, Dave turned into Louisa's father and Louisa turned into Dave's daughter. Time passed, and Louisa grew into a sixteen-year-old girl. She and Dave never parted ways, she learned from him everything a girl could learn from a father, and even more. Dave continued to train her, and Louisa continued to participate in horse competitions she was in love with horses, especially Luck. Her main rival was still Amber, she seemed to haven't changed, Amber was still mean to Louisa. Soon there would be an important national competition that would define who would represent the United States in the 2022 world equestrian championship.

Two weeks before the big national competition Louisa came back from school, Dave promised her that they would go horseback riding up a mountain that had a nice view of the valley. “Dad! Where are you?” Louisa asked while walking through the house. “Louisa, come here,” Dave told her from the basement, he was only there when he was working on the computer, and Louisa wondered why. “I need to talk to you,” he said. Louisa knew there was something wrong going on, then Dave kept talking. “I need to sell Luck,” Dave said shortly, without any other explanation. Louisa had different emotions all mixed,

He knew that Dave did not own the horses, if someone offered to buy one, the owner would decide. Then Louisa calmly replied, "I don't understand. Why would you sell it?" Dave continued saying "Well, apparently there is a client that offers double the value of what a horse like Luck costs, my boss decided it and I tried to convince him but he refused". Then the tears began to come out of Louisa's eyes, and she ran to her room, Dave was behind her while saying "I'm sorry sweetie, I'm sorry. You know I love Luck too". Louisa wasn't mad at Dave; she understood it wasn't her fault but was still very sad. Luck had been the most faithful and supportive horse she had ever known. He didn't have the same confidence with horses other than Luck. The next morning they both had breakfast together, as usual, it was Saturday so Dave thought it would be a good idea to ride, Louisa could ride Luck one last time. Returning from the top of the mountain, Dave and Louisa could see that Thomas, Dave's boss, was talking to Amber and Zara, Amber's mother. "What is she doing here?" Louisa asked, Amber, said in a cold and rude tone "Mother, why is this cowgirl riding my horse?" Louisa understood Amber would buy the horse to make her lose at nationals. "You're not taking Luck! You're crazy, crazy!" Louisa yelled at him as she walked towards Amber. Thomas calmed Louisa down, even yelling at Dave to control his daughter. "Amber will buy the horse!" Thomas yelled, he had always been an understanding boss talking about his horses, which were kept on Dave's farm but when it came to money Thomas was unrecognizable. “I quit!” Louisa screamed, she let out an uncontrollable cry and ran to her favorite corner of the farm, she was sitting in the shade of the big trees next to Luck, but now he would be no more. Dave came running up to her and hugged her as he listened to what Louisa was saying. "It's not fair! She just wants to make me lose! I've lost so much in my life." Dave immediately got upset. "That's not true! If you have lost a lot, but life has given you in return, you don't see it, there are orphans out there who never had someone who loved them as I did with you." Louisa yelled again "I quit!" She was angry with Dave now, she didn't like what he had told her, so she ran away. The days passed, and Louisa said goodbye to Luck and had given up the competition and riding because she didn't want to do it if it wasn't with Luck. Dave knew that Louisa wasn't really mad at him, she was hurt. Dave made a decision, he sold a gold watch which had been a gift from his grandmother since he was a teenager. Dave's boss agreed to sell the horse, so He went to Louisa's room without telling her that he had retrieved it. When Louisa saw Luck in the stable she didn't understand. "I bought it, it's yours." Louisa looked carefully at Dave "How?" I ask him, and he replied, "I love you more than anything my daughter". They both hugged each other and Dave whispered: "Now you must win, you must be the fastest Equestria in the world". When the national competition arrived in Ohio, Amber was there, her plan had failed. Everyone got ready and ran but there was a competitor who stood out among all. It was Louisa, she and Luck were about to reach the finish line first as usual. The second place did not go to Amber, she had been in sixth place which meant that she would not go to the world championships. Louisa couldn't believe it, she was going to compete against the best horsemen in the world. She had finally achieved what for many years she had worked so hard for, she achieved it together with her father, and everything she had lost had been for a special reason, something that had led her to be Louisa Anne Horton, the world champion. riding.


I stepped over the mossy log and continued down the hill. The forest was cool, unlike the city, dirty, and full of the smell of dead corpses. The smell of the woods was different, it was fresh, clear, not musty. I spent most of my time in the woods now, staying away from the city as much as possible.

The site of the corpses scattered across the city filled me with, anger. None of those people had done anything to deserve this, to be gunned down by the army, then left to rot. They didn’t deserve the Seed either, or the Cycle. But out in the woods, I didn’t have to see any of them. No Reapers stumbling around, no people going through the Cycle.

I can’t stay in the woods forever though, just to hunt. I must be with Avery, Jenni, and Tessa. They are all I have left, after the Seed.

“Give me the beat-Boys and free my soul,” I sang quietly. “I want to get lost in your rock and roll, so drift away!” Singing the chorus of that song brought back the memory of listening to it for hours with my mom. Me and her always loved the same type of music.

Suddenly, a deer emerged from the brush, silently eating grass. The animal had been left alone for years, that it didn’t even care about me. I squatted down and started to stab my knife in the dirt, watching the deer graze.

Occasionally, it would look up at me with its big, brown eyes, then continue to eat. I was jealous of the deer, he was free. Didn’t have to worry about Reapers, or the Seed, anything. Maybe getting mauled by a bear, but nothing really, free of worry.

I stood up, which made the deer flinch. I sheathed my knife, then walked away. My sudden movement scared the deer away. “Time to get back,” I whispered. Slowly, I made my way back up the hill, the whole-time singing Drift Away, while I could.

…

The sky was grey, the streets were barren, besides the few bodies of Reapers here and there, and some crashed cars. I walked in the middle of the street, hoping to not attract attention from Reapers. When one came, they all came. I’ve only been chased by a horde once, and I wasn’t waiting for that chance again.

I remember it clearly. It was about two weeks after the Seed hit, and I was scavenging in some Walmart supercenter. I had just filled my bag up when I started hearing moans. They started coming from everywhere, behind cash registers, the bathroom, random aisles. It was a miracle I made it out of there.

When I did escape, they came pouring out the front door, huddling up into a horde. I ran for what seemed like an hour, but it was just a minute at most. The ones from the store plus Reapers from the streets added up to about a hundred Reapers.

I managed to barricade a close by furniture store, then escape out the back door. I shook my head and tried to forget that day. “Just plain stupid to remember,” I told myself. The low hum of an engine came into my ear. Quickly, I turned around, and just in time to doge the blue Charger barreling after me.

I rolled into a pile of rubble, but I jumped up quickly. The driver of the car stopped, then leaned out his window. “Stay out of the road, dumb ass!” he shouted. I picked up a rock and hurled it at his car. It shattered the back window. “Yeh, watch where you're going, You big sh...” I didn’t finish, the car slowly started rolling backwards.

Quickly, I turned around and ran. Some survivors were nice, but this guy wasn’t. I heard the engine being revved up and the wheels squealing, then the car took off towards me. My legs were pumping, sweat dripping off my hair. I jumped behind a cement barricade before I became one with the road.

The car zoomed right past the barricade, and straight into another. Smoke was rising out of the hood, and liquid was pouring from the bottom. I heard whimpers and screams of pain from the man. I wanted to leave him for dead, but I just couldn’t. I came out from behind the barricade and jogged to the car.

I came up to the window and looked down at the man. He was in his twenties, slick, blonde hair, blue eyes. “Please,” he begged. “Don’t leave me.” I nodded. “What’s your name?” He coughed hard for a second, then said, “Gavin.” “Okay, Gavin,” I replied. “Are you hurt?”

He nodded. “Can’t... Can’t feel my legs.” I knew then I wouldn’t be able to get him back to the shelter. I tried opening his door, but it was so crushed that it wouldn’t budge. Another sound, besides the broken car, filled my ears. It was the silent, dark moan of the Reapers.

I looked around. I couldn’t see any, but they were there. “Please don’t leave me,” cried Gavin. I shook my head. “I'm not going anywhere.” I then started to jerk to what was left of the handle, but it was stuck. I pulled harder, but nothing moved. Gavin started to cry. “It's stuck,” I said. “You need to calm down.”

“Don’t leave me,” he cried. I turned around once more, and sure enough, there were Reapers. Four of them. I couldn’t shoot them, it would just bring more, and it would be a waste of ammo. They limped towards the car slowly. Gavin grabbed my arm. “Please!”

I pulled out my Revolver and aimed it at the first Reaper. My finger wouldn’t pull the trigger. I looked down at Gavin, he was a pitiful sight to see. “I'm sorry,” I whispered, knowing there was absolutely no chance of escape for him, and I shot him. Right int the head, it just took one shot, and he was dead.

His body stopped breathing and he went limp. I replaced my gun in its holster, then ran, away from the Reapers and Gavin’s body. I turned around once when I was at a safe distance. There were about ten Reapers now, huddled around the car, ripping chunks from Gavin’s corpse.

...

“He came out of nowhere,” I said. “Almost ran me over, but I jumped.” Avery pointed his spoon at me. “And what happened after that?” I shrugged. “I smashed his window with a rock and ran.” Avery dropped the spoon in his clam chowder and started to laugh.

Jenni’s smile grew wider. “You smashed his window,” she asked. “Then ran away.” I nodded, smiling myself. Avery recovered from his laughter, then scooped up the rest of his chowder. Tessa slowly stirred her dinner, watching the steam rise from the bowl. “What happened to him?” she asked. “The man in the car.” I looked at her, my body stiffened. “Umm,” I replied. “He, uh... He drove away.” “Thats it. You smash his window, and he drives away?” Avery questioned. I shook my head. “No, he chased me, but he kept driving,” I lied. “Missed me by an inch.”

Tessa was about to reply when a knock came from the door. I looked at the door, thinking it was just my imagination. Avery looked at the door too, so I knew it was real. Jenni stood up, gripping a steak knife. I pulled out my own knife and slowly advanced towards the door.

Another knock came, but this time with a voice. “Hello, is anyone in there?” I took one step closer. “Please, just let me in,” he said. I looked at the door, then reached out for the handle. “Who are you?” I asked. I was answered with another knock.

“Just let me in!” he cried. “They're coming!” I turned the lock, then opened the door. The survivor stumbled in, falling to the floor. I looked out the door before I closed it. Sure enough, the street was full of Reapers, on top of cars, crawling around, everywhere.

I closed the door, locked it, then looked down at the new man. “Who are you?” I asked. Jenni and Avery walked over from the table, but Tessa stayed there. “Riley... Riley Summers,” the man stammered. I held out my hand, and Riley took it.

“Who are you guys?” he asked. I pointed towards my friends. “That’s Avery, and Jenni,” I said, then gestured to the table. “And that's Tessa, I'm Noah.” Riley looked over at the table, then back to me. He had eyes like a hungry then. “Food,” he said. “I haven't had any in days, please.” Jenni walked back to the table and served Riley a bowl.

He scurried over to the table and wolfed down the clam chowder, then he served himself another bowl. While he was eating, the rest of us went into the living room to talk. “He can’t stay here,” said Jenni. I shook my head. “He helpless,” I replied. “Got nowhere to go.”

Avery clapped his hands together. “Listen, he can stay until he is ready to set out, then that's that,” he said. “Maybe for a week at the most.” I nodded. “Thats fine with me.” Jenni looked at us both, then sighed. “Fine, one week.”

I turned around and headed back to the kitchen. Riley was talking with Tessa when I sat down. “You can stay,” I said. “For a few days.” Riley took another bite of his chowder, then smiled at me. “Thank you.”

Jenni and Avery came and returned to their seats. I was about to ask Riley a question when I noticed something on his arm: it was a bite mark. I looked up at his eyes. Sure enough, there was red swelling under his eye lids. I didn’t know what to do. Kill him on the spot, kick him out, tell everyone else. For now, I wasn’t going to do anything.

In the morning, Riley was gone. Along with some of our food and the hunting rifle.

...

“He was infected,” I explained to Tessa. “It was good that he left.” Tessa leaned back into her seat. “Why did he leave though?” she asked. “I mean, he had safety, shelter, anything anyone would want.” I looked over at Jenni, and she just shrugged.

Avery jumped into the conversation, which I was glad. “Some people just don’t trust everyone, that’s why.” Tessa nodded. I turned the wheel and the car glided to the right. The sky started to grow dark, the sun drifting slowly behind the horizon.

I pressed harder on the gas pedal. Avery leaned forward from the back seat. “They will be out soon,” he said. I looked at him, then reached down for my water bottle. As I brought my hand back up, the bottle bumped the radio knob, turning the station on. At first, it was just noise, then a voice started talking, clear as day.

“Turn it up,” Avery said, staring anxiously at the stereo. “This message is... is to all survivors. My name... Kevin Reich,” said the radio. “There is... lifeboat in Newyork harbor. Me... Crew... For as long a... can.” I looked at Jenni, and she stared back with the same look. “We will wait for everyone... that can fit. Go... Bye.”

After those last words, the voice left, and the scratchy noise returned. “Lifeboat,” I whispered. “Newyork?” Jenni reached back and grasped Tessa’s hand. “We're gonna be safe?” She asked. I nodded. A smile crossed my face, and hope returned to my heart.

Suddenly, Tessa screamed. I was so consumed with the thought of freedom; I wasn’t paying attention to the road. “Watch out!” Jenni cried. I didn’t know what to look out for, but I jerked the wheel to the right, then everything went black.

…

My eyes opened slowly. The car had crashed, into a lamppost. Smoke was coming out of the engine, and the window had shattered. I tried to turn to the back, but a sharp pain entered my neck. “Is... Everyone okay?” I managed to say. I heard a faint groan from the back.

I reached down the unbuckle myself, but I stopped. There was a giant shard of the window glass stuck in my thigh. Blood was steadily dripping off my leg onto the seat. I tried to pull it out, but it hurt too much. So, I unbuckled my seat belt and opened my door.

I fell onto the floor when I tried to stand up, and the glass sunk deeper into my leg. I wanted to scream in pain, but what I saw next stopped me from it. There was a Reaper in the road, standing about thirty feet away. I rolled over so I could grab my gun. When I pulled it out, I saw the Reaper was getting closer.

Its jaw had rotted off long ago, same with its hair. I cocked my pistol, then fired off a shot. The bullet hit the Reaper in the stomach, but it kept coming. “Noah!” Avery shouted from the car. “I'm coming, just hold on.” I took another shot at the Reaper, but it missed.

I just couldn’t hit its head at the angle I was at. Now it was about ten feet away, step by step it got closer. “Hold on!” Avery said again. I started to lose consciousness; I was losing too much blood. My hand slowly lowered, then I dropped my revolver. My head sagged to the ground. And I was out. The last thing I heard before fainting was three gunshots.

…

“Help me!” I cried. It was dark, and cold. I couldn’t see anyone, no one was there. I stood up and started to walk, then run. I felt like I was going to run into an invisible wall at any moment, but I didn’t. I started to sweat as I ran.

My legs started to feel heavy, same with my arm. Suddenly, I heard the noise of an engine. I turned around and saw Gavin’s Charger racing after me. “Please don’t leave me!” he shouted from his car. I tried to run, but I kept getting heavier.

The car got closer. I fell, my legs were stuck in place. Gavin’s car drove right over me, but I didn’t feel anything. “Help me!” I cried. Again, no one came. I was alone, alone in the dark.

…

I shot up into a sitting position. I was covered in sweat, and dirt. My wounded leg had been bandaged by someone; blood had stained my pants and the bandage. Slowly, and with difficulty, I stood up and made my way to the door.

The hallway was dimly lit, but I still could see. “Hell... Hello?” I croaked. Avery appeared from the kitchen. He smiled, then embraced me in a hug. “How are you doing?” he asked. I shrugged. “Hurt, but okay.” He pulled away from me, then led me to the couch.

I practically fell onto the cushion; I couldn’t even hold myself up. Jenni was sitting in the armchair across from me, and Tessa was on the floor beside her sister. “What... What happened?” I asked. Jenni looked at Avery, then he looked at me. It was like there was some dark secret between them, just staring at each other, deciding what to say.

“Noah, I killed the Reaper,” Avery finally said. “You had lost so much blood we barley saved you.” I leaned back into the couch. “I figured,” I said calmly. “Is there anything else?” Avery sighed, but Jenni spilled first. “Were leaving, Noah,” she said. “To Newyork, the haven. That’s better than this.”

Again, I figured so. “Well, when do we leave?” I asked. Avery smiled. “As soon as your leg heals.” I rolled my eyes, then stood up. “I'm fine.” After I took a step, I fell to the floor, pain shooting up my leg. “Please... Just help me,” I asked. Jenni sighed, then got up from her chair.


Don’t Fear the Reaper Reapers are not curious beings by nature; it is not our way. We are chosen to reap souls, and we do it, with little to no questions asked. I don’t mind my job; it keeps me busy and gives me glimpses of the human world that I left behind, too soon, too young. But, of course, as with all things, our trade has rules. We cannot interfere. We cannot let our emotions rule our hearts, regardless of what we see. And lastly, each soul is assigned to a reaper, and only *that* reaper can take that soul to its afterlife. Whoever rules us demands it, and we are more than happy to comply. But I’d be lying if I said that sometimes there aren’t… Complications. Occasionally, a reaper will be so moved by emotion that mistakes happen, and things will have to be fixed. Or there’s a paperwork mix up and the people upstairs will be dealing with a pileup. But in all my years of Reaping, I’ve never seen circumstances such as these. I sit at my desk, reading the file for what seems like the hundredth time. Something feels off, and I can’t just ignore my gut. We may seem apathetic to people who don’t know us or our trade, but we really do care. It takes a strong soul to ferry souls to their afterlives, wherever they are. But this just screams of bad news. \*\* I stay in my office for most of the night, poring over every single detail. It’s a good thing that we don’t need sleep after we’re dead, because it’s been at least two days since I slept. Or ate anything. *Gage Cafferty. Died at 9 AM, 2/14/17. Cause of death: Three gunshot wounds to the chest, exiting a gas station. Saw a robbery in progress and attempted to intervene; was shot by the suspect, who is, as of now, unidentified. Ran out with all the money in the cash register, leaving Cafferty bleeding out on the floor. An ambulance was called, but he was announced dead at the scene.* My name is under this entry in bright red, the scarlet color indicating that I was running late on reaping the poor soul. But I just can’t take him to the afterlife without answers. It all seems too neat, too scripted, too well-put together. Remember when I said that reapers aren’t curious beings? I guess you could say that I’m the exception to the rule. Justice was out of my hands, but I don’t want to just sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. Too many of my friends, my family, colleagues: They tend to turn a blind eye to the horrors that humanity has wrought, claiming that they only deal with the aftermath. But how does that help anyone, in the long run? Sure, we bring peace to souls and deliver them safely to where they’ll spend the rest of their existence. But the yawning, gaping hole where my all too human heart should lie is telling me different. I can’t just stand by and watch things happen anymore. I have to change things. And I’ll start with Gage Cafferty’s soul.