Warning beforehand. The story contains swearing words and mature scenes. THE REASON WE GOT MARRIED The room was lit with scented candles having tint of lavender aroma all around the house. The door opens and a woman enters with an elite aura around her. “Happy wedding anniversary!!” A man wearing a tuxedo suit wishes and few more people comes with cake and celebrations. Everyone were wishing the main girl of the day. Wishing the main couple of the day. Link and Iris… The 26 years old couple also business partners…. Match made in heaven…

according to others. The party ended, the guest left. It was Link and Iris… Only two of them… Even though they live together, been married for 4 years they never felt this tense atmosphere before... The silence was killing them… It wasn’t awkwardness or lust. It felt like a time bomb which could blast any minute.

“I’ll clean up the-” Before Link could complete his sentence Iris spoke “Who the fuck told you to plan this? I hate social gathering and parties. Are you unaware of it?” Iris was annoyed yet spoked in pretty calm voice. “It was for our reputation and I thought if we could do something different this time” Link replies and Iris scoffs. “I hate anniversaries. You better don’t plan anything, it’s just like any other normal day. Anyways, it’s so annoying to act good.” Iris said and was about to walk away but… "Why did we even got married when you want to act like this?? After all the years together… Even when my family went to bankruptcy you stuck to me like a glue. I really thought… I really thought that you finally love me!!" Link yells letting out his frustration. Iris walks towards him with the same unreadable expression on her face... "You really don't know why we got married? Want me to remind you?" Iris scoffs and holds his collar pulling him closer. She leans towards his ear whispering "8 years ago... You… RAPED ME " 8 years ago. Getting off from part time job Iris was heading towards her house. It was almost past midnight and the streets were empty. Iris was walking off by her normal route which is from the alley. "BYEE GUYS I SHOULD GO HOMMEE!!" Iris heard a loud voice and couple of people muttering. She could feel the trouble knocking at her door and her instincts was telling her to leave the alley as soon as possible. She increased her pace but could hear the sound of footsteps following her all way. “Excuse me??” The voice made her stop and it sounded pretty genuine. “You dropped this” The boy seemed to be same age as her said returning the handkerchief. “It’s not mine. Sorry” Tris replies and was about to walk away but…. “I just want to return this. Why won’t you accept??” The boy said slamming her against wall. Iris could feel the hotness coming from him as if someone gave him flibanserin (drug which increases lust drive) She struggles to get away from his grip but he was a way too strong. "Please... let me go" Iris whimpers in pain as the boy pushes her down on the ground. "Shut up!! I just wanted to return this fucking handkerchief!!" The boy replies harshly pinning her.

The boy started striping her pants. Iris knew there is no way to escape. He was drunk and stronger than her. "Shouldn't you ask permission for it?" Iris asked with a blank expression on her face and the boy looks at her confusingly still he was botherless. "This is wrong... I don't want this..." Tear drops could be seen falling from her eyes. "That's how the world is... you better live in it." The boy said and started thrusting in. Iris didn't had strength to speak... She was lost in her thoughts... She was feeling numb and disguise by his every touch. "There is no used even if I want to stop you... then… If you are doing it… You better do it properly " Iris said but the boy was drunken and alcohol took over him… making him botherless by any of the things happening around. "Oh gosh... I freaking love you!!" The boy said kissing her all over the body.

Next Morning. Link wakes up with massive headache. Without thinking twice, he head towards the bathroom to fresh up. As each waterdrop drips from his skin made him remember each and everything happened yesterday. Regression, guilt and fear took over his every cell of body. "Its fine... No one knows about it... Nothing happened..." That's what he kept repeating. He head towards the hall room only to see his family having breakfast with an unexpected guest sitting on the dinning chair. "Link? Honey? You didn't tell us you have such a pretty girlfriend? Mom is upset that you are starting to hide from her." Link's mother said with a mother’s love in her eyes while serving the breakfast. "What are you doing here? Why are you wearing my school uniform??" Link was shook by her sudden appearance. “Link is this way to talk??” Link’s father scold him as they come from an elite family. "It’s okay father-in-law. (Smiles and looks at Link) I transferred to your school today. Do you like my surprise? Link?" Iris replies having a soft yet creepy smile on her face. "How did you two met if you aren’t in same school?" Link's older brother asks feeling suspicious. "Oh! yesterday we had-" Before Iris could speak further Link drags her out of the house. ... "I know you are pissed I am extremely sorry for yesterday. I got drunk for the first time and it was a mistake. I'll give you all the money you want. Please just-" Iris cuts off his sentence by saying "Money? I don’t want money. I'm just doing what you told me to do. Living in this world with someone who love me. Yesterday you told me that you freaking love me . We should be with someone who freaking love us. I’ll be with you forever . I obeyed you… I am a good girl, aren’t I?” Iris questioned with a smile plastered on her face. TODAY. "You could have sued me!! I.... I did wrong to you... I admit it... You could have report me to police. You had every right to do!" Link said with tears dripping on his cheek uncontrollably. "How am I suppose to do? You were rich... Your dad worked in lawsuit... You mom was businesswoman... What do you expect? Walk into lion’s den? Do you see me as a fool?" Tris replies with pretty calm voice. Link knew what he did was unforgivable and for that her has to pay... He accepted it... “It’s been 8 years since then… I didn’t like you at first but eventually I fell for you. That’s why I never oppose you… I know I did wrong… I won’t ask for forgiveness because I don’t regret any of it.” Link said holding her hands while tears just kept on falling. “All I wanted was to study... get into university... Marry someone who freaking loves me ... When I told my parents about what happened that day. They kicked me out of the house because it brought shame to my parents. You aren’t aware of that right? After all this years have you ever asked about my parents or where I lived? How I survived? The thing which every woman cherish is her virginity.... You took it from me... But you said you freaking love me.... So, I am yours.... Forever. "  Iris said with tears in her eyes for the first time in those 8 years. It felt like she poured out her heart.

“I am sorry for everything… I know what I did was wrong but it’s all past… Please just stop treating me like a crap all the time. Can’t we just move on? Start a new life..?” Link said with apologetic eyes. Iris scoffs saying “Move on? I’ll be with you just like this…  Forever. Even after I die” With that Iris leaves the room. It’s been 8 years… they never had any kind of conversation on this topic. It left them buried alive. Past Midnight. They both freshen up and were laying on the bed. They both were awake yet pretending to sleep. Having two different yet similar things in their mind. Iris If he wanted he could have killed me or when we were living together he could have kill me. Even now he can kill me. Destroy me any second he want. Did he really fell for me…? He raped you Iris… At the point when your life was getting better he ruined you. Your dreams… were crushed but… I can see sincerity in his eyes… Iris… You shouldn’t trust anyone. At least not the man who- Link. She always insults me in the business meetings. That sharp tongue of hers never leave me...  I know I don’t have potential like her yet I am her husband. Still… She have every right to treat me like a crap. To be honest I regret everything I did… but at some point I don’t regret because if I haven’t met her in that alley. We never got married. Fuck it!! I gotta work tomorrow I should just sleep!! Link moves sideways at the corner of bed. Suddenly he felt someone pulling him into a back hug. Tris clears her throat wanting to speak “The reason we got married may full of vengeance but I can’t let you go… You know that…” Tris seemed to be lost in words. A never seen side of hers could be seen. Link didn’t had words to describe how he was feeling for the moment, the misunderstanding was cleared... Link turns around engulfing Iris’s cologne, hugging her with every energy he have. Sometimes action speaks more than words and sometimes we gotta speak honestly so that we could understand each other. A proper conversation… A proper understanding could be a source of telepathy. It took 8 years for us to know the reason we are together… and 4 years to know The Reason We Got Married.

-1692 words


Her jet-black hair blows gracefully in the wind as she turns around to look back at me, giving me a wink and a peace sign with her fingers. Her high-school uniform fits so perfectly on her, just the right length for her skirt that I can see her beautiful long legs but not too much that it’s too revealing. Her blouse perfectly buttoned, not too high that I can’t see her cleavage, but just low enough to leave things to my imagination. Her hair, medium length, of course I will say how just right it is. What can I say, she’s perfect for me. I couldn’t have asked for a better senior year, with her by my side. I’m planning to enter the same university as her in just a few months after summer’s end. I need to follow her wherever she goes because she is that magical. We are those eighteen-year-old high school sweethearts. *Could* I *marry* her *one day?* I only wish we can keep things going the way they are, because I never want our story to take a turn for the-- “--Haruka!” She let out a laugh of contentment, “Kanako!” She shouted my name with her hands cupping around her smile. “I love you!” I run towards her in panic as she stands upon the rooftop edge about to take her next and final step to death. *ONE MONTH EARLIER* She sat at the piano playing a tune she told me her grandmother used to sing to her when she was a little girl. I sat beside her at the piano and listened. It was peaceful until she said, “Kanako...Want to wake up with me?” “What do you mean?” I asked as her fingers faltered on the keys. “You know, I’m so happy with you. This must be a dream,” she said; “Wouldn’t you want to wake up with me? If we were dreaming, I’d want to wake up next to you.” *I shouldn’t take her seriously*, I thought*.* She was probably like this with all the girls at Kodachi High. After all, she was popular with the ladies. “Haruka, stop playing games,” I said but she hushed me with her lips. They were as soft as I expected. I pulled back. “I’m not--” Before I could say anything she leaned in again, this time not only kissing me. I felt her small hand caress my breast. Tingles ran through my stomach and my hands went cold. I was nervous and she must have read my mind. “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered between tender kisses on my lips. Her other hand creeped slowly up my leg and under my skirt. She was about to touch my valuables, when she just stopped. She leaned back and sighed, and looked disinterested. My heart was racing, I couldn’t comprehend what just happened, let alone why she stopped when I was getting so hot for something I didn’t even know I would like. Then she said to me, “You know, I’m not a lesbian.” She looked me dead in the eyes with the uttermost seriousness before breaking out into a laughter, “I just like to mess around, have a little fun. I never go the whole way…” Her right index finger caressed the keys on the piano in a shy manner. The third period bell sounded and we could hear the others filling up the hallways. I grabbed her right hand with my left. “Let’s get to class.” There was one other time that I should have noticed… “I’m actually in love with you,” I confessed my love to her at the firefly festival. The sky was lit with only stars and the lanterns illuminated the pathway in the garden behind our school. It was just me and her sitting on a bench enjoying the scenery. She got up to try to catch a firefly. “Are you even listening to me?” I was getting a little irritated that she wasn’t taking me seriously. She had changed me in so many ways; she was my best friend that turned into someone I love. I needed her approval to make us official. Haruka finally captured the firefly, then crushed it in her hands. My eyes widened. I couldn’t believe she would do that. “My hands were like life,” she turned to me as she rose from her crouched position. “You and me--the firefly. Given the right condition,” she wiped her hands on her skirt, “ life can destroy us into the bliss we never knew we needed.” “What does that even mean?” I was confessing my love and she was spouting randomness, so I dismissed it and asked, “Do you even love me back?” “Yes,” She said. “You will be the only one I ever love.” I was relieved. She was mine and I was hers. So when she tells me to come to the rooftop today, our graduation day, I’m eager to see her, but this is not what I expect to see. I run toward her, everything makes sense now, I can’t let her go through this alone, I have to be with her. She soon steps off the ledge, I grab her as we plummet and we hold each other hard. Life’s grasp is enclosing, and these are our last nine seconds. “Why?” I ask her. “Because, I want to wake up next to you,” are her last words.


The two poets watched as the morning sunrise struggled into dawn. One was young, the other near the end of his life. The soft rose-pink light colored both their faces, the one like a smooth, blank palette, the other interrupted with aged canyons of shadow. "What, is it sunset already?" the older one wondered out loud. "No, Master," replied his young friend. "It is dawn." They sat gently rocking in a simple boat on the lake. If you listened carefully, you could hear the miniature waves lap against the cobbled shore. Shore birds, having anticipated the light, wheeled overhead in the cold air that cut through their cotton robes. The wooden slats of the boat groaned their complaints. "I'm cold," stated the ancient poet. "Let's go inside and have something to warm our blood." The young man studied his superior, wondering at the man's seemingly infinite capacity for drink. The old man was a famous poet, but you would never know it by looking at him. He sat there like a barren hill, his bald crown flowing down into broad shoulders and a chest that had fallen into his lap. The youngster felt that there was deep philosophy in the man's stoic patience. On the one hand, he knew that if he rowed back to shore, the old man would embarrass him. On the other, he didn't want to be responsible for the great man's death from cold. His sigh was lost among the tolling of the birds as he turned the craft and headed back towards the rickety pier. The ladder up the side of the pier appeared to be in even worse shape than when they had set out late last night. There was cause for concern that the dilapidated structure might not hold his friend's weight. The young man could only hope that the water here was shallow, as he could not swim. Once on dry land the elderly poet seemed to be reborn. He took off with unanticipated speed towards the inn's front gate. The young scribe had to scuttle to catch up with him. At the gate, the young poet rapped delicately on the rough wood. "That's no way to wake the dead!" roared his companion. He pounded on the double gate with a huge fist that looked the size and coloring of a young piglet. Almost immediately wooden shutters directly above them slammed open. With an agility that belied his size and age, the older poet leaped back just as the contents of a chamber pot splashed against the hard earth. His young companion reflected that this was obviously a happenstance the great poet had come across before. While the old man's robes of brown over an inner layer of yellowed-white silk remained relatively unsoiled, the youngster's four layers of red embroidered in gold thread, green, cream and black silk did not fare as well. "What do you want?" called down the enraged inn keeper. "Can't you see that it is the middle of the night?" "Can't you see," retorted the famous poet, "the dawn's early light?" "I am not opening my business this early!" shouted the inn keeper. "Send a servant out with a jug of your finest wine," suggested Li Po, "and we will not bother you until lunch." Yes, this was the famous Li Po, whose poems were well-known throughout the land. However, even the best of writers must moisten their lips. Once in possession of the large ceramic jug, he expertly turned it over the crook of his elbow and took a hearty swallow. Lips now lubricated, he released the jug to the care of his young friend. They had been wandering the southern lands of the empire for weeks now, and the lesser poet knew that he could not match the great man swallow-for-swallow. He drank enough to take the edge off the morning's frost, no more. Then he suggested the two of them wander around the neighborhood until time for their mid-day meal. He hoped, that way, to keep his friend out of further trouble and himself out of further embarrassment. They were in an agricultural part of the empire and so it was not surprising that they soon came across a farm. The farmer, still a young man, was hoeing weeds. Sweat poured from his face like rain. "My friend, my comrade, my fellow farmer!" Li Po called out in his effervescent, dramatic fashion. He had once tried his hand at farming, when his son and daughter were young. He had made an absolute disaster of it, just as he had when he'd tried being a politician. But he still thought of himself as a farmer, and a member of the emperor's court. In fact, he also considered himself a soldier, although it was one occupation that he'd meant to try but never gotten around to. The farmer was a naturally friendly fellow and smiled his toothless smile at them. "Come join us in a drink!" Li Po invited him. His young friend marveled at this display. You'd have thought he had been next-door neighbors with the farmer for years, so familiar was his manner towards him. Leaning on his crude hoe, the agriculturalist thought this over. "It is not good to drink on an empty stomach," he finally pronounced. "Come up to the house with me, and my wife will provide us breakfast." As they trudged up the slight slope to the man's abode, Li Po turned to his fellow poet and exclaimed, "See? Didn't I tell you that farmer up ahead looked like he had a fine head on his shoulders?" He had said no such thing. "Although he has spent his entire life on this farm and never ventured farther than the nearest market town, he is wise in the ways of men!" The farmer's wife, looking out at the rise of strange voices and seeing her husband followed by two distinguished-looking gentlemen, rushed out to greet them. Li Po thereupon lavished praise upon her until her already-ruddy cheeks blushed red. The younger poet was just pleased to find that their place didn't smell too bad. Breakfast was the usual of the poor peasant: cold, thin rice gruel. The bowls were small and Li Po had downed two before realizing what he was doing. This young man and wife would now have to do without gruel tomorrow morning. The jug had been passed around to all and was now empty. The temporary sobriety gave the hero a sudden clarity. "Bring me paper!" he demanded of the farmer. The couple had to pause, not quite sure if they owned such an item. "There is that letter that your uncle, the southern border official sent you," the wife reminded her husband. "Is it blank on the other side?" Li Po asked. They thought that it probably was. "Then bring it!" their guest commanded. The younger poet, and there is much disagreement as to his name, knew exactly what his master had in mind. He got out his ink stone and one of his lesser quality brushes. There was no need to waste the hairs of a finer brush on these two. The finer points of calligraphy would be totally lost on these yokels. Although the old man was well past his prime, and losing his eyesight, his touch with a calligraphy brush was still as amazing as ever. The tip of the sable hairs seemed to just barely touch the rough paper. His wrist was as supple as a child's, his fingers sensitive to the multiple meanings of each written character. When he was done, he sat back and gave a simple grunt of satisfaction. The younger poet looked over his shoulder and marveled at the sight. "One of your very best, Master!" he exhorted. There was no hint of flattery in his voice. The poem started out with mere whips of lines, almost as thin and airy as a spider's thread. Then, as it progressed, the lines became thicker, more energetic. Subtle flourishes were hidden everywhere. By the last character, Li Po had applied the brush almost flat, emphasizing the poem's noble meaning. "Should I read it to you?" the young poet politely asked. "Please do," replied the farmer. He bowed low. Already he knew that he had been highly honored. "My young friend," explained Li Po, "has excellent diction and enunciation. He comes from a very rich family and they afforded him the very best of tutors. There is no one better to speak my poem." Both husband and wife bowed low. They held that position as their gift was read to them. Stared into my wine cup unaware of the growing dark until falling blossoms filled the folds of my robe's bark Drunk, I stumbled to the moon floating in the clear stream where the birds had long flown away A few men shared my dream. The wife let out a surprised gasp before the recitation was even finished. "I remember my mother singing this song to me!" she exclaimed. "Until now, I did not fully appreciate the honor of your presence in our humble home!" Li Po looked very pleased with himself. There was nothing he loved better in life than to be told how far and wide his fame had spread. It was the most intoxicating of wines. "You can sell this poem anytime for good coin," said Li, "but if you can afford to hold on to it until I die, it will fetch a small fortune!" Soon after, the old poet asked the farmer to show him his sturdiest tree. He settled in its shade and quickly fell asleep. His companion explain to the couple that they had not slept at all the night before. "From sundown to sunrise, we drank, made up poems and watched the Empress Moon promenade across the sky." The farming couple went away impressed with how hard it must be to be a poet. So much work, to take all night! By late afternoon the poets were back at the inn. Li Po had awoken with a terrible thirst. At first the innkeeper didn't want to serve them. "No, I do not want any more of your poems as payment!" he growled in anger. "I already have enough of the worthless scribble to paper all my walls!" "But you saw the letter I wrote to my father asking for more money," the protege protested. "You yourself posted it to the mail!" The innkeeper could not argue with this and in the end he relented. Besides, the jovial old man brought in much business. Amateur poets and lovers of verse came from miles around to see and hear the famous fossil. That day, in fact, the crowd was greater than usual. So busy with the business of merriment were the two that it was well past sunset before they noticed the sun had left the sky. Li Po's most fervent fans insisted on joining them out on the lake and a small armada of dinghies had to be found to accommodate them all. Finally, though, it was just the two of them out on the water, just as they had been the night before. The loons had long settled in to sleep and the only remaining sounds were of crickets, frogs and the soft lapping of water. Overhead, the gods had ground so much ink that the entire sky was black. If one looked in the opposite direction of the inn, it was not possible to tell the heavens from the horizon. Occasionally, the calm was broken by the sound of a jug being raised to lips. Both poets contemplated the inky blackness of the still lake. "It is like the world has been blotted out by one large, bold character," the younger muttered, half to himself. His elder had no time or interest in such a simile. The moon's reflection in the water was so clear, so faithful a reproduction, that he had a hard time telling which was which. If anything, the mirrored version seemed superior, as it appeared larger than its original. "I hear the gods beckoning me, Du!" Li Po cried out. It was not his old friend Du Fu beside him, but the younger poet did not correct him. It was a distinct honor to be so confused with the other great poet of their age. Li's long sleeve could just be made out as he waved out towards the moon's reflection. "See how Goddess Moon calls me! Is she not the most beautiful woman you have ever seen? How wide and round her face, how pale her countenance!" "Yes, yes," grumbled the ersatz Du Fu. He was nursing a grudge. This would be the second night in a row that he would spend out in the freezing night air. How much warmer and more comfortable would a bed in the inn be! Besides, Li Po had spoken of this fantasy for years. When well in his cups, he liked to boast that the gods had sent him down from heaven. Sooner or later, he promised everyone within earshot, the gods would call him back home. Now he, too, looked out from their little swaying boat at the crisp, sharp image of the moon upon the lake. "You are too beautiful for me to resist!" he heard the old man cry out in passion. The bright orb, silvery white, hypnotized the young man. Only after the fact was he able to remember that the boat had suddenly begun rocking back and forth more than before. Only the sound of splashing water and the icy spray upon his skin brought him back to reality. "Li Po?" he called out to the empty seat next to him. "Li Po?" Being a bright young man, he immediately hit upon what had happened. He sighed. Whether it was a sigh of sorrow, regret or resignation, he could not say. "I am sorry that I cannot swim, Master," he called out into the ink. Then it came to him that it might be for the best. Li Po had gone home to his ancestors. He looked up in the sky, at the still, bright, eternal moon. the end


Michael never felt freer than when the oval sun dipped below the cold earth. Sprinkling the sky with an ombre of oranges and pinks, to settle in an ink-black with white freckles. Faint warm glows growing from simple homes melted into the sky like blended watercolours. Michael breathed deeply into the new air, the static and wild air. His feet grounded like roots into the earth and the wild air swirled into his lungs. His eyes remained delicately closed, on the brink of opening; just barely closed. A butterfly kiss of closure. Michael found joy and contempt in opening his eyes to the pitch black and watch it morph into dark colours as his eyes adjusted. He felt in those moments of morphing from blind to nocturnal that he became a part of the night. There was no joy here. The butterfly opened and on this foggy night, Michael was surrounded by the sea fog of his hometown, tainted with the staining blood of light. It was like orange glasses had been placed upon Michael's head while he swayed in the night. It was suffocating. Michael could feel the pollution enter his lungs with every breath. It was anxious, quick, and hot the breath coming out of him. Adding to the fog that swirled around him. Michael felt invisible arms wrap around him, smothering his body and pulling him into this polluted fog. Sick of the sick, Michael, wrenching his arms from the invisible force, sprung to his car. The door slamming shut behind his entering form, the keys clinking against each other as they were being thrust into the ignition to only miss and slam into the wheel. Michael's hands were shaky, trembling in soul-crushing fear of the sickness outside. Again the keys slammed, Michael breathing in a bubbling breath, a deep bubbly breath; slowly with shaking hands slid the key with precision into the ignition and twisted. The car bleeding into life and Michael sucking in gurgling breaths with relief. Hands clutched in a death grip the steering wheel, it looked as though bones were a second away from protruding through the pale skin. But the movements were so fast, from a death grip and a shaky breath, one hand jittered out to change the gears while the other indicated to enter the road and no sooner than when the steering wheel was grasped Michael was on the road. It was hard for Michael to focus through the orange pollution, he felt sick at moving through the nauseating gas. His arms stretched out uncomfortably straight, his back glued to the seat, erected, as his eyes bulged from his head. Michael tried not to breathe out of fear the pollution would be seeping through the air filters. The car was chugging and winding up the steep hill presented to Michael and he broke his fear of pollution for fear of his tiny shitty car for a second. But then his small car broke through that barrier, the barrier where the polluted sea fog could not go through. Through a gasping fish breath, Michael saw the tall shadowing trees, the inky black sky sprinkled with white freckles, the gasps between tree trunks changing colours depending on the growing foliage. And best of all.

No pollution on the roadside. Michaels now relaxed right limp arm slumped down to the headlights and turned them off, plunging him to even more darkness. Michael knew the way. He didn’t need that pollution to now the way he thought. It wasn’t as good as been outside amongst the inkiness of the night-time world. He couldn’t cement his feet to the ground and grow the roots he wanted to, but it was better than the orange pollution. So, Michael hummed pleasantly to the night, and winding down his window he breathed in the musky forest air. It was peaceful until Michael heard the artificial hum of the monster he was about to face. It sounded like death and chaos and soon the car spluttered over a small hill and there between the trees to the left the power building the monster sat with faint cat-like glows and an evil smile to its aura. The place where Michael worked. Michael thought about how painfully long it had taken him to get the graveyard shift at the powerplant. He thought about the itchy uniform he constantly had to wear and how he felt like he lived in a straight jacket constantly. So soon soon soon . Whispered in his head and for the first time his smile cracked in a shier grin, but he pushed it back into his mind because the security booth was next to him now. It was a simple nod, a junky metal arm raised, and Michael’s car pulled forward into its spot behind the plant. He had done these thousands of times, but only tonight did it feel static, exciting. The beep of his car locking sending an erotic thrill down his spine and a spring in his step. Soon, soon, soon. It was all robotic the next movements of his. Signing in, walking to his station, glancing the security camera screens, and sliding into his old, probably will break if he was any heavier, chair. There he waited. Flick. The chairs next to him scratched as the premonition smell of cigarettes filled Michael's nostrils long before the murky remnants clinging to his co-worker’s clothes returned from their hourly break. The door slammed shut and Michael's tongue swelled with excited saliva, like Tantalus, he was so close yet so far from what he craved. Quickly sticking out his tongue to release the pressure he clicked it back in as he sprung from his seat. The view on the security cameras showing all fellow workings slowly peeling away to the designated smoking area, well away from any flammable objects that were stationed inside the building. Rubbing his tongue on the roof of his mouth in a slick thinking motion Michael thought of how lucky he was no one knew he smoked. For if they did then he wouldn’t have been left alone to watch over the whole power plant for 10 minutes. 10 sweet minutes. It had all been planned. The second the last person walked across the fuzzy security screen leading outside and the door softly closed behind the form, Michael hit the silent lock button. A stupid button, only in emergencies would the whole building need to lock down but here they were with a silent one. It was like a silent siren calling to Michael every night because for months he could have done this, but only until he was alone and knew the combination of keys could he answer the silent call. So he did. The silent alarm locked all the doors and the unaware co-workers puffed like trains. Michael licked his lips to have a break from his excited and swelling tongue. Striding out of the room Michael made the quick and fluid steps, repeated millions of times before this night, to the control room. Soon, soon, soon. Soon the control room door will hush open with a metallic click, soon the smell of late-night dinners will fill Michael's nose, and soon the clicking and squeaking of rubber boots will fill the silence but humming room. And soon became now and now there Michael stood before the brilliant red cut off button. The suffocating will end soon he thought but before he thought of his plan. His hand will graze the silky red handle graced with vibrant. Emergency cut off! Oh, its never been more tempting. Michael sucked in the stuffy control room air and flopped his head backward where the top of his spine would send that stinging feeling down his body. Where sucking in a thick breath could be felt filling his small throat, expanding and splitting the seams of flesh. Exhaling out emptied his stomach and rounded his spine like a cat. And looking away, as his shoulder blades pressed up towards the ceiling, his right uplifted and gripping the red rubber he pulled the lever. The room erupted in the Emergency red and Michael lightly swiveled like a dancer on ice, starring blankly, he breathed in and thundered towards the door. With unpredictable excitement Michael whipped open the emergency door, banging the fire emergency memorabilia on the other side. His boots hit the concrete slapping like skin and Michael ran screaming towards the smokers saying that, “some psycho entered the building!” And immediately the smokers ran inside the building following protocol. While in the rush Michael ran past the hole in the chainmail fence. Michael kept running. Running. Now, now, now. His feet pounding on the earth in the same rhythmic beat of his heart. His breathing came out visible due to the change of temperature and it came out swift and fast. The further he got, the deeper into the forest he found himself, and soon he skidded to a stop on top of the tallest hill he could run-up. Before him, the forest clearing broke away to a view of the now sea fog clear town. At least that what he would have seen if he had not plunged them into darkness. The sky in that short time from when leather red had fallen, exploded into a sea of white swimming fish. Blues and purples melted like paints amongst the inky black. Bubbling and falling in the rhythm of the universe. So there Michael exhaled the polluted breath he had been holding, falling forward, collapsing to the dewy ground. Rolling like a dog and spreading his arms wide like a bird he looked upon the melting sky and felt himself too melt into the inky abyss. It felt like breathing for the first time. Now, now, now. An orgasmic experience. Projecting his torso upward into a seated position Michael looked back towards the power plant. How sweet it will be. Would it. Michael concluded that yes it would be sweet. So, he smoothly leaped onto one foot and streamed through the dry earthy leaves. The fresh smell of excitement smelled of fallen leaves and dewy grass; and it streamed straight through Michaels flares nostrils. Just don’t let them turn it back on, it's so simple, it's so sweeeet. Oh, it is so sweet. Michael moved like returning sea fog to the power plant where the smokers ran around in secret looking for the crazy man. Just what you need. Sure is. Because as Michael remembered, behind the door, the emergency door. There laid the fire ax perfectly handing parallel to the emergency button. The fire emergency memorabilia. The memorabilia that rolled into Michael's hands like an engulfing fog. And it swung easily between his hands and there was the invisible smell of fire, ash, and burnt skin. Smoke rolled into the building like a thin layer of sea fog, just the start of the thick pea soup. As the ax sang with a metal buzz. I don’t think pollution will stay this season. No Michael supposed, he guesses it won’t. The first of many rounded the corner before him, and the smoker spluttered polluted words, but the ax was already making him choke. It had swung high to the right and falling to the smokers' throat it sliced the meat as easily as a paper cut. The blood collected and bubbled through the smoker’s lungs to soon spurt out in a water gun stream once the ax was jostled out of the slick flesh. The heavy body of the smoker collapsed to the ground, wide eyes starring up to a once close co-worker. Michael lifted his hand and grabbed the vibrant red neck he had created. Pushing down until the body fell in a contorting position backward. There Michael starred deep into the polluted eyes, the orange eyes, the smoker’s eyes. Soon the light, that pollution left the smoker's eyes and Michael took that sweet shaky breath of fresh air in. Michael collapsed his head into the crook of the smoker's bloodied neck and sucking in the sweet air, felt again the orgasmic bliss of melting into the world.


I gazed up at the treetops that gently leaned to and fro in rhythm of the wind. Spring had greeted me once again like seasonal clockwork. Streaks of sunlight covered my face in warm stripes. I closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. This was my homestead. The soil imprinting my soles were a comforting earthen blanket beneath my feet. The outdoors was the dining room. I sat on one of the four tree stumps, adorned with handmade embroidered cushions Ma made. The table was one large carved stump with a surface sanded smooth. I heard the crunching of sticks nearby, and quickly looked back down, eyeing my surroundings. I caught a glimpse of Pa ambling up the hill carrying a bundle of freshly chopped wood. “Mornin', Pa,” I greeted.  “Mornin', Lex. Could you help me bring this inside?” he asked. “Sure thing,” I said, standing up and walking over to meet him. I lightened his load by taking half of the wood out of his hands. The cabin door swung open for them to walk through by his younger brother, Finlay. They walked through the doorway and into their home, dumping the wood into a crate beside the entrance. The aroma of cooked blueberries drifted through the cabin from the kitchen, where Ma stood, scrubbing at some dishes. Clifford wiped the sweat off his brow.  She turned her head to look at us and smiled. “Any of you boys have a hankerin' for blueberry pie tonight?” My brother and I nodded eagerly in unison. “Annamae, that pie sure smells mighty fine,” Pa said. “Why thank you kindly, Cliff,” she responded gratefully with a warm smile. He walked over to her, embracing her with a kiss. Finlay walked into the kitchen, tugging at her dress.  “Ma?” he asked. “What is it, sweetheart?” she asked, picking him up into her arms. “What are you fixin' for dinner?” he inquired. “Oh, honey, it's your favorite. If you, Lexton, and Pa catch us a deer, we'll have us some venison stew,” she answered. He grinned and hugged her tightly. She let him down. “Pa, Pa, can I go hunting with you, *please*?” Finlay begged. “As long as ye keep close to your brother, I don't see a problem with it,” Pa answered. Finlay clapped in excitement, jumping up and down.  He was active as much as he was curious, all at the tender age of five. Pa strode over to me and looked at me intently. “What is it, Pa?” I asked, confused. He lifted his hands and turned my chin back and forth. “Looks like ye have some stubble growing in, son. My boy's finally becoming a man,” he said with a chuckle. His skin crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. He patted him firmly on the shoulder. “Lexton, why don't you go grab the hunting rifles, and let's start huntin' afore gets too late, alright?” he requested. “Yes, Pa,” I agreed, before walking into his study. I grabbed the two hunting rifles down from their wall mount and returned back into the common area. I handed over one of the rifles to him.  “Did you make sure they're loaded?” he asked. “No, I didn't check,” I replied, before clicking the safety and checking to see if the gate was loaded with bullets. “Yeah, I have some in there,” I said. He followed after my lead and checked his gun. “Well, it looks like we're good to go, then,” he said. “Do you have the spare ammunition, Pa?” I asked. “I got it in my pocket, let's go,” he nudged.  “You boys be safe now, ye hear!” Ma called out to us, as we left the cabin and started down the hill. I took Finlay's hand and walked with him to make sure he wouldn't accidentally get lost. Halfway to the clearing, I had something to ask Pa, but I wasn't sure what his reaction would be. “Pa?” I asked. “Yes, son?” he responded. “When can I go into town?” I wondered. He abruptly stopped in tracks, causing me to stumble a bit. He whirled around, with a scowl on his face. “What makes you want to go into town?” he demanded in a harsh whisper.  I opened my mouth, but no sound was able to come out. “The only reason for you to go into town is to find a woman, wed her, and bring her back here to stay. You'll build her a cabin just as I did years ago with my own bare hands, and you'll raise a family with her,” he lectured. “But Pa, I'm tired of living like this! I'm sick of fish, roasted crawdads, and venison. I don't just want to meet a woman. I want to see what's out there!” I shouted.  “Listen, Lexton, you were born by this here crick, you were raised here in these woods, and you'll die here in these woods. Aside from courting a lady, you have no business to go into town. We're outsiders, we don't belong in their world, it's best we're kept separate from all of that nonsense,” Pa huffed, before spitting at the ground.  “I want to leave, I want to see what life is like beyond this place, Pa,” I retorted. “Aside from matrimony, there is nothing for ye beyond these woods. If you decide to leave for any other reason than that, then you are not welcome to come back. Those people, they'll change ye, they'll rip the heart of the forest straight from your rib cage. And no son of mine shall have a worldly heart,” he said sternly.  I looked down at the ground for a moment, collecting my thoughts. All I had known since birth was life in the wilderness, away from other folk except my own family. I knew I wanted something more than whittling wooden figurines with a pocketknife when bored. I had always wondered what life outside the wilderness would be like. I met Pa's gaze once again, and said, “Okay, Pa, then I guess I'll be headin' into town tomorrow to find myself a lady.” I was usually always honest, but it felt strange letting a half-lie escape my lips. I wanted to embrace a life away from nature. I finally relaxed my shoulders upon seeing him make a contented sigh.  “Well, alright then. I'll let you pack your bag and go for two weeks, and two weeks only, but I want ye to come back home every night for dinner and to sleep. If you're out for longer than that, then I'll know your heart has been changed,” he instructed. “Now come on, boys, let's catch ourselves some supper,” he said. “Yes, Pa,” Finlay and I said in agreement. We made it to the clearing within the next few minutes. After finding some good bush to hide behind, we laid down on our stomachs, our eyes barely peering over the bushes, with the barrels of our guns resting on the tip of the leaves. For the next fifteen minutes or so, we laid there in pure silence, with the exception of birds chirping amongst us, high in the trees. Soon enough, we saw a whitetail deer come trotting slowly nearby, in search of more grass to graze on. Pa closed one eye and began to aim his rifle.  Unexpectedly, a fawn bounded out into view, catching up with its mother. “Damn it,” Pa whispered, lowering the barrel of his gun. He exchanged glances with me. “Can't leave a fawn without its mother,” I whispered to him. He nodded. The deer grazed while its fawn hungrily nursed. After a few minutes, the deer bounded out of sight. “Should we wait for another?” I asked. “If you want us to have supper, then, yes,” he replied. The sun began to hang low in the sky. Again, we lied in wait for what seemed like forever, until a buck came into view. I looked over at Finlay, who began to stand up. “Antlers, antlers,” he whispered loudly, with hands outreached. I grasped onto his hand, making him lie down. “No, Finlay, you can't try to touch the deer, he'll charge you and you can get hurt,” I whispered. Finlay frowned sadly. I closed one of my eyes, aiming my gun. After I aimed it, I slowly rested my finger onto the trigger, before shooting.  The buck collapsed to the ground. “Wow, great shot, son!” Pa exclaimed. We spent the next hour hauling the deer back to our cabin, skinning it, and cleaning it. Once that was finished, Pa sliced up the meat with his hunting knife, and brought it inside. I brought the deer innards we wouldn't eat back to the clearing, as some other animal would probably eat it. I went inside the cabin and washed my hands of the deer blood. Ma began to chop potatoes, carrots, onion, and celery, and placed it into the slow cooker, along with gravy and the deer meat. In a couple hours, the stew was done. “Go on and fix yourselves a plate, boys.” We all grabbed a bowl and ladled ourselves a helping of the venison stew, then headed outside to the dining table. We set our plates down while Ma lit a lantern over us. We started to eat supper, and it was delicious. Pa broke the silence by sharing the news. “So, Lex is going into town tomorrow, he told me,” he blurted. *“What, really?”* Ma responded, still holding a forkful of stew in one hand. She turned her attention in my direction. I nodded without saying a word. “That's *wonderful* that you feel ready to find someone,” she praised. “Well, yeah, *I am eighteen* now, I'm not a kid, anymore,” I said. “After supper, wash up and get some rest for tomorrow. I'll pack your bag, *don't you worry about it.* You have to save your energy for tomorrow, it's a twenty-mile walk to get into town.”  *“Twenty miles?!”* I cried out. “Yep, it's about a four to five hour trek, we'll have to set off at daybreak tomorrow,” Pa informed. “Less talk, and more eatin,' before your stew gets cold,” Ma encouraged. Finlay was the first to clean his bowl out, as he hadn't said a peep since earlier when we were out hunting. He got up from his seat and started back to the cabin door. I rushed to finish my bowl of venison stew, before walking back inside. My parents soon followed after me. I washed and put up my both mine and my brother's dishes, before washing my face, brushing my teeth, and turning myself into bed.  Closing my eyes to sleep and opening them upon waking felt like one long, continuous blink. Birds saluted the dawn with excited chirrups outside the window. Looking across the room, I saw that my little brother was still asleep in his bed, holding tightly onto his favorite stuffed animal that my mother had hand-crocheted and stuffed before he was born. He named the bear Bootsy, because my mom used to crochet little outfits for him, and he always kept the boots on his feet. After all these years, his black button eyes still hadn't fell off of him. I knew that I would miss Finlay. Despite our age difference, we shared a really close bond. I rolled out of my bed and quietly walked towards his side of the room, stooping down to kiss him on his forehead. He squirmed a little, before returning to a deeper sleep. The sun started rising outside the window.  I got myself dressed, laced my shoes, and reached under my bed for my knapsack. It was already full and packed with supplies, thanks to Ma. I headed out to the common area, to see Pa already seated and ready for the trip into town. Ma was in the kitchen, cutting out a few slices of blueberry pie. “Good morning, Lexton,” she said. “Mornin,' Ma,” I answered back. “I *completely* forgot about the blueberry pie I baked yesterday evening, I just got so tied up in the news that you were heading into town for the first time, *it must have slipped my mind.*” “It's alright, Ma, at least we could share a slice before we go,” I said with a smile. “Of course, dear,” she responded. We each grabbed a plate and headed outside to our tree tabletop. We all took a seat and started nibbling on the pie.  “Be very careful out there, Lex. You haven't seen how cruel the world is until you've been into town. Make sure that you're picky, too, you can't just pick any woman to be with. She has to be honest, and sweet to you, *sweeter* than this pie, even, and pure of heart,” Ma advised. “That's *right*, Annamae. You're definitely right about that. You want to be sure this woman is worthy of being your wife, not just a bedfellow,” Pa added. I nodded as I silently bit into morsels of my blueberry pie. Although there was just the right amount of sugar in it, it tasted bittersweet, as it was the last slice of pe, I would have for quite a while. Upon finishing our slices of pie, Ma grabbed our plates and took them inside to be washed and dried. “Have a safe trip!” Ma called out as we began our journey into town. We both waved at her with a smile. I fastened my knapsack to my back.  The trip from our cabin into town was relatively straightforward and quiet. After about an hour of walking, I filled the silence. “Pa, what's the name of this town?” I pried. “Tallisville, that's what it's called,” he answered. “Are you coming into town with me, Pa?” I asked. “No, son, I'm not. Think of this trip as a rumspringa of sorts, if you think this is place is nice enough to stay in, then stay. Keep in mind that your family is the cost of this sacrifice. However, if you want to remain wild-hearted and free, and bring a little lady for us to meet back to our home that you like and we approve of, that you know will be open-minded enough to consider life in the wilderness, then she can be an addition to our pack,” he responded. I gulped anxiously. “So, how far are you going to walk with me?” I pressed.  “I'll walk with you until we're on the outskirts of town, and from there, I'll let you go on your journey, whatever that entails. Make sure you leave early enough from here to be home for dinner. It's at sunset every day, it's always been our tradition,” he informed. “Why can't I just live in the town for the two weeks, Pa?” I questioned. “Well, living in the town is different, if you don't already have a house of your own, you have to stay at the Mellow Oak Inn, and that costs money, which you don't have,” he answered. I furrowed my brows, asking, “What's an *inn,* Pa?” “It's a temporary place to eat and to sleep, they also have this crazy entertainment box, called a television. You never want to watch it, it gives you strange ideas about the world that pollute your head,” he explained. “Wow, television sure sounds *horrible,* Pa,” I thought aloud. “It is, son, it is,” he agreed. As we shared small talk, and I asked more questions about Tallisville, I found myself getting equally excited as I was nervous to explore the place for myself. Soon enough, the trail that was once densely bordered by trees became less woodsy. “Are we there yet?” I asked. “Just about,” replied Pa. “You see that wooden sign in the distance?” he asked. I squinted and made out a sign that read: *Town of Tallisville*. “I see it, Pa! I see it!” I cried out eagerly. We walked all the way up to the sign, and I was able to read it more clearly now. *Town of Tallisville, Population 834.* “Population 834? Does that mean eight hundred thirty-four people live here?” I said, taken aback. Pa nodded. “Well, son, this is it. When you want to make your way back home to the cabin, find this trail head and take it all the way back. I hope this is an eye-opening experience for you. Be home by sunset, or you'll miss your supper,” Pa warned. I embraced him tightly in a hug before making my way into town.  Pa waved his goodbyes and began walking back up the trail. I waited until he disappeared from my sight before walking into the entrance of town. It was a few minutes before I realized I was no longer on the outskirts of this town. Houses and buildings came into view. Promptly after that, I began seeing people talking, entering and leaving buildings, and working. I even saw some strange, large shiny objects I had never seen before. I watched as a man stepped into one, closed the door, and it lit up, and made a loud humming sound. My jaw dropped as I watched him operate this contraption and quickly speed away in the opposite direction from me.  Continuing on my way, I observed the people around me bustling around, seemingly very busy, as if it was a normal thing. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw a beautiful woman walk past me. Her hair was shoulder-length, walnut brown and curly, her lips were as red as fresh strawberries, and her eyes were green like summer leaves. She wore a denim jacket with a mustard colored dress with black polka dots under it. She passed me with a heap of books in her arms, giving me a quick nod and smile, before walking into a large building called *Tallisville University*. I had no idea what a university was, but all I knew is that I wanted to be wherever she was going. I pulled open the door and stepped inside. It was very spacious inside and had lots of rooms, and a long hallway in the center. That woman I saw went into one of these rooms, but I had no idea which one.  If she lives in this town, that must mean this is where I'm meant to be. *“Excuse me,”* someone called out from behind me. I turned around to see who it was. It was the woman in the dress! “Are you lost? Do you need help finding your class?” she offered. I blinked and opened my mouth, but any ideas of what to say escaped me in that moment. She laughed and smiled. “You must not be from around here, I'm Magnolia,” she said, extending her hand out for me to shake. I clasped her hand in mine and shook it. “Magnolia, like the flower?” I asked. She cheerfully smiled and laughed, “Yes, Magnolia like the flower. What's your name?” she asked. “My name is Lexton, but my family calls me Lex,” I introduced. “Well, it's very nice to meet you, Lex! Where are you from?” she questioned. “I'm from the forest,” I answered. She laughed loudly. I wasn't sure what was so funny to her. She stopped laughing once she saw the look on my face. “You're joking, aren't you?” she inquired. I shook my head.  “Are you really from the forest?” she questioned. “I am,” I answered. She grinned a happy smile. “Well, you'll have to show me what life looks like in the forest sometime,” she said. “I'd be honored,” I replied. “So, what room is your first class in, I'll help you find it, Lex?” she re-offered. “What's a class?” I looked, staring blankly into her eyes. She laughed again. “You're very funny, Lex. Have you not been to college before?” she poked. “No,” I said. “Oh, then let me show you the admissions office, they can help you get enrolled,” she said.  She grabbed onto my hand and lead me down this long hallway. As much as I wanted to protest, this lovely woman was holding my hand and I just met her, and that was a fair trade to me. “Welcome to Tallisville, by the way, Lex,” she greeted. “I'm happy to be here,” I replied. I now had this newfound feeling of belonging, and not just to nature. No matter what else would happen during these fourteen days, I knew I had to get her to visit the cabin somehow.


"I'm dying," Amber wheezed, tears streaking down her cheeks. She doubled over and gasped for air, her windpipe croaking dramatically as she heaved and worked to force air back into her lungs. Beth rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she said, scrolling nervously through the comments on her recent Instagram post. There were tens of thousands of them. Most were just some variation on 'The King!' but few were any wittier. She closed her eyes and shook her head while Amber continued her steady march toward an imminent death. "Your first viral post and it's..." Amber choked and sputtered, wailing like a fangirl. The last time something had set Amber off on a laughing fit like this, Beth had been more than happy to join her, but this time she was fuming. Her ears were hot and she had to fight to relax her jaw muscles. "That little..." she muttered, clenching her fist while she reloaded the app to look at the photo again. She couldn't believe she'd missed it before uploading it. The shot had slipped in between some relatively normal photos from her recent vacation, a vacation that he'd promised to stay out of. She was going to have to have a very stern talk with him. "Oh come on!" Amber cried, her gut trembling with glee. "Lighten up! It's an amazing photo! You look great, super hot girl, and..." the laughing fit seized her again and she spat, bursting at her lips trying to keep it in. Beth shrugged internally. It was true. If one of her photos was going to go viral, it might as well be this one. It was a new bikini and she loved how it showed off her curves, but obviously that wasn't what had captured the public's attention. She grunted, threw herself on her bed, let out a long, painful groan, and stared at the ceiling. If she weren't so mad, she could cry. Amber made a show of trying to compose herself and sat next to Beth. The two had been friends since middle school and they'd always dreamed of going viral. So when Amber had called ten times in a row that morning to wake up her friend and tell her the news, Beth had been excited... for a moment. Now she just wanted to beat the living daylights out of someone, but she'd have to wait for Amber to leave. "Come on ," Amber urged, pulling Beth upright. "I thought you'd be excited! This is great ! Photobombed by..." The laughing fit threatened to return. "Not just photobombed," she moaned. "He was mooning me behind my back." Beth sat up reluctantly and eyed her closet, glaring through the closed door, hoping he could feel her fury. Amber noticed the look. "What?" she said, looking at the closet. Her eyes darted back to Beth. "What's wrong?" "Nothing," Beth muttered, gritting her teeth. "Wait a minute," Amber breathed, glancing back and forth between her friend and the closet. "You're hiding something." Beth's heart started pounding. She tried to hide her panic. "No," she said. "I'm just dreading ever going out in public again. I was thinking maybe I should throw out my whole wardrobe." Amber peered at her friend, a decade of shared experiences synchronizing their neurons. Squinting, Amber's eyes shifted back to the closet. "So you won't mind if I just take a peek then," she said, getting up from the bed. "No!" Beth cried, grabbing her friend by the wrist. Amber looked down at her with wide eyes, her eyebrows raised suspiciously. Their eyes locked while Amber searched her friend's face for the truth, and suddenly her eyes bulged and she gasped. "Josh!" she cried. "You had Josh over last night? Did you two..." she trailed off, clasping a hand to her mouth and yanking her wrist free of Beth's grip. She turned back to the closet and stared. "That's not it!" Beth blurted, jumping to her feet to try inserting herself between Amber and the closet. But Amber was a step ahead of her, lunging at the door. "Josh!" she yelled, her hand wrapping around the door knob. "You dirty little..." Beth clawed at her friend's clothes, desperately trying to wrestle her away from the door. She tugged in vain, only finally succeeding when Amber let out a screech and jumped back from the open closet. Both girls tumbled to the floor, rolling on top of each other while Amber frantically grabbed at Beth, gasping in shock. Peter, as Beth had named him, waddled silently out of the closet, his huge eyes glancing around casually as he took in the scene. Amber scrambled back with her hands and feet, scooting all the way against the bed before desperately clambering up on top, trying to drag Beth with her. Beth brushed her friend's hands away and got up, scowling at Peter, who merely gazed up at her with his wide, unblinking eyes. At barely two feet tall, Peter had the appearance of a slightly disturbing children's toy and the presence of a truly unsettling doll. His body was round and it almost completely blended with his head, giving him the appearance of a curvy gourd with huge eyes and tiny feet. His short, spindly hands gave the impression that his entire species had long since forgotten how to do any kind of manual labor in the same way that his stubby, waddling feet implied his ability to fly. Gracefully, the little creature rose slowly into the air, pushing off from the ground with one of his small feet as though he had been walking along the bottom of a pool. He floated peacefully up until he was at eye level with Beth, who continued to glower at him with low eyebrows and stern lips. Amber's breathing was deep and loud, her tight chest causing her to moan and whimper as she fought to calm herself. Beth looked back at her over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, turning back to Peter. "You said you'd stay here when I went on vacation!" She said angrily. She folded her arms and glared at the creature. It flickered and shimmered, the air around it bubbling and churning as it morphed and changed. Instantly Beth found herself looking down at a sad, small little girl, wringing her hands and fighting back tears. "You're angry?" the child asked, trembling. "Oh please!" Beth moaned impatiently. "Spare me the theatrics! You followed me when I asked you to stay here! You promised !" The image of the child fizzled and swirled and grew until a charming, handsome man materialized. He smiled and raised his eyebrows into a dashing smirk. "But I thought you'd like it baby," he said in a suave, deep voice. "We're meant to be together." "Not all the time!" she cried desperately, throwing her hands up. "I told you I need some time away sometimes. You can be so annoying!" Amber sounded like she was hyperventilating. She was trying to talk, but all she could do was gasp, "it, it, it, it, it..." over and over again, her voice airy and hollow. She was on the verge of tears, and both Peter and Beth turned and looked at her with pity. Peter's form frothed and shimmered again until an oversized plush teddy bear was bounding toward Amber with its arms extended for an embrace. Amber shrieked, her eyes bulging out of her head as she shriveled into the fetal position, trembling uncontrollably. "Dang it Peter," Beth groaned, crawling onto the bed with her friend and pushing the fuzzy bear away. She held her shaking friend and hushed her. "It's OK," she said. "This is Peter. He floated through my window a month ago and..." she looked over at the thing while it swirled and twisted into something that made her eyes roll and her blood boil. "He's the reason my photo went viral." Amber peered out from the protective cocoon of Beth's embrace, through the gap in her own defensive arms, and saw the familiar white and gold jumpsuit, slick black hair, and sly, crooked smile. "Uh huh," Peter said smoothly, with that trademarked smirk. "Everybody loves the king of rock and roll, and now everybody loves my friend Beth too!" He grinned proudly. "The king is back baby!" Beth let out a tired sigh and rolled her eyes, resting her cheek on her friend's trembling head. Slowly she let a tiny smile crack on her face. After venting her frustration, she had to admit... it was kind of funny.


I have an unusual relationship with Death. It’s very much a “will they, won’t they” situation. Sometimes he sits at the foot of my bed and just… watches. Like a vulture. I noticed the glimpses of flirtation when I was still mobile and strong, despite his best efforts. The undercooked meat, the neighbor boy’s skateboard left at the top of the stairs, the car that whizzes past a moment too soon for success. He first appeared to me in the cold, rotted flesh the day he took my cat. Perfectly healthy one day, stiff as a board the next. He had crawled into the cabinet under the sink to be alone. To die alone. I found him there early in the morning. I buried him in my backyard, frost steaming off the grass in the rising dawn. The attendees were myself and Death. “Sorry about that,” said a disembodied voice. I didn’t turn to look. I’d sensed him three steps behind me for the last several days. I knew him as well as he knew me. “Don’t apologize,” I said firmly, staring at the new plot of loose dirt in the grass. “Don’t apologize for things you don’t regret.” He was silent for a moment. “There’s always room for you, my dear,” he said finally. “Any time you like. Any way you like.” My eyes felt hot and watery. “Why me?” I asked. “Why does it have to be me?” The lump in my throat was rising. “Because, my dear, you’re the only one I’ve ever loved. And you’ll join me, eventually. Would you like that day to be today?” My hands were balled into fists. “Fuck you.” I should have known that he would take Scott. He thought that if he just kept taking things from me, I’d be left with nothing. I’d follow him. I should have known, I should have known. I never told Scott about Death. He would have thought I was crazy. I should have stayed away from him, I should have saved him from the fate that befalls everything I come to love. I should have never answered the phone when he called me, but that foolish little girl heart inside me jumped at the chance to hear his voice. Scott was warm and safe. He was good and pure and sweet and soft and dead. Because of me. That time when Death appeared, I felt no urge to cry. The wet rage I felt when he took my cat was gone, and in its place was heavy numbness, my insides replaced with cold stones. Death spoke to me and I didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. “He didn’t feel a thing,” said Death. “I made it painless, anaesthetized.” I was sitting in an armchair, looking out the window. It should have been raining, but instead it was a beautiful, sunny day, and everyone outside would comment on what a lovely day it was, and they would have no idea that it wasn’t a lovely day at all, and each and every one of them could go fuck themselves. “You could join him.” I didn’t look. Wouldn’t entertain the idea. I would die and end up wherever dead people go and I’d be whisked away to be Death’s concubine. I’d never see Scott again. But I had one idea. My voice was raspy. “I’ll trade you,” I said. “Trade?” “I’ll go if you bring back Scott and let him live.” The words felt empty. I did not desire death, but I was becoming indifferent about it. Death chuckled. “That’s very romantic of you. I’m impressed.” “Then do it.” I stared with lifeless eyes at the shadows under the trees. They danced back and forth in silence. Death sighed. “You know I can’t do that, my love.” I closed my eyes. Back and forth, the shadows danced on the sidewalk. It wasn’t long before he got more direct. He was growing impatient. He had chosen his weapon of attack, and it left me bedridden, in a perpetual state of fever dream, life escaping my body with every breath. My universe stretched to the walls of the hospital room. Life was something that happened to you while you slept. Scott was asleep when he died, so he never watched it approach. But we all have hellhounds, I suppose. Death appeared and stood at the foot of my bed. For the first time, I looked in his eyes. “Why me?” I whispered softly. “Because you’re the only one I’ve ever loved.” I turned away. “That was never my choice.” “Perhaps not, but you still have one last choice to make, my dear,” he said softly. Death held out his hand.


You're all alone in this shithole. Your family is long gone by now, and you're not sure where to. Could be to another district, perhaps a different city. Hell, could be to a different country altogether. You don't give a damn that's for sure. They left you here to rot all by yourself and the the worst thing about it was the feeling that you completely deserved it. But of course you don't give a fuck about that as well. No reason to, since it won't change a damn thing anyway. It's a dark neighborhood you're living in. Well, "living" is quite of an exaggeration. **Surviving** in District A16 is more like it. Yeah... Much, much more like it. Tall, crumbly, and very old apartment buildings with more floors that one can even count fill up dozens and dozens of square miles. It's funny how many apartments the government was able to cram in each building, just to fill them up with all of the human trash they're dying to get rid of. For what it's worth, half of those buildings are either completely abandoned, or not suitable for living, not even for farm animals. The rest are filled with the poor and unfortunate, drug addicts, prostitutes, and random hobos. Families who couldn't afford living in some of the better suburbs, ended up here too, just to find out that they have no bright future for their children in this place, whatsoever. You're in the 67th floor, in your family's tiny, 2 bedroom apartment that's more often than not infested with cockroaches and rats. It's kinda late at 21:47 and you're not really doing much aside for lying down on your mattress, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. The apartment is mostly dark except for a one, barely working lamp in the small kitchen. Your stomach makes weird noises, but you know for a fact that there's no food in the fridge, or in any of the cabinets for that matter. Gotta step outside and see if there's something worth fetching. Lurking these streets at night isn't really all that advised here, but then again, District A16 isn't too terrific even if it's 8:00 in the morning. The word "Police" could make everyone here choke on their own laugh. **THUD.** Something big just slid and fell down in the Nelson's apartment that's close to yours. There's a thin drywall separating both your apartments so you could always hear them argue about stuff when they were home. But that's strange; the Nelson's left the place a year ago after their older child, Cory, was stabbed multiple times to death in a bar fight. Poor kid was only 19. They left with their remaining daughter and were no where to be seen since then. It could be a case of someone breaking in and searching for something valuable to steal. But in this place... Well, nobody wants to be seen, heard, or talked to. A burglar wouldn't want to raise that much of attention unless they were armed... And with that lightning revelation, you're jumping at once out of bed, grabbing a sharp knife from the kitchen and reach the front door, gazing nervously through the peephole. This is gonna be a long, long fucking night.


“I’m a Photographer. You mind if I take a picture of you and your family?” Simon asked. “Oh, sure,” the mom answered. “Tom, kids, gather around and smile.” Simon lifted his camera, took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, and snapped the picture. He pulled up the picture on his camera screen, smiling as he examined the picture of the screaming family on the small display. They will look great added to his collection. Before he walked away, he took a quick picture of the giant tree that the family had been standing in front of. He spent the rest of the afternoon walking around the park, taking pictures of various plants and some animals that he thought would look great in his collection. When he was done, he was excited to get home and play with his new toys. Though he had plenty of money from the life insurance that had been paid out when his wife died, he lived in a low rent apartment in the shitty part of downtown. He only needed a place to sleep and play. He never had any intentions to entertain, and where he lived, the neighbors rarely talked to each other, which suited him just fine. He plugged the USB cable into his computer, his smile growing as he clicked on the picture folder and opened his newest collection pieces. “Ah, come on, Steve,” Lisa began. “Let’s go to the park. It’s a beautiful day.” Steve really wanted to just relax and watch some college football, but he couldn’t resist her infectious smile. “Fine,” he relented. “Yay,” she replied, hopping up and down. Steve loved the way Lisa loved life. She was always smiling, and always wanted to be outside, whenever the weather permitted. Living in the northeast, fall was creeping in, soon to be followed by winter. They walked arm in arm down the street, enjoying the tree’s changing colors and the sunny clear sky. Once in the park, they took their time walking the paths, greeting everyone they passed. People always seemed in better moods in parks. “I’m getting hungry and my legs are sore,” Lisa said, stopping in front of an empty bench. “I’ll go get something from the vendor,” Steve replied. “Rest here and I’ll be right back.” As he walked away, his smile faded a little. Lisa had been in remission for six months now, but he knew that could change at any time. The only positive that had come from cancer, was that they appreciated the time they had together much more. He looked back, giving her a quick smile and wave before he rounded the corner and out of sight. Simon was slowly walking through the park, looking for more people, or animals, that he could add to his collection. He knew it was only a matter of time before the police found the common denominator of all the missing people. Soon the park will become the focus of search efforts to find the people he had been taking. While they wouldn’t be able to link him to any of the disappearances, he knew once the park began to become infested with police, he would have to pick a different locale to find new collectables. The logical part of him told him he should take a break from adding to his collection, and just enjoy the ones he had until things cooled down, but he couldn’t stop. It was like an addiction. All he could think about was finding the next collectible. He was pretending to take casual photos, when he noticed Lisa sitting on the bench by herself. “Excuse me, do you mind if I take a picture of you for my collection?” Simon asked. “Sure,” she replied. “What kind of collection is it?” He smiled proudly, “It’s a compilation of people, animals, and the energy of the park. I’ve been coming here my entire life, and I find the energy the park provides beautiful.” Lisa couldn’t agree more. “That’s awesome!” Lisa said, with a broad smile of her own. “I’d be honored to be a part of your collection.” *Yes, you will be*, Simon thought. He took a few steps back, raised the camera, and took her picture. His smile didn’t fade as he enjoyed to the beauty of the now empty bench. Steve returned to where he had left Lisa, holding a hotdog in each hand. Not seeing her there, he looked around to see where she may have wondered off to. He saw a photographer off to the side taking pictures of trees, so he approached him. “Excuse me,” Steve asked. The photographer turned to face him. “Can I help you?” Simon asked. “Did you happen to see where a woman that was sitting on that bench went?” Steve asked. Simon’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry,” Simon said, a unnoticeable tremor in his voice. “I’m afraid not.” “Ok, thank you,” Steve replied. Simon had never run into this problem before, and he was unsure what to do next. Simon decided to add the man to his collection, but as he was bringing the camera up, more people walked around the bend. By the time they had moved on, Steve was too far away. Simon considered following him and taking him later, but decided that it didn’t matter in the grand scale of things. Flustered, Simon left the park, no longer enjoying the scenery. Steve walked through the front door of their flat. While it was unusual for Lisa to walk off without telling him, she often still got tired easy, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to cut walks short, so she could get home and rest. “Lisa?” Steve called out. He walked around the entire flat, but there was no sign of her. He had already called her cell phone several times, but had gotten her voicemail each time. His first instinct was to call the police, but he knew they would just make him wait twenty-four hours before they could investigate. The air outside had gotten much cooler as he walked back to the park to look for her. *Maybe she went somewhere and then came back*, he thought. Once he was back at the bench where he left her, and seeing she wasn’t there, he tried calling her again, but still only got her voicemail. “Screw it!” he muttered to himself and called the police. “911, what’s your emergency?” a lady’s voice came across the line. “Yes, my wife is missing,” he stated. “And how long has she been missing, sir?” she asked. He could hear typing in the background. “A couple of hours,” he answered already knowing what her response was going to be. “Sir, I’m afraid we can’t do anything until she has been missing at least twenty-four hours,” she confirmed. “I know, but this isn’t like her,” he said. “We were at the park, I stepped away for a few minutes, and when I came back, she was gone.” He was expecting exasperation, but instead got silence. “Ma’am?” he asked. “Sir, did you say she went missing in the park?” she asked. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “Please hold,” she said, and then only silence. After a few moments, a man’s voice came on the line. “This is Detective Andrews, to whom am I speaking?” he asked. “My name is Steve Dawson, and my wife’s name is Lisa Dawson,” he answered. “Are you near the park now?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” Steve replied. “I’m actually here now.” “Okay, stay there,” the detective said. “I’m heading over now.” Before Steve could say anything else, the line went dead. A very long twenty minutes later, Steve saw the detective arrive. “Mr. Dawson?” he asked. “Yes, sir,” Steve replied. “Can you tell me where you last saw your wife?” he asked. Steve pointed to the bench. “There.” “Did you happen to see anyone else around at that time?” the detective asked. “No, sir,” Steve said. “Wait, I did see a photographer, but that was after she was missing.” “I see.” The detective looked around the area for a bit, and then returned to where Steve was waiting. “I’m afraid I’ve been following a few missing people cases where they had been last seen either in the park, or last told they were coming here. I don’t know if your wife is part of that, but I’m afraid so far we don’t have much to go on. We have yet to have a witness, and there are never signs of foul play. They’re just here one day, and then gone the next. I wish I could say these were isolated incidents, but in a city this big, it unfortunately happens more often than not,” the detective explained. He questioned Steve for a little longer, gave him his card, and left. Steve once again found himself alone in the park. A few days past, and there was no sign of Lisa. Steve had taken time off from work since he couldn’t concentrate. He spent each day walking through the park, hoping to see some clue that would help lead him to Lisa. As Steve sat on a bench thinking to himself, he saw the photographer in the distance taking pictures. He didn’t think the man had taken Lisa, but there was something odd about his behavior when he had asked about her sitting there. He sat in a way where he could see the photographer, but the photographer couldn’t easily see him. *What else can I do?* Steve asked himself. He watched as the photographer took pictures, and then stopped to talk to a couple who was walking by. He said something to them, the couple smiled, and then took a couple of steps back to allow the photographer to take a picture of them. Steve gasped as he saw the photographer look around briefly, and then within a split second, the couple vanished. Steve couldn’t believe what he had just seen. One moment the couple was there smiling, the next, nothing but air. Instinctively, Steve hid himself. He peeked up and saw the man walk away. Confident that was how Lisa had disappeared, he decided to follow the man. Simon couldn’t wait to get back to his apartment. He hadn’t added to his collection in days. The man asking about his wife right after he took her had freaked him out, but now he felt it was time to get back to collecting. He walked, wearing a broad smile, and unaware someone was following him. As far as Steve could tell, the photographer didn’t know he was being followed. He didn’t look around once and seemed to make a straight line for an apartment building. Steve watched him go into the building, and then picked up his pace, not wanting to lose him inside. He peeked inside the door and saw the man walking up the stairs. The front door wasn’t locked, so Steve was able to enter the building and quickly make his way up the stairs just far enough to see where the photographer went. The man walked down the hallway of the second floor, and approached a door. He turned the key and began to walk through. As soon as Steve was sure he couldn’t be seen, he sprinted down the hallway to reach the door before it closed. Simon flew back as something came bursting through the door before it had closed all the way. He fell to the ground hard, and before he could understand what was happening, a strange man was on top of him. Simon looked to the door, hoping someone would see what was happening, but the door was closed. Steve had slammed it closed behind him as he ran through. “Where’s my wife?!” Steve seethed into Simon’s face. He purposely kept his voice down, so that no one would hear him. Simon began to call out for help, but before he could get a peep out, Steve punched him hard in the face. “Where’s my wife, you son of a bitch?” Steve asked again. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Simon replied. “I saw what you just did to that couple, and I know you did the same thing to my wife!” Steve said again, slamming Simon’s head into the ground. Simon was sadistic, but he wasn’t brave. It didn’t take long before he told Simon everything. “She’s in there,” he said, pointing to the computer. “How do I get her out?!” Steve asked firmly. “I don’t know,” Simon began. “I only know how to put them in.” “Why do you do it?” Steve asked. Simon knew there was only one answer. “Because I can,” he said. Steve punched him again, and grabbed the camera. “Well, guess what?” Steve said, only inches from Simon’s face. “I’m going to put you in there and see how you like it.” Steve raised the camera like he was going to take a picture of Simon, but Simon stopped him. “Wait, wait,” he begged. “I’ll release them.” “I thought you just said you didn’t know how?” Steve said. “I lied,” Simon replied. “I lied. Please, I’ll release them.” Reluctantly, Steve let him up. Simon walked over to the computer, took the SD card out of the camera, and put it into the computer. He typed some commands into the Command Prompt, and then took the chip out and put it back in the camera. He flipped through the settings, and showed Steve which setting to use to release them. Before he did anything else, he flipped through the pictures until he came across Lisa’s. His heart sank as he saw her once smiling face was now contorted into a scream. He clicked the button and in an instant, she was standing before them. Once she had gained her bearing, she ran into Steve’s arms. “Steve!” She yelled, unable to contain herself. Steve returned her hug, but kept his gaze on Simon. He wasn’t about to let him try anything. “Is everyone you took in here?” he asked. “Only the ones that survived,” Simon replied. “Survived what?” Steve asked. Simon reluctantly walked to the computer and pulled up a game application. It was like a battle game where you were able to choose your combatants. Steve looked over at Lisa. “Do you remember this?” he asked her. “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “The last thing I remember was him taking my picture and then immense pain.” Steve’s blood boiled. He fiddled with the camera settings, and without any warning, he took a picture of Simon, who quickly disappeared. Lisa’s heart momentarily stopped when she saw the man just vanish before her. Before she could say anything, Steve began destroying the computer, breaking every piece, picking them up, and breaking them some more. He used his hands for most of it, but he took the hard drive to a table and using a hammer, he broke it into a thousand pieces. “Let’s go,” he said, leading Lisa out the door. Steve and Lisa found a vacant part of the park, and released everyone one by one, except for Simon. The small crowd of people stared at each other, unsure what was happening, and no memory of what had happened to them. Once he was sure everyone, but Simon was released, he took out the SD card, and broke it in half, throwing half into a trash can, and putting the other half into his pocket to throw away later. Everyone jumped when he smashed the camera onto the ground. “Let’s go home,” he said to Lisa, leading her away from the dumbfounded group of people.


# Happy Saturday, serialists! Welcome to Serial Saturday! \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ ***New here?*** If you’re brand new to and thinking about participating in Serial Saturday, welcome! Feel free to dip your toes in by writing for this challenge or any others we have listed on the handy dandy! We appreciate all contributions made to this thread, and all submissions are of course welcomed, whether it addresses a previous challenge or the current one. We hope you enjoy your time in the community! Take a look at our inaugural Serial Saturday post for some helpful tips. You don’t need to catch up by writing for each of the previous assignments, feel free to jump right in wherever fits for you, with whatever assignment or theme fits for you, and post it on the current thread with a link to whichever previously posted challenge you chose to start with. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ # This week it’s all about: Reinvigoration We’ve all been there. We’ve been down in the dumps and have pulled ourselves out, dusted ourselves off, and tightened our belts. How did it happen? What re-inspired us to keep going? Sometimes it’s witnessing others succeed where we failed that helps reinvigorate us. Sometimes all we needed was a nice long nap. Other times what we needed was . No matter what got our characters into the mess they’re in now, they’re going to need to get that flame under their butt reignited. So how do you do that? This is the part of the show where friends, allies, and lovers show how . They can embrace the darkness and . OR Outside help in the form of friends/allies/lovers . OR Some other solution leads them into a re-invigoration. For some writers this beat won’t feel much different than the next, Second Wind, and that’s ok. I would mention in this case that a re-invigoration has to come before a Second Wind, and to treat one as the ‘theory’ section, and the other as the ‘acting on that theory’ portion. Sometimes we see this in books and films as one fluid scene, and other times it’s the time we see our heroes go back to the drawing board before they are back in . **Things to consider for this challenge:** How does your protagonist react to help? Is it hard to hear , or is that ? Does your protagonist believe in themselves and think they can succeed anymore? Is it difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel for your characters, or have they been in worse scrapes? How does that affect what invigoration looks like for them? Does reflecting on past experiences help them re-find their purpose or a new way to get out of their predicament? **\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*** **You have until \*next\* Saturday, 10/24, to submit and comment on everyone else's stories here. Make sure to check back on this thread periodically to lay some sweet, sweet crit down on those who don't have any yet!** \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* # Top picks from last week’s assignment, The Darkest Moment: **I’m just going to preface this with: this past week of stories were killer.** There wasn’t a single one that didn’t nail the challenge in some facet, and choosing top stories this week was ridiculously hard. Our Serial Saturday writers are killin’ it and I’m so thrilled I get to hear all these stories unfold week by week. I would happily just list everyone from the last thread and say ‘congrats, you all got both the Challenge Sash and Fan Favorite! As it is I had to break a three way tie with the votes! I'm hella proud of everyone. **Fan favorite with the most votes:** /u/JohnGarrigan, with an ending that delivered on the pucker factor of a no-holds barred fantasy battle. This week the **Smoking Hot Challenge Sash** goes to an author that nailed the spirit of the assignment: /u/Kammerice, with a shocking ending that hit us out of nowhere and oh gods this changes *everything.* **And two honorable mentions:** /u/Xacktar, with an installment that upped the stakes again, and seriously put a smile on my face when I read it. Anyone in the discord chat knows exactly what reaction . /u/Lynx_elia, with a big-picture look of a species that . \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ **The Rules:** * In the comments below submit a story that is between **500 - 750** words in your own original universe. * Submissions are limited to ***one*** serial submission from each author per week. * **Each author should comment on at least 2 other stories** during the course of the week. * That comment must include ***at least one*** **detail** about what the author has done well. * Authors who successfully finish a serial lasting longer than 8 installments will be featured with a modpost recognizing their completion and a flair banner on the sub. * Authors are eligible for this highlight post only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule. *Yes, we will check*. * While content rules are more lax here at /r/ShortStories, we’re going to roll with the loose guidelines of "vaguely ***family friendly***" being the rule of thumb for now. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, feel free to modmail! \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Reminders: * Make sure your post on this thread also includes links to your previous installments if you have a currently in-progress serial. Those links must be direct links to the previous installment on the preceding Serial Saturday post or to your own subreddit/profile. * Authors that complete a serial with 8 or more installments get a fancy banner and modpost to highlight their stories. * Saturdays we will be hosting a Serials Campfire on the main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and share your own thoughts on serial writing! We start on Saturdays at 9AM CST. **Don’t worry about being late, just join!** There’s a *Super Serial* role on the Discord server, so make sure you grab that so you’re notified of all Serial Saturday related news! **Join the** **to chat with prompters, authors, and readers!** Previous constraint: **The Darkest Moment** Have you seen the? No? Oh boy! Here's the current cycle's challenge schedule.