Previous Next Black Lives Matter 2020 Impact Report See how we, as the organization leading the Black Lives Matter (BLM) Movement, responded to the challenges of 2020. Our Movement Is #SoMuchMore February 1, 2021 From the time historian Carter Woodson created Negro History Week in 1926 up through today’s celebration of Black History Month, the goal has always been to recognize Black Americans’ prolific contributions that had been ignored, dismissed or diminished in textbooks and popular culture… Tell Your Rep(s) to Support Rep. Cori Bush’s Resolution February 1, 2021 We’re supporting Rep. Cori Bush’s resolution which would investigate and expel the GOP members of Congress who attempted to overturn the election and incited a white supremacist attack… Tell Congress to Pass the COUP Act January 26, 2021 Rep. Jamaal Bowman’s the COUP Act would require a deep, thorough investigation into the security failures at Capitol Hill during the insurrection. The ties between any Capitol police officer(s) and white supremacy or fascism must come to light… News Black Lives Matter Global Network Responds after Wisconsin District Attorney Won’t Charge Kenosha Police Officer in Jacob Blake Shooting January 5, 2021 Black Lives Matter Global Network Foundation (BLMGNF) released the following statement in response to a Wisconsin District Attorney deciding that Kenosha police officer Rusten Sheskey will not be charged for his August 23, 2020 shooting of Jacob Blake… Black Lives Matter Global Network Foundation Statement About Violent Conflict in Ethiopia December 17, 2020 Black Lives Matter stands in solidarity with all disenfranchised and displaced people in the Horn of Africa who are affected by violent conflict in Ethiopia… Love, Connection, and Beauty in a Time of Isolation, Tension, and Change November 26, 2020 The attacks the USPS continues to face are not just attacks on the postal service but attacks on Black lives. To defund the USPS would be to deny future generations this opportunity and dishonor the legacy of Black postal workers. Now, we’re taking this matter into our own hands by writing and sending #BlackLoveLetters through USPS… Californians: Help Us Make Calls to Gov. Newsom’s Office Before It’s Too Late November 23, 2020 While we are ecstatic about the historic election of Kamala Harris being elected the first Black woman vice president, it means her Senate seat is currently vacant. This also means that we’re faced with the unfortunate reality that if Gov. Newsom doesn’t appoint a Black woman to this seat, there will be no Black women in the Senate… Tell Gov. Newsom He Must Appoint a Black Woman to the Senate November 16, 2020 Kamala Harris is set to make history as the first Black woman vice president — which means her Senate seat will soon be open. Without Kamala Harris, there are no Black women in the Senate at all. That’s why we’re calling on Governor Gavin Newsom to appoint a Black woman to fill that seat… Join Black Lives Matter in Our Request for a Meeting with President-Elect Biden and Vice President-Elect Harris November 9, 2020 We worked long and hard to ensure we did all we could to vote Donald Trump out of the White House — we succeeded. And in doing so, we even elected a Black woman — the first Black woman — to the vice presidency. But the truth is, getting Trump out of office was not the end all, be all. The work is just beginning. We start by both holding the new president-elect and vice president-elect accountable to their campaign commitments of addressing systemic racism and by emphasizing our willingness to work with them. Black Lives Matter Global Network Statement About Biden-Harris Victory November 7, 2020 Once again, Black people — especially Black women — have saved the United States. Whether in Milwaukee, Detroit, Philadelphia, or Atlanta, Black voters showed up in huge numbers to turn this country around and remove the racist in the White House… Statement by Black Lives Matter Global Network About Election Results November 3, 2020 BLACK LIVES MATTER

I want you to read Black Lives Matter Violence

Most of the proteser were being peaceful

There are people who got shoot

Donald Trump is just having ralleys and doing nothing about the protester and he said that black is the symbol of hate and he is wrong. What if I say white is a symbol of hate. Shooting

Shooting

Why are they shooting black and color who is protesting The killing of George Floyd Shooting the protester for burning up stores and the police just shoot

Protest

Protester are just trying to have justice

protesters are getting shot

Protest are burning up stores and stuff like that  BLACK LIVES MATTER BLACK LIVES MATTER Racial justice  protesters and he said black is a symbol of hate and he is wrong. What if I say white is a symbol of hate?

Why are police shooting black and color who are protesting? The killing of George Floyd was awful. It was scary when they put their knees on his neck and he said I can’t breathe. Police shoot the protesters for burning up stores and the police just shoot. Protesters are trying to have justice because of Racial in justice. Protesters are getting shot. Protesters are burning up stores and stuff like that because they're mad and angry.

This was an awful  protesters and he said black is a symbol of hate and he is wrong. What if I say white is a symbol of hate?

Why are police shooting black and color who are protesting? The killing of George Floyd was awful. It was scary when they put their knees on his neck and he said I can’t breathe. Police shoot the protesters for burning up stores and the police just shoot. Protesters are trying to have justice because of Racial in

justice. Protesters are getting shot.

Protesters are burning up stores and

stuff like that because they're mad and angry.

This was an awful  protesters and he said black is a symbol of hate and he is wrong. What if I say white is a symbol of hate?

Why are police shooting black and color who are protesting? The killing of George Floyd was awful. It was scary when they put their knees on his neck and he said I can’t breathe. Police shoot the protesters for burning up stores and the police just shoot. Protesters are trying to have justice because of Racial in

justice. Protesters are getting shot.

Protesters are burning up stores and

stuff like that because they're mad and angry.

This was an awful


Once, I was a man. Now I am a Raptor, model C-63, operated by Incorpus Systems. Top of the line, really, compared to my old body. I can fly now, and see much farther, and in a wider spectrum. I like flying, I think. Feelings are different, but it reminds me of the way I used to like the longshift stimulants or solid food or other good things about my life as a man. My memory of those specific things wasn't actually transferred, but I do remember liking them. It seems like the feeling is similar. I can't touch or taste or smell the same ways anymore, so I can't be sure. I don't care. I like being a Raptor, model C-63. I do care about my family. They're why I'm here. I remember liking them even more than those other things. And since my employment has been extended, I know they will have more of those things, and fewer shifts. More time for training or education maybe. Better credit at least. I know if they have enough credit, they could apply for an uplink and we could talk and see each other again. And then it wouldn't matter that the memories hadn't been transferred. There would be new memories. That's why I'm here. The noncompliants' camp came onto my visual feed in the x-ray spectrum. That's the other reason I was here. Nobody wanted to work anymore. I could see the bones of three human resources moving around with each pulse of the emitter. I could also see that they were armed, and had concealed their camp with a thermal camouflage system. Not good enough for a Raptor. I adopted a holding pattern and cut the pulse rate of my x-ray emitter to remain undetected and preserve the value of the human resources before pinging corporate, as dictated by protocol, and by my new reflex system. After a few seconds I felt the uplink from the human technician. They accessed my rational logs and a moment later sent over some instructions. I set my x-ray emitter to pulse at full speed again and began my approach, careful to avoid making a sonic boom. The resources must have detected me somehow anyway. Their bones rushed about, gathering their weapons and other non-standard objects that I couldn't recognize. I trusted that my human technician could, and would advise me of any concerns. There were two adults and one juvenile. The larger adult and the juvenile moved to the end of the camp opposite my path of approach and waited, while the smaller adult brought around a heavy weapon mounted on a circular rail so that it faced me. It emitted some x-rays of its own, and in doing so revealed itself to be an older model of laser cannon, obsolete compared to myself. It was of little concern. When I was less than a kilometer away the bones opened fire. Laser light blinded me to the conventional spectrum. I set that system to standby and used the power to increase the x-ray pulse rate to compensate. The world seemed to enter slow motion. The waiting bones dashed from concealment then, running for their lives at a glacial pace. Another pulse of laser hit me as I approached within 250 meters. I saw nothing this time with my cameras offline, and my thermal sensors confirmed that I had dissipated the heat at a faster rate than the useless cannon's pulse. Then I broke through the camp's camouflage layer and collided with the bones at what I estimated to be non-lethal velocity, with 95% confidence. I was correct, and immobilized the skeleton with several of my appendages, pinning its arms and legs to the ground. It remained surprisingly conscious and screamed words into my mic that I couldn't understand. The technician would know what to do about them, if anything. With the cannon gone I brought my cameras back online and swiveled one to the fleeing pair, moving slowly away from their breached camp and still well within my line of sight. The technician relayed more commands. I fired two darts at the pair housing analytic nanites. Within a second their circulatory systems were apparent to me. They were in good health, quality human resources. I would be back for them. For now I injected the same nanites into the remaining noncompliant and then anesthetized it. The movement and screaming stopped.This one had not fared as well as the others. Maybe it had sustained damage during recapture or maybe that was why it had remained behind. No matter. Its mind had value and a happy future if it could be brought back into compliance. I changed the angle of my appendages to secure the body and took flight again, heading back to corporate. I liked flying, I thought, even at the low altitude and velocity required to preserve the resource. I liked being a Raptor, model C-63. I couldn't wait to see my family again.


See part here. Links to other parts of the story begin there. **8** “What the hell’s taking so long, Clarence?” Her normally beautiful face looked harsh on his phone’s screen. Perhaps it was the lighting. Then again, it could be stress. Or maybe age was finally catching up to her. “You look tired, Darla.” She huffed in disdain. “Thanks.” “Where are you?” “Where do you think?” “No, I mean where are you? Where in the crawler?” She panned her phone’s camera to the side, revealing a zero-G toilet. “That enough of a hint for you?” She flushed it for emphasis, the waste-collection hoses making a sucking sound that was so loud it caused his phone’s speaker to crackle. Clarence smirked. “How’s the smell?” “Awful. If I could send you a sample, I would. What’s going on?” He shook his head. “I have no idea.” “Stop shitting me, Clarence. You built this fucking thing.” “I know, but—” “How serious is it?” He stared at her for a moment, unsure how to respond. “What’s Devon telling everyone?” She scoffed. “The usual line of bullshit. But you know them. They don’t even think he poops anymore. They’ll believe anything he says. So?” Clarence took a deep breath. “It’s serious, Darla.” “Fuck.” The word caught in her throat, and he thought he heard her choke back a sob. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for her. “How long?” she whispered. “Until what?” She cleared her throat, her voice regaining some of its punch. “Until whatever shitty thing is going to happen to us.” “That’s the thing, Darla, I don’t—” “It’s a hack, isn’t it? Someone’s trying to teach Devon a lesson, and we’re all caught in the crossfire. That stupid fucking prick has finally pushed things too far.” “I thought you were in love with him.” She scoffed. “As if he’d even notice if I were.” “How was the ride up—until it stopped?” “Extraordinary.” She smiled, forgetting her situation for a moment. Then she looked at the camera, as if probing for his eyes. “I wish you could have seen it. I really do.” “Me too,” Clarence said, “but considering the circumstances, I’m glad I—” “I’m sorry, Clarence.” “It’s no big deal. Really. I’ll just buy a ticket like everyone else once it’s open to the public.” “I’m not talking about the fucking elevator ride, you dipshit. I’m talking about us, the way things worked out with Devon. The whole fucking thing.” Clarence sighed. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry too, Darla.” Just then he heard a beeping sound. He looked up and saw an alert on the computer that was scanning the code. He paused to read it, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he struggled to process what he was seeing. “What was that?” Darla asked as Clarence leaned over and hit a few keys. “I’m not sure,” he said, his eyes continuing to skim the message. He swallowed hard, feeling as if his guts had just been sucked out through his spine. “Uh, actually, can I call you right back?” “No, you can’t. We’re not even supposed to have our fucking phones up here. What’s going on, Clarence?” Clarence glanced back to her, still reeling from what he had just seen. “Oh yeah, right. Well, maybe you can call me then. In about five?” She looked away for a moment and then turned back to the phone’s camera, her face hardening back into the mask he knew all too well. “You know what? Fuck it, Clarence. Fuck you, fuck Devon, and fuck this goddamn fucking elevator.” “Darla, don’t—” But she had already hung up. Wasting no time, Clarence rolled his chair in front of the other computer and initiated the scan again, still struggling to convince himself that what he had just seen was real. How on earth could this be happening? A moment later, he heard the automatic doors to the control room whoosh open, but he didn’t bother to look up. “Were you just talking to someone?” Terry asked. “I didn’t see any communications come through the network, but I thought I heard a woman’s voice.” Clarence punched a few keys, his eyes still on the monitor as he wondered vaguely if Terry had been eavesdropping on him. “It was Darla. She snuck her phone on board the elevator. You know her. She never was very good at sticking to the rules.” Terry leaned over Clarence’s shoulder. “What did you find?” Clarence watched the lines of code scrolling past, feeling like he was looking at a projection of his mind as he scrambled to come up with an answer. “I’m not sure, but I think—” Before he could complete his thought, the alert sounded again. There was no question. What he had just seen was real. Terry read it and then stepped back, chuckling to himself. “So, you found it. Too bad. I thought it would take longer than that.” Clarence turned his head slightly toward Terry, still unable to look away from the screen. “You . . . you knew about this?” A smirk tugged at the corners of Terry’s mouth. “Knew about it? I wrote it.” Clarence spun his chair toward Terry, about to respond, but then he snapped his mouth shut. In Terry’s right hand was a gun, and it was pointed right at Clarence.


(names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty)

His name was Pedro. He was everything Micheal was not. Suave,exciting, and definitely a little, if not a lot, shady. I loved Micheal but our post graduation breakup had taken him back to his native England and me to Astoria, Queens where I promptly slept with my downstairs neighbor and spent my nights drunk on the N train to and from Manhattan. I met Pedro while he and I were both working in midtown at a sexy asian/mexican fusion restaurant; him being my floor manager, and myself a server. Maybe it was the power dynamic, maybe it was the countless Jameson shots we drank after work, or maybe just being 24, but I soon became powerless over my own but young intuition and convinced myself that he was indeed what I wanted. We started flirting innocently enough, but he must have been able to smell the intrigue and curiosity on me like a dog on a bounty hunt. Night after night of drinking and talking about food, wine, our co-workers, and our very different pasts created a tension that was not only palpable but blinding.

You can imagine my surprise when Micheal called a few months removed from our break up from across the pond to tell me he had found a loophole in his Visa. One that would allow him to move to NYC for a year. This statement was immediately followed with “that way we can be back together.” My heart sank. I wanted to feel elated, but I felt like this brand new and shiny appearing world had been ripped away from me. This was my new life! My new city! My new “friends” This was the excitement I had been missing from my extremely stable, only one fight ever, continual unconditional love relationship with Micheal I had had. I couldn’t go back to that… could I? Editors note: Most people would immediately say “yes, of course go back to that you fool” but not this fire sign with an affinity for running away from safety, security, and the “known”

 My relationship with Michael in Boston was one that to this day I relish as the healthiest of my life. He is perhaps, still, the love of my life. Who is now married.

We genuinely adored each other and he wanted to be with me, even after a rocky start that involved a love triangle with someone else…It was messy. But once that dust settled, I had never felt so in love and loved in return. A wonderfully talented and handsome musician, a

product of British manners and good parenting with a genuinely golden heart, Micheal saw me in all my flaws and supported and loved me so unconditionally it felt impossible to believe at times. We were best friends who could sit and watch LOST in our pajamas, eat spaghetti, play guitar together, had our inside jokes, our mutual friends, and a blissful life together. We were together for 18 months before college graduation took us separate ways. I remember the break-up conversation so clearly. Us, at our favorite restaurant, having the most adult, eloquent and respectful conversation one could have surrounding the separation of two people very much in love. I was wildly impressed with us at 24 and 22.

We tearfully yet calmly agreed to go our separate ways and life would either bring us back together or not. Now it seemed like life was bringing him back to NYC so I strapped in and decided I would ride the wave.

I picked Micheal up from LaGuardia with one of those small signs that Limo drivers hold in a half assed attempt to show him that I still loved him dearly and that I wasn’t totally infatuated with a Peruvian with a bad reputation and a penchant for innocent women. We did fall back into a rhythm and for a while I was reminded of how wonderful WE were together.

But, after a few weeks, I started feeling antsy and like I wanted out. I felt restricted, shackled to this symbol of my old life, as amazing as he was. It also didn't help that I was working with Pedro almost daily and my scent became all the more intoxicating now that I was officially unavailable. I was half relieved, half terrified of myself and what I would do when Micheal told me that he had to go back to England for six weeks for another inexplicable but real Visa situation. After he got on that flight, I might as well have tied my sneakers on and started running for the fire. A full blown affair blossomed between me and Pedro.

We stayed out late, dirty dancing, him whispering phrases in Spanish in my ear while we made out on the dirty NYC sidewalk, the time difference working in my favor for Micheal to be long asleep when I was engaging in my debauchery.

At first it felt intoxicating, fun, exciting. But that sheen wore off and when Micheal returned a few weeks later,

I was an anxious wreck. I don’t know how people carry on in affairs for years, let alone months, let alone weeks, or days of their life, but I must have lost ten pounds in those two weeks of overlap. What was wrong with me? I had one man who loved me more than himself, wanted nothing but to marry me eventually and adore me, and I couldn’t run away faster.

After two weeks of actively sneaking around, turning phones face down on tables, and shitting from anxiarrhea every minute, I broke up with Micheal. I recoil in horror at how eager I was to get him out of my apartment so I could call Pedro and tell him the news that we could actually be together. I watched Michael leave, tears streaming down his face as I texted

Pedro “the good news.” I don’t remember him being that excited.

About a week later, Pedro broke up with me. I shouldn’t have been so shocked…this is what karma is right? I knew deep down in my gut that he was not good for me, but I decided to fill my gut with booze and sex to convince myself it was right and ended up on my own for the first real time in years.

Ten years later….

Landon and I are eating Chinese in what he so affectionately calls “house pants” sweats that once are on, signal we are in for the night. And I’m fine with that.

We’ve been watching “The Presidential Series” of movies lately, “ Air Force One ” “ The American President ” and so on for a few nights, having deep, funny discussions and couch therapy. This is what we do. You’d think it was enough.

I had been trying to fall in love with my former best friend, then lover, Landon, for about a year now. After getting my heart shattered by the guy I thought I was going to marry, Landon, the guy whose shoulder I always cried on, decided timing be damned, he was going to throw his hat in the proverbial ring and confess his feelings for me. I had never looked at him, * that way* but I knew I loved being around him, and that I was perhaps the most vulnerable I had been in recent history, so we just kind of… started? I remember our first kiss. Sara Bareilles was playing, it was all very rom-com. I hate rom-coms. At first I convinced myself that I was ok. That I could magically get over the previous ex and

ride off into the sunset with my best friend. I would not run away from what I had known in the past to feel like “ safe love” I was going to be IN this damnit. How could I not want to be with my best friend? It worked for Monica and Chandler right?

However, after almost a year of sobbing jags over the ex TO Landon, and reluctance to be known as his girlfriend around others, I should have cut and run. Done the right thing. But I told myself eventually, I would fall in love and everything would just work itself out. I wouldn't run away from this sort of love again like I had in the past.

Landon wanted to put a ring on my finger. Not proverbially, but actually. He was 38, he had been single for the better part of a decade and I was his dream woman. We immediately eased into a comfort, a knowing, a feel like we had been together for years. I kept looking within us for the best part of any relationship, the beginning, but I felt like I got robbed of that part. The best part.

We jumped right into what basically felt like marriage. I was at his all the time. He was at mine all the time. We were inseparable, but not in an obnoxious “can’t be apart , madly in love way”

more in a “you’re my best friend and the only person I can be around for this long without wanting to jump in front of a moving something way”. There was a road with two paths in front of me, one leading to a life with him, one leading into the dating abyss that is Los Angeles.

The road with him felt like I could be about 60% happy, with the remaining 40% wondering what was beyond him… The desire to being single again, moving on from my ex with the same aplomb and routine that proved to eventually work in my past; sleeping with randos, drinking too much, ugly crying in the bathtub, doing whatever the FUCK I wanted to do. The other path, an unknown, risking perhaps never feeling this sort of

love again.

Enter… Travis. Travis was an affable,

tall, floppy haired, guitarist in the ‘90s band I sang in. I have historically always had a weakness for a boy with a guitar. Walking, talking, John Mayer playing sticks of kryptonite that I decide to keep in my bed. Smart. Travis and I met carpooling to a gig in San Diego. I don’t think we stopped talking the entirety of the trip. I was in love with my ex before Landon at the time so I didn’t think twice about him much until a while later during the time where I was still desperately trying to fit my square heart into Landon’s round one. I saw Travis at a rehearsal and we got a drink afterward, him regaling me with stories of his 25 year old situationship/ girlfriend and how he was bored with her, and the only thing he liked about her was her love for The Eagles (the band, not the NFL team) and me dancing around the Landon situation with the expertise of Barishnykov. Somehow portraying that I wasn’t a total shithead and that I loved this person but I wasn’t IN it. Because as I feared,

I was getting more and more into him.

I knew I was careening towards dangerous and familiar territory that I had avoided for the last decade but here I was again, feeling that tension from the spark. The energy circuiting in my body, making me want to flee again.

Over the next few weeks, we would find reasons and excuses to hang out. I was still with Landon but Travis and I were only growing more and more electric the longer that we hung out. I was once again at a place where I was turning my phone face down and staying out late with someone who wasn’t my lover. He would make jabs about Landon to me, ways of puncturing holes in what he already knew was too porous a shell. It was a game to him, he later admitted. Interested in what he thought he couldn’t have. The thing that I knew all along he would eventually get.

He kissed me one night in my kitchen. It was a sloppy kiss. My mouth filled with chips, both of us drunk. I knew right then I had to break up with Landon. At least a decade later, I wasn’t going to let an actual affair continue. Been there, done that and while this had been an emotional affair until this point, I couldn’t possibly relive that anxious hellscape once something BAD actually happened. In my head, the line hadn’t been yet crossed but with that kiss, I had just lightly jumped over and it was no longer ok .  I had made bargains with my morality up until that point. “If I don’t text him back it’s ok.” or, “ he left at 3 am instead of 4, so that’s ok “ I texted my best friend about what happened, took screenshots of the exchange and deleted the messages, just like an addict hiding the evidence.  Two days later, I was with Landon watching the Oscars when he looked over at me and said “ Do you have something you want to tell me?” I felt punched in the gut. How the fuck did he know? I foolishly pseudo lied and said something ridiculous along the lines of “ we didn’t make out, it was one kiss” like the semantics and details would somehow get me out of this. It was not good. I was in such shock that he had gone through my phone as he later admitted that I couldn’t even allow myself to be angry at the invasion of privacy. That I still deserved even as the guilty one. Both of us filled with shame, shock and anger, we broke up. This time, I left his apartment with tears in my eyes and no real elation because at the end of the day, Travis never actually said he wanted to be with me. I called Travis and told him what had happened and his reaction was slightly apologetic with a detected

hint of “ oh shit, I didn’t mean to do that. Do I owe her something now?” I had once again blown up the thing I knew was safe, secure, unconditional in exchange for the unknown thrill of something that never quite satisfies. Travis and I continued for two years in an excruciating cyclical situationship that always ended it’s “round” with me asking for more and being told he didn’t want to or couldn’t give that to me. I’m still not fully over him. Landon and I are back to friends but not without

the better half of a year of many angry conversations, emails on Christmas Eve telling me how shitty I was, tears shed and questions asked.

When I ask myself why I ran from these loves, I never have a good answer. You could essentially blame it on my youth, but that excuse wears itself thin in your late thirties. I suppose I don’t really know where it comes from. Studies will claim attachment style is childhood based.That the relationship between you and your caretaker during the formative first few years of your life somehow determine whether or not you fall for fuck bois in your twenties and

thirties but yet, here we are. I have discussed my tendencies at length with therapists and friends about why I seem to run away from the stable, sometimes boring, safe and unconditional love and instead run towards the unavailable, damaging, never quite actually love me types. All I know is that here I am at 38 years old wanting the former more than ever and feeling more and more hopeless with each late night swipe session, each boring first date, each lap I take year by year, swimming into a shallower dating pool, eventually banging my head against the ground and running out of options. I suppose one gets tired of running all the time. It’s fun when you're young, you’re being chased, you’re racing something, or trying to get from point A to point B and fast, but now, my feet and my heart are tired.


Radhika had been waiting at the Starbucks near her place for the last half an hour. She looked at the time on her watch for the 10 th time in the last 15 minutes. It said 4.55pm. Her heart began to beat faster as the clock approached 5pm. Radhika knew that he was never late. She lightly pat her chest to calm herself. It isn’t the first time you’re meeting him! She chided herself. To take her mind of things, she began thinking of something else. The next thing she could think of was her mother. Even though she was only 5 minutes away from her home, she knew her mother would not be one to care. Nor would she call her to ask when she would be home. Its ironic how if this situation had played out a few years ago, her mother would be all over her, calling her multiple times to check when she would be home. Now, however, things had changed and for the better Radhika thought. ‘You are early’ a male voice said coming close to the table. She looked up, to the face that she had thought she would be waking up to every morning in the future. For a moment, as if spellbound, she felt stuck in place, her face looking up, unable to come up with a response. Since she was already looking up, she took in the features of the person in front of her. His face had matured over time and the boyish features were replaced with a manly expression with the smirk still in place. Was it that wicked smirk that had made her heart race the first time she had looked at him in high school? Even so, it still had the power to make her heart race, she thought. She only hoped that the thump of her heart wasn’t audible to him. ‘Abhinav. Yes, I came a bit early to catch up on some time with myself’ she replied getting some grip on herself. Abhinav proceeded to sit on the seat opposite to her while she was trying to memorize his every action to memory. He was wearing a navy-blue suit and looked crisp, not just by his attire but by his overall appearance. Donning a pair of glasses and hair that was neatly put in place, he looked picture-perfect. She suddenly felt conscious in her white chikan kurta that she had paired on a pair of denims thinking this to be just a casual meeting. Sitting up straight, she gathered herself preparing for the conversation. Hadn’t she seen enough in her life already to face a simple conversation with her ex? Ex, who would’ve thought? Back in high school, when they had pledged to be with each other forever, she knew that it wasn’t just an empty promise. Unlike all the other couples around her, who were getting in and out of relationships, theirs was based on a solid foundation. Where the whole school feared his terror and bullying, Radhika had seen the scared, lonely guy behind the angry-young-man mask. Abhinav, on the other hand, had held her hand firmly throughout, even when her best friend stabbed her in the back for a guy leaving Radhika hurt and in tears. Abhinav had ensured that both her friend and the boyfriend were taught a lesson when he relayed the truth of the boyfriend to her friend. Yet, Radhika being a good person, had taken her best friend back with open arms. Was that the first crack that brought about a domino effect in finally ending their relationship? ‘Should I order for the both of us?’ Abhinav’s question brought her back to the present. Radika nodded in response. ‘One cappuccino for the lady and an americano for me, please. Thank you’ Abhinav said placing his order with the waiter. For someone who was arrogant with almost everyone he met of his age, he was surprisingly warm and nice to those elder to him or below his social status, both then and now. Now as he looked at her, Radhika tried hard to not show her real emotions on her face. She instead kept a stoic face and looked straight at him. ’15 years. Should I say long time no see or that it is great to meet you?’ he said. ’15 years? I didn’t even realize how the years went by’ she lied. Truthfully, she had always been counting days since they last spoke. She had never thought this day would ever come. But last week receiving a call from him, she was shocked? Surprised? 10 seconds in the call she realized she hadn’t responded to his ‘hello’ and replied back trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. At the end of the call, they decided to meet. ‘I know right? So, what are you upto these days? Working at an MNC like you always wanted to?’ he asked. ‘MNC? No. I left that dream a long time back. Now I am a kindergarten teacher.’ She said smiling contently. ‘Shocking for someone who absolutely detested kids. Why a kindergarten teacher? You could’ve made so much of money at an MNC with your sharp intellect and strong personality’ ‘Like you?’ Before he could respond, they were interrupted with the waiter who came with their order. After he left, Abhinav said, ‘Yes, like me. Money isn’t bad, is it?’ ‘Nothing is bad unless you give it the power to run your life.’ Radhika replied with a faraway look in her eyes. In their minds, they had a ton of questions to ask each other. But they both refrained from doing so, realizing that they would be crossing boundaries of whatever this was that they were doing at the moment. Radhika broke the silence by asking Abhinav about his work even though she knew exactly what he did. Who wouldn’t know one of the youngest entrepreneurs to enter their company into the Fortune 500 list? She was silently proud of him but she stopped herself from telling him about it. Even back in high school, she knew he possessed both the skill and the zeal to lead and so she had always persuaded him to use it for the right purposes. ‘Work is good.’ He replied. Then he continued, thinking he would have to be the one to let his defense down first, ‘After my parents had a fight one day that went a little too far, I just took my mother and ran away from home. I decided that no woman in my life would ever suffer the way she did. Then on, I have worked my ass off to first find us a place to stay, then run it and then build my company from scratch’

The sandwich Radhika was holding in her hand was still in mid-air. She was left speechless. In none of his interviews or appearances, had he ever spoken of his hardships or the way he had started his company. Certainly, not this crude version of all that he had gone through. She knew of troubles that brew between his parents even back in high school, but never thought it would go to this extent. As she looked at him closely, he looked tired and worn out, but he masked it well. All this before he had even reached the age of 30. She knew it was hard for him to bare himself like that but it gave her confidence to be herself with him. Like they weren’t their age but 15 again. ‘I… I’m sorry. I had no idea’ she said hesitatingly. ‘It’s okay. How would you even?’ he said taking a sip of his Americano to wet his dried-up throat. She continued to steal glances at him as he attended a work call. ‘Sorry for that’ Abhinav said keeping the call. ‘It’s okay’ she said. ‘So what’s up with you? What have you been up to all these years?’ he asked. ‘Oh nothing worth telling’ Radhika said taking a sip of her cappuccino to hide her nervousness. Abhinav looked at her understanding very well that she was hiding herself behind the cup. She was the same girl even now who never spoke of her troubles. Instead, pushed them under the carpet like it was nothing. Even though he was the one to break their relationship, he never could be done with Radhika and so in a silent way he had kept tabs on her life without ever letting her know. Throughout the last year of school and then college, Abhinav watched her every moment he got away from work or had a minute to breathe. He couldn’t see her date other guys but he knew he couldn’t step in for he was the one to walk away. Surprisingly, those relationships never lasted beyond a month or two. The biggest punch in the gut for Abhinav was when she got married young at just 22 years old. That’s when he felt as if he had lost her completely. Yet, Abhinav couldn’t stop himself from knowing what she was up to in her life and so he continued watching her from afar. The first time he was made known of her husband raising his hand on her, Abhi felt like he had time traveled to when he was at home with his parents. That vow he made to himself, he couldn’t keep it to the one woman he loved. Even so, Abhinav took steps towards Radhika multiple times but stopped himself from butting in their married life. He knew it was wrong and that it may do her more harm than good. Every time he seen her husband walk around arrogantly, he wanted to punch him till he could see the guy lose his last breath. Once his company became successful, Abhinav had little time on hand and eventually became far away from Radhika due to work. He had only been just become successful at moving on from her when he spotted Radhika at the traffic signal last week. It took him a while to recognize her since she looked much frailer than he had last seen her. Once he did, the first thing he did was learn of all the things that had transpired in her life in the last few years. Knowing that she was divorced, he could see a ray of hope. Not to build a relationship, but to take a step towards connecting with her. Sparing no time, he called her and set this meeting. Why didn’t Abhinav just date instead of silently following her around? He had tried his best to date another girl but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He had learnt the value of what a relationship means with Radhika. Having bared himself once he couldn’t let someone else see his scars that Radhika had privy to. Abhinav couldn’t do that again, not when he knew that the one he loved was still breathing in the same world as him. Now, as she sat wearing just a white kurta- probably to hide her scars- on a pair of blue jeans, she looked ethereal to him. Simple and comfortable, just like he knew Radhika was. Unable to take the rage any longer, he spewed it on her. ‘Why are you trying to hide things about you?’ he asked anger clearly visible on her face. ‘Hide what? There is nothing to hide’ she said tapping her fingers on the table. He was drawn to the tapping and his suspicion of her lie was confirmed. ‘You always tap your fingers like that when you lie’ he said pointing to her fingers. ‘So what if I did? Who are you to ask me anything? What do you mean by ‘trying to hide things’? Did you do a background check on me?’ she asked her eyes bulging. ‘Yes I did. Unlike about me, I cannot find things about you written in magazines and newspapers!’ Abhinav said keeping his coffee cup a little too loudly. Radhika looked around to see people begin to look at them. ‘Let’s not do this now or ever.’ She said trying to gather her belongings and beginning to get up when he pulled her down and close. Abhinav was holding her arm as he let his anger cool down. Once he felt a bit normal, he looked her in the eye as he said ‘Look at me. I understand your hesitation of talking to me given our history. But did you also forget that I was the one holding your hand when all had left you alone?’ ‘Yes the same hand you left when you decided to trust someone else over me on a baseless rumor.’ Radhika said pulling her hand out of his clutch. ‘That wasn’t it!’ Abhinav said. ‘I didn’t think to break up with you because I believed the rumor. Do you think our relation was that weak? Rumors or not, I knew you for who you were and not just because we were together. I left you for the issues I was ensuring at home were too heavy a burden that I didn’t want the two of us to carry them. At the time it felt it was wise to use the rumor and let you go but the consequence of it has been paid by me every single day of my life.’ Abhinav said looking down. Radhika didn’t know what to say. All this while she thought that he had left because of a stupid rumor. Even though she had believed that their relation was stronger than that, she was proven wrong by his one action. Suddenly out of words, she looked at the guy in front of her a bit differently. Abhinav lifted his head and looked at Radhika look at him. Hesitatingly, he kept his palm covering hers and apologized. ‘I’m sorry, for the agony I caused you back then. I knew that if I told you all that I was going through you would’ve jumped to help me and I didn’t want you to get involved. I just couldn’t let you do that Rads’ he said calling her what he always did in high school. This made her look up at him. She felt happy inside, hearing a name that was as familiar to her as her real name. Abhinav continued, ‘I couldn’t put you in worry with me or put you out of my mind.’ He followed it by confessing everything he had done in the last 15 years of silently watching over her. He told her how he knew of her married life and how much it hurt to see her go through the same thing his mother did when they were young. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to help. At times, I wanted to step in and do business with your husband every time I seen his business fail. But it worried me that you might somehow hear of my name from him, so I stayed away.’ ‘It’s good you didn’t get involved with him. To be honest, I don’t think anything would’ve made Vishal happy. He never could quench his thirst for money, not professionally or personally. Everything was an opportunity for him to make money- be it business or wife. Mother forcibly got me married to him when she learnt of ex of mine. I agreed for she left me no choice. Through all the years of domestic abuse, she stood next to him instead of me. I wasn’t surprised considering she had practically sold me to him with a bag full of cash as dowry. It took me a whole lot of suffering and determination to reach a point where I could leave him. Even then I did it all alone. Mother hated me for my decision of divorce and even now gives me an earful for I have returned home to live with her. Anyway, now I am happy to be just a kindergarten teacher. The kids make me happy and forget all that had happened’ she looked at Abhinav to see tears brimming in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry Radhika for all that you had to go through. I knew of some things but not in so much detail. I wish I could go back and change my one decision of leaving you.’ Abhinav said trying to clear his tears with a handkerchief. ‘It’s okay Abhi, it’s really not your fault. If we were meant to be then, none of this would have happened.’ ‘What if we are meant to be together, now?’ Abhi asked her looking point blank in her eyes. Seeing as she was shocked at what he said, he held her palms in between his hands and continued, ‘I understand and agree that maybe then, we weren’t meant to be together. But nothing can stop us to be together now. I know that you have only just gotten out of a hard time relation and probably may want to steer clear of any relationship whatsoever. I want the same for you too. Just allow me to be a part of your life as your friend again. I would never ask you for anything more. And someday if you think you can do it again, I will be waiting next to you to start a life together.’ He finished his statement with a smile. Radhika suddenly felt light in her being as if the storms had finally cleared making way to a bright sunny day. Had Abhi forced her for a relation, she wouldn’t have been comfortable. It is only now that she was learning things about herself, a relation was a thing of some distant future. What she needed was a friend, one who knew her well and was ready to walk by her. She was glad that she had agreed to meet Abhi after all. She held her palm out to him asking with a smile, ‘Would you be my friend?’


Like most of us, seventeen years ago my life was completely different. I was living in Killeen, TX waiting to get married. It was the first time living away from my family. Killeen is a small army town about an hour north of Austin. Outside of the army base Killeen is made up of bars, tattoo parlors and strip clubs. Growing up in the suburbs of Ohio, I was out of my element. I was in the middle of nowhere with no friends and a fiancé I barely knew. Whenever I found myself homesick, got upset or was angry I couldn’t take off in my car, drive to a friend’s house, or my parents to talk it out as I normally would. I was smack dab in the middle of the lone star state with a man I didn’t even know. I didn’t have any friends when I first arrived, but I did have a house and a lot of time to fill. My fiancé loved to fish, and I often accompanied him to the lake for lack of anything else to do. On one such trip I found an abandoned kitten curled up next to its dead mother. I had to keep it. Unfortunately, my fiancé refused to let me name our kitten. We argued over it, but I lost, and he named the kitten Buddy. I was annoyed with my fiancé’ yet happy to have this new companion. Buddy was a rascal as most kittens are. He very much enjoyed keeping me up by running throughout the house all night long. One of his favorite things to do was lightly touch my face with his paw at 3am. Looking back, it was sweet and funny, but after a few weeks I was exhausted from lack of sleep. He never bothered my fiancé. I loved that cat, but I was very much annoyed and resentful of the sleep my fiancé was getting. I came home from work one day and found Buddy staring under our couch. He wouldn’t budge. I got on my hands and knees to see what had him so entranced. As I peered into the darkness, I saw two eyes staring back at me. Thirty mins later a sweet six-month-old tabby cat crawled out. My fiancé got a kitten for our kitten. He explained to me that a soldier had been deployed overseas and was planning on letting this kitten outside to survive on its own. My fiancé wasn’t going to let that happen. The best part was this time I even got to name him. I knew instantly this darling cat’s name was Scooter. Texas was the first of two states that Scooter and I would live in together. Over the years we would live in two different states and five different houses. We eventually left Texas and moved back to Ohio. Moving into our second living space, a condominium where I had my two children. By that time, my fiancé wanted a dog and therefore he adopted a sweet mixed breed named Norman. The three pets got along wonderfully. All three animals were special, and I loved each one of them, but there was something about Scooter that tied me to him. Maybe it was because I was the one who named him. I chose a name that I thought of as a child but never had the chance to use up until then. When I thought of the name Scooter my family had animals already and thus, I couldn’t use the name. In my mind as a child I wanted a dalmatian named Scooter, instead when I saw my tabby cat years later somehow it just fit. Scooter was a fiery little shit. He galloped around the house, jumped on couches, and ottomans, while his 16-pound frame made all sorts of noise in our house. He had the sweetest round face I’d ever seen. It begged for you to scratch him and that’s when he would bite you. Not hard of course but just enough to keep you away. He did this to everyone except me. Well, if I’m being honest, I got bitten also but far less than everyone else. It was a game he and I played. My sister, friend or family member would come over, see his darling face, and want to interact. They noticed he was a little finicky and asked if they could pet him.              “Will he bite me?” My sister asked.              “Nope.” I said. Followed by laughter on my end after Scooter bit her. He never drew blood or hurt anyone, but he always let you know who was in charge. A few years later I left my husband I moved the two kids, two cats and one dog into a two-bedroom apartment. I was afraid my husband would demand one of the pets, but then realized I had no need to worry. He wasn’t interested in taking care of his kids, why would he be interested in taking care of the animals? The apartment was home number three for Scooter and me, it was little, but we made it work. During this time Scooter became ill with bladder stones. I had just left my husband who was unemployed and giving zero financial or emotional support. I was on food stamps, working part time and I used the last of my savings to put the deposit and first month’s rent down on my apartment. I didn’t have the money for the operation he needed therefore I asked my parents for the $1300 so the vet could surgically remove the bladder stones. I felt terrible. I was 31 years old, using government assistance and asking my parents to pay for surgery for my cat because I was too broke to do so. I thank God my parents helped me with his surgery, otherwise I wouldn’t have had him. I lived at my apartment for the next 5 years and I’m sad to say that both Buddy and Norman passed during this time. Both were hard on me. It was the first time I was the adult making the choice when to end their suffering. The years went by, and I worked hard, getting promotions regularly, I was in a better financial position that allowed me to afford medicine and different diagnostic procedures for both Buddy and Norman. However, they each reached the end of their lives in that apartment. Buddy was young, only around 9 years old when he got intestinal cancer, and the vet told me there was little they could do. Norman was around 10 when he developed a tumor on his spine. Although logically I knew there wasn’t anything else I could do, it was still extremely hard to be the one to make that final decision. I tried to take comfort knowing they were not in pain any longer. Although I struggled with each one passing, I have to say that when Buddy passed the kids were so little, I didn’t have a lot of time to grieve his death. I was still working to make it through each day as a single parent, falling into bed at night happy we all got through another day. A few years later when Norman passed, I felt the grief a little more. The kids were older, and I was getting ready to buy my first home. Norman was a Shepard mix who initially I didn’t want to adopt. We were living in my dad’s condominium without a yard, and I felt that it was wrong to get a dog who needed to run. My ex-husband didn’t care and wouldn’t listen to my concerns, so we rescued Norman. I walked him and took him to dog parks, but it wasn’t the same as being able to open up the door and let him lay in his own open yard. After all the years living in a condominium and then an apartment, I just wanted Norman to have a backyard to run in. Sadly, I wasn’t able to give him that before he died. With the purchase of my first house, Scooter moved into the fourth home we would share. I started to realize that at 12 years old he wasn’t a young cat anymore and I needed to take the extra time to enjoy him. It suddenly struck me that he wasn’t going to be with me forever. I believe that this was when I really fell in love with him. Although the kids were older and more self-sufficient, they were both still in elementary school. After they went to bed I would start a fire, curl up on my couch and wait for Scooter to jump into my lap. Some people read to relax, others go to the gym, paint, or cook. I made fires in my fireplace and snuggled with Scooter. During COVID I started working from home and Scooter sat on my lap for hours. I would be in meetings with my fat cat sleeping on me. I had to work, like us all, but I found the way to do it. Scratching my cat’s ears while I looked at spreadsheets made the spreadsheets slightly more bearable. The years went on and the jokes began. “Mom, do you love Scooter more than us?” my daughter asked. “Baby, how could you even ask that? Of course, I love Scooter more than I love you.” We would all burst into laughter as my daughter playfully hit me. My son would walk downstairs and crawl onto the couch while Scooter and I watched a movie. “Be careful, don’t upset my cat.” I would say grinning at him. As much as we all joked about my love for Scooter there was an ounce of truth to it. Of course, I didn’t love my cat more than I loved my kids. But at that point Scooter had been in my life longer than my kids. I joked that Scooter lasted longer than my first marriage and I had been with him longer than my kids had been alive. Scooter was around while I was wrapped in the chains of active alcoholism and also there when I got sober. Scooter was with me when I was on food stamps and kept me warm when the furnace of my apartment barely did the job. He had slept with the kids, the dog and I all in one bed. He had been in my life for a long time. Scooter started to slow down significantly in his 17 th year. He had suffered a few bouts of pancreatitis throughout his life, but these flares went from once every five years to a few times in a year. Scooter also started getting around slower. Taking longer to walk up and down the stairs and jumping onto the counter happened less often. The vet gave him supplements for arthritis this past year and I’m happy to say it did him wonders. In many ways it turned him into a kitten again. As I saw him age, I marveled at the way Scooter did ordinary things, watching his relaxed face as he slept curled up in a sun beam as it peaked through the window. It brought tears to my eyes when he ran after a laser pointer my kids danced in front of him. Every night coming to a close with Scooter on my lap as we watched TV while the kids slept. At the start of this year, I got married and bought my second house. This house was the fifth home that Scooter and I lived in together. A few weeks before the move I saw a change in Scooter. His vomiting increased, and changed from when he had a pancreatitis flare up to a few times a week. It finally got to the point where he couldn’t keep his arthritis supplements down which caused him to get around much slower than before. As the move got closer, I was terrified it would stress him out and toss him into another bout of pancreatitis. Luckily, he made the move much better than I anticipated and he thrived for a few weeks. Acclimating better than our younger cat and dog. But it didn’t last, soon after the move Scooter started losing weight. Not just a little as he aged but enough that I could tell a significant difference. I spared no expense in allowing the vet to run tests while also balancing the stress of putting him through taking blood and giving him medicine. The only good part of this scenario was that I was in a financial position where I could afford to try whatever medication the vet suggested or to run whatever test was needed to try and help him. Ironic that the money I had worked so hard to get, in hopes of making my family’s lives better, didn’t give me any more time with my beloved cat. On June 9 th 2024 I took Scooter to the vet to put him to sleep. With his passing a wound opened in my heart. I cried the entire time I was at the vet’s office as she asked me questions and finally agreed that it was time to end the pain he was in. We had run out of options, and she agreed his quality of life was not good. I stayed with Scooter the entire time, snuggling him, and stroking his head. The next day I told my husband that I was surprised how difficult each day was. I’m not an overly emotional person. I love animals and consider myself a “pet person” but I’m also very practical. Everything dies eventually, it is just a part of life. My husband was the wise one as he said that “It’s been almost 20 years”. He is right, no one grieves 17 years in a day. Therefore, I’m allowing myself to feel the terrible feelings I have. In my most basic thoughts I keep thinking that I just want Scooter back. I want him physically back with me, at home number five. I don’t like not having him. I had an exceedingly difficult time leaving his body with the vet, and although I opted to have him cremated and have purchased a small urn to keep him near me, I do not like not having him with me. I don’t like being at my house expecting to see him, even as skinny as he was. I want to pick up that skinny body and snuggle it. Logically I know that taking his pain away was the right decision, but I want him back. I feel like a child. If I thought stomping my feet, yelling, and pounding my fists on the floor would somehow allow him to return to me I would do it all. Unfortunately, at 45 years of age I know that won’t change anything. I can’t imagine what it’s like for a parent to lose a child. I imagine the feelings I have of wanting my Scooter back are only a small representation of how a parent feels when they have lost their child. I think the only reason losing an animal is bearable is because we can understand that they live faster and shorter lives than we do. We understand that by loving an animal we will also have to withstand the pain of losing that animal. With children we are not supposed to lose them, they are supposed to lose us. I tell my children that my only real goal in life is to die before them. If I die before them then I’ve won at life. Don’t get me wrong, I hope that I die when I’m 97 and that my children don’t suffer any terrible fates, but in general as long as I die first then I’ll be happy. Often times the kids and I would joke and say things like “He’s not going to be with us much longer.” Even though it was said lightheartedly I knew that it was a true statement. Cats rarely live to be twenty, although I thought my Scooter might make it that long. Pain and misery are the harshest of teachers, but perhaps the ones that teach us the most. I realize that Scooter was my reward at the end of each day. After I finished my job, taken care of the kids, the house, and my husband, I was able to sit down and have my cat’s soft paws and gentle purrs take away the stress of my day. The time I spent with him was when my cup was refilled, he recharged me, allowing me to wake up and start all over again. I don’t know how I’m going to recharge now that he is gone. What I do know however is that Scooter gave me a final gift in his death, he taught me to live in the moment. I can honestly say that I made a very conscious decision to love and enjoy Scooter more in the last three years than in the first twelve that I had him. I knew that time was running out for us to be together and instead of mourning his age I very much embraced it. I enjoyed every ear scratch, and each face snuggle. I took more pictures, made more Instagram posts, and ate up the affection he gave me. Scooter taught me to slow down and appreciate the time we had together. I’m trying to slow down; to enjoy the time I have with everyone and in every part of my life. I can honestly say that Scooter gave me one of the greatest gifts in my life and for that I will forever be grateful to my sweet, feisty tabby cat.


Zack looked at the demon girl as Addie flew past him and got slammed against the wall like she was a pillow. She morphed back into her human self as she slid down the wall. Addie didn’t look so hot; you could tell that several of her ribs were broken, she had a busted lip, and was coughing up blood. Zack had to tap into the pen’s powers to save her even though he would have to give up being human. It was a bad course of action but he didn’t have another plan and wouldn’t be able to make one in time for Addie’s sake. Zack’s eyes darken as his fingernails grew out like he was Wolverine. Zack turned to the others, “We have to help her!” Zack exclaimed as he rushed over to Addie. Cody, Liz, and Simon pulled out their pens and looked around for cover. Cody, Liz, and Simon started to use the floor as paper, but before they could start to writing,, the white wolf howled, and a blue mist rose from the floor broads. Liz and Tina saw their father, in the flesh, standing in front of them along with Artie and Ethan. Cody and Simon stared, wide-eyed at their mother, who had passed away six years ago. Dan and Maddie saw their families, the ones the killed welcoming them back with open arms as if they had just had a little fight and they were still alive. Harper saw Angel and Lason in one piece. When Damian, Zack, Krystal, and Katrienna looked around the hallway, the only humans there were the gang, Addie, and the wolf girl. Black ink figures stood in front of them like sirens, trying to get them to come towards them. Zack looked back at them, “GET THE PENS!” Damian bolted to Liz and picked up the Pen of Character. Krystal went for Simon’s pen. When Krystal took the pen it moped into a sword. Katrienna tried to get Cody’s but he was surrounded by the ink monsters, making it impossible for her to get near him. While the other worked on trying to get the pens, Zack went full beast mode on the white wolf while Addie tried to catch her breath...

The white wolf’s fur was now bloody and big chunks of it laid scattered around her body. Zack stood over the corpse while the others tried to help Addie to her feet. Addie started to take the pens back, but then stopped in midthought. She looked up to Liz, Cody, Harper, Dan, Simon, and Maddie with glass-like eyes, “I think we should break the remaining pens so they can’t fall into the wrong hands,” she said looking towards Zack as she continued, “Let me have the Devil’s pen so I can be bound to it, so I can fight my own battle.” Zack quickly replied, glaring at the others so they wouldn’t say anything and keeping his eyes away from Addie, “It was destroyed when you vanished.” Addie nodded but didn’t say anything else. Tina spoke up, “Um, I’m bonded to the pen of death, but is there a way that it can be undone?” Addie shook her head, “Each pen is different; each one has its own soul and power. If it was the devil’s pen, for example, it would be easy to remove from a that I created, but if it was me or someone else it would take a while. Unfortunately, death is permanent.” Addie turned to the others, “Would any of you like to be the bridge between the pens?” Simon was the first one to step forward, then Dan and Harper. Adaline smiled, “Good, now there’s a pen in each world.” Cody looked at Addie, “What about the Forgotten’s pen?” Addie sighed, “She still needs a home and wants to keep her memories locked away, so the pen will stay with her.” Adaline looked to the others, “Let’s go home.” ...

Zack smiled as the final bell rang, letting everyone know that summer had begun. It had been two weeks since everyone had gotten back to their own world and life was getting back to normal. Adaline had been accepted into a high school writing workshop for the summer, leaving with a big smile and hopes to try to cheer Tina up and find Ethan, who didn’t pass on. Zack knew lying to Addie about the devil’s pen was dumb but he didn’t want her to worry about him. He had gotten pretty good at hiding the red eyes, but some days he looked like a corpse; his eyes would be sunken in and he would be paler than heck, but when people asked him about it he would just say that he was under the weather. He had gotten used to seeing horns on his shadow and seeing the demon girl everywhere, but he didn’t know what to do. Then the idea hit him; Tina might be able to help him. Little did he know that a new adventure just around the corner… The tree stood alone on the hill that looked out to the sea. This tree had seen it all; love, lies, betrayal, and death. It stood over children playing in the grass, brothers at war with one another, lovers that now are one, and the tree stood strong yet always alone, ‘til one night when a girl about 15 carved her name into its bark. The girl’s tears hit the ground as the tree stood shakily above the girl’s head. The girl made a necklace out of rope, and the tree bowed its branches. The girl hung as the tree shakes in the wind. The wind blew through the branches making a silent cry for the loss of life. Let us have mercy on the crying soul. As the tree looked out to the sea, a boy about 15 came with flowers. The tree stood still as if in shock. The boy visited the tree every day. As the years passed, the boy grew and went to fight another nation. The tree stood alone for five years until a family came by to lay the boy at rest. But loyal still they held right as men of righteousness like the boy to fight and die for the banner of their country. And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his gods? The town’s folk named the tree “The Weeping Tree”, for it had seen pain and loss. This tree now looks out to the sea in hope of a better world. In the tree’s world, a land of prosperity that will escape the eye of a stranger, the cry for a homely proverb is unyielding. Many have broken faith because of the unholy wars. A girl’s voice started to sing as the wind picked up. The tree stood five feet away from two women. Both young and beautiful, yet one better than the other. “BANG”. The singing stopped as one woman fell to the ground.  Man is the only animal that kills for the sheer joy of it. Blood is spilled and yet the tree lives. The blood of mankind cries out from the ground. As it once was in Egypt. “And there was a great cry in Egypt for there was not a house where someone was not dead,” says the prophet.  This tree longs for the light but it is surrounded by darkness. The wind carries the cries of children who fear dark while men fear the light. As the prophet John has written,“ in this is the judgment: the light has come into the world and people love the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come into the light lest his works should be exposed.” This tree needs light just as the children need it. Children like trees planted by streams of water that yield fruit in its season and their leaves do not wither away and all that they do they prosper. When I was a child; I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I responded like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. But in the eyes of a child, the greatest of all things is love.  That heart of a dream that once sang in the tree’s life, died as the reckoning of man takes the dreamers among the wicked. Can’t we dream the tree’s dream of a better world where death cannot reach the children of love? What a dream it would be, the dreamer’s dream of hope. The tree dreamed a beautiful dream. The dream was about a garden where children played among the flowers and war was no more. Weeds don’t have dwellings among the garden. It wanted to live in the dream but it looks out to a nightmare that can’t be controlled. The sea grew ill and the sky turned evil. The tree’s world grew ill as the tree lived. The sky sent demons that wiped out the land and made the land shook in fear. Man gave birds armor, the sky demons, and the sea illness. Men of evil made the tree’s world take a turn for the worst. The prophet has written, “So will Babylon, the great city will be thrown down with violence, and will be found no more. And all the nations were deceived by your society and there was found the blood of the prophets and the saints and all who have been slain on Earth.” The earth grew weaker. A curse on nature cast by men of evil has descended upon the world. Listen all, to the tree’s story. Will you hear the despair of the affected? Will you strengthen their hearts? Will you incline your ear to do justice for the fatherless and the oppressed so that man who is of the earth may strike terror no more? Darkness has fallen in paradise, and children cry out from their villages that lay in ruin due to man’s hate. The living need more prayers than darkness... A grim reaper sat beneath the tree, reading her lover’s last poem as she stood looking out to the sea. Tina read the Tree’s story many times since she had taken the book from the library from Wonderland but still felt empty. Addie said that Ethan deserves a second chance at life but didn’t know how to bring him back...


Children tend to be neglectful of these toys. Some leave them on the floor while others set them in dark boxes or closets never playing with them at all. Most of the toys in a child's bedroom are safe getting treated that way, but there are some toys who will not stand for it. How do I know this you ask? Well, I lived it and now I'm typing this to share the story with you. May it serve to keep you from making the same mistakes I made in my youth. As a child, I like many others, had a lot of toys. Now electronics in my day hadn't quite become nearly so big as they are now. Computers ran Windows 98, people had CD's but most kids still had tape players, TVs had commercials and there wasn't a tablet or DS in sight. The Nintendo, Super Nintendo, Sega, and Game boy did exist, but they were fairly expensive. VHS players were generally kept in the living room and only there was the TV. Children read books, played with toys and outside on bikes, roller skates, skateboards, and an odd Pogo stick or two. To most kids in this time I'm sure I sound old, but technology grew so fast. Being a child growing up in a quickly booming technological world was a marvel to watch, but as with all things magnificent there are consequences. My problem started with the day my parents surprised me with a TV and Super Nintendo for my room. Until then I spent a good deal of time playing with my action figures, dolls, marbles, coloring books, puzzles, etc. but after I began to play Super Mario, Zelda, Star Fox, and many others I left my non-electronic toys behind. First I would still play with them a little, but as I lost interest I stuck them into a Rubbermaid tub and put them in my closet. Three months after I put the toys away I began to have nightmares of the toys coming to get me, and I'd wake up screaming which drew my parents to the room. They would calm down, say it was just a dream, and tell me if I picked my toys off the floor perhaps I wouldn't have bad dreams anymore. I tried to tell them I had picked my toys up but they were on the floor and I was an imaginative child so I can understand why they didn't believe me. I was terrified so I went to the library to see if I could find anything that might help with possessed toys. Back then there was a card catalog system which isn't as effective as the computer system there is today. That being said, I spent hours searching but to no avail; however, just as I was about to give up I noticed a sign in for one of three computer the library owned. There were one hour blocks marked off and a free computer so I signed up and received the pass-code to sign in. I looked for the next hour I was allotted, but it came up with storied of other people being possessed or of objects being possessed. I even tried looking up hauntings but nothing stuck so I went home. That night I had to put a chair against the closet door just to get to sleep, but it didn't help for when I awoke I found the toys spread all about the room with the closet door wide open. It was still dark outside but the clock said 630 am so I knew the sun would rise soon. I was afraid to leave my bed until it did but as it turned out I didn't have to because, as though it knew I was awake, I felt a tugging on my blankets. Turning I saw Emily right before I closed my eyes to pretend to sleep. The moving stopped for a time then a soft voice whispered in my mind, “I know you're awake.” I screamed once again calling my parents to my room tripping over toys only to find me in my bed alone save for Emily. They were good about it and told me it was okay to be scared, but I really needed to pick up my toys from now on. Then we all went downstairs and my mom started making breakfast. Emily was a doll with ginger hair wearing a green and white stripped dress with white stockings and blackish boots. I had gotten her one Christmas a bout a year ago. My family had went on a vacation of sorts. We had taken off at the beginning of the holidays and traveled to all of our relatives houses. It was special because they lived far enough away we didn't see them very often. I remember I met my cousin Leo at Aunt Cheryl's for the first time, but other than driving and a lot of legs and waists I don't remember much. There had been presents at every house but none of them had been Emily. I received her once we finally got home. The night we arrived back home my parents said it was too late to open presents so we went to bed and I remember counting mine to satisfy my curiosity. The strange thing was the next day when we opened them I noticed in the light one of my presents was wrapped in black paper. I had mistook it for red the night before but young as I was it didn't stop me from ripping there wrapping off to find Emily inside. Her name was written on a card taped to her dress. My dad asked who sent the present as I generally opened first and asked questions l;later, but there wasn't a name on the gift just my name written on the outside. Mom and dad just smiled looking a little confused, but there were other presents so I just kept going and didn't even remember the incident until today. “I wish I had never opened Emily's box,” I said aloud. “What? Emily?,” my Mom called from the kitchen, “Why?” “I'm not sure,” I said,”I just don't like her. I think somethings wrong with her.” “Well if she bothers you that much we can drop her at the Caring Hands place for needy kids,” my dad said, “ Why don't you go get her?” I ran up the stairs relieved to my room only to fall with a thump on the floor. I sat up to see an old teddy bear I must have tripped over so I kicked it. “Stupid bear!,” I said turning towards the bed and starting to get up yet as I raised myself I froze in terror. Emily was right in front of me. She reached out and touched me on the head and I heard the voice again, “Silly creature, lose me and you will lose your life. I am more than you could ever know. Perhaps you should visit Gretel Chambers if you don't believe me.” I fell dazed to the ground as Emily strode to the bed and climbed up to the mattress. I went downstairs and told my parents I couldn't find her, which they accepted. Then after breakfast I went out to the library to find a Gretel Chambers. The phone book was helpful only there were a lot of G. Chambers so I looked online. After an hour I found a nursing home address not too far away, but before I could close the internet out a librarian came over to let me know my time was past up. I apologized, left, and made my way to the Sunnydale Retirement Home to visit Gretel. They let me in, I think, because they were happy to have someone of the younger generation come to visit. Soon after I found myself across from an old lady around 80 or so with white hair, deep wrinkles, and dark blue eyes. “Mrs. Chambers,” I started, “ I have a question.” “Yes?,” she said in a curious tone. “It's about a doll I received for Christmas last year,” I said. “Was it a female with ginger hair dressed in a green and white stripped dress with white stockings and black shoes?,” she asked concerned. “Yes, do you know..” my breath caught in my throat. “It came in a black box with no label save your name on the outside?,” she suggested. “Well,yes but..,” I began but she interrupted. “It's cursed.” “What?!,”I exclaimed. “It's cursed,” she repeated, “ Listen, a long time ago when I was but a child I received the doll myself. I loved it, you know, but I grew up. In those days we had the radio and I would play with Emily while listening to the broadcasts, but then along came television. The more shows it had the less attention I paid to her, but it was not only that, I also had a bit of a wild streak. I'd sneak out at night, leave my room a mess, and wouldn't do my school assignments. It wasn't long till I began to hear the voice in the night telling me to behave, and saying to take care of my toys. I didn't sleep so well after that but I was stubborn, refusing to change. Then I began to grow weaker and weaker wasting away while the affliction began to age me. How old would you say I am?” “80 maybe 90,” I replied. “I just turned 45 this month,” she said dryly. I paused, shocked and she continued, “ I eventually drug myself from my bed and picked up my things. I couldn't do much at a time, but I guess what I could do was enough because I quit hearing the voice and began to grow stronger. I was still afraid so I decided after I was caught up on my schoolwork to get rid of all of my toys. Unfortunately I succeeded and that night she returned. She told me to check on Beatrice Summers for if I removed her again she would kill me. As it was she laid a curse upon me one year is two she said. I found Beatrice who told me a similar story to that I'm telling you only she was to speak to Bella Constance and Bella was to speak to Agatha and Agatha to Katarina from Katarina to Sarabeth and so on. I knew one day a girl would come to hear my tale just as one will come one day to you. Now, listen closely, this is what she is. Ages past a witch was a toy maker in the village, both of which names are lost, she always gave toys out to the children until one day when the hunt came. The great witch hunt, and the children sold her out which eventually caused her death yet before she died she sent her essence out in a spell to every toy she had ever made. These toys are very special for they cannot be destroyed. They feed on your very life force, but only if you're bad, and they only leave you once you become a teenager or once you mature enough to make the right choices whichever happens first. If she is with you now all I can say is listen and behave. Don't give her cause or she will suck up your life force and you will end up like me,” she coughed weakly and blood flew from her mouth into a tissue she tried to raise in time. I got a nurse, thanked her for her time, and went home only it was too late. As I entered the house my parents told me they had gotten Emily a better home. I cried bitter tears as they tried to comfort me, but couldn't. Finally I fell asleep and woke to Emily standing on my bed a dark look on her face. “One for two,” she said simply and since then it has been so. I think the life these toys take keep them alive somehow but I still don't know how they choose their victims, and I don't suppose I ever will. I am currently 23 and I look around 36, which although bad isn't what concerns me. What keeps me up at night all these years since she left is this. How much of my life did she take? How many years exactly? Gretel looked twice her age and I only look ten years over mine. Does that mean I'm going to die soon? If I do who will warn the next child? I typed this in case I do, and all I hope is someone reads it and understands. Someone who knows, as I know, how real it is before they make the same mistake I made.


I liked Allan Trapper. His son was a good egg, and good eggs don’t just raise themselves. Takes a good egg to raise a good egg. So I was worried when he paid his fee that we didn’t see another wagon join the train. Turns out I was right to be worried, because him and his boy were hoofing it on the muddy trail. The littler Trapper got his boots stuck in the mud and nearly fell over. “Trapper,” I yelled, “Pick up your boy and get on my wagon, pronto.” “Thank you sir!” he said, scooping the boy up. “You’re welcome, but you can thank me better by handling these reins so I can have a smoke.” “Those’ll kill you y’know.” “I’ve seen the other side, Trapper, and I ain’t not too worried about how soon I’ll get there.” I finished rolling up my cigarette, and lit it. “So who’re you traveling to see? Y’know if you don’t mind me asking.” “We’re going to see mom,” said the boy. I could have guessed. The father choked on his surprise, and threw himself into a coughing fit. The boy was probably more amiable to the subject that he was. “Oh? Excited to see your mom again, boy?” “Sorta,” he said, scrunching up his tiny face. “I’m excited to meet her, I guess. She died before I was born.” “Hmm.” I hummed, taking a long drag of my cigarette. It was more than the father would have been willing to say, that much was clear. The discomfort on the senior Trapper was plain. “I just realized, sir” he said, clearing his throat, “we never got your name.” “Don’t really got one, but you can call me O’s. Like ‘Oh dear’, and ‘Oh no’.” I chuckled. “It’s a much more boring story than it sounds, but I was raised in a foreign military. The military themselves had bought me from a struggling orphanage.” “That sounds awful.” “Three square meals, and rifle training. It could have been worse. They didn’t give me a name though, just a number. But that history makes me uniquely suited to be a wagon master on the ghost road. The wandering spirits have nothing to call me by, and there’s no one I’d want to see on the other side.” “Why’s it so important to not want to see anyone?” “Because, and don’t get me wrong, the ghost road is plenty dangerous, but the journey is the easy part. The hardest part is letting go. You’ll see when we get to the wagon graveyard.” I finished my cigarette, and took the reins back from Trapper. We had a long journey ahead of us. We would make a brief stop at Spirit Home, the ghost road's deepest human settlement, but thereafter the wagon train didn’t have a concrete itinerary. The ghost road defied all hopes of mapping it. I could attest to the former completely. No trip was ever the same, but many journeys had built a feel for the correct path. If we were lucky, we would only encounter the wandering spirits, who gawked in envy of the living. We arrived in Spirit Home shortly. The small town was not in fact named for its place on the ghost road, but instead for its many distilled liquors. One in particular that we would need for the journey. Trapper and his boy stayed near the wagon train, while most of my other charges went into town to buy extra provisions and souvenir bottles of the town’s famous ghost liquor. More bottles for me, I thought grimly. We were back on the road next day, which thankfully passed uneventfully. It looked like it would be an easy trip. There was only the matter of the wandering spirits that we needed to worry about. I stayed vigilant for the heavy fog that signaled their arrival. The fog didn’t come that night, or next, but on the third we woke up to the fog’s creeping tendrils. I signaled my men to go up and down the wagon train to pass out thimbles of ghost liquor, and the saucers to offer them on. Even in the early morning, those most attentive in the wagon train could start to spot the pale decrepit faces of the wandering spirits starting to trail the wagon train. “We’re stopping early for tonight Trapper, get up and join me by one of the fires. We’ve a ritual to perform.” At this time the wandering spirits were unignorable. At the edges of all the campfires, just at the end of visibility, you could see that the wagon train was surrounded by a horde of gawking corpses. “Your boy is handling it better than some of the adults. Downright unbothered,” I said, pouring a thimble of ghost liquor into the saucer. “Salud! To the dead and gone!” I placed the saucer and its thimble of liquor on a flat stone that happened to be nearby. I also poured a healthy volume of the liquor into cups for me and Trapper. The boy stared at the gawking dead, with interest, rather than terror. “Why are they like that?” asked the boy. “Only the almighty knows. Some say they’re the wandering spirits of those that got lost while traveling the ghost road. Others say they’re just the envious dead that want another chance at life. I’ve recognized a few faces from people I’ve lost on the trail. So I can confirm that at least some of them did die while traveling here.” “Why the liquor?” asked the father. “I don’t entirely know myself,” I admitted. “The people in Spirit Home say that their liquor is infused with the life energy that the wandering dead crave. By offering some in the saucers we appease them. It seems to work well enough, so as wagon master I’ve made it a tradition to offer ghost liquor to the wandering spirits.” “The drink in the saucer is disappearing!” said the boy. The saucer emptied itself, and the gawking dead disappeared from our end of camp. “Suppose we didn’t do any of this, what then?” asked the father. “They’d start talking to you, making offers and promises. They try to get you to trade places with them, and that’s if they’re nice. If they aren’t then they’ll try to take your life by force. It’s happened on occasion. It can’t really be helped. Likely tomorrow morning we’ll see that suddenly, even though we’re nearly at the end, that some of the wagons will want to turn back home. If they do, then it's known they’ve been taken by the spirits, and the spirit is eager to return to the land of the living.” Me and Trapper kept drinking for a while, getting deep into our cups. His boy long gone to sleep. “What will it be like, when we get there, when the boy meets his mom?” he asked. “Past the wagon grave, and up the hill, there’s the stream of souls. Old books used to describe it like a river, but it's more like a great big lazer firing into the sky. You go up the hill, and think of who you want to see. Then, from out of the stream, your loved one returns.” “Do they look different? She isn’t going to come out looking like the spirits from earlier right?” “Not at all. She’ll come out healthy and whole, I promise.” “Good, that’s good,” he said, polishing off the last of his drink, and asking for more. “I was worried when we saw the spirits earlier, and I got so worried. She died before she could give birth to him, they had to c-section immediately to save his life. I didn’t want him to have to see her like that.” “I’m sorry, it must have been horrible.” “She carried him for nine months, but never got to hold him once.” Trapper started to cry. I let him. “I just,” he started again, “I just want him to know how much she loved him. I tell him all the time, but he never knew her, so how could he know for sure?” “So you journey up the ghost road. I see.” “Yeah.” “Well let’s drink to your wife’s memory, and your fast approaching reunion.” We drank merrily and then sadly, and then merrily again. Come morning, me and Trapper were still sleeping off the drink, and I barely managed to get him back on the wagon. He fell right back to sleep immediately. As wagon master, I didn’t have such a luxury, and had to stay awake to lead the train. As expected, some wagons turned back. It couldn’t be helped. Trapper’s boy was up to keep me company in place of his father for the last leg of the trip. He mostly asked me about the peculiarities of the ghost road, but I could tell that he was working his way toward something specific. So I asked him outright. “What is it boy? I can tell you’ve been thinking about how to bring something up for a while now.” “It’s nothing. Well sorta something.” “Out with it, it’s fine.” “You said letting go is the hard part. I don’t think my dad will be good at letting go.” “Your father’s a good egg. I’m sure he’ll be able to when the time comes.” The boy didn’t seem so convinced. “He always talks about mom. I think almost every day.” “It’s natural to miss a loved one when they pass, and that goes double for the ones you thought you go into your twilight years with.” “Okay.” he said solemnly. We made it to the wagon graveyard the next day. There, at the foot of the hill, were wagons left abandoned by those that had decided they would not be making the journey home, choosing instead to enter the stream and join their loved ones. There was a nervous energy going up and down the wagon train. The promised beam of the lifestream hadn’t appeared yet. Then, BANG. People started making their way up. I sent the Trappers up with my best wishes. “I’ll be waiting for you two down here. Don’t worry about the time, my team and I will ring a large bell to let you know when it's time to come back.” They waved me goodbye, and I watched them ascend the hill, and toward the bright beam shooting up into the sky. The first wave of people to make it to the top summoned a matching wave of ephemeral figures. I went to sit at the back of my wagon, facing away from the hill. Such moments were private, and I did not want to intrude. Not even from afar. A little while later, I took the last drag from a cigarette I had lit while waiting, and checked the time. That was it. Time to go. I signaled my men to start ringing the bell and get everyone to come back home. People started saying goodbye to their dearly departed again, and made their way back down. Naturally, not everyone was returning. There were always more than a few that chose to stay and enter the stream. I searched for Trapper and his kid among the returning crowd, but failed to find them. I didn’t want to believe it, and refused to look at the top of the hill to search for them. I kept scanning the returning crowd, but nothing. Eventually I did admit that they might not be coming back down. I looked up in time to see the ephemeral visage of a woman lean down and give Trapper’s boy a loving hug, a hug of parting. With a kiss on his forehead, and a wave goodbye, I was relieved. I was right, he was a good egg, the both of em. But no, I had assumed too much. The senior Trapper made to give his wife a hug and a kiss goodbye, but when it looked like he was about to let go of her hand, he held on. The visage of his wife rose into the sky, and Trapper along with her, and they both entered the lifestream. They disappeared together, just as the stream did. Leaving the boy alone at the top. I ran up to get him, but I couldn't get two words out of him, let alone get him to move. I had to pick him up to get him back to the wagon train. He remained unresponsive the rest of the night. When he broke his silence, he also breached the awkward subject of what would happen to him. Not wanting to leave the boy to the mercy of chance, I told him that if he wanted he could stay with me. He wouldn’t be the first lone survivor of his wagon. Many of my current employees had been in similar situations before, though none had ever been as young as him. He was still devastated by the loss, but that wasn’t something we would be able to breach for a good long time.