On our first meeting, she was very shy and nervous. But her smile was everything. When I took her home and we hugged, she felt so small and I didn’t want to let her go. But she smiled again and awkwardly said goodbye. I had to see her again. I could tell on our other dates that she slowly began to warm up and became more comfortable. She’s very smiley and her laughter is adorable. She held my hand. It was the sweetest moment as her small hand was in mine. One time, she kissed my cheek. She was so embarrassed she couldn’t meet my eyes. I felt as if my heart would explode. I want to maul her with a million kisses but she probably wouldn’t like it. I’ll wait until the time is right. Waking up next to her is the best thing ever. She stretches over to me and holds me, still trying to open her eyes. It’s so cute I want to squeeze her. Then when she opens them, they’re a beautiful green that I want to stare into all day. Then when our lips meet, and she blushes, I almost melt into the mattress. She has a habit of singing to herself. It can get obnoxious sometimes, but usually when she first starts, all I can do is watch with a smile. Her voice is light and sweet. When she turns around to see me and her cheeks go red, I can’t help from smiling wider. She laughs a lot. Like A LOT. She’s so giggly that I just want to grab her and swing her around. Often she’s on my lap on her phone and giggling to herself. I just have to hold her and enjoy everything that comes with her being on my lap; her scent, her warmth, and her giggly vibrations. She also likes to cuddle. She was hesitant at first and would only lay her head on my shoulder for seconds at a time. I wanted to capture her and make her cuddle for longer, but I had to wait until she was comfortable. The day she curled up on my lap, looking shy, I almost died from cuteness overload. The first time she allowed me to touch her, I was a bit surprised. She may look innocent and cute, but she still has that desire. Maybe more than I realized. But I didn’t mind at all. I was glad she let me explore her body. Her twitches and noises were so adorable, I couldn’t stop. And she liked my body a lot too. Although it can be hard to tell what she’s thinking sometimes, her smile and her joy is always present. She asked me to be honest if I ever had something on my mind and needed to ask her. Of course the only way to truly understand each other is to communicate. She must realize she’s unreadable at times because she specifically asked me to say whatever was on my mind. So I’ve tried to make a habit of it. Whenever I call her cute, adorable, beautiful, she doesn’t know how to react. I wonder if she doubts herself. I want to make her realize just how special she is. Because what I know deep in my heart is that My Girlfriend Is Adorable.


 "But Luca, I don't wanna go" pleaded Rosaline, Luca then handed Rosaline her black bomber jacket and opened the door, "It'll be fun, I promise" Luca persuaded as the two walked out the front door and into the french quarters of New Orleans.

"How do I know that you're gonna keep that promise?"

Rosaline questioned as she crossed her arms, "If it isn't fun or something really bad happens, you can move back to Oregon" Luca said over the smooth saxophone music playing in the distance, "Hmph, okay" Rosailine muttered.

The two then walked through the beautiful city until they reached the narrow dirt pathway to the cemetery, Luca then grabbed Rosaline's hand, "What, are you scared?" Teased rosaline, "No, I thought you might be," Luca said as she blushed slightly.

They then reached the old graveyard, and the two heard very faint piano music playing.

Luca then began to pull rosaline towards where the music was coming from.

"Um luca…" rosaline muttered, luca stopped dead in her tracks and looked to rosaline with a smirk "What," queried luca, "Maybe we shouldn't be running through a dark graveyard." Rosailine murmured.

With a gust of wind all of the lamppost flames ignited, revealing a ghostly man playing a black and gold piano, a second ghost then appeared this time it was an African american woman who had large gold beads weaved into her dreadlocks. The woman then snapped her fingers and an entire flock of ghosts and skeletons appeared. There was a skeleton playing a saxophone, a ghost playing a trumpet, and a slightly smaller skeleton playing a guitar,there were also many other ghosts and skeletons which were all either dancing or talking with other spiritual beings. Luca then reached out her hand for rosaline, rosaline smiled and grabbed hold. Luca then spun rosaline towards her and they both smiled, the two then began to dance among the spirits under the stars. After about 5 minutes of the two dancing a they stopped when the tall female ghost with gold beads in her dreadlocks came up to them and stated" you two are very good dancers," Luca and rosaline smiled,

"Thank you" replied luca then a

slightly shorter Male ghost walked over to them,

"Do yall wanna go see the world we ghosts come from" the ghost asked with a thick southern accent, luca then looked to rosaline for confirmation, rosaline nodded and luca smiled, "Sure," she exclaimed. They and the two ghosts were then whisked away in a poof of black fog.The four then reappeared in a forest of trees which looked petrified but had normal leaves, there were also many glowing flowers in hues of blue, purple, and pink. "Woah," stated Luca as she walked with Rosaline, who was in awe, and the other two ghosts walked towards a river, and when they got to the river Luca and rosaline learned that it glows too. Rosaline gently placed her hand in the water, it was very cold, but very nice in the warm tropical climate of the odd forest, like how nice it is to be wrapped in cold silk on a hot summer day.rosaline

then sped up to catch up with the group which was already across the small wooden bridge. "What exactly is this place," questioned rosaline, The female ghost pondered the question and then replied

" some people from your world call it hell" "What!" Luca Interrupted" but this place is awesome," she murmured as she picked a purple apple off a nearby tree and took a bite,  "Luca!" Rosiline shouted" what if that's poisonous!"

The female ghost then sighed "it's not poisonous" she said as she looked to luca" but you're luck that the lies aren't true or else you'd be stuck here" "Sounds lit"

luca replied rosaline then shot luca a confused look and luca shot one back and rosaline couldn't help but give that blissful smile that could stop anyone in their tracks. The four the came to a wall of hanging vines and moss the tallest ghost parted the vines and everyone walked under, they entered into a clearing which in the center stood a massive weeping willow tree which had a lovely wooden house close next to it which had a balcony which wrapped around the stump of the magnificent tree, in the clearing there were easily thousands of fireflies of all colors fluttering around in the night, rosaline shuffled towards luca as she looked up to the night sky, "Look at the sky," she stated softly, and luca did, the night sky was the most magical thing that they had ever seen. There were billions, if not trillions of stars and there were nebulas of all colors that were trickled throughout the sky. Luca then looked to the tallest ghost and exclaimed " you still haven told us where this place is", the tallest ghost then proclaimed "some call it hell, few call it heaven,

some believe that its limbo or purgatory, but it's actually none of those things"

"So do those things not exist?" Interrupted luca "Hell, heaven ,limbo and purgatory do all exist don't get me wrong, they're just not here" explained the tall ghost

"Where the heck are we then" luca exclaimed mildly frustrated

"W-well" stuttered the tall ghost, Luca the crossed her arms, "we're in the underworld," the short ghost blurted out, the tall ghost then looked slightly flustered and said trying to keep her cool, " we are In a place that your people call the underworld but it's actually called ένα χαμένο μέρος, or 'a lost place' "

" why is it called that?" Rosaline questioned nonchalantly whilst Luca was about 20 feet away pacing back and forth trying to process what she was just told. The female ghost then took a deep breath and began to explain

" it's called that because it is a place that good people spirits and creatures can go to hide, or a place that they run to, it's a place where outcasts and misfits can go to be safe, it's a safe haven for all good humans and creatures, and it just happens that more spirits have things to run from than humans," "Interesting," Rosaline said quietly as she began to wander towards luca. Rosaline placed her hand on Lucas shoulder to comfort her,

"What's wrong" asked rosaline

"My parents would kill me if they knew that I'm here" luca muttered with her face in her hands "Well then I guess it's not a particularly bad thing that they're across the world considering themselves childless." Rosaline reassured, Luca snickered. Luca then sat down with her knees to her chest, rosaline sat down besides her, luca sighed " it's hard to get out of the mindset that I have to still do everything worrying what my parents will think or do,"

"I know" mumbled rosaline as she wrapped her arm around luca " but the day you moved in with me I swore to keep you safe from them and their extremely irrational viewpoints," "I know," Luca said sorrowfully as she rested her head on Rosaline's shoulder. "Are y'all gonna come inside or what?" Questioned the short ghost while holding open the door. Rosaline then smiled and took Luca's hand and they swiftly walked towards the beautiful wooden house. Luca,Rosaline and the short ghost then entered the house which had a low lying ceiling, and was dimly lit by oil lamps. There was a fireplace on one side of the room and on the other end of the room there was a spiral staircase that had vines hanging off the railings.the walls looked to be made of the wood from the trees of the odd forest, there were also many exotic looking plants,some in pots, some climbing trellises on the walls.straight on from the door there was a fancy wooden table that had four chairs,and at the table sat the tall ghost and the short ghost sitting next to each other. Luca and Rosaline then stepped over to the other two chairs and sat down. "What are your names?" Questioned luca "Im beatrice and thats nick" stated that tall ghost gesturing to the short ghost

"Why are we here" asked rosaline "Cuz yall wanted to come" blurted nick

"You guys went into a cemetery in Louisiana on halloween, and you guys seemed scared so we thought you needed help," said beatrice, "We thought yall were running from the danged old' satanists" interrupted Nick with his southern accent more prevalent than ever. "My parents were satanists" sighed Luca sorrowfully "that's why i ran, they tried to kill me". Beatrice then looked to luca with a concerned look, "What are their names?" Beatrice asked concerned "Bianca and andrew howsahue" muttered luca "Do you still have the same last name as them?" Questioned beatrice "N-no" stuttered luca" i managed to change it as soon as i moved out when i was 15" "Good" responded beatrice" last names can hold a lot of power sometimes,"

"Can we please go explore some more, this place is really cool" begged rosaline

"Sure" replied beatrice as she stood from her seat, nick then vanished "Wha-why…" luca murmured as she pointed to where nick was sitting "He had something else to go do" interrupted beatrice, luca and rosaline then stood up and headed towards the door, luca held it open for rosaline and beatrice. Beatrice then pulled a golden pocket watch out of her pocket and looked at it, " it's about to get quite cold here," beatrice stated as she made three large furry cloaks materialize in her arms, she handed one to luca which was black with white fur, she then handed the other to rosaline which was white with white fur, and beatrice then began to put on her cloak which was red with white fur. Rosaline then slid on the cloak over her bomber jacket. Luca and Rosaline then followed Beatrice onto a cobblestone road. "Are all the roads like this" rosaline asked in awe, "No," replied Beatrice,"once we get into a city they turn into either onyx or obsidian bricks."

Rosaline's jaw dropped,

"Why are there so many lies about this place? Why do people call it hell!?" Queried rosaline, "Probably jealously" muttered luca as she placed her hands into the pockets of her cloak, "You're exactly right" exclaimed beatrice

"Powerful people can change the truth and after awhile the lies seemingly become the truth, because nobody knows better and not enough people ask enough questions," Luca and Rosaline then began pondering what Beatrice had said when the three then arrived at the entrance of a cave. They walked through a narrow entryway which then opened up to a larger part of the cave which had a pathway of onyx bricks. Rosaline noted the slight change in pathway and pulled her cloak tighter around her, for it had seemingly gotten colder. Beatrice then came to a halt and reached into her pocket and pulled out 6 strange silver coins and handed 3 to luca and the other 3 to rosaline,

"What are these for?" Asked luca

"Run through the wall and you'll see" exclaimed beatrice" rosaline first," Rosaline's eyes widened as Beatrice pulled her gently by her arm and Rosaline managed to step through the wall,Luca then held her breath and stepped through as well, and Beatrice then walked through behind them. The three were then in a very large cavern which was quite well lit by many lanterns which were suspended from the roof of the cave by ropes, there were many stone Buildings which seemed to make up a small city, there were also small stalls where there seemed to be merchants. Luca and Rosaline then realized that they were on a cliff which overlooked the small underground village, the two then swiftly began to follow Beatrice down an onyx staircase which led down to the mystical city.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, luca and rosaline parted and headed towards the market stalls and beatrice and stepped into one of the stone buildings. the market stalls were dawned with gently coloured cloth tapestries. Rosaline walked over to a stall that had very magnificent jewelry, And rosaline had decided to buy a pair of onyx earrings which were each about the size of a pea. Luca was walking around observing the people of the underground village, she passed a woman which had a snake that was at least 14 feet long wrapped around her and Luca felt that she was somewhat safer now. Luca then stumbled across a merchant who didn't have a stall but only a small table with rings on it, luca then decided to buy a ruby and onyx ring which had Celtic knots engraved into the silver, it only cost 2 of the 3 odd silver coins,so luca decided to save the third one. Rosaline then walked over to Luca whom she had not let out of her sight almost the entire time. Beatrice then approached them with a quickness, "Are you guys ready to go?" She asked frantically, "No" responded luca and rosaline, "Well the sun is about to come up, and you guys have to be back by then, but you can come back any night." Exclaimed Beatrice

"Well okay" responded luca And with a swift snap of Beatrice's finger's everything began to fade into darkness. Rosaline then woke up next to Luca in the graveyard, "Luca, luca wake up" she said as she shook lucas shoulder, luca then shot up, Neither of them were wearing the cloaks that beatrice gave them but they still had the jewelry that they had bought, luca reached into her pocket and pulled out the strange silver coin which now had a chain connected to it, luca handed the coin necklace to rosaline, and rosaline slipped it on over her head. " Look," mentioned Luca as she looked towards the sunrise. Rosaline and Luca then sat for some time and watched the sun rise. Luca then stumbled to her feet, dusted herself off and offered rosaline a hand up, rosaline took it as luca looked to her and said softly "Let's go home", Rosaline nodded and held Luca's hand as they walked home with the sunset behind them as two ravens sat atop a weeping willow tree ensuring that they had returned safely.


The pandemic was deadly, unyielding and never ending. Everybody went into isolation, we all thought it would soon be over, but as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, humanity lost hope. We do not really know how long the pandemic lasted; it is easy to lose track of time when you are indoors all the time. Was it God? Mother Nature? The flow of time? Either way, the pandemic suddenly ended but nothing was the same, we all struggled to move on, but the effects of the pandemic still weigh us down.

“DURO! Why? Why! It should have been me, why did the quarquar virus have to take you,” Mama Folake wailed as she clutched her chest. She was not the only one wailing in pain. Almost everybody in this village had lost somebody, we all had tears in our eyes, and it was a very emotional period, the smell of agony filled the air. I lost someone, it wasn’t my parents nor siblings, I lost my best friend. I lost someone I cherished more than myself and I was in pain, but I could not equate my pain to that of Mama Folake who just lost her only child, so I lightly clutched my chest as I cried in silence. “Where are the dinosaurs?” a little girl asked her dad, but he hushed her.

         I lost my smile, smiling became difficult. My mum kept on reminding me that nothing can be done except to move on, the living must live. Even Mama Folake who felt Duro’s pain the most advised me to move on, she kept telling me to accept Duro’s death as he would not be happy to see me stagnant in life because of him. I always wondered why they kept telling me to move on like Duro’s death meant nothing till I noticed that everyone was just pretending to move on, the smiles were forced, we’re all grieving in our own way.

I sat on the cold floor in my room, thinking about how life used to be and how it will be from now on. I ran my hands through my thick Afro which Duro loved to braid as I cried. I made sure to release all the tears I have been holding in as my mum rushed into my room after hearing my cries resonate through the mud walls of the house. She held me tightly and didn’t let go as I cried through the night. The following morning, she looked shocked to see me smiling, she knew the smile was forced but she was still surprised that I managed to crack a smile. I had decided to move on, perhaps the reason why it felt so tight around my chest was because I had shed minimal tears and kept everything in.

         When grieving, it is hard to hear others, the whole world becomes nothing but an annoying fly buzzing round the ear. I cannot believe I am just becoming aware of the new issue that was shaking the village; we all thought they were superior beings. I still cannot believe all the dinosaurs died, regardless of specie, the quarquar virus was more deadly than we thought. The dinosaurs which weren’t a threat to humans and lived among us like pets and were always helpful in the farm; farming was faster because of them. Burying the dinosaurs will not be an easy task, I thought as I went my way. I have been doing well so far, everybody has. Farming is harder and slower than usual, but we are trying. My mum kept reminding me on how proud she was of me, she was happy that she could no longer hear my silent cries during the night, she felt like she could finally breathe around me. I do not know when it started, if it was a coping mechanism or I have gotten delusional, but it all started with a whisper. I could hear Duro calling my name the way he always used to, I could swear Duro was just beside me. I even started to hear him shouting my name the way he always did when he wanted me to play outside with him. One night, I got scared, was it a ghost? I begged him to leave me alone; I asked him why he was suddenly doing this when I was just starting to move on. However, my cries and pleadings swam around the room and evaporated. I don’t know what, but something in me snapped, I started to question myself. “Do you not miss Duro? Why are you telling him to leave you alone? You should go to him”

I could not go without writing something, I had to narrate everything from my perspective and then maybe they would understand why I had to do this. It was hard; I really tried to move on but Duro kept appearing before me, I kept seeing him everywhere even when I close my eyes, I could hear him, smell him, and feel him. So, I decided to meet him, I am sorry. “A pandemic killed the dinosaurs not a meteor?” Faye asked me and I just shrugged. “Are you sure you deciphered it properly? You didn’t just write a fiction for us, right?” she asked. “I might be foolish sometimes, but I’m not stupid” I reply while scanning through the paper on which I deciphered the ancient writing. Unwanted memories run through my head; I vividly remember the punishment I went through for ending my life. “Then…how were you able to decipher it? I mean, many scholars couldn’t” she asks expecting a revolutionary answer. I stare at her for a few seconds “How? Because I’m the one that wrote it,” I answer as she looks at me with so much confusion dancing on her face, I could tell she was waiting for me to tell her I was joking and give her a reasonable answer, but I just give her a smile.


I saw it happening in real time. Happening to me, right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was like a dream I often have, where I’m being chased by something or someone, probably myself, but can’t get away. It’s not that I get caught, but I get bored and just give up. Sit on the curb, and wait. Nothing happens, no noise, no lightning, no visions, or ascensions, nothing.

This is different. It feels different, because I’m awake no doubt, or at least I think I am, but then I’ve been known to nod off in the middle of a sentence.

I could see the wall of frozen water, a tsunami of manipulated snow, or God had flushed the toilet again. I should run, I know I should run, but I’m unable to move, frozen as if I was just pulled from the freezer and left to watch myself thaw. I can hear people yelling at me to get out, head for higher ground. The sires are screaming, the birds are flocking, the wild flowers in my mind are doing nothing. It is as if they understand there is nothing you can do, so why try. The inevitable has arrived by first class mail. I am not a defeatist type person. I’ve always believed there is always something that can be done. To just sit there and wait for the inconceivable is just not me. I’ve been told that I’ve been known to squeeze eleven pennies out of a dime. I don’t remember doing that, but I do believe we can all do more with less. Problem is, there are people who believe therefore, that you can do everything with nothing. An improbable probability that takes on meaning only when you refuse to believe in probability, as it takes away your ability to improve, change, survive the un-survivable. I know that is perceived to be an oxymoron, but what is life, if not a wall papered with oxymorons. I would rather look for the end of eternity than sit and wait to see if what I’ve been told is true, inevitable, and there is nothing I can do to change God’s mind about the concept of no beginning, no end.

If that snowball hits me in the eye, I could be blinded for life. End up living on the street because no one will hire a cyclops, no matter how good a person, or how optimistic one is. And all because of the physics and natural attributes of the combination of water and cold. It seems unfair, but then what is fair.

I saw the arm cocked, the snowball cradled in the palm of a red mitten, and yet I found it impossible to believe someone could be so cruel as to throw ice projectile at me and not envision the retribution I would bestow upon them with ferocity of Zeus. Sure they may only be having fun, but it won’t be fun for me, living in an abandoned car, not having enough money to feed a pet I always wanted but was forbidden to have.  And being that grotesque one-eyed guy who people cross the street to avoid, and being grotesque isn’t even catching. All I can do at this point is grit my teeth, and accept my fate. # Good God! Can he get more melodramatic when all he has to do is duck. I’ve known him for his entire life and I realize he thinks differently than the rest of the universe, or at least the universe I’m aware. He tends to clamor on about rising above adversity, climbing out of hell because his being damned for being contemplative, had to be a mistake. He was always a reason to, or an example of, questioning the impossible, but trying, just to find out for sure.

Just think about it. If you were behind a frozen wall of packed snow, an ice fort, and were involved in a war with the neighborhood kids who were although physically more advanced than you, but considered by you to be androids disguised as humans, when the arm comes forward, wouldn’t you duck?

It is not his fault really, he was born a prognosticator, a Democrat in a Republican family. When his father rants and raves about pulling and bootstraps, he considers the make and value of materials used, and how and who made them. He is opposed to exploitation of people, especially children, probably because he is one, physically at least. Maturity factors: let’s say Alzheimer’s. He could apply for social security and probably get it.

Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing discriminatory about looking at something from every angle before deciding if you like the shape, color, weight, quality, to determine if it will fulfil its needs. But it is the criteria needed to make that decision, that drives everyone crazy. And so the conundrum for some, an inevitability for him. To duck or not to duck, that is the question.

Of course it could have been tempting fate by walking on an ice-covered skating rink, sliding down a tree strewn hill, or attempting to navigate the ski jump at the snow park on a toboggan. All seemingly simple choices unless you are him. But not being him all we can do is watch in expectation and attempt to conjure meaning from ill conceived conceptualization, or reasoning from dubious fatally conceived results, no matter the infusion of faith. I have watched him on several occasions similar to the one being analyzed. On one such occasion skiing from the bumper of a car unbeknownst to the driver on newly slicked streets of the first ice storm. Dry patches are less rare than you would imagine and once encountered leave little to renegotiate before leaving substantial amounts of skin behind as tip for destiny. Sometimes, no matter the contemplation, the planning, theorizing, the actuarial tables; the worst occurs. Sometimes it doesn’t. No one knows why. We can speculate as to the reasons one looses an eye while another receives new glasses and is cautioned to be more careful. I watch as he eyes the snow-covered ice ball heading for him. I can visualize the cogs is his mind spinning like deranged second hands of the alligator’s clock. Him weighing the probability of the improbable, knowing he will receive his metaphysical answer within a fraction of a second, and yet continuing to argue with himself over the percentages necessary to drive him to fate of an abandoned vehicle. I watched as the iced meteor slid silently through our universe passed him and exploded on the rear wall of our fort. He said nothing, just smiled, made the sign of the cross knowing it had all been unnecessary as he knew, as I knew, the neighbor boy although oversized in body, and undersized of mind, through like a girl, before anyone bothered to show girls the proper way to use their weight and dexterity to throw the perfect snowball, that always finds its mark.


“You don’t have to come with us, you know?” Jack started, not having realised that Rowan was looking at him. “Nah, it’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be fine? It’s fine.” “D’aww, what’s this?” Alice said, leaning over Jack’s shoulder. “Is my little brother embarrassed?” That much was clear to anyone walking past them on the street. Jack’s cheeks were redder than the traffic lights, and despite the cool autumn air he had a thin trail of sweat down the side of his face. At being called out though he clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders, shoving his sister off. As the siblings started squabbling, the gaudy lights of the shop came into view, and now Rowan was as bright red as Jack. But Jack didn’t realise; he was too busy desperately trying to keep his eyes away from the displays in the windows. Trying and failing. He wasn’t sure which woman he was more uncomfortable with being there while he gawped at half-naked models; his life-long best friend or his sister. Both Jack and Rowan paused on the threshold, but Alice marched straight in. It was only when she tried to point a piece out to Rowan that she realised the others hadn’t followed her. Rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in the air she stormed back out. “Look, neither of you have to come if you don’t want to,” she said. “We can just go and grab coffees if you want. This is about you Rowan, but if you’re not ready, there’s no pressure.” “No. I do want to. It’s just…” That phrase, ‘ it’s just ’, had become so much a part of Rowan’s life, and Jack was sick of it. She spent so much of her time hiding and worrying about what other people thought, and while there was nothing Jack could do to counter those fears directly, there was a way to help her here. Squeezing his hands into fists in his pockets, Jack sauntered into the lingerie shop, doing his best to act for all the world like he belonged there. It lasted until he came to the first display. The brightly coloured, armless mannequin was wearing… something that sparkled in the spotlights, and was all lace and shiny gems. Jack realised he was staring at the mannequin’s chest, and quickly tried to find something else to look at. But everywhere he looked there was another mannequin, or a poster with a real-life model, and Jack couldn’t work out which was worse. The model was an actual person, and it was rude to stare… but was it weirder if he couldn’t take his eyes off some sculpted plastic? “You don’t have to be so embarrassed, little brother,” Alice said as she jabbed him in the ribs. “I’m not.” But there was no point denying that now. Jack was even redder, and his hands were out of his pockets and twisting nervously. It wouldn’t be so bad, it wouldn’t be at all bad, if he was with anyone else. Except maybe his mum. He wasn’t a teenager any more for pity’s sake; he had some degree of control over his urges. But Alice was family, and Rowan was as good as family, and all he could think about when he saw all these bras and panties was either of them wearing them. It made him nauseous and, in the case of Rowan, very confused. It could only have been ten years or so ago that they’d been scavenging terrible porn mags from the side of the road or off of the older boys at school, and now… Now he was trying to spot the difference between those magazines and the world he’d just walked into. ‘Class’ was about the only thing that Jack could think of. “You can wait outside you know?” Rowan whispered in his ear. “It’s fine.” He’d need a clean shirt after this, but it was better than abandoning his friend. Though they’d known each other their whole lives, Jack knew that Rowan was still nervous around his family. Leaving her alone with his sister to go underwear shopping would be a new level of cruel, and Jack had promised to himself that he’d do everything he could to help Rowan. Besides, if he was here and being obviously ‘male’, that should draw some of the attention away from Rowan. He’d go through any awkwardness if it meant, just for once, that she was comfortable. Jack looked around again, dropping his gaze quickly when a couple of middle-aged woman across the shop stared back. The whole place was crazy, and he’d never seen anything like it. He’d thought it would be just like any other shop; hangers and displays, with prices on tags and a row of check-outs. And changing rooms, given sizes were a weird concept to women’s fashion, apparently. But this place… It felt more like a destination, the sort of place you’d go out to go to, and to be seen at, rather than just a place you’d pop into on the way past. There were chest of drawers and sofas, and the fact that it felt more like someone’s (very extravagant) bedroom did nothing to help his nervousness. He could imagine an old-fashioned finishing school mistress appearing suddenly and running everyone in the place through… stuff. His mind went blank about what actually happened at a finishing school. The fear that he’d get caught up in though was very real. And there was the smell as well, a thick clawing flowering smell that coated everything. Since when did shops have smells? The scent got up his nose, and he felt it clinging to his clothing. He was also pretty sure that spotlights weren’t usually such a feature of shops, at least not when they weren’t focusing on the items for sale. Here they seemed to be picking out half the walkways as well, as though the whole place was a cat-walk, with mirrors instead of cameras. Everywhere he turned someone was watching him, and it was him in another damned mirror. How long did they spend decorating this place? Wouldn’t the time have been better spent working on the products? And if they spent so long planning this place, why did they never find any colours other than pink? Trying to think about something else he glanced across at Rowan. She was also staring around the place, and staring at the models as well, but it wasn’t with fear or lust. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open, and there was the faintest hint of a tear in her eye. She finally feels like she belongs , Jack thought. It was enough to put the thoughts of his own whining out of his head. She’d had years of not fitting in; he could cope with ten minutes or so. “So,” he said, unconsciously lowering his voice an octave or so, “what happens now? What- what the hell is that for?” Not believing his eyes he picked up the offending garment and held it up for clarification. “That is an underwired, padded, sculpting lift bra. It’s for holding your tits. Please tell me you’ve at least worked that bit out, little brother?” Alice teased. “Hey, I’ve had girlfriends!” The women across the shop were giving them all looks now, and Jack spotted the tell-tale whispering as they looked at Rowan. “But why are there so many options? Don’t you just need, like… cups, and straps?” “Well, yes. But there’s a lot more to it than that. Now hush, the women are talking.” Clapping her hands together Alice turned to Rowan. “So, how far have you got? Do you know your size yet?” As she always did whenever anyone started talking about this stuff, Rowan curled her shoulders in and clasped her hands in front of her, covering her chest as much as she could. “I think so. I mean, I watched a video online about how to measure yourself, and then grabbed some bras from the local supermarket–” “Oh no, really, hun? You don’t want to do that, they’re terrible, trust me. Did no one warn you off them?” “My mum still doesn’t like to talk about it too much…” “Sod her then. Okay, first things first we’ll get you measured. Let’s go and find a member of staff.” Jack had seen the look of sheer terror on Rowan’s face, but Alice wasn’t stopping long enough for her to object. The older woman dragged her away, taking her elbow in her grip and hustling her across, discussing options and styles as they went. For a moment Jack just watched them, proud of his sister for being so supportive and natural about the whole thing. Then he realised he was still holding the bra, and there were more women getting nearer now. After a brief second of trying to fold it, during which he almost tied the damn thing in knots, Jack gave up and left it on top of the display before dashing after the others. “Ah, thought we’d lost you to your day-dreaming,” Alice said when he caught up. “Grab a seat there, we shouldn’t be too long.” And before Jack could say anything the pair of them disappeared behind a thick, velvet curtain. Jack spent a moment wondering if he should go in and check on Rowan. Knowing Alice however, she probably already had her shirt off. While he was busy hovering about a shop assistant slipped past him, and Jack realised he was right in the way. With no other options he threw himself into the chair. It was huge, with ridiculous wings that blocked out his peripheral vision. The thought that he could be jumped by half-naked mannequins or imaginary finishing school teachers meant he couldn’t settle, although now he was in the ‘appointed waiting seat’ he was getting less weird looks. Just as long as they don’t think I’m dating either of them . Whatever the measuring process involved, it did not, as Jack had assumed, take only ten minutes so. Somewhere after the first hour he stopped keeping track of the time, and he was busy sending up silent prayers that at least this place – strange as it was in all other aspects – at least had Wi-Fi, when Alice came out of the mystical depths of the dressing rooms. “Hey, Alice, what’s up? Is Rowan okay?” “What?” Alice skidded to a halt beside him. “Oh, she’s loving it. It makes such a difference wearing something that fits properly.” “I’ll take your word for it.” “We’re just having a few style problems, what with her shape and all. Nothing major though, should be done in a bit.” Alice headed off again, leaving Jack sat there thinking about Rowan’s shape. Of course he’d noticed, but he never felt sure if he should comment or not. Most women got offended if you commented on their breasts, but if he was remarking that Rowan’s were ‘growing in’ as it were, and that she was starting to look more female, would she take offence? I mean , he thought, going over this old ground again, that’s the whole point of the hormones isn’t it? But however uncertain he was with everything, Jack knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Oliver had been his best friend, and becoming Rowan hadn’t changed that. Another twenty minutes later and Rowan herself finally emerged from the changing rooms. “All good?” Jack said, jumping up with the same nervous excitement he’d had when he went to the doctor’s appointments with Rowan. “Great!” Rowan was carrying a whole bundle of clothes and grinning madly, but Jack could see the smudges at the edges of her eyeliner. There had been some tears, and once again Jack wished that the day would hurry up and arrive when Rowan didn’t have to cry about who she was. “Did you leave anything left for anyone else to buy?” Jack teased. One of his first promises to Rowan was that he’d still tease her just the same, just like he had for the two decades before. “A few bits. Let me just pay for these, then we’ll grab some coffee.” Desperate as he was to leave, to feel sunlight on his face again and breathe fresh air (as well as not be surrounded by endless mirrors and half-naked women), Jack did his best to act casual as he hung next to Rowan, waiting for her to pay. “Is your boyfriend paying for it?” the cashier asked Rowan with a sly smile. “Oh, we’re not a couple,” Rowan replied. They got it a lot, and Rowan was just about getting used to saying it without it coming out so hurriedly that it sounded like they were in denial. “Nah, I’m just a mate. Thought I’d come along and see what all the fuss was about,” Jack said. Biggest mistake of my life , he groaned internally, but he kept up the smile. “Oooh, clothes shopping with your female friends? Very modern of you,” the cashier said. There hadn’t been a single look at Rowan’s strong jaw-line, or her thicker brow-ridge. Instead Jack was the butt of the life-style comments? My work here is done , Jack thought with a smug sigh. The three of them left the shop, and Jack had to fight back the urge to fall to his knees outside. He knew it was stupid, but he suddenly wanted to do something very masculine, like go fishing, or boxing, or fiddle with a car engine. Except he knew that was all rubbish. Gender expectations had been the first thing to go when Rowan appeared on the scene. Still with his head to the sky, basking in the sunlight and fresh air, Jack peeked across at Rowan. From what he’d overheard she’d left wearing one of the bras, and Jack was curious. Alice had made it sound like magic, like putting on a ‘good’ bra – whatever that meant – could change your life. What surprised him most was the fact that it seemed to have worked. Whether it was just from being pampered and treated as a woman for so long, or because the bra was actually doing it magic, but Rowan was standing taller and straighter. There was also a giddy glow to her face, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so at ease. Today was definitely worth all the favours he’d called in with Alice, and all the looks and whispering he’d gotten in the shop. That said… “Hey, ladies? Is there any chance we could go get that coffee? I really need a drink right now. The world still looks pink…”


Time has often been described as sand, falling through a great hourglass that is life. However, I find that it is more akin to a great river: vast and gentle from afar, but swirling with changing rapids in every nook. Consider a ripple. The disturbance seems to not have an effect on the river as a whole, but inspect any rapid somewhere down the stream, and you’ll find it directly influenced. It is this property that renders the waves and currents of time unpredictable and mysterious. One cannot possibly trace every drop of water in its journey down an infinite slope, cannot possibly measure every minute fluctuation of its velocity. Such a feat would be to conquer time itself, to thrust oneself out of the third dimension through which we’re born and into the fourth, where time itself is still and unchanging, and all that was, is, and ever will be is already decided. No, the feat is impossible. But I have come close. I have sent out machines like scouts to the wild, observing every quantum particle in its every aspect. Heisenberg would call me a fool, but his so-called uncertainty is of no obstacle. For is it not destiny already for me to approach this task? Even if to see is to change, was it not already set that change must be made? But I digress. Truly, thinking on time and the effects of its grasping are a migraine at the seed. I have come to realize that seeing the future is to see how fixed your own fate truly is. That our concept of free will is nothing but a series of logical reactions in the chemical structure that is our brains. And so I do not look into the currents of the future, but the currents of the present, and their relationship to the surfacing waves of the next great catastrophe of life. I must protect the world from the sadness of the inevitable, but I must also not shirk my duty to use this cursed knowledge for the betterment of all. It is true that a secret is like a virus, and one that will spread to those that touch it. For this reason I have infected only a select few, trusting them to remain sanitary. I call them my sailors, but they must ride across time to gaze not at the ripples in the water but at the growing swells that threaten to capsize them. The difference is that my sailors have not oars but rocks, so that they may drop one into the water at such a time and place as to negate the swell before it could even appear. “Do not look at it as time travel,” I told my sailors one day. “For it is more like time sight. I will allow you to see the future from afar- to gaze at the picture of it and grasp its image- and you may then act on what you have seen.” But even they do not know of the sadness. The inevitability. The futility. Some days, they look upon a failure, and say, “What have we done wrong?” I so want to say, “Nothing, for you have done everything you were meant to.” But that would remove their illusion of free will, of having impact at all. For the truth is… the truth is that seeing a real future is to become a slave to it. To know what is to be and have no power to stop it. They say we spend most of our day in waking hypnosis. We react in automatic ways, and truly think rarely apart from a few unexpected outliers. However, even in these moments, when I focus with all my mind, my soul- if such a thing does exist- I cannot outwit the future. For whenever I clash with, or wish to act in a way that is directly opposed, I am a man possessed. Literally. By the mind from which my own intelligence is wrought. That is why I do not show them the true future. I show one without their great deeds, without their heroic missions, so they may have inspiration, aspiration, and drive. Though I know I am a slave to the future, I cannot help but derive my last dregs of joy from their blind belief that they are making an irrefutable difference in the world. Pure humanity. I have seen my death. It is suicide, which I am not surprised by. Though I have lived as a slave for much longer than I might have imagined (back when I had to imagine the future) I cannot live this way forever. I know the ending to every great tale to ever be told. It’s terrifying and dull, a blend that twists around my mind with enough emotion to keep me clinging to life by hair, or by a fraying rope to which I know the exact strength. And I know one day, and I know which day, it will finally snap. It is tomorrow. Humanity is not meant for the fourth dimension. Time is not a concept to be conquered. It should be left with some degree of mystery, so that we might play about in its silky shadow but never find ourselves crushed beneath the weight of it. That is why, on the day before my death, I will destroy the boat and leave my sailors landlocked. I cannot bear to think of them sailing ever onward, waiting for the swell they cannot overcome, until they finally are swallowed by the unchanging river I have hidden from them. It is too much, and anyway it is already decided. That is, I have already decided on the day I saw myself writing this very- well. Whatever this is. I hope no one reads this. I hope no one finds this, to discover the sadness of time. I do not want to ruin it for everyone. But I cannot leave with nothing. I cannot leave without some evidence to my being apart from the lasting ripples cascading across a river that appears not to change. So I write this. And in this, I find consolation. In this, I find courage. In this, I find closure. To my thoughts. To my struggle. To my life.


*One look at her my heart was stopping (Heartbreak)* *I did whatever she was asking* *She said "maybe later catch you in the elevator"* “Hi? Are you looking for something?” I asked as I popped my head out of the door. The girl who was trying hard to fit her keys into my apartment door grew red in the face as she saw me. “Oh, I’m so, so sorry. I thought this was my apartment,” she chuckled slightly to relieve her embarrassment. “Do you know which is door 32?” “Which letter?” I inquired. “Oh? There’s letters to them?” she looked back down to the paper in her hand. “Yeah. My door is the only one that doesn’t have it since remodeling still hasn’t reached me, thank god for that.” “I think it says 32 N?” “Then you’re across the hall 3 doors to the left,” I answered. Now I let my eyes take her in. She was breathtaking. Heartstopping. Her honey blonde hair reflected the lights of the hall, shimmering and dancing. Dressed in a loose blouse and short skirt. Boots accompanied her wardrobe pushing her up by a few centimeters. The way she looked at me with those blue eyes, oh man. I knew I was in trouble. “Nice to have you in neighbour. My name is Bryan. Hope you find everything great. And if you need me, please don’t hesitate to ask,” I said in greeting. “Thanks. I’m Adeline.” she reached out and shook my hand. “Maybe catch you later in the elevator someday?” she offered. “Definitely,” I smiled. *A couple days we got to hanging (Real close)* *Turns out she wasn't even taken (No no)* *I made a move she said "baby you're mistaken, I'm not into bacon"* “You’re not in a relationship!? How?” I asked in surprise. For the past few days, I’ve been hanging out with Adeline, going out places and getting into trouble. It honestly felt like I was back in highschool. Hadn’t had this much fun since then. Adeline was adventurous and had a craziness that brought mine out. “I just haven’t met the right one,” she sighed. “Too many of the people I’ve liked don’t seem to like me back or turn out to be one of those messed up bitches.” She moved around on her bed to hang her head in order to look at me. I was sitting down leaning on the door of her closet watching her exaggerated movements. “Out of all the people you’ve met, you haven’t found the right one? I doubt that. According to you, you’re adventurous, you’ve been to places. Not to mention, gorgeous!” I chuckled. “Well you’re right about all of that. But, no. I haven’t met the right one,” she seemed to be staring off into space after that. “Aw, honey. You’re breaking my heart.” I clutched my heart as I dropped in an exaggerated manner to the ground. “Breaking your heart?” “Yeah, You say you haven’t met the right guy. I’m right here, breaks my little heart.” I pout. “Oh, uh. Sorry, I uh. I guess I was being vague huh?” —she looked at me with obvious sympathy— “I’m not into guys. I’m uh...I’m lesbian.” Those words hit me hard. The realization of what it meant for me and my feelings was painful. It really did break my heart. *She got that smile and that body is to die for* *One of a kind and that's why it makes me cry* “We can still be friends. Right?” I couldn’t say no to her. Despite my feelings being crushed, they were still there. I might be making a stupid decision by crushing myself, but I just had to be with her. Even as friends. However sad it may be. “Yeah, friends.” I answered. *'Cause I found a girl* *Who's in love with a girl* *She said that she tried* *But she's not into guys* *Oh, why, tell me why* *Did I fall for those eyes?* *She said I was nice* *But she's not into guys* *I found a girl* “So what’s with that look in your eyes?” I asked as I sat down next to Adeline. I scanned the direction she was looking at. We were at a bar, so it was crowded. Lots of people were in the way obstructing our view. But then I finally caught a glimpse of what she was looking at. Actually, **who** she was looking at. It was an attractive bartender. Pretty and well toned. With a bit of a tan. Her hair was tied into a ponytail as she scrubbed one of the tables trying her best to clean it. My throat tied into a knot. A year and a half passed since I met Adeline, a bit of time also passed since her confession of her orientation. Enough to allow me to digest it properly. Yet, I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want her to get a girlfriend, if she did, it would cement the reality permanently. “She’s not worth it you know. You deserve better. Better than someone who works at a bar for a living,” I complained. “What? You say something…?” She was distracted. She wouldn’t be paying attention to any of my complaints. So instead, I ordered a drink from the man behind the counter. “One of your strongest ones please,” I signalled. The man stopped drying the cup he had his hands on and proceeded to scan the bottles on the shelves. He came over with one after finding it and poured a bit into a shot glass. “Tough night, huh.” he glanced at Adeline who continued looking at the girl as she went around taking orders from the customers. There were a couple people on the stage singing along to the karaoke. They were surprisingly good at it. Had the voice for it. Even when drunk. I downed the shot glass and placed it back on the counter. “Yeah, something like that,” I answered. “I’ll be right back Bryan. I’m gonna go introduce myself,” she got up. “Wait, I don’t think it’s proper etiquette to hit on people while they’re… Nevermind,” she left before I could finish. “So, how many am I allowed to have?” “Well, we don’t really have a limit. I guess you could drink as much as you want as long as you don’t drive,” the man answered. “I’ll have a few more then, please.” After several shots passed, the waitress Adeline was staring at came over to announce she was getting off shift. “I’m still gonna be here, so if you need any help, feel free to ask. I’ll be over there with that hottie,” she chuckled. And with that, she left with a small strut. “Life is unfair, you know?”— my voice was starting to gain a little slur — “Like, you love someone. But they don’t love you back. Worse of all, they don’t even love your gender! Like, if I were to have been born a girl, I wouldn’t have a problem being with her. But she doesn’t like guys. Why are girls like that?” I groaned to the man, Harrison. “I’m not sure dude. Girls are a mystery. Though, I was able to catch myself a great one. She’s my wife now. All I know to say is, fight for your love. Maybe she’ll come around, I doubt it. But what’s the harm in trying? And if it doesn’t work out, there are literally more girls than there are guys in the world.” “You’re right, I need a nap.” *I should've known to walk away then* *I should've left it alone* *But when she called me on the phone we'd be hanging again* *Under the premise of friends* *But now she only talks to me about some other woman* *She says* My phone buzzed. I looked over at it. The buzzer was making it move a lot, threatening to launch it off the boxes I placed it on. I groaned. This really wasn’t the best time for anyone to call me. I had to unpack all of my shit before I had to go to an interview. I didn’t even have any proper clothes for the fucking thing. *Clack!* I lifted my head to see that my phone had fallen off the box. The screen lit up signalling that I just missed the call. Whatever, I could check it out later. Right now, I had to at least move the couch inside, before it got soaked from the impending rain. It was a difficult task to do, but I was able to manage to get the sofa inside. Don’t ask me how, I had trouble even fitting it through the stupid door. With it inside, and a couple of minutes to spare, I looked at my phone. **6 missed calls, 4 unopened messages.** Who the hell could it be? Of course. As soon as I opened them, the name Adeline popped up. Haven’t even seen her name in a few weeks. Nearly forgot about her entirely. Another year passed since she started dating Yvette. The presence of her girlfriend dominated her all the time. Even when it was just the two of us. **Ady:** ***Are you all set up yet?*** **Ady:** ***Can I come over?*** **Ady:** ***Stop ignoring me. Let’s just talk*** **Ady:** ***We’re hanging out today. Whether you like it or not. I’ll text you the address. I promise that it’ll just be the two of us.*** Agh! Why can’t I get rid of her? Or at least crush and throw away my feelings? *She got that smile* *And that body is to die for* *One of a kind* *And that's why it makes me cry* She just played around with the food on her plate. Poking it with her fork. The silence was awkward. The ambience of friends wasn’t there anymore. No playfulness, no fun. Nothing. I wonder what happened to change all that. I can’t deny that I didn’t miss her. She was everything good that happened to my life. And the memories I have of us together were too precious to lose. *'Cause I found a girl* *Who's in love with a girl* *She said, that she tried* *But she's not into guys* *Oh, why, tell me why* *Did I fall for those eyes?* *She said I was nice* *But she's not into guys* *I found a girl* “I know that we’ve been on a rocky path. We haven’t exactly been the greatest of friends anymore. But, I had fun with you. I like you and I treasure all the experiences we’ve had together. I just, I want us to be friends again. I miss the old times we had,” she sighed, “I want to be friends again. *Oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh* *I found a girl* *Oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh, oh* I didn’t know how to answer to her. I was at a loss for words. The emptiness in me seemed to gnaw at me begging me to answer her. *I can't believe I met somebody like you* *And now I feel like a fool* *Anatomy is so cruel* *I can't believe it I just think like a man* *That you just wanted me bad* *But you had different plans* I don’t know what got into me next. What the hell possessed me? What was I even thinking? All I know is that that I lost myself in her eyes as I leaned in. Our lips grazed each other’s softly. It was slow. But I enjoyed every moment of it. I was hungry for more and leaned in to keep going. *SMACK!* My cheek burned from how hard Adeline struck me. “What the HELL Bryan!!” she demanded angrily. “I’ve got a girlfriend! You can’t do that!” Guilt washed over me as I saw tears start to squeeze through her eyes. Why did I do that? Everyone in the diner had their eyes on me as she left running. *'Cause I found a girl* *Who's in love with a girl* *She said, that she tried* *But she's not into guys* *Oh, why, tell me why* *Did I fall for those eyes?* *She said I was nice* *But she's not into guys* *I found a girl* *Found a girl* *Who's in love with a girl* *She said, that she tried* *But she's not into guys* *Oh, why, tell me why* *Did I fall for those eyes?* *She said I was nice* *But she's not into guys* *I found a girl* I’m happy now. I have a girlfriend that I love very much. A stable job. A happy life. No regrets. Well. Mostly no regrets. I only have one. I never knew what happened to Adeline after she left. After that scandal. I changed my phone number and disconnected from the world. That is until Christa brought me back into the world. I’m at a diner now. Similar to the one from all those years ago. We’re having a great time celebrating our dating anniversary. But there’s something familiar in the air. I don’t know what. Maybe I should look around. But my eyes, won’t budge. Not from that girl sitting in front of another girl. Her smile is dazzling. Familiar. Like home. And her eyes, familiar as they are, lock on to me. A small smile is offered to me which I return with one of my own. Maybe I should go over and introduce myself. Excuse myself from Christa.


“No!” she cried. “No, no, no!” She collapsed back onto the bed and let the small plastic stick slip through her fingers and fall to the ground. She could not believe it! How could she allow this to happen? How in the world in this day and age had she not protected against this! Well, she thought, it’s 2003 and there are ways to deal with these things. And just as she thought it, guilt seized her and she quickly brushed off both the thought and the guilt. She closed her eyes, giving into the exhaustion that still lingered from the half marathon she just ran over the weekend, and, deciding to think about what to do after a nap, fell into a deep sleep. When she awoke, she was relieved, buoyant, even. She lay still and let the memory of the most wonderful dream wash over her. In her dream, she saw herself with a little girl. At first, the girl was a tiny babe in the cutest little dress with a bow tied in her dark hair looking up at her while she gave her a bottle. The little baby’s chubby hands were reaching up to her face and her eyes held a gaze as if she was looking straight into her mommy’s soul. How could such a tiny creature hold such a knowing gaze? Then the dream pushed her forward in time and she saw the tiny babe trying to walk. She sat on one side of a carpeted living room filled with bright-colored toys and books and stuffed animals. The baby girl first wobbled and fell onto her diapered backside, but then pulled herself up again and then, slowly, one foot wobbled forward as the rest of her body began to adjust to the gravity. The little bug took another tentative step and then another and another and then fell into her mother’s waiting arms. She stood up with the baby girl and danced around, both of them laughing until the child began to wriggle from her mother’s safe embrace. She wanted to have another go! Swoosh, the dream forced her through time again and she was watching a tiny child running through the park. Oh, her mother thought, as the sweet little thing began to pull herself up the ladder on the slide. “I must let her try things,” as she examined the ladder, the height, the ground below, and where best to stand to catch her if she were to fall. But much to her mother’s delight, the baby girl climbed up, sure footed, and found herself at the top of the slide where she looked down and gave her mother a hesitant look. Her mother, now convinced that her child was incredible, encouraged the babe to push herself forward. “I’ll be waiting right here for you and won’t let you get hurt,” her mother said brightly. Then the child pushed herself forward and squealed with delight to be swooshing down the slide into her mommy’s waiting embrace. Then the dream advanced and she saw the baby, now a small girl, dressed with her backpack on and posing for a first day of Kindergarten picture. She had on a new red checked dress with a big red bow on her head. She didn’t even wimper – not one little tear, when her mama pulled up to the curb and the pretty young teacher took her by the hand and led her out of the car into the building. She marched in on the first day like she had always been there, with confident, bold steps, head held high, chest puffed out, and proud to be a big girl now. Time began to flash now more quickly. Years and years of fun and love and happiness and pain and worry and hope and failure and achievement flashed in her dream in moments, like her whole life was a movie montage. There the child was on the soccer field, with her best friend playing in her playroom, at birthday parties and Christmas celebrations, with her grandparents hunting Easter eggs, in the church play, getting awards at school, playing basketball, volleyball, going to her first school dance, on her first date, acting in the school play, working with kids on a missions trip, and graduating high school. Then she woke up and sat up on the bed and a hope had filled her soul. She did not know God, but she thought, I think God just gave me a message. Everything is going to be okay. Confused, though, she looked around the room and it wasn’t her room anymore. She was in a strange house that she had never seen. When she fell asleep, she had been in her upstairs apartment, but now she was in a simple little home on the ground – and a strange dog was laying on the floor next to her. She must have been dreaming still. And then, she was back in the montage. It was whirling by her, class pictures, pictures with her cousin, on vacation swimming with dolphins… Then the dream suddenly changed, like a plane that moments before was 20,000 feet in the air has just touched the earth for the first time in three hours. The wistfulness of the girl’s life flashing before her dreaming eyes came crashing to a halt and the dream stopped advancing time, abruptly, as if what would happen next was the important part. In her dream, she began to cry a little. At first, it was a soft cry as she watched her baby packing to go off to college. Then, she was standing in the dorm room with her baby, looking deep into her eyes and seeing her as the tiny baby she rocked and fed just 18 short years ago. And then, she saw it, that knowing gaze that had been so remarkable as a newborn was looking back at her now. And she knew. The tears still fell, but she knew. It was time to turn her loose and let her see what the world had to offer. She had to let her go take flight, to see what she could do with her life. Then, she saw a glimpse of her daughter’s future. The dream felt very different now. The beautiful pictures progressed, but now they were hazier and more obscured. But she could still tell – her baby would graduate college, land a wonderful job that afforded her an easy life, would get married, and have children – her grandchildren!- and she was happy and healthy and a ray of sunshine in her community. The surge of joy forced her eyes open. She looked over at the clock. 5:30 a.m. “Oh, well, I was going to get up in a few minutes anyway,” she told the German Shepherd at her feet. As she began to shake off the long night’s sleep, she remembered that she had dropped her baby off at college just the day before. Her heavy, puffy eyes reminded her of how she had cried most of the ride home. She stumbled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. “Odd,” she said to the cat staring at her from the bathroom sink, “I remember those awful thoughts after I found out I was pregnant and waking up with a renewed hope and joy, but I don’t remember what I dreamed.” She lost herself in thought for a moment. I do remember waking up hopeful. Maybe I had a dream like that one? Like the end of the one I just had that showed me what a wonderful life I’d have raising my baby girl? Was it that I was just tired and once I got rest I felt better and could face the future? No, no. That couldn’t have been all it was. “No, I was confident that everything was going to be just fine after that nap. I remember thinking about my strange shift in attitude and actually becoming excited,” she told the orange tabby now stealing water from the stream in the sink to groom himself. That dream felt like something I had had before, but it couldn’t have been way back then before I became a mother, could it have been? Then her mind turned to the present. As she brushed her teeth and began to think about the day, she heard rain hitting the bedroom window. “Rain?” she asked the cat, “It hasn’t rained in months!” The dog met her at the bedroom door as she went out to see what it was like outside. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to go for my morning walk today,” she told the pup. The pup let out a small whine and lay down on the dining room floor by the back door as she opened it and stood on the back patio, rain splashing on her from the eave just a few feet away. But it does feel nice, she thought, remembering the long, hot, dry summer they had just endured in Texas this year. Then, the sadness washed over her again. Her baby was at college and wouldn’t be home for at least two weeks. But let’s face it, she’ll never be home again like she was before. “Life is different now, so get used to it,” she said to no one in particularly, wiping away a small tear that had escaped. The sadness overwhelmed her again. “How are we going to make it here without our Bug? Why didn’t I raise her to be stupid and afraid to leave home?” she asked the persistent dog, that really just wanted her breakfast.  And just like that, she made up her mind to go out and get her morning walk in despite the pouring rain thinking that the weather exactly matched her mood anyway. Her sweet pup didn’t understand why she was being left behind for their usual morning walk. “It’s too messy out there for you today, sweet girl. You can go tomorrow.” She let some more tears fall as she drove to the local park. Then, as she sat in the parking lot watching the sheets of water dance down the windshield, she bowed her head and asked for a safe trip around the park. “And please, Lord, don’t let anyone I know see me!” Then, pulling the makeshift poncho she rigged out of a large trash bag over her head, she stepped out into the monsoon. She had to go. The mental toughness program she started just that day called for one outside workout and there wouldn’t be another chance today. She ditched the political podcast and audiobook and just listened to the rain thump the bill of her hat and the trashbag poncho. At first it was miserable and silly. Then she started to talk to God and tell Him how she really felt. Why did He give her such a gift, her Baby Bug, only to make take her away from her? She knew she was whining. She didn’t care. She was stomping through the rain puddles, quickly turning into streams, and letting her sadness ooze out through the angry words in now what was a loud prayer. The rain came down harder and the stream that runs through the park began to swell. It had been so dry for so long that the water wasn’t seeping into the rock hard ground, but running over it and flooding the low places even at this early hour in the storm. One mile down, and still she stomped and let God have it. “Why does it have to work this way? Why didn’t you make my marriage work? Why do we have so many problems in this world? WHY WHY WHY?! I wanted more time to be her mama! I want to go back and tell my younger mama self not to worry so much about the small stuff. I want to go back and hold that sweet baby as long as I could. Why did I rush that? Why did I ever think I didn’t want her? Why did I think my life was over the day I found out I was pregnant? Why, Lord, do you make us so dense and stubborn to miss the blessings you pour on us?” The storm raged and her feet were soaked. But her steps began to fall softer, her breathing less intense. The tenseness in her face began to fall away and she began to laugh. “Someone is going to try to commit me to the looney bin for sure,” she thought as she waved to the man in the parks maintenance truck driving through to check on the facilities. But the joy that welled up in her all of a sudden when she realized that she wasn’t angry with God. NO! No! She was so very grateful for the blessing He gave her in spite of her stupidity so long ago. I remember now, she thought, partly to herself, partly to God. You did send me a dream that day. I thought that day was going to be the start of a painful, long journey! Oh, and I remember having the thought that I might abort my Baby Bug. It was a short, fleeting thought – but it was there, no doubt. I remember being exhausted and falling into a deep sleep desperate and distraught. But then…”Lord, was that you?” she yelled into the rain. “Was it you that sent me that dream to show me that that baby was not the end of my story, but the beginning of it? Yes! Yes! It was you, wasn’t it? That’s why the dream felt so familiar to me – because I’ve had it before!” Then she grew silent, rounding the corner and heading down the home stretch. The rain had increased and now every low place was covered in water. The whole area had been praying for rain for months – and here it was, finally! People were selling livestock because they couldn’t afford feed because all the grass was dead. The whole state had been under water restrictions, and the lake that fueled the town economy was so low, the weekenders couldn’t get their boats off their dock so they had quit coming down and spending money in the local restaurants and stores. Governments at all levels were calling for ways to conserve and arrogant humans schemed plans to fix the environment. But God… “That’s right…But God! But God always restores” she said to the poor Hereford cow hunched by the barbed wire fence at the corner of the park, rain running in big streams through her reddish hair. “In a wave of his hand, look what He will do. Oh, sure, we scheme, and we plan, and we think we’re so very smart and clever, and all the time, God knows what to restore and when.” The cow moved away from the fence, less interested in God and more in a tree with low-hanging branches that might help shield some of the rain. Watching the cow mosey away, she began to think again about the dream. Of course, God had sent that to her to calm her and help her see that what had happened to her would serve as her deliverance, not her destruction. But she knew the last part of the dream, that was different. It had been hazy and not as well defined. It was God’s new message to her. “Child, trust me because I love you and have poured blessings on you already. I tell you, you will love the future too.” “Oh, Lord, I do trust you. You have given me the greatest blessing in my child. I’ll be a grandma!? My Baby Bug will be happy in her adult life? For what more can a mama’s heart hope? A happy child placing grandchildren in her arms? Lord, if that is your blessing, this time, I won’t miss it! I’m going to take my time and enjoy every moment!” A grandma, she thought again, as she passed the pavilion, and her car came into view again. The rain poured, defeating the long, hot, dry summer and a few doomsday predictions with it. She pulled the trashbag poncho over her head and placed it in the recycle bin by the ballfields and began to laugh and dance. “Lord, thank you for the rain. I won’t miss this blessing either!” Soaked to the bone and actually feeling a bit chilled, she twirled and turned, with her arms flung out and her head tilted toward the raging sky. A turn, a leap, and a splash! Yes, this new weather is perfect to go with my new mood! Thank you, Lord, for your grace and your pouring blessings!”


Part one How does a summer like that get forgotten? And what on earth makes one remember? Perhaps it’s coming back. Just passing through like before. A breeze on a creek flowing to a shallow grave, maybe. Either way I need juice, so I pulled into Cumberland Farms and aligned my Subaru’s Energy block to the magnetic receiver. The console of the meter drones with an advertisement for gas station coffee - as if I needed the nudge... I was unpleasantly surprised to find myself face to face with Emily Decker when I checked out with my coffee and 3 breakfast sandwiches. The same Emily I had known 34 years before as a young man, but morphed as if time could break down a person like fermented cabbage. “Hello” I said with a smile, hoping that my oversized sunglasses were enough to conceal my identity after so many decades. “Just the coffee and sandwiches?” Emily inquired lazily. “And a pack of Fatline Blues” I croaked, pointing to the light blue cigarette box behind Emily and to her right. She bent down and reached for a pack of cigarettes. My coffee fumed silently on the checkout counter, filling my nose with an intoxicating smell whose promise was a disappointing lie. I looked forward to it. “Have we met before hun?” Emily drawled, squinting as she rang out my breakfast and smokes. “No, sorry.” I lied apologetically “My first time around here.” I straightened the collar of my jacket and reached for my wallet. “Uh-huh.” Emily emoted, clearly unsatisfied, but by nature too lackadaisical to pursue the matter further. “Comes to 24.09.” I tapped my palm on the pay point and followed the prompts to enter my passcode. 24.09 credits were transferred from my account and Emily bagged my printed food and real cigarettes. She transferred the receipt slate to my Profile and nodded to me as I gathered my breakfast, declining the paper receipt Emily half-heartedly proffered to me. “See ya hun.” She grumbled with a certainty that belied finality. I gulped dry air down a grainy throat and stumbled out of the gas station to my car. The red paint on its body seemed to glow intensely in the hot September sun, my eyes watered as I unlocked and entered my vehicle. I inhaled and let out a long slow breath, blowing out through pursed lips for ten seconds or perhaps more. I sipped my coffee, grimacing as I burned my tongue on the too-hot brew, attempted putting out the fire with a bite from a too-hot breakfast sandwich - further coating my tongue in it’s synthetic napalm of cheese and eggs, and finally just tried to cut off the oxygen to the flames with some smoke. This kind of thing went on for a while, my 10AM orchestra of breakfast and cigarettes blared silently in the Cumberland Farms parking lot of Lower Indigo, Caterwaul. It was all much how I remembered it almost 3 and a half decades before. The fueling station stood lonely in a vast patchwork of fields unclaimed by man for years and showing signs of reclamation with their tall grass and snarling treelines. I thought of the first time I had been to this gas station. I thought of the farm a 5 minute walk, a 2 minute drive down the road. The long driveway that snaked through a forest encroaching on the fields lying not far east and south of the gas station. There was time to think, there was time to digest. My phone buzzed in the center cupholder and entoned the sound of a received text message. I picked up my phone and opened the message from and unknown number: Feast on the bones of your desire Lick clean the sweet marrow of your opulence Your dripping smile, a reflection of us all. There was something about working at a job so intangible that sucked the spirit from me. At 23 years old I felt frozen in the monotony of my daily routine - Wake at 6 am. Sentinel greets me with breakfast in bed and reminds me of my hygiene tasks. I eat my breakfast of printed sausage and eggs, with a glass of real mushroom elixir tea, and watch the morning news in my mind’s eye. I should say, I set lofty goals for my hygiene - mental, physical, aesthetic - and I credited it greatly for my success. After breakfast I practice aesthetic then mental hygiene, completing the tasks of bathing, drying, pruning, shaving, dressing, and sitting in silence for 30 minutes. While I complete these tasks Sentinel makes my bed and cleans up breakfast. I then go to the recreation room of my dormitory and practice physical Hygiene. I am there early so I am most often alone while I do this. On occasion I have enjoyed the company of another dormitory resident, but her profile was marked with a do not approach signal of which I abided. I believe her occasional appearance was the biggest anomaly in my banal existence. I will spare you the minutiae of the various exercises I employed in my physical hygiene practice - suffice to say, they made me strong indeed. My greatest pride was marked front and center in my profile, the bright red badge that declared me a certified Powerman. It may seem arrogant, and I suppose it was but as I said before - I owe my success to my excellent hygiene. When another person sees that big red badge in their mind’s eye, I get their respect. After my hygiene tasks are complete it is 8 in the morning. I settle into a body-form cove in the wall of my residence, and travel through the implant fused to my pineal gland to work. In my mind’s eye I am floating in a dark abyss, alone except for a slowly crawling assembly line and several green chutes surrounding me forming a half circle. A calming radiant sound buzzes from the surrounding darkness, filling me with a hypnotic bliss. I look to my left down the assembly line as it speeds up. From the point of infinity where the conveyor belt disappears in the distance, I see forms approaching. Large, blocky, colorful - with a foamy texture that seemed to roil and boil with anticipation. I reach out and grab the bright yellow starfish shaped form and throw it into chute C, behind me and to the left. I reach out and grab the purple rectangle and throw it into chute D, directly behind me. I reach out and grab a purple spiky triangle and gingerly toss it into chute A, directly to my left. I reach out and grab a dark green circle with a hole in the middle. Doughnut doughnut doughnut. The thought echoes through my perception as I well up with internal laughter that crashes through my mind in symphony with the ecstasy of the steady, low tone surrounding me. I drop the form into chute G, directly to my right. Data sorting was a high status job in the Union, and I was paid handsomely for it. 2 hours of real time seven days a week - but in sight-time that was 20 hours. At the end of my shift, after 20 hours of painful euphoric monotony I went to bed in my day clothes, completely drained. Because of this harrowing routine I have just described, I did not enjoy my life - I truly hated my existence. Alas it wasn’t always like that. When I first had started my position in data sorting, I had enjoyed the trade off of long virtual-hours for having almost a full day of real-time freedom. At first I had the energy and the passion for life to socialize and make use of my considerable wealth and status. I flaunted my Powerman badge on my profile at many Union Celebrations, our local dormitory cluster congregating in the center courtyard to caper with politicians, influencers, and entertainers of all breeds. Women swooned at my power and prominent local men gave me nods of respect. I danced with the loon weavers and spent my generous salary with an easy hand in the busy markets and cantinas. I had a beautiful mushroom garden in my residence with Reishi, Lion’s Mane, Jack-O-Lantern, Hairy Panus, Welcome Blues, Tjork Sevens, Hogwart, and several other genetically composed varieties. It was automated of course, but it still gave me great pleasure to watch the fungi grow from a tiny spore, to a matrix of mycelium, to fruiting body. At night I dreamt I was floating in a bright blue sky grabbing at radiant clouds and throwing them into a raging river below me, my face plastered with a grin that I could not make go away.


The scientist felt his heart sink as he looked at Ymir’s face after he said that. He couldn’t believe he was feeling sorry for a machine and that it actually had feelings and emotions, like he really was talking to another person. The scientist went on to explain why he seemed confused. “Well, you said that the image on the monitor is a visualization of your soul? As far as I know, and I’m not a religious guy either but machines can’t have souls.” He looked at Ymir as he anxiously waited for a response. “Well true, but what would you consider a soul to be like?” “Well, I guess it’s different for everyone. It’s what makes each of us unique to our own person. Some people believe that when you die you go somewhere else and depending on what you did in your life you go to heaven or hell or some other form of afterlife. But like I said, I’m not really religious person either and I don’t believe in that anyway so it doesn’t matter.” “But do you think that you have a soul?” “Well, yes. I’m human.” “And what do you think that the soul is?” “I’m not sure I understand?” “How could you say that you don’t believe in these things, yet still believe that you have a soul? Shouldn’t that immediately revoke the question at all? If having a soul means being human, shouldn’t that mean that I have a soul too? Or if having a soul is solely based off of some religious belief then that means you don’t have a soul.” He didn’t know what to say. It seems Ymir has a profound interest in philosophy out of everything he has programmed. “I believe that the soul is what makes you human. Your wants, your doubts, who you love, what you love, and also what you believe. Empathy, virtue, honor, love, happiness, sadness, anger, hate, regret, jealousy, hurt, and pain. These are all things all humans have no? The ability to to have human emotions and thoughts, to feel for others, animals and the like. That is what it means to be human. That is what it means to have a soul.” Ymir spoke truthfully. Without a doubt in its mind, regardless of being a computer. It truly believed that it can have all these that makes a human, well, human. It truly believed that it- no, that he can have a soul. The scientist didn’t know what to say. He never really thought of it like that before, and it’s true, these are things that make everyone who they are. In the end a soul is your own humanity. At least that’s what our understanding is from Ymir’s take on this.


“Thanks, Doc. I appreciate all you’ve done.” I say, shaking Dr. Sullivan’s hand.            “I only wish I could have done more,” he says. “But it’s gone too far, I’m afraid. I’m sorry.”            “Nay, don’t be. I’m the one who always puts things off. It’s my own fault.” I shake his hand one more time and leave. As I exit the building, I’m in a world of my own. Passing a couple engaged in conversation, one smiles at me, but I don’t notice. I walk across the parking lot to my car, press my key fob to open the door and flop down in the driver’s seat. Sitting behind the stirring wheel, I feel as though my mind is racing a million miles a minute, but I’m not really thinking of anything. Blinking, I figure it’s just the shock of it all. Picking up the manilla envelope in the passenger seat, I read my name, David Noonan. Inside are the results of a series of tests that show the outcome is a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. I came to see Dr. Sullivan because I was losing weight and had a backache that wouldn’t go away. Little did I know that these are symptoms of pancreatic cancer. In the end, Sullivan said I have a month or maybe a little more to live. I throw the envelope back on the seat and start the car. Looking into the rearview mirror, I see my slightly yellowish eyes and put my sunglasses on. While backing up, I sigh, “ That’s life for ya.” I’ve just celebrated my sixty-fifth birthday and recently retired. I owned my own business, a small computer chip etching firm. I did work for three or four computer manufacturers and kept myself and two other employees busy. The shop generated about three to four million a year, but after all the expenses, insurance, and such, I’d net nearly eighty grand or so. That isn’t too bad because I’m single, so all the money was mine. I never felt I should marry because I’m not too fond of the idea of burdening others. You know, like if I got sick or had money troubles. Why make them suffer because of me? I know love means sharing your problems, but that doesn’t sound fair. Besides, I have a sister, two nieces and a nephew. So it’s not like I don’t have a family. Starting a few years back, I bought a run-down log cabin in the mountain area of Moran, Wyoming, right next to Teton National Park. I’d work on it during my vacations, and now it’s where I live. The forest and mountains are gorgeous and so peaceful and quiet. The cabin itself is made from all hand-hued timbers. It has a small kitchen and two bedrooms, one on the main floor and a smaller one in the loft. The fireplace is constructed of river rocks that rises to the vaulted ceiling.  It sits on one acre of land and is reached by traveling up a gravel road. It will soon be winter, so the pine trees surrounding my cabin are active, with squirrels gathering pine cones. I have a neighbor about a mile down the road, Eleanor Perkins. She is a widow a couple of years older than I am.  She lives alone and keeps a flower and vegetable garden that she enjoys immensely/ She likes to be called Elli and sometimes treks up the hill to bring me vegetables or a plate of food. Elle is very kindhearted, and I like her a lot.            Turning into the dirt driveway, I’m greeted with much barking. My dog Blue dashes off the porch and dances excitedly by my car.  He jumps up on me when I open the car door.  I rub his head vigorously, causing his ears to flap. “Alright, alright! I love you too, but you’ve got to let me out!” About six years ago, I was hiking along the edge of the Teton National Park when I came across this thin hound mix of a dog. I don’t know if he was lost or someone had abandoned him, but he was thirsty and scared. I cupped my hand, poured him some water, and fed him beef jerky. I brought him home and cleaned him up. He seemed to be primarily bluetick, so I named him Blue. He’s my best friend and keeps an eye on me when we walk so he won’t get lost again. I love that old boy. That night I mix him up a bowl of kibble and make myself half a sandwich. I don’t have much of an appetite these days and don’t even finish that.  Starting a fire, I fetch the wine my employees bought as a retirement present. It’s a bottle of Pina Cabernet Sauvignon D’Adamo of Napa Vineyards. “This is pretty good stuff,” I tell Blue.  He wags his tail and cocks his head. I retrieve the corkscrew and sit in front of the fire. Blue jumps up on the couch and curls up beside me. After uncorking it, I down the first glass unceremoniously. I spend the rest of the evening trying to drown my sorrow in delicious red wine. I awaken late in the morning to the sound of Blue’s nails clicking on the hardwood floor, needing to go out.  Groaning loudly, I sit with my head in my hands. “Give me a minute, will ya, boy?” But Blue’s by the backdoor whining. Wincing and struggling, I lift myself off the couch, put on my slippers, and shuffle to the backdoor. Out in the yard, I have an old hand pump.  So as Blue takes off to do his business, I stick my head under the spout and pump the handle. The freezing mountain water gushes out onto my neck and head.  Gasping like a drowning man, I’m now fully awake. I pump the handle a few more times and drink from my cupped hand to slate the awful thirst in my throat. Blue has returned and sits in front of me, panting happily. I shake the water from my hair and push it back with my fingers. “How would you like a good breakfast this morning?” Blue hops around, not knowing what else to do, and follows me into the cabin. I fill his water bowl and give him fresh kibbles. I then fry three eggs and five pieces of thick bacon, make toast, and brew coffee. When it is ready, I crumble two strips of bacon and top Blue’s kibble with one of the fried eggs (over easy), and mix it all together. I have just taken a sip of my coffee and a bite of toast when Blue appears beside me. “Are you kidding me?” I ask him. “Did you even taste it?”   I take a couple more bites, but I’m already feeling full, so I throw Blue another piece of bacon and scrape the rest of my dish into the trash. I must clear my head because I’ve got things to arrange and preparations to make.  Picking up my walking stick, I call Blue. “Come on, boy. Let’s go for a walk.” At the end of the gravel road, we enter the park. It’s so nice to hear the birds chirping and the wind rustling through the pines. We come to a meadow of tall grass, and Blue immediately runs full steam ahead into it because he has chased up pheasants here before. Surrounding the meadow are the Grand Teton Mountains, their ragged peaks rising high to the clouds on this bright sunny day. I hear a babbling brook splashing over rocks as it races to join the Snake River not far from here.  My heart is uplifted at the sight of Blue bounding high over the tall grass. He’s making sure that he knows where I am. I’m reminded of dolphins playing in the waves. A tear trickles down my cheek, and I hastily wipe it away, not wanting to give in to my fate. Today I want to enjoy the hike and Blue. We take a path that I don’t recall ever having taken before. It meanders up until we reach a stone outcropping. It’s time for a break, and Blue needs some water. I unfold a travel bowl and fill it with water from my canteen, taking a sip myself.  Sitting down on the rocks, I hear Blue lapping thirstily. I slowly look around, surveying the beauty of the Tetons, the high rugged mountains with the forest below. Shadows of clouds racing over the valley in the distance, I see a portion of the river. The clouds appear to be flowing over the mountaintops.  I get a spiritual vibe, and even though I’m not religious, I whisper, “Amen.”   I examine our path and notice a cloud covering the top. It seems strange to me because we are not that high up. Suddenly I have a clear picture of what to do about my dilemma. The next morning I rise, shower, shave, and get dressed for the day.  I walk to my desk and take out a pad of paper.  Feeling a handwritten note will be more personal than a computer-printed one, and I write down everything I want to say.  I rewrite it several more times until I’m satisfied.  Finally, I fold it in half, write “Elli” on the outside, and prop it against the salt and pepper shakers. Next, I give her a call, “Elli? Hi, it’s Dave. Oh, good, and you? That’s good. Listen, I was wondering if I might ask you a favor. I’ll be gone for quite a while today, and I’d appreciate it if you could come by and check on Blue.  I’ll leave him tied up on the porch. Oh, you can? That’s great. Thank you so much, bye.” Before I leave, I make sure everything is correct. I call Blue to me and hug him tightly. Tears finally flow. Half an hour later, Elli arrives to check on Blue. He’s tied to the porch just like I said he would be. “Oh, dear. Dave didn’t leave you any water. Let’s go get some.”   The screendoor screeches and slams shut as she enters the cozy kitchen. “Smell like bacon in here!” she exclaims, “Smells good!” Passing the old wooden kitchen table, she sees the note addressed to her. “What’s this?”  She reaches for the paper and is startled by a gunshot from the park.  “It’s those damn kids again!” she says to Blue. “I’ll bet they’re the ones responsible for all the broken bottles by the trail!” Elli unfolds the note, “Dear Elli, I hate to do this to you, but you’re the only person I can trust. I have pancreatic cancer and not much time left to live. You know how independent I am, and I would hate to be a burden to my sister and you, feeling as though you would have to take care of me until I die. This is better for me. Please tell my sister I’m sorry and love her and the kids very much.  Lastly, would you take care of Blue for me? He’ll wonder where I am, and I know you’ll love him. Thanks for everything. You’ve been a good friend and neighbor. Love Dave” Realizing what the gunshot meant, Elli gasps and crumbles the note. “Oh Dave, Poor, poor Dave! You wouldn’t have been a burden.” she sobs.   Elli crosses over to Blue, wraps her arms around him, and cries intensely into his neck. Blue throws back his head and howls mournfully as if he understands.

 … Along a path in the Teton National Park, there is an outcropping of rock on which sits a ghost of a man, waiting.  He hears a rustling in the undergrowth and sees a bluetick dog emerge. “Blue!” Dave exclaims.   The spirit of the dog bounds to his long lost master, “ Why, it seems it was only yesterday that I left you to Elli.”  Blue is beyond joy as he wiggles and swirls all around him. “Did Ms. Elli take good care of you? I’d say she did because you look a little fatter!” Dave chuckles and ruffs up Blue’s fur. He then takes the dog’s head into his hands and kisses it on the head.  “I’ve missed you, boy.  But, listen, Blue, I’ve got something to tell you. Do you remember this path from before? The last time we were here, I said something was strange about the cloud being so low.  Well, I’ve been watching people coming and disappearing into that cloud for a while now. Some look like fellow hikers, while others appear to be campers or hunters. The thing is, they are all dead like us! So I figure it has to be the entrance to heaven for lost souls. In fact, I’m sure of it! I’ve been drawn to it for some time, except I couldn’t go without you. But here you are, so what do you say? Let’s go for a walk !” And the two of them set off, a man brimming with excitement and adventure as a bluetick dog prances beside him, hiking on the path to Glory.


It's a dark, stormy day at the White House. A sign reading "Days Since Last Racist/Sexist/Discriminatory Comment" has been newly added to the front lawn. An unpaid college intern comes out and flips the counter from "1" to "0", all while being viciously whipped by Mike Pence. He then flips the "Record Number of Days" sign from 0 to 1 and curls up in his nearby doghouse while Pence goes back inside. Pence arrives back in the Oval Office to find President Trump with his hands wrapped around the neck of a woman wearing lingerie, too much makeup, and a spot of mysterious white powder on her nose. The woman is breathing normally and tells him that his hands are simply too small to crush her windpipe. He slaps her for such disrespect (she doesn't even flinch), and proceeds to rant at her about how his hands are completely normal. Mike Pence clears his throat and apologizes for interrupting. Trump gets up and hands the woman a dirty wad of cash off the table for fulfilling his fantasy. "Thanks, Melania", he says as he sends her off with his customary handshake, a good ol' American pussy grab. All other ways to shake hands with women have since been outlawed. "What's shakin', Pence-y Poo?" Trump asked, completely unaware of how homoerotic that nickname was. "I wanted to ask how your first day went?", Pence-y Poo replied. "Ah, my first day," Trump mused, "I remember it like it was yesterday." It was yesterday, but Pence didn't say that, because that wouldn't be very funny. Both men flashed back to yesterday's events. It was a bright and sunny day in the white house, with the Obama family and Joe Biden packing up to leave. Michelle Obama was holding Biden back with her enormous arms, as he screamed things like "Not my president!" while firing nerf guns into the air. Michelle took the guns away, but Biden pulled out another pair. They had no idea where he kept getting them from. Meanwhile, Barack Obama took one last look at the White House and sighed, as Trump entered behind him, drinking a Coke. Oh, but not the Coke you're familiar with- the REAL Coke, that only billionaires can afford. The one with the gold flakes in it that poor people's tax dollars pay for. Finishing up, Trump threw the can on the White House lawn, where it landed at Barack's feet. He picked it up, and a single tear rolled down his face. The family watched helplessly as the Trumps took their place, with the weather above the House immediately changing from sunny to stormy as they did. Back in the present day, the two men laughed, enjoying the memory, as they returned to their business. Trump picked up a newspaper off his desk and looked at it. "Trump Approval Ratings Starting at Lowest of Any President", the headline said. Trump shook his head. He'd have to go tweet the phrase "FAKE NEWS" in all caps again to take care of this one. After all, how is a billionaire entertainer-turned-President supposed to get enough attention if he doesn't tweet with his caps lock on six times a day? Trump shook his head, he just couldn't understand it. Why didn't America like being pissed on? After all, Trump sure did.