### Gossip Central: The Hottest Scoop in Starlet City **Headline:** Love, Lies, and Longing: The Scandals Rocking Starlet City Dear readers, hold onto your hats and clutch your pearls because today's edition of Gossip Central is sizzling with the latest juicy tidbits from the glamorous yet tumultuous lives of our beloved celebrities. Grab your coffee (or maybe something stronger), and let's dive into the chaos, heartbreak, and drama that make Starlet City the talk of the town. **1. Star-Crossed Love Affairs:** It seems that Cupid's arrows have been striking with questionable aim lately. Our sources have confirmed that the dashing heartthrob, **Ethan Rivers**, and the sultry songstress, **Bella Monroe**, were spotted sharing an intimate dinner at Le Rêve, the swankiest restaurant in town. While Ethan is technically single after his high-profile breakup with supermodel **Victoria Lane**, Bella is still very much linked to her on-again, off-again beau, rocker **Jaxon Storm**. Eyewitnesses reported steamy glances and even a discreet kiss! Could this be the beginning of a new power couple, or just another chapter in Bella's tumultuous love life? **2. Betrayals and Backstabbing:** In a shocking turn of events, our inside informants reveal that **Tessa Hart**, the darling of daytime TV, has been betrayed by her closest confidante. Tessa's best friend and stylist, **Mila Bennett**, has been leaking details of Tessa's personal life to the press for months. This bombshell came to light after a series of particularly personal stories surfaced, each eerily detailed and undeniably true. Tessa is reportedly devastated and has severed all ties with Mila. Trust is a fragile thing in the world of fame, and Tessa's heartbreak is a harsh reminder of the cost of celebrity. **3. The Great Escape:** In a dramatic twist worthy of the big screen, action star **Derek Steele** has vanished from the public eye following a messy divorce and custody battle with ex-wife, actress **Chloe Kensington**. Rumor has it that Derek has fled to a secluded island to escape the relentless paparazzi and rebuild his life away from the spotlight. Sources close to Derek claim he is focusing on his mental health and reconnecting with nature. Meanwhile, Chloe is left to navigate single motherhood and a challenging career without Derek’s support. Will Derek make a triumphant return, or is this the end of his Hollywood saga? **4. Rising Stars and Fallen Idols:** Not all news is scandalous, darlings! Our very own **Lila Rose**, the sweet and talented breakout star, has landed a lead role in the upcoming blockbuster, *Celestial*. This role could catapult her to A-list status, and we're all eagerly watching her rise. However, not everyone is thrilled about Lila’s success. Her former mentor, veteran actress **Vivian Blackwood**, has been vocal about her disapproval, calling Lila “ungrateful” for allegedly ditching her after finding fame. A classic case of jealousy, or does Vivian have a point? Either way, we can't wait to see Lila shine on the silver screen. **5. Scandalous Reunions:** Fans of the once-popular band, **Eclipse**, are in for a treat as whispers of a reunion tour circulate. Frontman **Ryan Knight** and guitarist **Liam Hayes** were spotted together at a secret recording session, sparking hopes of new music and possibly a tour. This news comes despite their infamous fallout years ago, which led to the band's breakup. Can Ryan and Liam put aside their differences for the sake of their fans, or is this just a fleeting moment of nostalgia? **6. Hidden Addictions:** The seemingly perfect life of reality TV queen **Sophie Sterling** is crumbling as reports of her secret battle with addiction come to light. Insiders have revealed that Sophie has been struggling with substance abuse for years, hidden behind her glamorous facade. She has checked into a rehab facility under an alias to avoid media attention. This revelation is a stark contrast to the image Sophie has always portrayed. Her fans are left in shock, hoping for her swift recovery and return to the spotlight, clean and stronger than ever. **7. Fashion Faux Pas:** The annual Starlet City Gala, known for its dazzling display of fashion, was not without its blunders this year. The usually impeccable **Fiona Frost**, renowned for her chic and sophisticated style, made headlines for all the wrong reasons. Her choice of a bold, avant-garde gown was met with mixed reviews, some calling it a masterpiece, others a disaster. Fashion critics and fans alike were divided, and Fiona's risky choice has certainly stirred the pot. Love it or hate it, Fiona remains the talk of the town. **8. Business Ventures Gone Awry:** It appears that not all that glitters is gold in the business world of Starlet City. Entrepreneur and former child star **Jasper King** has seen his latest venture, a high-end vegan restaurant, fall into financial turmoil. Despite the star-studded opening and rave initial reviews, the restaurant has been plagued by management issues and declining sales. Insiders say Jasper is scrambling to keep the business afloat, even considering selling off personal assets. Can Jasper turn things around, or will this be another failed project in his portfolio? **9. Secret Babies and Hidden Relationships:** The rumor mill is buzzing with whispers that actress **Grace Delaney** has been hiding a secret baby! Grace, known for her private nature, has kept a low profile recently, leading to speculation about her mysterious disappearance from the public eye. Sources suggest that she gave birth in secret and has been focusing on motherhood away from the prying eyes of the media. The identity of the father remains unknown, but rumors point to a high-profile director she was linked to last year. Will Grace confirm the news, or will this remain one of Starlet City's greatest mysteries? **10. Redemption and Comebacks:** In a heartwarming twist, comedian **Max Turner**, who faced a career downfall due to a scandal two years ago, is making a remarkable comeback. Max has been performing at small comedy clubs, rebuilding his reputation and winning back the hearts of fans. His sincerity and raw talent are shining through, proving that everyone loves a good redemption story. Max’s journey from disgrace to grace is a testament to resilience and the forgiving nature of the entertainment industry. There you have it, dear readers—today's hottest scoops and scandals straight from Starlet City. As always, we'll be keeping our eyes and ears open for more gossip, intrigue, and sensational stories to keep you entertained. Stay tuned, because in this city, there's never a dull moment! Until next time, Gossip Central ✨


When I was eleven, for a reason completely unbeknownst to me my family moved to Apopka, Florida. We lived there for one year, and then moved back to Minnesota within forty miles of Moorhead where we had lived previously. Obviously, some adult crisis or other had precipitated this bewildering experience. Whatever the problem was, Florida would surely fix it. How fitting that in the wake of my own adult crisis, I should accompany my parents on a vacation to the “Sunshine State”. When we arrived in Florida we picked up our modest rental sedan and navigated our way to my parents’ friends’ house, Dean and Cathy. As I walked into their house, the first thing I took notice of was a bottle of tequila tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. There it sat alone, unacknowledged by anyone but me, my crisis. The bottle resided in that spot for the duration of our stay, no one pulled it out, no drinks flowed. I could not tell if this was coincidental or if it was because our hosts had been made aware of my recent teetotalism, my move back into my parent’s house, my loss of my Trader Joes job, and my abandonment of my lease on my hipster coffeehouse apartment, nor did I care. Dean and Cathy had a daughter named Danielle. Danielle had been friends with my older sister fourteen years prior. Danielle was younger than my sister, she was a little chubby, she was kind of homely looking, and I believe she liked my sister more than my sister liked her. Time had been kind to Danielle as she had shed the weight and grown into her features, though her body looked as if it would easily regain the weight. This fact was also apparent by looking at her mother. We had rented a crummy townhome for the week. My bedroom lay directly beneath my parents’ bedroom, and my bed lay directly beneath my parents’ bed. That night as I lay awake, I could hear my parents above me, doing the very thing that brought me into this world twenty five years ago. In a moment like this, one turns inward "Twenty five years into this life and this is where I am?" Most of our time in the “Sunshine State” was spent indoors. Going outside would result in being broiled alive by the sun. After a few days of this stagnation, the parents decided it was time for the kids to go out on the town and arranged for us to meet up with a dating couple. I hopped into Danielle’s gray Ford Escort on the passenger’s side. Though I was not really into Danielle, being alone with her in her car seemed like a novel experience, and I worked hard to play it really cool. I had given little attention to the opposite sex over the last few years since they did not come in a bottle marked “80 proof”. We arrived at our destination, some establishment resembling an Applebee’s and met the other couple in the parking lot. I already knew the man of the couple, Russell. I had been friends with Russell as a child when we were twelve. He was the baby of the family and acted accordingly. Russell was the type of kid that always seemed to find himself in some strange disaster that left you watching incredulously. Once at a minor league baseball game, he got under a pop-fly ball and held his hands up to catch it. The ball slipped right through the diamond shaped hole of his thumbs and index fingers and broke its fall right on the tip of his pointy freckled nose, blood gushed everywhere. Time had done little to remedy Russell’s gawky appearance. He was a redhead with freckles, tall, and gangly. If you did not know of Russell’s families’ money, you may not understand why a highly attractive well-dressed woman was by his side. As the double date progressed, conversation was slow. The only time I was really engaged was when Russell’s date brought up a music video she had just seen on YouTube. As she detailed this video, I began to recognize her descriptions and interjected, “Are you talking about ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush?” “Yes,” she replied with a shocked look on her face, “I really didn’t expect anyone to recognize such an obscure reference." Then for the next few moments we proceeded to wax poetic about Kate Bush and her unique artistic abilities. It had been a very long time since I had made this kind of connection with anyone, much less a beautiful woman. I pondered the unfortunate nature of this situation. Across from me sat a beautiful woman with whom I had made a connection. She should have been with me, but instead she was with this bore of a man. A man, that because of the umbra of my own crisis and the void of any measurable personal development, I had no chance of competing with. This of course did not stop me from fantasizing about our future life together in the moment of an instant that was just as soon discarded. For dessert, Russell took us to an Italian Ice Stand. Over half the night he had been trumpeting the deliciousness of these frozen treats. When we finally sat down with our Italian Ices, Russell was a bit disappointed that we did not seem to share his enthusiasm. He asked “What do you guys think? Are these great or what?” His date barely made a reply. "Who does this woman think she is?" I thought, "doesn’t she know that this is my childhood friend? She could be a little nicer to him." Trying to console my friend I embellished a little, “I give it an eleven out of ten.” “That’s the kind of enthusiasm I was looking for!" cheered Russell. That was the last night we spent in Florida. We boarded a plane and headed back to Minnesota: my parents, my crisis, and I. What led my parents to this place fourteen years ago I may never know, but I can't help believing that this is the wisdom they wished to impart: Problems cannot be outrun or left behind, but they can always be taken to the “Sunshine State.


Hi! I'm Janice and well, today I'm going to a party. Sounds fun right? Not for me though. I haven't really attended one in such a long time. Why? It all starts way back in highschool on a Friday night. I was getting ready to attend a party, hosted by the most popular girl in school, Amelia. I was thrilled when I had recieved my invitation. I was kind of a nerd but I had some good friends. When I arrived, I was feeling exicted. I had never been invited to a party before. The party was at Amelia's house. It was so crowded I could barely walk. There was a lot of food and many drinks (no alcohol). There was also music blasting through the speakers and people were dancing. I joined them and then I suddenly ran into Amelia. " Hey! Glad you could make it!" she said smiling to me. She had blond hair, beautiful blue eyes, and was definitely really pretty. " Yea! Me too! I'm sure it will be a blast!" I reply with the same smile. I was about to walk off before I felt this really cold liquid splash down on my head and drip down to my clothes. I freeze and slowly turn behind me to find Amelia smirking with her emtpy cup that she dropped down with a clunk. " W-wha-? W-why?" I sputter at her dripping and shaking. By now, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at me. " Aw...Are you gonna cry? Do you actually think we would want you here, you nerd? Well, we don't so why don't you go home and cry to your mommy," Amelia said in a baby voice. Everyone laughed at me. I actually did start crying. I could feel tears starting to prick my eyes so I ran out of there as fast as I could. I went home and told myself over and over again that I would never attend a party again. Get why I'm nervous about attending a party again? It's been 10 years since the "accident" so I should move on. But the thing is, the party I'm attending, is my high school reunion party. I know, I'm crazy for wanting to attend but surely Amelia has changed? I mean, I own a big business right now and my looks have become better. Ok. I've decided. I am going to go to the party and hopefully not regret it. I change into a cute dress, put make up on, curl my hair a bit, and then walk out my front door. I get into my limo and I have someone drive me to my location. This time, it was at my old high school. As I stepped out of my limo, the people outside turned to stare at me wondering how the high school nerd became this rich, pretty, woman. I walked in the high school not minding them and I saw a lot of people I regonized but I didn't see Amelia nor my friends. Well, I knew I wouldn't see my friends since they told me so but I was kind of hoping they would be there. I kept looking around until I bumped into someone. I touch my head a little from the pain and we both say, " I'm sorry!" I look up to see Amelia (or at least I think) staring back at me. She looked the same as highschool but older. " Amelia?" I question. " Janice?" she questions. " W-wow! It's been a long time. How are you?" I say to her shocked face. " I'm good. How are you?" she replies. She seems nicer or maybe she was just tricking me again. " I'm doing good. I actually own the JJ company," I say and with a reply I see a shocked face. " That big company? It's yours? I didn't realize it," she said to me. " Ya," I say sorta smiling at her. " Well, I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me again. I really wanna be friends with you," she says sadly. So that's how she wants to play. She thinks I can forgive her for humiliating me. And now she wants to be friends? Is it because of my money? Huh? " I'm sorry Amelia," I say in my nicest tone. " But I don't think we can be friends. You say sorry after you find out I have money. I don't like to be used for things," I say and then I walk out of her sight. After that nonsense, I actually had a great time. I was drinking soda and partying. The best thing is that my besties made it! I had convinced them to come along so that I could chat with them. We danced, laughed, and caught up with old friends that we hadn't talked to for a while. It was so much fun. I missed having a party like this. We stayed until 10:00 p.m but then everyone started to leave. I was getting tired so I decided to head home. After all, tomorrow was a big day for me. I was going to be giving a big speech to a crowd and I had to get ready. I was going to revise my speech again but I was tired from all that laughter and fun so I immidently fell asleep. The next morning I woke up at 6:00 ready for the speech. I head there arriving early and I perform my speech with ease. I never really had stage fright so I did it amazingly. Maybe because of last night. I had to admit it was the most fun I had ever had. I smiled at everyone as I talked loud and clear. I didn't need a script because I was excellent at memorizing. Once I was done, everyone gave me a standing ovation as they clapped loudly. I felt proud as I walked off the stage smiling. I drove home thinking at my friends and when the next party I could be attending. I hope I wasn't about to get addicted.


One day a beautiful young maiden was wondering through the forest collecting wildflowers. This was usually one of her favorite ways to occupy herself during her free time but today she had a special purpose, for tonight was the ball to celebrate the prince’s eighteenth birthday. Every eligible girl in the kingdom would be there hoping that they would be the one to catch the prince’s eye. Isabella was searching for wildflowers to make a garland that would set off her outfit just perfectly. Not just any wildflowers would do, they had to be a shade of blue just about, but not quite as deep as her eyes. This was not an easy color to find and the field that she was in was so filled with tiny wildflowers that she had to concentrate extremely hard to pick out the ones that she wanted from among all the various shades of blue and pink and yellow that surrounded her. She was concentrating so hard in fact, that she did not notice the older gentleman in dark robes sitting on a fallen tree at the edge of the clearing. The man on the tree noticed her, however. He knew she would be there for she had told him about it many times and he was watching her every move with fascination. He was all but spellbound by her innocence and determination in her task. The way she moved through the field half hunched over examining the different flowers, pausing here and there to pick one and examine it more closely, and finally either discarding it or adding it to the others in the small basket that she carried. He would chuckle to himself when her brow furrowed with dissatisfaction, and his heart would lift each time he saw the look of happiness and approval on her face when the small bud would meet her criteria. He wanted to sit there forever and watch this angel on earth go about her chore for he loved her very deeply. As she inched her way closer to his perch, he knew that the time he had been dreading had finally come, it was time for them to meet. “Hello, my child,” he said in a deep and somewhat raspy voice. “Oh my!” she looked up in surprise, for she thought that she was alone in the field. “Good sir, you’ve startled me.” “There is no cause for alarm, my dear, I was just resting here on my journey to your kingdom when you came along,” he replied. “you look as if you have a very important task to accomplish.” “Oh, I was just collecting flowers,” she said looking shyly down at her basket. Then her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “Do you have business at the castle?” “Your king has summoned me as an advisor,” he answered. The mention of the king and the castle excited Isabella so that she forgot about taking caution with strangers, as her father had warned. She plopped herself down on the ground in front of the mand and asked, “You must be a very important man for the king to summon you. Please tell me sir, just what is it that you do?” The man paused for a moment to study the beautiful young face looking up at him. He thought about how many times before he had looked deeply into those eyes and seen all the love and compassion looking back at him. He drew his gaze down to the cute little nose that had rubbed against his own so many times before, and finally studied the slight pout on the lips he had kissed a thousand times a thousand in the past. He wished he could hold her and kiss her now, but he knew this would frighten her away for after all, they were only just meeting today. He must have gotten lost in his thoughts for again she begged, “Please sir, I am only a child as you said, but I am loyal to the king. If you tell me of your business, it will go no further.” The man returned his gaze to her eyes and said, “I know you are loyal my dear, but my business with the king is no big secret, if that is what you seek. “Actually, you would probably find it quite dull.” “Oh no sir,” she replied, “any business with the king could hardly be dull, but if you won’t tell me your business please at least tell me what it is that you do.” “What I do?” he repeated, “I do very little actually. I guess I would describe myself as an observer. I observe what is going on around me and offer advice on how best to react to it.” “I have never heard of such a thing before,” she responded, “and the king has summoned you to do what you have described for him?” “Why yes, he has,” answered the man with a laugh. “I find it astonishing myself at times, but many kings and queens have summoned me to do just that.” “You must be a very wise man for all these kings and queens to have called upon your services,” she observed. Again, the man laughed. He had always loved Isabella’s innocence and over the last few years it had been growing in intensity. He was now seeing her as she was before the years of leadership and adversity had taken away that innocence. He was seeing her before the loss of her first true love to the hand of an enemy on a battlefield. Before the loss of her first-born son, the heir to the throne, to the plague. He was now seeing her before she really had any cares in the world beyond finding the perfect shade of blue wildflower to set off her eyes. “I am a very old man,” he replied, “and people seem to feel that when a person has been alive as long as I have, and seen as many things as I, that there must be some wisdom to impart from those experiences. Actually, in my opinion, I am a very foolish old man who enjoys telling stories. The leaders who have summoned me listen to my stories and interpret them as they see fit. Any wisdom that comes from these stories comes from their interpretation of them, not from me.” “But sir,” she argued, “you must have some wisdom to know which story to tell for a given situation.” The man laughed yet again; he was truly enjoying this encounter with the young maiden. “I wouldn’t call it wisdom so much as intuition,” he explained. “They tell me of their troubles, be it personal or political, I listen and then a story just seems to come to me. Sometimes the story is about a similar situation I have run across before and sometimes it seems to have no apparent connection to what they are telling me. Either way, I tell my story and what they do with it from there is all based upon their own wisdom. I could no better tell a great leader what to do then I could choose a flower for your basket.” Isabella glanced down at her basket and then eagerly back into the man’s eyes. “If I were to tell you my troubles would you tell me a story?” she asked. “What troubles could a beautiful young maiden as you possibly have?” he chuckled. “It appears to me that your biggest concern is picking out the proper dress for the ball tonight.” “Please sir,” she pouted, “don’t mock me.” She paused for a moment and then added, “How is it that you know of the ball tonight?” This question caught him off guard, “Errr, um,” he stalled. “Why everyone knows of the prince’s ball, of course.” He knew of the ball for she had told him about it many times, it was one of his favorite stories of hers. How she struggled to finish the flower garland in time, and the butterflies in her stomach as she approached the castle and finally the great ball room. She had told him about laying eyes on the prince for the first time and somehow knowing, in that instant, that they belonged together. She had told him of how she and the prince danced and talked and laughed the night away. And she had told him how, in that one night, she had fallen truly and deeply in love with the man who would become her husband. “Of course,” she said with a little doubt in her voice, “Everyone knows of the ball. But please sir,” she returned to her thought, “tell me a story.” “My dear,” said the man, “you must go prepare for the ball. You don’t have time for a story. Our time together has come to an end, but if you meet me here tomorrow, I will gladly tell you a story.” Isabella glanced at the sun sinking in the sky and said, “Oh my goodness, your right.” She quickly gathered up her basket and sprang to her feet. “But sir,” she realized, “I don’t know your name.” “My name is Merlin,” answered the man. “And I’m Isabella,” she said. “So, I will see you here tomorrow at midday, you promise?” “I promise,” he said. “And you will tell me a story?” “I promise,” he said again with a laugh. “Then I will see you here tomorrow,” she said as she turned and hurried off across the field the way she had come. Just before she reached the path through the woods, she turned again to look at the man and she thought she saw the sun reflect in a tear on his check. She waved to him and he waved back. Then she turned to the path and hurried home to prepare for the ball. “Good-bye, my sweet Isabella,” he said to her back and began to cry openly, for he knew that he would never see her again. Most people know that wizards are immortal but one very important thing that few people know is that while we mortals are traveling forward through time, wizards are actually traveling backwards through time. This is why meeting people for the first time can be very difficult for a wizard. So, if you ever meet an old man who likes to tell stories and he seems to be sad when you part, it just may be. . . .


He marched up the hill. Its low slope provided little challenge to his progress. The grass, as it waved in the soft breeze, did seem to tug at his feet. He placed his feet carefully to avoid tripping. It wouldn't do to drop his cargo. A large potted plant, a tree, was grasped firmly in one hand. It was fairly heavy. He had to stop several times on the way up the hill in order to rest. Now, as he neared the top, he pushed onward. He did swap the tree from his right hand to his left. Taking only a brief moment to set down the shovel so he could do the change. The fatigue in his right hand easing as he picked up the digging tool. When he was sure he had everything grasped firmly, he set off. The breeze was warm, and carried the scent of grass. It was familiar to him, he had been on this hill many times. As he reached the top, his eyes were drawn to a medium sized oak tree. It stood slightly off center at the top of the rise, growing alone in the middle of the field. "Hi Mom," he whispered, the words vanishing under the rustling of grass. *No crying*, he promised himself. He walked over and set the sapling down. It seemed fitting to have it rest against the larger tree, at least for the moment. He rested his now free hand on the truck. It had grown thicker since it had been planted. He smiled. It was a sad one, but also accepting. He turned and placed his back against the bark. Wordlessly he started pacing away from the tree towards the center of the hill, then past it. He had researched how far he needed to go; how many steps it would be. He wanted the branches to just touch when both trees were fully grown. He stopped once he reached the proper amount of steps. He looked back, checking if he was in line. With that he thrust the shovel into the soil. Memories came back to him as he dug. Five years ago, he and his father had come up here. The hill had been empty then. They had dug their own hole, through tears, to plant the oak. He was alone this time to do the job. With the hole dug, the tree went into the ground smoothly. This was not the first time he had planted one. He covered the roots loose dirt and packed it down. He had a jug of water in his car at the field edge. He would water it today, and every day until it could survive on its own. Shouldering the shovel he looked over his work. The two oaks seemed so far apart, but he knew they would grow together over time. "Bye Dad," He said into the wind as he started down to get the water. He couldn't keep the promise he had made to himself as he went.


#Welcome to Serial Sunday! To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I will post a single theme to inspire you. You have 850 words to tell the story. Feel free to jump in at any time if you feel inspired. Writing for previous weeks’ themes is not necessary in order to join.   *** #This week's theme is House of Cards! This week we’re going to dive into the theme of ‘house of cards’. A house of cards is a plan, institution, or structure that is unreliable, unsound, or in danger of collapse. Think, a plan that is not completely thought out; a government/authority that is shaky and not built on stable laws, principals, defense, etc. What happens when it’s tested? Do the people brace for impact or abandon ship? Will it have a domino effect, knocking the entire system or world down? What happens when it all comes tumbling down? Who stands up and takes charge? Or does anarchy reign? Can they rebuild? A house of cards, afterall, can completely collapse from a simple breeze, or when one single piece is removed. Are your characters prepared for the storm? What kind of dangers await them on the other side of it all? These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. |   *** #Theme Schedule: I recognize that writing a serial can take a bit of planning. Each week, I release the following 2 weeks’ themes here in the Schedule section of the post. You can even have a say in upcoming themes! Join us on the discord - we vote on a theme every Sunday. (You can also send suggestions to me via DM on Discord or Reddit!) * November 28 - House of cards (this week) * December 5 - Vitality * December 12 - Speculation   *** **Previous Themes:** | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | *** #How It Works: In the comments below, submit a story that is between 500 - 850 words in your own original universe, inspired by this week’s theme. This can be the beginning of a brand new serial or an installment in your in-progress serial. You have until 6pm EST the following Saturday to submit your story. Please make sure to read *all* of the rules before posting!   *** #The Rules: * **All top-level comments must be a story inspired by the theme (not using the theme is a disqualifier).** Use the stickied comment for off-topic discussion and questions you may have. * **Do not pre-write your serial.** You may do outlining and planning ahead of time, but you need to wait until the post is released to begin writing for the current week. Pre-written content or content written for another prompt/post is not allowed. * **Stories must be 500-850 words.** Use to check your word count. **You may include a *brief* recap at the top of your post each week if you like, and it will not count against the wordcount.** * **Stories must be posted by Saturday 6pm EST.** That is one hour before the beginning of Campfire. Stories submitted after the deadline will not be eligible for rankings and will not be read during campfire. * **Only one serial per author at a time.** This does not include serials written outside of Serial Sunday. * **Authors must leave at least 2 feedback comments on the thread (on two different stories, not two on one) to qualify for rankings every week.** The feedback should be actionable and **must** include at least one *detail* about what the author has done well. Failing to meet the 2 comment requirement will disqualify you from weekly rankings. (Verbal feedback does not count towards this requirement.) **Missing your feedback two consecutive weeks will exclude you from campfire readings and rankings the following week.** You have until the following Sunday at 12pm EST to fulfill your feedback requirements each week. * **Keep the content “vaguely family friendly”.** While content rules are more relaxed here at r/ShortStories, we’re going to roll with the loose guidelines of family friendly for now. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask! * **Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets** (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). This will allow our serial bot to track your parts and add your serial to the full catalogue. Please note: You **must** use the exact same name each week. This includes commas and apostrophes. If not, the bot won’t recognize your serial installments.   *** #Reminders: * **If you are continuing an in-progress serial, please include links to the prior installments on reddit.** * **Saturdays I host a Serial Campfire on the discord main voice lounge**. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and share your own thoughts on serial writing! We start at 7pm EST. You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Don’t worry about being late, just join! * **You can nominate your favorite stories each week**. Send me a message on discord or reddit and let me know by 12pm EST the following Sunday. You do not have to attend the campfire, or have read all of the stories, to make nominations. Making nominations awards both parties points (see point breakdown). * Authors who successfully finish a serial with at least 8 installments will be featured with a modpost recognizing their completion and a flair banner on the subreddit. Authors are eligible for this highlight post only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule (and all other post rules). * There’s a Serial Sunday role on the Discord server, so make sure you grab that so you’re notified of all Serial Sunday related news!   *** #Last Week’s Rankings - - by u/nobodysgeese   - - by u/WorldOrphan   - - by u/Zetakh   - - by u/Say_Im_Ugly   *** #Ranking System There is a new point system! Note that you must use the theme each week to qualify for points! Here is the current breakdown: **Nominations (votes sent in by users):** - First place - 60 points - Second place - 50 points - Third place - 40 points - Fourth place - 30 points - Fifth place - 20 points - Sixth place - 10 points **Feedback:** - Written feedback (on the thread) - 5 points each (25 pt. cap) - Verbal feedback (during Campfire) - 5 points each (15 pt. cap) *Note: In order to be eligible for feedback points, you must complete your 2 required feedback comments. These are included in the max point value above.Your feedback must be **actionable**, listing at least one thing the author did well, to receive points. (“I liked it, great chapter” comments will not earn you points or credit.)* **Nominating Other Stories:** - Sending nominations for your favorite stories - 5 points (total)   *** ###Subreddit News - Our sister subreddit, r/WritingPrompts now has a ! - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday. Check out to learn more! - Sharpen your micro-fic skills by participating in our brand new feature, - Have you ever wanted to write a story with another writer? Check out our brand new weekly feature on r/WritingPrompts.


What makes a story worth reading? The title? The author? The cover of the book? The answer is none of them, it’s the hook. You get them drugged by your words and leave them starving for more, getting them addicted. Once you get them wrapped around your hand, they wouldn’t be able to resist, ‘just one more chapter’ they’ll say but in reality, they’ll end up devouring the book within hours. And today I have the chance to do just that. Hope Michaels you are this year's lucky winner! A private tour of the lunar island. Your tour date is June 11, 9:30 AM… The screeching isle. Of course, that’s not the real name, but some rumors say back when the island was operational, they would hear screams coming from them. You could hear them on the mainland, but of course, those are just rumors. No one knows what the lab that occupies the island looks like. People have tried flying drones over the island to see but it’s covered with trees and greenery.

The island was abandoned 50 years ago after a chemical leak poisoned the air. There were other tours before, they do it every few years, but no one talked about what they saw. But I’m going to change that, my story will be on every headline, I just know in my gut that there is more to the story than just a chemical leak.

…

“Hope Michaels?” A tall man asked as I approached the dock. He had wrinkled on his face and glasses; he looked like he was in his forties.

“That’s me,” I smiled. “My name is Rick Fanny I will be your tour guide for today” He shook my hand. The dock was isolated by only one boat. It was small, looked like it could hold 4 people. “Now to give you some background on the island, it was shut down 50 years ago due to a chemical leak. It was a lab that was testing vaccines and cures for certain types of illnesses, but I’m sure you already know all about that considering you are a writer, right?” “Reporter, actually. But yes, I’ve dug deep to know every little detail about this place.” “I guess you don’t need me. Might even take my job” He joked.

“Is this the only way onto the island?” I asked, this was the first time I looked at him since getting on the boat, the view was so captivating, a photograph wouldn’t have done it justice.

“I guess there is still some stuff you didn’t research. Yes, this is the only way in and out of the island, which makes it easier to spot trespassers. There is only one dock, and the rest of the island is fenced.” He answered. “You might want to get comfortable; it usually takes 45 minutes to reach the island, you’re welcome to take photos if you’d like,” he continued. “Thanks, but no camera can capture the beauty this place holds.” The sun was hitting the water at just the right angle making the whole lake sparkle. No photographer or painter would be able to mimic the alluring scenery. It’s one of the places you’d need to see in real life to believe it. “Ahh, spoken like a true writer,” He replied. “Reporter.” I corrected him but he just shrugged, not seeing the difference.

Rick turned on the radio to replace the silence. “Police are still searching for missing 12 and 10-year-old girls: Lara and Beck Stein, but there seems to be no luck.” “It’s so sad what happened to the girls, they had their whole life ahead of them.” I looked at Rick trying to strike up a conversation with him, but he just kept his gaze on the floor and turned the radio off.

Silence it is.

…

The rest of the boat ride was quiet, I wrote some notes down and Rick stared into outer space.

“Well, here we are. Please be careful getting off the boat, we don’t want you falling in” I sighed and got out of the boat with no problem. Now is when the story begins. There was a small gravel path that led you further into the island, the trees caved in on us.

No one would be able to rescue us if something happened.

We proceeded to follow the path until we were standing outside of a tall building. There were vines growing on the walls and some windows had been smashed. Inside the building, the floor was filled with dirt and mud. It’s hard to imagine that this was once a functioning laboratory where people roamed in here doing god knows what. But in a way it was beautiful, seeing nature take back what once was theirs. “This is the lobby but if you follow me, I’ll take you to the lab” You could hear his voice echo through the building. We walked further into the building until we reached a room named Laboratory 1.

“Before you could enter the lab scientist had to sterilize themselves to make sure they don’t bring any outside germs into the lab and possibly their work.” We were in a small narrow hallway that had ventilators everywhere. Once we passed, there was a room with lab coats and hazmat suits. There were desks everywhere and on them were broken petri dishes that were occupied by mold. There were needles on the floor and broken beakers everywhere. I walked toward the fridge and opened it, just like workstations there were Petri dishes in the fridge and freezer.

“Oh, sorry Hope, I have to take this phone call. Feel free to roam around just be careful of the glass. I’m going to go outside; it has the best reception” he didn’t wait for me to answer.

This was underwhelming, it looked like any other lab. I wouldn’t be able to write a story about this, there is no story here. It was just a waste of time, no wonder none of the other visitors talked about their experience.

I kicked a chair across the room in frustration but saw that it hit a small bookshelf.

Why would scientists need a bookshelf in their lab? Walking over I saw that the shelf was filled with dust, dirt, spiderwebs, and leaves. The books too, all except one, one of them was completely clean. I looked back to see if Rick was in view, he wasn’t. I pulled the book to look at it but as soon as I did, I heard a latch click.

The shelf creaked revealing it was a door, confusion and excitement took over me. Now this is a story.

Clearly, Rick didn’t want me to know about this, but I didn’t care because a reporter will do anything for their story and that’s the thought I had as I walked down the dimly lit stairs.

I quickly pulled out my notebook rushing to write down every thought that was going through my head, but they grew louder the more I walked down the stairs.

I wasn’t alone. I heard conversations through the room, but the island has been deserted, and they wouldn’t have been able to sneak in without alerting security, there’s only one way in and out.

I reached the bottom of the stairs anxious for what was waiting for me on the other side. Walking toward the double doors, they opened automatically. The electricity worked down here.

The doors flew open, and I got a glimpse of what was inside, a whole lab filled with scientists in robes. Realization hit me like a flood, the island was never abandoned. The chemical leak was a cover-up story so no one would come snooping around, who would want to explore an abandoned place if the air is poisonous? And the tours, they only did them, so they didn't raise the public’s suspicion, they showed the visitor the old lab ‘See there is no story here just a regular lab.’ I couldn’t believe my eyes; they must’ve been deceiving me.

The only thing that nagged me was the why? Why do all of this secrecy, what could they possibly have to hide? Speaking of hiding I ducked under a table so no one would see me, I looked out of place, and I knew just how to fix that.

 I slowly crept up the stairs seeing that Rick was still on his phone call. I backtracked to the entrance of the old lab and grabbed one of the lab coats making sure to get all the dust off. Not perfect but enough to blend in.

Standing in front of the door inches away from my story. Just act confident, like you belong there and didn’t just find out that this is a secret lab. Everything’s going to be fine, no one asks questions to people who look confident. I tried to reassure myself but wasn’t doing a very good job.

Clearing my throat, I held my head high and walked through. I was immediately blinded by the fluorescent lights. There were scientists everywhere varying from ones looking at microscopes, to naming petri dishes, to writing down data on a file.

This place was alive.

I saw a door with a little tag that said subjects. It had a code pad though and well I didn’t have it; I’d have to wait until someone goes in or out of there.

I pretended to look busy by intently looking at a piece of paper that was left on one of the worktables, it was a chart. A beep caught my ear. I saw the door to the subjects open and I quickly rushed over there before it closed.

“Such a crappy day” I heard someone say, I looked around realizing they were talking to me. “Oh um, yes” he looked intently into my eyes, waiting for me to spill my darkest secrets to him. They were black, you couldn’t differentiate between the pupil and the iris, it was like looking into the darkness, a darkness that everyone has inside them. I wonder what his darkness is.

He cleared his throat bringing me back to reality, I gave him a weak smile and walked through the door as he walked out. I looked back to make sure no one followed but was distracted by the noise in the room. There were cells everywhere and… people connected to IVs; they were drugged out of their minds.

“Help” one whispered, she was barely awake. But something about the girl in the cell next to her caught my attention. I recognized her, how couldn’t I, she was on every news channel. Lara Stein, she was one of the missing girls.

Looking around I saw that I recognized all of them, some of these kids went missing years ago.

Sickness fell over me, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, and it felt like the air in my lungs had been sucked out of me. I felt useless, what could I do? I’m just one insignificant person, I won’t be able to stop this, the kids whose families are grieving them, the kids who are passed out on the cold cement floor, there was nothing I could do. Expose them, that’s how you can help, don’t stop now, you came here for a story, and you got one. These kids need you to write this story, you’re their only hope.

I swiped the tears away and took out my phone documenting everything.

“I’m here to help you, but you have to tell me what they’re doing to you” I whispered to the girl asking for help, she was the only one conscious enough for a conversation.

“Th-they’re injecting us with stuff and see if we survive.” She started profusely crying, “One of them started to bleed out of their eyes, they’re experimenting on us. I heard one of them say that-” We were interrupted by a blaring alarm, and the lights turned red, Rick must’ve realized I was gone.

“I’m going to come back to you, I promise,” I looked down at the girl with pitiful eyes. “No, no please I beg don’t leave, they’re gonna kill us all!” she started yelling. “Quite down” I hushed, but it did nothing. She kept screaming and crying, seconds later scientists burst into the room knowing I was the odd one out. I was mentally in that room with the girl, but my feet had a mind of their own, they were running, bursting through every door trying to find an exit. There were heavy footsteps following closely. I looked back to see how far they were but fell on the ground, dirt, and leaves; I was outside. I managed to find an exit. I ran to the edge of the island but was fenced in shit. I kept running along the fence until I reached the dock. Jumping on the boat, the keys were missing, Rick must still have them. I had to think of something fast. I remembered that I wrote an article about hotwiring a few months ago about how it’s criminal and found it ironic considering what I was about to do. I took two different wires and connected them hearing the vessel roar to life along with the footsteps of scientists and security guards, but I hit the gas rushing me into the water.

Looking back, I saw all of them with distressed faces, they knew they were doomed.

I’ll be back for those kids, but for now, I have a story to write.


In the woods North Preston is the largest black community in Nova Scotia by population and has the highest concentration of African Canadians in any community in Canada.

The population was 3,223 in 2021. This is a decline from 2006 when Preston had a population of 3,536.

North Preston also includes the beautiful Lake Echo in which a river flows through the community.

Ashayo was a shy, quiet, yet happy little guy. His short 10 years of life on this earth were thought to be quite uneventful.

The community in which he lived was a community of faith. There was a sign at the beginning of the community "We've come this far by Faith." and it was true - the community was tight. There were big church potlucks once a month, Sunday school for the children every Tuesday night, and everyone knew everyone. It was a community that took care of its own. They looked out for each other.

Tuesday, October 28 at 9 pm Ashayo's mom sent Ashayo to brush his teeth and get into bed. A ten-year-old boy needs to get his sleep and so does she. Oh but, she was tired. Harriet was bone tired. Tired from work, tired from worry, and tired of just being sad.

He was a good boy and never had Theresa a lick of trouble, unlike his older brother Theo.

Theodore was named after his daddy rest in peace. Raising these two boys alone was hard, hard, and lonely, but she was determined to make their daddy and the good Lord proud of her and her little family - her sweet boys. They all missed him so much. It was two years since their Daddy passed but they rarely spoke his name. They were just too darn sad. They all just grieved in silence, in their own way I guess.

Theresa had worked all day until 3 pm at Fry Daze - it was a burger joint really but they also had lobster rolls and lobster poutine and of course everyone's favorite - Fish and chips. Everyone ordered fish and chips on Friday because everyone in the Catholic society knew you had to only eat fish on Fridays. That was the lord's law. Lake Echo was full

of fresh haddock and the restaurant owners had a brother who was a fisherman and brought the fresh fish in daily so the food was good.

Everyone knows Fry Daze was one of the only handful of restaurants in Preston. Other than that, you had to drive into Dartmouth and you had to have a car for that. Theresa took the bus to work every day except

for Sundays because everyone know that was Lord's Day. A day of rest. And God knows

Theresa needed a rest.

 They lived in an old but tidy little house on the edge of the woods. There might have been 30 houses in the whole community.

Ashayo's school was up the road about a 20-minute walk. Theresa used to walk him to school every day when his Dad was alive.

but now that he was ten and in the "double digits" and "almost a man now" as Ashayo proudly stated,

he now walked with his best friend and neighbor Denny. She worried about him. He was her baby but she knew she had to loosen the reins and let him find his way in the world. Plus she had to get to work now.

After school, Ashayo got off the bus, walked home, and started straight away at his homework.

Momma was home by then and was busy in the kitchen starting dinner. She already had his snack laid

out waiting for him- homemade chocolate chip cookies and a big glass of milk. After supper of fried chicken

and a side of greens, he watched his favorite shows brushed his teeth, said his prayers, and went off to bed. Momma still tucked

him in and gave him kissed him goodnight every night. He didn't mind. He loved his momma.

Theresa washed up the dishes and tidied around the house. God knows when Theo would get home and she

didn't wait up anymore. He was seventeen and she just didn't know what to do with him anymore. She just had to trust in the Lord that he was safe.

She started off to bed but before she turned in, she checked on Ashayo one more time. She loved to watch her sweet baby asleep. He looks so peaceful. He looked just like his Daddy. Oh, how she missed his Daddy.

When Theresa opened the door to his bedroom he wasn't there. She looked all around the room, under the bed, in the closet but he was nowhere to be found.

She looked in the bathroom. She looked all through the house. He was gone but where could he have gone? She looked outside around the house while calling out his name. He called Ashayo's best friend, Dany's mom but she hadn't seen Dany since that morning. Soon the neighbors heard the shouting and gathered around in the yard. Someone called 911. Theresa was beyond herself with worry. Please, Lord Jesus, Mother of God keep my baby safe, please keep my baby safe. Bring him home to me. I will do anything you ask me to, just bring him home. Then she whispered a silent prayer to her late husband- Honey keep our son safe and keep him warm and please, please show him the way home to me. Amen.

Wednesday, Oct 29th, 9 pm

Ashayo woke up in the dark and felt a soft breeze stir around his shoulders. He could hear the sound of maybe someone softly singing. The sound seemed to come from outside. He walked over to the window and pressed his ear to the window pane. it sounded like someone was whispering his name - Asha. And then he saw a kind of soft, glowing light off in the distance. He tip-toed out of his room and quietly slipped out the backdoor. It was dark and it was cold. He had his fleece pajamas on and the cold, dry leaves crunched under his bare little feet.

In the woods behind his house, he found a somewhat flattened pathway, so he followed it, mesmerized by the soft, glowing light.

Wednesday, October 29th, 12 pm.

Theresa was pacing up and down her front driveway, waiting for the police, in a panic, she was thinking about where Ashayo could have gone. Had someone taken him? Did he run away? She walked into the house to make another phone call but instead, she decided to look in his room one more time, and there he was, in his bed, sound asleep! She did a double-take - what in the world! Oh, praise the Lord! Thank you, Jesus. She was so relieved and so confused and so filled with joy. She gathered him up in the bed and started rocking him back and forth. She tucked his head right under her chin and kissed the top of his head over and over again. Ashyao slowly opened his eyes, Momma what's going on? What is wrong?

Theresa cried "Where were you? Where have you been?" I'm okay Momma. I heard someone calling my name in my sleep and then I saw this beautiful light in the woods so I had to go. I wasn't scared Momma - The light felt safe and it was so warm Momma. It felt like, like... love. Momma? I think the light was Daddy. He told me he loved us so much and he missed us every day. He told me he was watching us and he was so proud of us Momma and he told me to tell you not to worry about Theo, that he would be okay. He just missed Daddy, but he was going to be just fine. Daddy said we need to get through this together and take care of each other. We need to talk to each other and not be afraid to show our feelings because it's okay to be sad. He said he was watching over us, Momma. He is watching over us every day and every night. It was Daddy, Momma. It was. I know It was.

Harriet cried and stroked his head over and over again as she murmured yes baby, yes baby. It was a dream baby, it was just a dream. We were both dreaming and she smiled as she brushed the fallen leaf out of his hair and then she fell into the deepest sleep she ever had in two long, long years.

The End.


A low, undulating ridge with jagged volcanic spires stretched in a straight line from west to east across a slightly sloped field of large, mottled rocks. The ridge seemed like the spiked spine of a long-dead monster, portions of it captured under a wholly inadequate net. It was late afternoon and the orange sky glowed with its own brilliant light, fueled by the intense violet sunlight. Heat haze distorted the light in every direction. Like ethereal fireflies, glowing mists sporadically materialized, swirled in the mixing heat currents, and disappeared again. Rokov’s mind clouded in the sway of the heat and his head bobbed slightly as he looked north toward the sparse netting draped over a huge black spire and the autominer beneath it. A flume stuck askew from the ridge and from it, a steady stream of brown and red gravel trickled onto the huge mound of tailings below. A few dozen meters east, a large metal door and several smaller service entrances pierced the scree and entered the heart of the ridge, like the portico of a heretical cathedral. Above the doors, a concrete tympanum dammed the scree from burying the entrance. Rokov wasn’t religious, but he worshipped at the iron altar of CinnaCo. The fog in his mind broke as Rokov moved his weight from one foot to the other trying to rouse his exhausted legs. His thick e-suit would have not been sufficient to keep out the heat were it not for the heavy cooling system on his back, but even he was getting too old for the burden, despite the mechanical assists. It also didn't help that the gravity was more than he liked. Rovok felt uncomfortable and hot. He gestured to wipe his sweaty brow, only to remember that he was still in his e-suit. He lowered his arm. As he did so, webs of thin metal formed in the long, shifting trace of his afternoon shadow and evaporated again when exposed to the sunlight once more. The metal vapor didn’t dissipate, though. It hung in the air, beginning to take on a swirling glow of its own. Regaining himself, Rokov turned his gaze toward the southern horizon, considering. *Do I have enough time before sunset?* To the south there was little to see. One half of his view was dominated by the angry orange glow of the atmosphere. Occasional violet rays sliced a low angle through the haze. The other half of his view was dominated by the slightly sloped sea of rocks with two tire ruts extending on toward the horizon. In the afternoon light, the lee of every rock glistened with thin metal webs, as if hundreds of thousands of strange, phantom spiders lived just out of sight. *It IS late if the lace is out*, Rokov thought. Where the two halves met, a blurry form of another spiked ridge waved into and out of his vision. Rokov's visor brought up the pending maintenance tasks. The next autominer repair was the last in his queue, but it was another 3 kilometers away, not counting the trip back to base. Eyeing the thin, silvery webs in his shadow, Rokov decided it would have to wait until tomorrow. It was late, and the webs promised a quick death once night fell. CinnaCo would be angry, but better to endure anger and docked pay than die. Masha, Pasha, and Vikhor didn’t eat if he died. They could go hungry one meal. Finally, Rokov glanced toward the east, where the violet sun was setting. It was *much* lower than he realized. He quickly raised his glove to shield his eyes against the approaching yellow twilight and looked at the time displayed in the corner of his visor. Startled, he thought aloud "God damn this chromometer. I took too long. Status!" The visor displayed the time more prominently and a calm voice replied "It is 356.7 hours. Sunset is in 16.4 minutes" "Distance to base?" Rokov already knew the answer and he was already shuffling toward his toolbox. "19.4 kilometers." "Time to return if I leave now?" "15.3 minutes." Fearful, Rokov stooped over as quickly as he dared and hoisted his toolbox and shuffled back toward the rover. The mechanical assists hissed. In plodding pirouettes, he danced through the sharp rocks, avoiding a fatal tear. After securing his tools, he rolled into the driver side of the open-top rover. Rokov slammed his boot on the accelerator and the huge black wheels protested, reluctantly groaning but gradually gaining speed. Twilight on this planet was dangerous and unpredictable, but nighttime was certain death. "Time to base?" Rokov demanded over the roar of rocks thrown by the tires. "At your current velocity and bearing, you will travel the remaining 18.4 kilometers in 11.1 minutes." "How long until sunset?" "8.23 minutes until sunset." Rokov didn't need to ask how he fared, of course. The numbers displayed on his visor were still visible, even though they were starting to become foggy from the condensation from his increased breathing. Gravel sprayed from the large black tires and dust billowed into the haze, mixing in sick swirls. It was a straight shot back to base, a drag race against death. Rokov felt his stomach drop, but he tightened his resolve and forced the panic back toward his spine. He needed to hear the voice, any voice. His transmitter was not powerful enough to reach any of the other mining bases - the only transmitter powerful enough for that was back at his own base. Not that calling them would help. Most were thousands of kilometers away, and the nearest one was still several hundred kilometers away. He thought of dying alone, then of Masha coldly staring at the screen notifying her of his death, unable to emote. “No!” he angrily shouted at his own thoughts. “Think about what I must do, and nothing more.” A dust cloud formed in the wake of the rover as Rokov raced north. In his peripheral vision, he could see the westward shadow of his rover and the thin metallic wisps blinking into existence and evaporating once more. The wisps seemed to be thickening slightly. “Shit” he muttered, once again forcing the panic back. When Rokov had first started his rotation in this forsaken Hell, the first thing his comrads warned him of was the quickrain. He thought back to early images he had seen of one of the miners at the Azumith 30 mine who had gotten caught out in the quickrain. The remains of the miner did not resemble anything human. It looked more like a grim slop of rancid pink and red gelatin pocked full of bone shards and empty craters oozing from a shredded white shroud that only vaguely resembled the e-suit it had once been. When CinnaCo came to send off her remains, they shoved the gravel and flesh into a crate and closed it without even bothering to sift between the two. Rokov was shocked, but the other quarrymen reassured him that she didn’t suffer long. The quickrain had probably killed her brain long before she bled out or asphyxiated from a crushed chest. Little consolation now. "4.0 minutes until sunset." The landscape all around Rokov was a testament to the furious destruction of quickrain, the nightly apocalypse. Everything exposed to the quickrain was smooth and pulverized. A thick layer of sand covered most of the surface of the planet, making mining operations in those marinas nearly impossible. But a few basins, such as this one, had seen volcanic residue and lava tubes in the last few decades, and the ground was still strewn with gravel and boulders. In fact, his own base was a lava tube that had probably formed not more than two hundred years ago. Maybe even during his lifetime. When humans had first explored this world, many died, despite knowing what the probes had told them. Suddenly, he realized his thoughts had been drifting once more and Rokov snapped his attention back to the road. The violet sun began to blend in with the haze that marked the horizon. The violent disc stretched and distorted sideways, forming an odd shade of purple-orange. "3.7 minutes until sunset." Rokov's thoughts were such a blur that he lost track of how far he had traveled. In the same instant that his eyes turned back toward the chromometer, the orange afterglow of the atmosphere extinguished, the energy of the sun no longer able to excite the vapor. The sky above turned black, and closer to the ground a gray, wispy fog illuminated the path of the violet rays emanating from the setting sun. The sun suddenly seemed like a distant and cold memory in the foggy twilight. Death had arrived. "Mierda, Mierda, Mierda, Mierda...!", chanted Rokov to no one. Rokov was tough and callous to danger had nearly lost his life several times in the autominer, but now he was no longer able to hold back the panic. His eyes darted to the temperature readout. He already knew that it had just dropped below 105 Celsius, since that is when the metal vapor stopped glowing. Now, moments later, the sensor read 80 degrees, and was falling quickly. As the atmosphere cooled, the pressure fell even further and his e-suit started to swell, making it hard to move. Rokov's mind raced. He didn't want to die, especially not by quickrain. Rokov's stomach tightened and twisted. He wanted to vomit. He kept his foot on the accelerator, trying to stay centered in the well-trodden tire ruts. Just then, a strong gust billowed across the road in front of him, briefly obscuring his view and coating the ground in metal crystals like a malicious snow drift. The rover slammed into the metal lattice with a loud crunch and slowed slightly before pulling through. The noise in the rover was starting to become deafening as the wheels cracked and snapped through the ever-thickening metal lace forming along the road. The cloud of metal vapor started to build higher and higher until even the black sky above appears silvery and ghostly with violet streaks barely able to pass through. The sun started to appear more like a distant purple spotlight than a star. Exposed to the sky, Rokov reached to deploy the emergency roof, little good that would do. The thick, inflated Kevlar would protect him for a minute or so before the quickrain found its way through. "2.2 minutes, until sunset." The temperature was falling fast, and the heat pump on his e-suit had just reversed to heat him. As the last rays of light from the sun touched the horizon, Rokov could just barely make out the base in the distance behind swirls and gusts of metal vapor. Suddenly, the gusting stopped and Rokov’s suit ballooned. In a great wave, the fog coalesced into trillions of suspended metal grains. In unison they fell, the sky literally falling. As they gathered speed, they also coalesced into larger and larger marbles. Rokov's eyes widened with terror as the first drops of quickrain slammed into the hood of his rover, violently shaking it. At first, it was a few loud ‘thuds’. It was quickly followed by several more. From a safe vantage point, the beginning of a quickrain might have sounded pleasant, like popcorn in a pan, or awesome, like the furious power of nature. Rokov remotely opened the rover bay and raced as the emergency roof rippled angrily, like the surface of an agitated pool viewed from below. Marbles began slamming into the road and leaping up onto his hood and into his partial windscreen, cracking it. Within seconds, the quickrain was a deafening roar, like gravel being poured from a massive bucket. A few seconds later, the deluge came and sound became meaningless. The sound wave hit Rokov so hard that he exhaled violently. He felt like every square centimeter of his body was punched at once. His ribs cracked and his visor split from ear to ear. "32 seconds until sunset." Rokov strained his whole body against his ballooned suit and the steering column while still racing at full speed, His helmet was still holding, thank god, even if it was leaking quickly, but he didn't know how much more he could take. Coughing, struggling to breathe, and unable to hear anything other than an omnipresent roar, he strained. His whole body seared in pain. ZIP, ZIP ZIP! In almost an instant, three quickrain drops tore through his lower left leg and back out the other side, and one through his right thigh, shattering his right femur. His body exploded in pain and Rokov screamed. The automatic tourniquets integrated into the e-suit immediately clamped just above the wounds, and he felt a sting as his life support pack stabbed him in the back with a small dose of morphine. He let go of the steering column and his overinflated suit threw his hands to the side of his body. The steering wheel twisted and the rover turned sharply and began to roll. ZIP ZIP! Two more quickrain drops sliced through an arm and his chest just before the rover began to roll out of control. Within seconds, the edges of Rokov’s vision yielded to the darkness. As Rokov’s limp body tumbled inside the rover, the last thing he saw before falling unconscious was the white lights of the rover bay spinning overhead.


That’s the thing about this city. It’s so loud and it never seemed to sleep, yet at dawn, it shows its mellow side. The streets are still almost empty, the train platform desolate. The first train of the day crawled towards me like a giant yellow caterpillar. Sleepy-eyed, I pulled my luggage and entered the wagon, inhabited by few sleeping passengers. I sat on that long, empty bench beside a luggage area. The train's announcement was played, mentioning the next station followed by the Arabic and English versions of the phrase,

Doors Closing. I looked out of the window as the train ran on the elevated viaduct, passing by the Sheik Zayed Road skyscrapers, buildings that looked like tall mirrors.

Next Station, Dubai Mall. Doors Closing. A few passengers hopped in the wagon on Business Bay station, and then we headed to the next - Dubai Mall. I was mesmerized once more with the world's tallest building and biggest mall backdropped with the lavender sky, standing on land that once was pure tangerine sand. I've watched the construction of these magnificent structures, like watching a kid grow up, from a tiny thing that crawls and holds on to your knees to an independent stranger. In time, I felt like I've watched a time-lapse of the city's progress, just like how you watch kids grow up. They become bigger and bigger, and they outgrow you, kids, and cities alike. Next Station, Karama. Doors Closing. We passed six other stations and reached Karama, a place as old as time, a hotpot of culture, a house like that of your grandma's, where you will meet all first, second, and third cousins, aunts, uncles, nephews, and nieces, unbeknownst to you. Some buildings in that area were almost crumbling, waiting for the demolition team to take it to its final rest. Karama was always noisy during rush hour, and at night, the aroma of different spices lingered on the street as small cafes open up for ex-pats craving comfort food. This place is where I first tasted the sweet and savory Nasi Goreng and the homemade Momos. I've also tasted the spiciest Indian curry there that I vowed never to eat again after all the spasms I experienced after that meal. Next Station, Burjuman. Doors Closing. Burjuman station was next. My beloved old town Burdubai where I found my first family in this sleepless, lonely place. I earned peanuts that time and could only afford five-Dirham shawarma for dinner - that cheap meat on a slow-turning vertical rotisserie. That's where I found the first guy who broke my heart as I sat in a small café drinking a fresh mango juice after downing one greasy shawarma. He offered me networking products, and I gave him my heart. I was young and was swayed easily by his sweet nature. He told stories. I believed. He made me laugh. I fell in love. On a 50-degrees Celsius summer afternoon, he took me to the historical

Bastakiya,

where they sold colorful Moroccan shoes, Turkish carpets, and Arabic souvenirs in tiny shops along a narrow, unpaved alley. From there, we took a ride on an

abra  to the other side of the creek, the traditional boat taken by either wide-eyed tourists or laborers who wanted to save money on fair and avoid traffic. We sat side by side with men on safety shoes who stank of sweat, cigarette, and dust. Pigeons flocked towards the other side of the creek. The stench of rotten fish and diesel filled the breeze. The boat engine filled my ears along with the lapping waves. I thought it was romantic until I found out, I wasn't the only one he took for an

abra

ride. I almost believed in destiny until the day I walked home with red-streaked eyes along Khalid Bin Al Walid Road, my shoulders hunched, almost wanting to replace the genie inside its magic lamp. Next Station, Al Rigga. Doors Closing. Ah, Al Rigga, my second home. The place taught me how to be tough and strong, where I met a guy who stole my heart before stealing my life. I lived on the 2nd floor of a five-story building. There were five flats per floor, and ours was at the farthest end of the dimly lit corridor. Its poor ventilation made me aware of all the neighbor's dinners every time I arrive from work. I would know which flat would have biryani or fried fish for the night. I went home one night and saw a guy standing beside the door of flat 203. He was playing with the smoke of his cigarette, puffing minuscule clouds into thin air. I didn't say anything, although I knew that smoking wasn't allowed in the building. I only minded my own business. Our eyes met. His was piercing; mine was intimidated. The next day he sat on the floor outside his door with a cigarette stuck between his lips while his hands were busy playing the solo of Sweet Child of Mine. I noticed the tribal tattoos on his arms and the black earring on his right ear. He didn't look at me that night; he was in a world of his own. He did that for days on until one night; he called my name. I was petrified. He handed me tickets to the bar where his band was playing. I watched his gig. It didn't take long until we became a couple. I adapted to his lifestyle and became that stage girlfriend who accompanied him on all his gigs. I lost some friends along the way. It didn't take long until I also lost my job because I couldn't keep up with my work after late nights on his gigs. He said,

'it's ok, you'll get a new job.'  But the job I did not get any time soon. I spent all my savings until my bank was empty. He started spending his own money too. At first, we were surviving. Later on, we both retreated into silence, leaving issues unspoken until they grew into a snowball and exploded big time. It took a little time to restart my life, but somehow I did. Next Station, Terminal 1. Doors Closing.

The train went above ground once again.

My first ever flight to Dubai landed in Terminal 1, where my life here all started. I was a wide-eyed nineteen-year-old, hoping for a job that can feed my family back home who told herself she'd be back home once she completes her two-year contract. But two-years turned into three, then into five, then before she knew it, it was already a decade. This terminal was my beginning, and the next will be the end. Next Station, Terminal 3. Doors Closing. As we approached Terminal 3, the city was already awake, and the sky tinged with amber. The train stopped; I pulled out my luggage and headed to the exit. I looked back at the train, and for the last time, I'd hear that recorded voice, 'Doors Closing.'

The train left, and as I looked back at the city where I came in, pulling a suitcase of dreams and what I would go with a luggage full of memories. I sat on the window seat, and as the plane took off, I looked at the iconic city built on scarlet sand, kissed by the deep blue sea.

For one last time, I bid this city goodbye, and with this, I close the door to this chapter of my life.


The world knows me not but I have come now to reveal myself. I am the harbinger of perfection. I have been chosen to announce HER coming. The world has changed since it was decided that I would be the one to guide her back. But the mechanics are the same, and I will abide. No, I *must* abide. We humans are but children caught in a tumultuous flood. We are swirling in an everlasting pool of chaos with neither handhold to grasp for momentarily relief nor precedent for the salvation of understanding. If we ponder any facet of existence long enough we shall see that there is no truth, no logic, no reality to anything at all. Our understanding is built by what is immediately presented to us and the moment is all we may live by. My moment has, and forever will be, red. In the beginning there was only I. I stayed close to the trees for dangerous creatures lurked in the dark. In the trees I was safe from harm. I could avoid their sharp claws and teeth. I could take refuge from the night. In the day I was free. The things that would hunt for me would flow back into their hiding places as the tide does when the moon has set and the sun rises. I was always alone. Pawing at the soft damp earth for hard bitter roots. Picking through ferns in search of berries bursting with juice. The world held many dangers, but it also provided in proportion to necessity. Looking back it is apparent that this was a time of simplicity in comparison to the modern world today. I was living based upon the singular purpose of survival. Any happiness or unhappiness I felt was purely visceral. If I found sustenance I would leap and whoop loudly in ecstasy, and if I went hungry I would moan and sob as pangs of starvation wracked my body without mercy. I was content in this way of life for I knew naught of any other. Until she revealed herself to me. She came as a vision during the deepest hour of darkness. There was no moon to light the trees and I was resting up in the shelter of the forest’s canopy. Though my eyes were closed I saw a glowing silver light dance before me. I had only seen the moon shine in my dreams with such beauty and I was dazzled by it. I opened my eyes and the light was gone. The night was impenetrably dark. When I closed my eyes once more the light was gone. For many days I thought of the light. It had been but a flicker amidst the darkness but it enticed within me a curiosity and longing that I had not known before. I had felt want many times when searching for sustenance, but this was a different want. It was a want based not in need but in something unknown. In the coming days as I foraged and slept I was no longer blithely living as I had. My thoughts were consumed for want of the light. Oh how beautiful it had been. How I longed for it. And it came again soon. As the first time it came when I was resting in the branches of the trees. Once more I saw it with my eyes closed. It came so softly that I did not perceive it at first. It revealed itself so gently that I had been unaware of it until it became so bright it could not be ignored. There it hovered in the bottomless darkness behind my closed eyes. I kept my eyes closed this time for fear that it would vanish once more. I watched as it glowed brightly and I was filled with sensations of wonder and contentment. I felt as if I had eaten my fill for the entirety of my life, that I had slept until I no longer needed sleep, that everything that may do me harm had vanished into nothingness for all time. I stayed there staring with eyes closed into its warmth and felt embraced and at peace. Until it began to move away. In panic I open my eyes, and quickly closed them again for fear that it would vanish once more. I saw that it was still moving away. I could not let it leave me. It was the only thing that had ever made me feel this way. I could not lose it again. So I followed it. It seemed to lead me down, and with eyes shut tight, I climbed down with it. I was adept at climbing the trees as I had lived among them my entire life. I had climbed up and down many times in utter darkness so I was familiar with moving without sight. As I touched down to the soft grass of the forest’s floor I felt no trepidation although I was unprotected in the night. I only felt excitement as I pursued the light. There was only the soft sounds of my footsteps through the forest. I did feel a kind of nervousness because the forest was usually filled with the sound of chirping insects and moving creatures at night. It was unusual for there to be complete silence. But I did not heed my trepidation as I followed the light. It was constantly moving, weaving its way through the endless darkness behind my closed eyes. I do not know how long I followed the light but I knew I had ventured further than I had ever dared to before. The ground beneath me felt different. The earth was packed harder and I stumbled a few times in this unfamiliar terrain. The light led me further and further into strange territory and I felt greatly displaced and disoriented as I kept my eyes tightly closed and followed it. The air began to feel different, almost wet. My footsteps reverberated with a strange echo I had never heard before. I continued on in this way for a long while until the light stopped suddenly. I became aware of a strange sound close by. It sounded wet and squelching. The light suddenly blinked out and I opened my eyes. I could not comprehend what I was seeing at first because my eyes were blurred from being shut for so long. As my eyes adjusted I realized I was not in complete darkness. There was a glow emanating from behind me and illuminating what was directly in front of me. My vision was filled with a singular sight. All I saw was red. I took a step back and almost stumbled. I realized that I was staring at a wall and I saw that the red ended in smeared edges at the periphery of my vision. It smelled just like the creatures of the night when they tore one another open and I knew I was in a dangerous place. My breathing quickened but I stayed quiet for I knew to become one with the darkness when there were hunters nearby. I slowly turned around. I was not prepared for the horror that lay before me. The light I had followed hung overhead. It was smaller and duller than the vision I had followed but it glowed with the same soothing shine that I had seen. However, what it shone upon was far from soothing. Dismembered bodies lay everywhere. I do not know how many poor souls were there in that place, but it seemed countless. Stacks of torn apart torsos, a large pile of arms and legs. And then there were the heads. The heads were lined up against the opposite wall in a neat line along its bottom. Their eyes had been torn out of their sockets and placed neatly on top of the heads with their cords still attached. They resembled the antennae of insects I had seen crawling along the ground or on the bark of trees. The line stretched out a far way on both sides and I knew it was too many to count. They were in varying states of decay but some looked as if they had been set there that day. And in the center of the carnage and directly underneath the light was the hunter. She was enormous. Even sitting on the floor she was twice as large as I was. Her brow was heavier set than mine and her hairy knuckles bulged from her hands. Her bottom lip jutted out as she picked at an oozing pile of entrails before her. She lifted up an intestine and her huge flat nose twitched as she sniffed at it. She let out a sharp guffaw and sank her teeth into it. I saw that she had three rows of razor sharp teeth. I sank down slowly into the corner where the wall met the floor onto my hands and feet. I was adept at crawling around on just my toes and fingertips and I could move noiselessly like this. I opened my mouth and breathed slowly to minimize any noise. I began to slink away in the direction I felt I had walked. I crawled and crawled my fingertips sinking into the coagulated blood that coated the floor. Past viscera and carnage I saw bodies pinned down by heavy stones. Some looked more whole than others. I did not look closely at them but maneuvered my way slowly past them. As I reached the edge of the bodies I saw a faint light ahead of me and I realized that it was the entrance to this place. I had never been in a cave before but I realized that this opening was my way out. I made a more direct line towards it. There was a body lying face-up. Its arms and legs had been torn off and its insides were spilling out. It looked incredibly fresh and I had to keep myself from retching as I stepped over it. My arm brushed its face as I squeezed between it and the wall and its eyes suddenly sprang open. I reeled back in shock as I realized this poor man was still alive. Then he started screaming. Blood and vomit gurgled in his howls and even under the heavy stone his torso twitched and bucked enough to displace it. It rolled off of him with a loud crash and he began writhing wildly. As he writhed his entrails spilled out further and blood spouted out from him. My head immediately turned back towards the hunter and I was full of fear and despair. The hunter was staring right at me with the intestine hanging out of her mouth. I jumped to my feet and sprinted towards the opening. I did not look back as I heard the intestine drop. A hunter roars after a successful hunt and its cries will pierce the night along with the scent of viscera. But, they are quiet before they make their kills. I did not hear her give chase but I knew she was coming. I burst out of the cave and into the night. I saw that the strange terrain I had felt was the hard earth of a clearing that led to the cave. There was only a short distance to a line of trees. I immediately ran towards them. Hunters had no hope of keeping up with me once I reached the trees. They could not climb because of their lumbering size. I was lightweight and could leap from branch to branch and escape them easily. If I could only make it to the trees I would be safe. I ran with all my might under the light of the moon that was barely showing itself from behind a layer of clouds. My chest roared in agony and my breath came ragged and frantic. My feet slammed against the hard earth and my arms swung wildly. My heart pounded and the wind rushed in my ears. The trees were close. They were right in front of me. I was so close I could touch them. I was going to make it. I HAD to make it. I felt relief and victory as I came to the nearest tree. I was almost there. Then she caught ahold of me. I actually did make it. I had leapt up and set a foot and a hand on the trunk of the nearest tree and I would have clambered up with ease in less than a second if she hadn’t been right behind me. The hunter had moved much much much faster and quieter than I had. I had hoped she was still in the cave. That is why the hunters ruled the forest’s floor in the night. I had no chance. She yanked me off the tree by my leg and swung me around. The world blurred and broke into a million pieces as she pirouetted and shattered me against the tree’s trunk. I knew I was dead as I felt my insides crack and burst and I saw blood immediately gush out of newly formed holes in me. I could not cry out for all the air inside me was gone and I hung limply in her grip as she held me up in the full brightness of the moon’s light that had come out from behind the clouds. The moon gazed down upon us with neither tender mercy nor vindictive cruelty. It simply watched as the hunter fulfilled her natural tendencies unto her prey. She seized one of my arms in her giant hand and, with a grunt, tore it from my body with ease. Like plucking a leaf from a tree. That’s when I screamed. But my scream was only momentary as I gurgled and coughed up blood and vomit spewed out of my mouth. She dropped me and I lay there a broken, bleeding, and dying heap as I watched her lift my arm up to her gaping maw and take a large bite from it. As she chewed she guffawed and inhaled heavily, then she let out a loud bellow to announce her victory to the forest. The leaves in the trees around us shook and I heard their rustling all around. Then everything was quiet and there was only the sound of us. My dying breaths coming out labored and ragged intermingled with my choking on vomit and blood, and her quiet grunts and slowly deliberate and wet chewing. Occasionally she would let out a quiet satisfied moan and I could hear her teeth scrape against the bone. I could not move my head and turn away so I watched as she ate my arm. My vision turned red and I blinked several times as blood spilled from my broken skull into my eyes. Everything was blurred and the corners of my vision were darkening. I knew when she was finished with my arm she would tear another piece from me. She would keep going until she was satisfied and then she would take me into the cave and weigh me down with a heavy rock. I was full of despair and was wishing to die quickly so I would not be like the screaming torso that had alerted her to my presence. Blood was leaking out from my face and I could see a pool forming on the earth in front of me. That’s when my blood came alive. It seemed to rise up as it gathered itself and formed itself into a perfect sphere about the size of one of the hunter’s fists. Two thin tendril-like appendages shot out from either side of the sphere and they ended with an extremity that looked like a fingerless hand equipped with a flat thumb. It seemed as if its extremities were good for mobility and gripping but not for actual grabbing. The sphere stayed still for a brief moment then twitched and began moving its appendages wildly as it scrabbled quickly towards the hunter. She did not notice as it climbed onto her foot and up her leg. She took another bite from my arm as it moved its way up her torso. Then she saw it. She immediately dropped my arm and roared and swatted wildly at the blood creature. It evaded her swipes and climbed up past her flapping breasts, up her throbbing neck, and onto her face. She began bellowing as it latched onto her right eye and she clawed wildly at it to no avail. It used one of its appendages and as easily as she had torn my arm off it plucked her eye out of its socket. Her bellows became higher pitched and agonized. The blood creature shoved itself against the gaping socket and let the eye fall. The eye swung from her face with its cord attached and the hunter started slapping her face in a crazed and frenzied attempt to squash the blood creature. It took no heed as it pressed itself into the socket and slowly oozed in. I watched it disappear completely into her head. She fell to her knees directly in front of me and stopped struggling. Her arms dropped limply to her sides and her mouth hung open. Her face bulged and was full of pulsating veins as a teardrop of thick blood leaked down her cheek from the empty eye socket. It grew into a torrent. Blood gushed out of her eye suddenly like a forceful flood spraying into the night air and onto my already bloody face. I watched as it increased in pressure and her other eye popped out and blood spewed from both sockets. The blood kept coming and coming and her face cracked from the forehead down to the chin. A red line quickly seeped blood and then her face split completely open and intestines and entrails spilled out from her face. She fell back and began flailing in throes of anguished death as her insides continued to pour out from her face. It seemed her entire insides spilled out and lay as a heap on where her face used to be. When they finally stopped coming out she was still. Everything was quiet as the hunter and her steaming piles of organs lay there. Then SHE came. The perfect one. The hunter’s torso cracked and split open and, like an exquisite bird hatches, she rose up from the hunter’s desecration. She was as tall as the hunter but infinitely more elegant. Where the hunter had been knotted callouses and thick bones she was dainty curves and toned muscles. Her skin glowed with the same beauty as the light I had seen behind my closed eyes. The light of the moon I had seen in my dreams. The light of hope and comfort and safety. And I knew her name was Puricite. She turned to me and knelt down next to me and even through the filter of blood’s red I saw her face full of compassion and mercy. She cradled my broken body in her hands and lifted me up with ease. She rocked me as a mother rocks her child and I felt I was in the uppermost branches of the tallest tree riding a rustling wind of pure night. My breathing became less labored and I felt a hot searing sensation where my arm had been torn off. My insides creaked as my bones and organs stitched themselves back together. She gently placed me back down and I stood up. I saw that my arm was returned. It is by her grace that I am alive and have continued to live. Whenever I am dying she will cradle me and return me to a state of health. I have lived and served her for eons because of her ability to heal me. It is only the blood in my eyes that has never gone away. And the world was, is, and always will be red. She took me by the hand and led me through the forest. There were no hunters that approached us for the death cries of a hunter cause all the creatures of the forest to flee in fear. For what may slay a hunter is something unknown and a far greater danger than anything else. She led me a far way. To a place I did not know. The night faded away into bright day as we walked and walked until we reached the edge of the forest. We looked out from its edge and she gestured for me to look and I saw many more people like me moving in the light of the sun. I saw hunters too. The ones like me and the hunters were together. There were many of them. They had cut down trees and had shaped them into shelters. They were moving piles of food into an open flame and moving the food into containers. They were hanging furs and sitting together. There were children of both people and hunters frolicking and squealing in joy. As I stared in wonder and incomprehension I felt her grip my arm strongly. I whimpered in pain and turned to her and I saw her staring into my face. Her eyes were open far wider than any creature’s I had seen before. Her mouth was open in a smile that stretched to both sides of her face and I could see the seemingly endless rows of razor-sharp teeth that filled her mouth. She gripped my arm tighter and tighter and I looked down and saw that her nails had dug into my flesh. As pinpricks of blood began to leak out her beautiful glowing silver skin took on a darker crimson hue that matched my blood.