There’s a nature park a few miles from my house. It has a marked trail that winds through a wooded forest. Sometimes I take my dog there for a little variety in our walks. It probably doesn’t matter that much to her though. She just wants to sniff the trees and chase wildlife. I keep her on a leash for their safety but her collar is kind of loose. If she really wants to escape, she can (and has). I’ve tried tightening it but it’s as snug as I can get it. I’d buy a smaller one but it doesn’t happen often enough to be an issue. At least not in the past. One day last week she began tugging fiercely on her leash. They teach all sorts of training techniques on how to stop unwanted behavior like that but Thelma is a husky; and they aren’t nearly as eager to please their humans as most dog breeds. Pulling is in their genes. She’s only pulled hard enough to remove her collar a couple other times. I don’t know what she saw in the woods, but it was enough to shimmy out of her collar and break free like her life depended on it. Fearing it might be a rabid animal in her sight, I chased after her. Naturally she took off at a furious pace I couldn’t replicate without a motorized vehicle. I’d soon lost sight of her but I could still hear her in hot pursuit (of whatever it was). Calling and yelling did no good. She only responded when it benefited her. Finally I caught up to her. She’d stopped by the edge of a large tangle of underbrush in the woods. She paced around it frantically, wagging her tail and circling the mound with hyper focus. I figured it was a possum or raccoon living in there. Heaven help us if it was a skunk or den of snakes. The truth was actually worse. I witnessed the tell-tale evidence of a man-made bunker before us. As I had carried her collar for the whole heart-pounding chase, I tried to unfasten it and slip it back around her neck. Whoever was living in that hollowed out enclosure in the deep woods would definitely not appreciate our intrusion. Thelma just barked frantically. She never barks unless it’s highly important to her. Like most huskies, they howl or ‘talk’ most of the time. I was already on the edge from the uncomfortable situation; and hearing her bark on top of it just added to the creepiness. She wouldn’t sit still long enough to slip the collar back on her so I could drag her away. I feared some crazed hairy mountain man would spring up from a hidden trap door and shoot me at any moment! Thelma was making things infinitely worse. She began to dig frantically at what I assumed was the entrance. I hissed at her and tried to pick her up. She wasn’t having it. For whatever reason, she desperately wanted inside the bunker; and I wasn’t going to be able to stop her. I debated giving up and leaving her. Ultimately I’m a coward at heart. I wasn’t about to be attacked or shot by some antisocial hermit living ‘off the grid’. She could fend for herself. I’d go back and get help. The authorities could deal with whatever soul was dwelling there. Just as I was about to run back to my car, Thelma slipped in through a trap door and was gone. I was torn between the pragmatism of saving myself, versus the emotionalism of saving her from whatever was down in the bunker. I’ll let you guess which side won. I crept inside the bunker slowly. I feared it might be booby-trapped or I would encounter the occupant before I could explain my intrusion. I whispered for Thelma but she was nowhere to be seen. I used my cell phone to light the way but there was a surprising amount of natural light filtering through some improvised ‘skylights’. The bunker was much more spacious than I expected. I suppose I thought it was just going to be a narrow hole in the ground. The truth was, it was expansive and incredibly well-braced. I could even stand upright. There were a number of large corridors leading in different directions. There was no telling how far the tunnels went. I called Thelma again. She finally showed her head and I successfully collared her. Just as I was about to drag her outside to safety, I was struck by something very odd. Everything felt ‘familiar’. I couldn’t shake the deja-vu feeling that I ‘knew’ something about the place! Obviously that was impossible but as I looked around the dank hideaway, I had the unshakable sensation I’d been there before. Thankful I didn’t run into the ‘owner’, my dog and I left the bunker as close as possible to how we’d found it. It was a small miracle that he was out gathering supplies, or whatever. I vowed to call the forest service and report it just as soon as I got home. I also intended to pick up a better collar for her. Obviously I didn’t want to accidentally discover any more hidden bunkers in the woods. When I got home, I looked up the local parks and forest service phone number. Somehow the first link that came up in my phone was the right one. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain such an odd thing but when a park ranger answered the phone, I blurted out my incredible discovery. I half expected the guy to hang up on me but to his credit, he listened with no judgement as far as I could tell. I described the events of finding the bunker and the general area where it was. Then he asked if I would accompany him to locate it. Frankly, I was so surprised he even believed me that I readily agreed to show it to him. I figured there would be more safety in numbers. It was near sundown so we both agreed it would be safer to go in the morning. I met Ranger Ross and the two of us started down the trail. Thelma started getting agitated again when we neared the same area where she’d broken away before and led me to it. Just as the previous evening, she started whining and pulling hard on the leash. At least there wasn’t going to be an difficulty locating it. The ranger and I allowed her to guide us back to the source of our journey. She barked and wagged her tail in animated excitement. Once we approached the mound, the ranger motioned for me to stand behind him. He quietly unholstered his service revolver and crept up to the bunker. To my surprise, he went straight up to the hidden trap door, without Thelma or I showing him where it was. It was well hidden and I didn’t see how he could’ve guessed it was there. My suspicions and paranoia were having a field day. Had the ranger been there before? Was he somehow involved with the bunker? Even more strange, he pulled open the trap door with no apparent concern, and then a well dressed man exited! It was incredibly jarring. The man in the suit was very familiar. My knees buckled. Thelma went over to the bunker occupant and started licking him like he was a long-lost friend of ours. The ranger put his gun away. I still had no idea what was going on. It was beyond surreal. Thelma obviously knew the man and she was aquatinted with the bunker too. The ranger came over and put his arm around me in an apparent gesture of support. The well-dressed man instructed Ranger Ross to guide me inside. I was deeply afraid of what I might find there. My knees were knocking. I stumbled though the opening while my dog and the other two men led the way to whatever epiphany I was supposed to witness. Blind trust instructed me to comply. Once inside the main corridor, a battery powered lamp was switched on by one of my companions. When illuminated, I recognized the walls of the bunker. Not from my brief foray into the mystery the day before, but prior to that. Somehow my memory was only letting me remember small details, a little bit at a time. The harder I tried to force it to come back, the more my head pounded. The well-dressed gentleman introduced himself as Dr. Jackson. He explained that he was my therapist and I’d experienced a deep trauma at the bunker some time in the past, which fragmented my memory. Through immersion therapy and repetition, he and the ranger were trying to help me come to full terms with my experience. I asked for greater details. Dr. Jackson said I still wasn’t quite ready for the full truth yet, but I was making ‘remarkable progress’. He felt I would be ready in just a few more ‘cycles’. I marveled at the implications. I had apparently led rangers to this bunker in the woods many times in the past. Each time I get a little closer to accepting the unpleasant truth and releasing the block to my memory. I still don’t know what it is, but one day soon I hope to. Thelma will need another walk in a few days. I’m sure she’ll start dragging me toward the hidden truth about ‘the bunker’.


“Dad!” A little voice called from deep in some crevice of one of the Bercan family’s rooms. The call was followed by a drawn out wail, which gathered intensity until it could sustain itself no longer and it came crashing down flights of octaves to end in an exaggerated sob. Durie Bercan, the father being called for, left his desk and hurried down the dark hallway, trying not to trip over toys and towels on the way. His two children had just left the bathroom to run to their shared bedroom and snuggle into their beds, when the entire house had gone dark. Durie guessed that this was what had caused the wail. He reached the bedroom door without injury, and tried to turn on the light. Remembering the situation, he rolled his eyes at himself, and opened the blind on the window instead, which let a little light into the room. “There you go, Eevie,” he said, forestalling another unnecessary wail. “Can you see now?” “No.” Durie smiled, thankful that the darkness hid his approval. “Why is it dark?” Ten-year-old Alexander asked. Durie didn’t blame him for being unsettled. The darkness was extreme. At night time, the house would usually be dimly illuminated by bulbs hanging from the roof of each room, and outside each street had brilliant ropes of light running down each side to show the way to any late drivers, but now there was no light aside from the pale moonlight which entered the room uncertainly through the lace curtain on the window. “I think it’s so that we can enjoy this night especially,” Durie answered with a smile in his voice. “What do you think?” By this time, the three had found each other and Durie and Alex were holding hands. Five-year-old Eevie still thought she was little enough to be held in her dad’s strong arms, and at special moments, she was allowed to, so she jumped up against him, and Durie lifted her up with one arm. Eevie was no longer concerned by the malfunctioning lights. This was fun. “What do you mean? Can we not go to bed?” Both children were eager to make this a profitable opportunity. “No… But I think you can go to bed somewhere else. Would you like to tent in the backyard tonight?” “Yes!” Eevie bounced up and down in excitement, and Durie had to let go of Alex’s hand to keep her from falling. “Okay, come on. Bring your pillows and blankets and a toy if you want, and we’ll go set the tent up. I hope mum doesn’t mind!” —— — It didn’t take long for everything to be set in order in the backyard. Or, at least relative order. Eevie was wearing a pair of her brothers socks and if you looked really closely, you’d see that a part of the tent was being held together with sticky-tape, but everyone was content, sitting in a circle, looking up at the evening’s stars through the tent’s skylight. A little hand rose slowly and pointed to the sky, and Durie looked at his daughter’s face as she stared with rapture at the white diamonds in the sky. “Never seen this many stars,” Alex commented in a low voice. Their father said nothing, not willing to break the beautiful moment if peace. Any minute now, he sensed that both of his children would start to drift off to the shores of sleep and while he wanted the time they were spending to last forever, suspended like the yellow moon in the sky to the very last, he also knew they needed to get to sleep. Eevie wrapped her arms around his neck, and her head fell gently to Durie’s shoulder. Across from them, Alex lay down on his makeshift bed, his eyes glued to the skylight. “I think it’s beautiful,” he mumbled. “I do too.” Was the last thing either child heard until the sun hit their eyelids the next day. — — — Durie woke up, cramped and stiff in the morning. He had spent time on ships, sleeping in bunks and berths before, but never with two wriggly, precious children. However, he got up as soon as the sun rose in the sky, and went inside, checking first that his Eevie and Alex were still comfortable and warm. Then, after working out that the power was back on, he stretched a few different ways, warming up his joints for the day. Durie looked up curiously when he heard a knock on the front door of the house. Wondering who it was, he walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it wide enough to look out. On the Bercans’ front porch, there were two uniformed men in their thirties. One was holding a clipboard, and the other had some sort of fancy telecommunication device in his hand. “Good morning,” the man with the clipboard began, in a forced cheerful voice. “My name is Bob Waters, and this is Stephen. We are here to gather some information about last night’s power outage and how it may have affected the locals. If you could answer a few questions, that would be wonderful.” Durie relaxed. “Okay.” This could have been worse. “First, we need to know some basic details about you and your family, if that’s okay?” “I guess so.” - - - The questionnaire was completed and the two men moved on to the next house in the street. Durie turned around from watching them when he heard movement behind him. He smiled widely at his wife’s sleepy appearance as she exited the bedroom. “Good morning, sleepy-head. Did the baby keep you up last night?” This raised a smile on Mrs Bercan’s lips, and she laid a hand at the bottom of her round abdomen. “No, she - or he - was pretty still last night. How about you. You slept outside with the two little monsters but you look like you survived it pretty well.” “Without a scratch!” Durie and his wife embraced and then both of them suggested coffee at exactly the same time. They walked to the kitchen, laughing. - Four days later, Mrs Bercan was alarmed when she heard frustrated arguing coming from the office. Approaching the closed door, she heard her husband say, “You never disclosed anything about this decision. This isn’t fair!” She could hear raw fear in his voice. Something she couldn’t remember hearing before. Concerned, she opened the door and looked in. Durie was on the phone, pacing around his desk, his face wrinkled in concentration and horror at the news he had received. He was so engrossed in the call he didn’t even see her enter. “I told you why I can’t go. There needs to be a choice here.” He demanded. “No…” He hung his head, realizing he was beaten. A few seconds later he hung up the phone with a crash and kicked the leg of his desk splintering the wood. “Durie, darling, what’s the matter?” Mrs Bercan asked, her concern evident. He turned to her, realizing he wasn’t alone. “Oh, Sarah. Sorry. I-” He didn’t continue for a minute. Then he put his hands on the sides of her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I’ve been conscripted. I thought I was going to get away with staying here, since I have you and the kids, but I’m afraid they found out the other day when they were surveying our area after the power outage, and they’ve not given me any room to appeal the call.” “Oh, Durie!” Sarah exclaimed in horror. “No.” He brought her into his arms for a hug, both of them seeking comfort from each other. “I know. I hate them for doing this. They don’t think we matter.” “They’re wrong.” Durie nodded silently. - Durie tried again and again to have the summons revoked, with no results. He begged and promised and prayed, but the law was unfeeling and unbendable. On the day he was to be taken to the Navy headquarters for assignment, a straight-backed Navy recruitment officer arrived with two other officers to back up him up. Both of the children were at school. Durie had been subtly, delicately, saying goodbye to them for the past week. He would have broken down on the doorstep if they had been there. Sometimes the hard way was best. “Take care of yourself, Sarah. And bubs.” He looked fondly at his wife’s baby bump, trying to ignore the little voice in his head - his subconscious thoughts - saying that he wouldn’t get to see the birth. “I will, Durie. And don’t forget to look after yourself. Make some friends. I know you’ll be in a hard group, since you were conscripted, but you can do it. I love you. I believe in you.” She kissed him, and then let him go. The officers had already walked back to their car and the horn blared, startling Durie from his pensiveness. “I love you. And the kids. Tell them I said that, okay?” “Yes.” “Goodbye.” His wife waved. Tears began to spill from her eyes, but she wiped them away immediately. In the back of his mind, the thought ‘I can’t believe this is happening… I can’t believe this is happening.’ was repeating itself, as Durie was forced to turn his back on his house and his family. His life. As he reached the car, Durie turned back, numb. He couldn’t wave, but he never appreciated his wife more than the moment he was leaving her, perhaps forever. He climbed into the car silently, watching out the window as his wife, his house, and eventually the city were left behind.


May 30th, 2016 The Little Things “Mommy, can we go get some candy?” “No, not today. Maybe tomorrow we can go.” “But mommy!” “I said no Sarah.” Sarah groaned and headed to her room and closed the door behind her. Her mother sighed then went on with her daily task, cleaning the house. She vacuumed, washed the dishes, re-organized the bookshelves, and made the beds. By the time she was done all this it was 4:00 PM. She glanced at the clock. “Oh shit! I have to go to my interview soon.” She went over to her purse, opened it, and called the babysitter. Sarah was in her room playing with her dolls when her mother came in the room and told her the babysitter was coming. She kissed her daughter goodbye and left the house. Allyson was off to her first interview. She’d never had a job before, so this was a new thing for her and she was quite nervous. She looked at the time on her phone. 4:10 PM. Her interview is at 4:20 so she assumed she would have enough time to make it on time. She walked down her street, down another, and finally arrived on the street where her interview is. She was headed for the Tim Hortons door until she saw a poor man lying in a patch of grass. His clothes were rugged and covered in dirt. For a moment she just stood there looking at the man, until the man got up and looked over at her. She quickly turned away and went inside Tim Hortons. She checked the time again. 4:18, two minutes early. She noticed her boss in the back interviewing another women. The conversation seemed to be going well. Allyson began to feel like she would screw this interview up completely. Maybe this women was better than her. The interview ended and Allyson quickly put those thoughts to rest. Her boss noticed Allyson and called her to the back. Now it’s her turn to get interviewed. Allyson shook the boss’ hand and they both sat down. The boss started off with small talk, then got down to business. He asked a lot of questions, but Allyson realised it wasn’t as bad as she thought it’d be. The interview went by quickly and Allyson left with very high hopes. She knew she would get this job. As she was leaving she noticed that the homeless man was gone. She got home, and sent the babysitter on her way. The next day she got a call from her boss saying that she got the job. She went to work the day after, and the next day, and the next day after that. Each day she’d notice the homeless man outside of Tim Hortons. After weeks and weeks of working, one day at work she decided to buy the man a coffee and a bagel. She walked up to him and said “Hey, I got you some food. You like coffee and bagels?” The man smiled and replied “Yes, I love coffee and bagels. Thank you.” The next few days she kept getting the man coffee and bagels, each day he would very graciously accept the food and drink. One day she went to work, and by the end of her shift she went to give the man his coffee and bagel but he was nowhere to be found. She searched everywhere around Tim Hortons, but could not find him. “Are you looking for the old homeless man?” Allyson turned around and saw one of her fellow employees, Emily. “Do you know where he is?” replied Allyson. “I heard he was shot and killed last night sometime after your shift.” said Emily. Allyson dropped the coffee and bagel, then slowly walked home. As she was walking she thought of what she did to help him. She knew that it’s the little things that matter and at least she tried to help him.


"...and he burps. He doesn't even say 'Excuse me' anymore. Just yesterday he... he wanted to bed me and place his, you know..." The individual listening to this interaction, positioned on the end of the second row in a rather petite call center, waited for the caller to finish. "Ma'am? Are you still there? Place his 'You Know'...?" The call agent knew what the answer was but after a few years in this job, it's best to let the customer finish their statement. Sometimes it's out of necessity to never assume, sometimes it's to make them say it. "He wants to stick. His thing. In a place where it isn't supposed to be." The agent scratched above where the cheap foam of a call center headset met her upper ear lobe. This was going nowhere, other individuals were waiting for the 'Next Available Representative'. "To be blunt, you're saying he wants to stick his dick in your ass. Is that what you're saying?" A gasp. A pause. The agent continued, "And you don't want to do that. Because you're a princess. And that isn't what a princess does. And why would he want to do that to you? Are these all questions that you're mulling around right now? Does he also want to see a few of the peasant girls? How many times has he hit you smelling of alcohol?" When you've taken enough calls, you can recognize the sound of tears hitting a receiver. "If it's /that/ important to him, you'll do it or he will find someone else who does. That will put your contract in danger." When issuing the hot tears associated with true emotional pain, the human face does this weird thing where it's almost a caricature of a frown. The most unfortunate part is that they often elect this moment as the best time to talk, completely altering their diction. Through that face the caller half-whispered, "This isn't what I wanted." "I know. But you made a deal. How'd he save your life?" Another pause. "Curse. I was turned to stone for a hundred years. He heard of my beauty. Journeyed for a year to find me through the Blood Forest. The Wicked Queen met us there in the clearing where I was a statue. As he lay defeated at my feet, his tears touched the stone and I turned to flesh. He healed." "Tears of True Love package. That's what it's showing on your account. Unfortunately, you're in this until the contract is broken." The file also showed that the witch had been relocated to another story; however, Antagonist Relocation wasn’t her department and they kept notes on an entirely different system for the most part. With a shaky voice the caller asked, "What happens when I break the contract?" "I hope you're somewhere you want to stay a while," the representative said without missing a beat. There's a sound that humans make when they lose everything, when that last door closes, or when they realize there is no escape. That sound was followed by an abrupt and ear-splitting pop. After the three minute rule that necessitates checking once a minute to see if the caller is on the line, the representative disconnected the call. There was no question what had just happened and that would make the fourth call this week. While you know it isn't your fault entirely, it wears on you. She decided to take a smoke break. Just as she was about to press the buttons on her phone a voice echoed over the cubicles: "Glinda? Could you go into three?" When she pressed "1" on her phone, it was a break. Other buttons did other things but those weren't really important. The requested number "3" indicated a meeting with her supervisor. Of the two numbers she knew the meanings of, the one requested was her least favorite. Glinda stood from her uncomfortable chair and walked past several others to the cube of her GM, or Godmother. These individuals oversaw and reviewed the case interactions of the call agents. The GM offered Glinda a seat next to a pair of cheap headphones and said, "Grab a headset and let's review this last call you had." "I just listened to a young woman revise a story's moral. It's pretty fresh in my mind. What do you want to tell me to change or that I did wrong. I need a God damned cigarette." The GM's ever present aura of sparkles always sparkled less when confronted and cursing was always considered an act of confrontation. "Have your cigarette. We need to discuss your future with the company when you return." Glinda walked past 30 other women on her way to the door. She didn't look at anyone on the way out and only heard bits and pieces of them explaining that this was the deal, regardless of their knowledge than a binding agreement had been made; their curse debt was essentially transferred and there are rules.. She quit smoking a month ago but every time. Every time, it's this fucking place. A small area was allocated for smoking outside the center and, if you ignored that area and kept walking around the building, you would eventually wind up at the back of the building which was devoid of light pollution. You could see the Milky Way from here and, after her relocation, that was the only thing Glinda lived for: seeing something that large and feeling small because every other day she just felt small without seeing the profound immensity of the galaxy. Glinda used to protect a location known as Oz. Her sister did a number on it and as bad luck would have it genetics only granted her powers related to changing horse colors, fashion items, and bubble teleportation. The other two nautical directions did most of the fighting when It, proper noun intended, started. Glinda hid and cried often over the tortured citizens of Oz that she could not help. The action of smoking a cigarette was all muscle memory for Glinda. Without even processing the action she had flipped open the pack, extended a smoke with her thumb, grabbed it between her lips, flipped her lighter on her palm once to place the action at her thumb, and placed her cigarettes back into her pocket. "Bitch didn't even come from magic." Glinda was somewhat bitter over the moment that Oz was vindicated from the hands of the Wicked Witch of the West. A lucky shot followed by literally winning through blunders. Dorothy was a sweet girl but sweet girls always cause the most problems. After Dorothy left, Glinda was sort of in an uncomfortable role. The inhabitants of the area already knew she was fully incapable of protecting the realm. And that Oz refused to. For a month the Munchkins would coagulate at bars too small for humans to enter. The night it happened, Glinda watched as 50 Munchkins surrounded Oz -- her hot air balloon quickly ascending. She ducked behind the wicker of the basket. To this day she doesn't know what that first strike was upon his body -- but the sound of it vividly haunts her dreams every now and then. It was guttural and a forceful expulsion of air encountering a profound amount of liquid. It sounded like a man being forcefully drowned and he didn’t know why. They were yards away from the main fountain and candy canes had been disappearing for two weeks. The ‘didn’t know why’ part was quite valid, though. Oz had an awful system in terms of political power. Distrust for a populace of ‘savages’. A magician who ruled through parlor tricks. When the antagonist that held everyone’s attention was defeated, change was in the air. The revolt the Munchkins set up a completely functional form of Parliamentary Democracy. The last time she heard, they had managed to start a space program. Glinda didn't even know if those planets out there were real. Guess they'll find out. Glinda was standing to the side of a call center that was, for the most part, a reception and support line for brokered deals between Godmothers and whomever was destitute enough to take up the offer. The talking mice? The dancing laundry? The subtle hints that your prince charming uses to make sure he doesn't quest himself into the sea? That's all under contract. When a woman accepts the first portions of that assistance, they are locked in an agreement of varying gravity to both the prince in question and to Glinda's corporation. God Mothers were also notorious for working both ends of the game. That prince didn't just appear and vast sums of money had been allocated to ensure that a proper prince had a proper trophy story for his trophy wife. Glinda remembered her first day, looking at the Human Resources manager, and saying that the practice seemed somewhat heartless. The Godmother looked Glinda straight in her eyes and asked if she honestly thought turning a pumpkin into a carriage was effortless. Glendia had never turned a pumpkin into a carriage. She remembered that royal carriage they used to utilize on special occasions. She remembered the royal guard of Oz being dragged behind it -- members of the Lollipop Guild riding on the bodies like sleds as the pack of horses ran through the cobblestone streets. They never changed colors the whole time, remaining black as night. She remembered trying to remind herself that this was an interview and now she was crying and now... The Godmother's formerly stern scrutiny faded into empathy, false or legitimate. "You haven't been gone long, have you?" It had been around three months and after the transition, especially in the case of populace reformation in the power vacuum of an evil ruler, things happen. Those things necessitate therapy before entering into the workforce. Staring up at the Milky Way and remembering this, Glinda had neglected to notice that her cigarette was now burning into the filter. Now her hand was going to smell like that all night. She placed the butt into the trash can and walked in, passing the Indian analogs of 'Good Witches'. Their multiple hands somewhat limited their ability to be accepted in the workforce and, even after saving entire lands and protecting kingdoms from evil: princesses would still ask for someone who spoke English. She sat back down at her desk in the Saves Department. In sales that term is intended for accounts where the customer wants to drop service. Similar concept. This is where the Good Witches ended up: begging princesses not to end it all or run away risking a very real Early Termination Fee. The department offered commissions; however, the success rate dictated an hourly wage. Sitting on Glinda's keyboard, wedged between the 'qwerty' and 'asdf' rows of keys, a piece of paper. 'The Road Takes You Where You Want It' These words, written in gold leaf. An image of a a road spiraling into the center of the card -- each brick also adorned with a small square of gold. The Godmother popped up behind her, startling Glinda nearly to dropping the piece of paper. Someone told her that you get used to that after your first year. "Why don't you go home early. You seem like you need a rest and we'll talk about that call tomorrow." That really wasn't a request so much as a command and Glinda treated it as such. She gathered her belongings, placed them into her purse, and exited the building. In the quiet peace of the late-late evening, playfully bordering just on the cusp of morning, she made her way to the bus stop adjacent to the center. Glinda sat down waiting for the bus to take her home. She stared at the card, unable to focus on anything but the spiral and the lack of sparkle in each progressively smaller brick. The seemingly-wide and inviting starting point leading to an inevitable singularity bereft of gold. There is a sound that humans make when they lose everything, when that last door closes, or when they realize there is no escape. That sound accompanied the irregular beat produced by tears tarnishing gold foil as Glinda waited for the bus. When you've taken enough calls, you can recognize the sound of tears hitting a receiver.


jiāoqiǎnyánshēn (交浅言深) Chinese, v. - to have a deep and intimate conversation with a stranger. The phone had been ringing nonstop for the past twenty minutes from an unknown number. Even when I denied the call, or put my phone on silent, I couldn’t get it to stop ringing. Despite knowing that this was definitely the first five minutes of a horror movie, I answered it. And as soon as the voice on the other end spoke, I knew who it was.

My birth mother. “Hello?” I called out, and she answered me. I didn’t think she would answer me. Didn’t think she could hear me. Didn’t think she’d listen. “Hello.” She replied, in perfect English. But it wasn’t English. But it wasn’t Mandarin, either. I don’t know what language it was, but it was one that we both knew. That we could both understand. Maybe we were the only two people in the entire world who could truly understand each other.

“Are you really who I think you are?” I asked her, even though I feared the answer as much as I anticipated it.

“Yes.” She answered. Yes, I am your mother. Yes, I’ve been looking for you. Yes, I’ve always missed you. Yes, yes, yes.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe, all the oxygen in my lungs having abandoned me. My mother didn’t abandon me. Didn’t want to leave me. Didn’t choose to give me up. That’s what I wanted her to say. I wanted to ask her all the questions I’ve had building up inside of me for the past twenty years. Things that I never dared say aloud, that I’d only allowed myself to dream of during sleepless nights. Things I never thought I’d even have the chance to say. But now that I could, I couldn’t get the words out. They were all tangled up on my tongue and between my teeth. I felt like my jaw had been wired shut, and nothing could pry them out of me. But I so desperately needed to say them. If I didn’t, I would choke on all the things I never said because I wasn’t brave enough. And I’d never let myself digest them, so they’d just sit on my tongue turning rotten. They’d leave a bad taste in my mouth. I took a deep breath, swallowing past the tightness that had wrapped itself around my throat. “Why did you leave me?” I managed to get the words past my lips and out into the open air, where they hung like all the empty space between us. Silence. I couldn’t take back my question, couldn’t have her take me back. It was too late for that. Too late to go back, to before she left me. But now that I’ve said it aloud, I’ve made myself vulnerable to her answer. Made myself visible to her gaze, letting her eyes cut through me and see inside my heart. The heart that has been harbouring all of the unspoken words and broken promises between us for all these years, weighed down by her existence but left empty by her absence.

Because a baby is born into the world expecting someone to be there to hold them, to care for them. To love them. But she had taken the word mother , and turned it into stranger . And I don’t know how to ask her to love me. I don’t know why I asked her a question that I already knew her answer to. I knew why she left me. She couldn’t keep me. It was as simple as that. Still, I asked, because I wanted her to tell me that it wasn’t my fault. Wanted her to tell me that if things were different, she would never have let me go. Wanted her to let me cry and wipe away my tears, to look at me and see herself in my gaze. Wanted her to see me for who I am. Wanted her to choose me. Wanted her to call me hers. Wanted her to hug me and hold me and never let me go. Wanted her to promise that she’d never leave me again.

I wanted and I wanted and I wanted and I never got what I asked for, until I got it all at once. Until I was overwhelmed by her, and all the sadness and grief and hurt she brought. That she came with. I think it is in our nature, to carry loss with us. It was like I’d been living with a cup filled to the brim with water, that I’d been carefully balancing all my life. And I didn’t dare move too quickly—moving forward would make me spill it. So I stayed in one place because I knew that if I spilt even one drop, the rest would come pouring out. I held the glass as tightly as I could, never letting it go or setting it down. Even when holding it hurt me, made my arm go numb, and my body ache. I couldn’t put the glass down because it would easily break. But then she bumped so carelessly into me, making me spill all of my secrets and fears, and now I’m left with the mess that she left behind. That she didn’t bother to clean up. She just walked away. Away from me. She didn’t even apologize. I wanted to hear her say she was sorry. Wanted to hear her say she’s thought about me every day. Wanted to hear her say she never meant to leave me, to hurt me. Wanted, wanted, wanted. Again, I wanted too much. Wanted something and someone that maybe I didn’t deserve. That maybe I didn’t need. I wanted and I needed and she just left me wanting and needing. And now all I can do is feel the s p a c e between us. Because I wanted her to say things I wasn’t ready to hear. I wanted her to say the three words I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear. “I love you.” But she didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything at all. The empty air was silent except for the ragged sound of my breath and the harsh pounding of my heart. Her silence was physical, a manifestation of all the loss she left me with. And I could never get back what I had lost, what she took from me. And when I looked down at the phone screen, I realized that we had been disconnected. And I was the only one left still hanging onto the line. I frantically hit the redial button, but all I got was an answering machine telling me that the number was unavailable. Would always be unreachable. Maybe it belonged to someone else entirely. Maybe it had never existed at all.

And when I looked back on the call history, the screen had been wiped clean. We were a blank slate, released from our past lives so we could move on to our new ones. Ones that didn’t have each other in it. It was as if she had never called at all. As if we were never connected in the first place. Because I can’t live carrying this glass of water anymore. It hurts too much. Because my question still hangs in the air, left unanswered. It will always be unanswered. Maybe she didn’t understand me, after all.


“Today is the day I change” I looked for any reaction from my one person audience but Rian barely even moved, her nose remained firmly buried in her book. “Are you even listening to me?” I asked her. “Nope” I deflated a bit but I couldn’t blame her. I had said it over a million times but saying was the easy part. I actually had to do something about it. And that was the difficult part. “You know maybe a little positivity would go a long way. How does anyone expect me to change if my closest friend doesn’t even think I can?” Rian sighed. “Would that make you leave me alone?” I shrugged. She finally dropped her book and stood. I sat up in my chair wondering what she would do. To be honest, I had not expected her to do anything. Rian and I had been best friends since we were children and she was a lot of things, but positive was not one of them. Not to say she was always a Debby Downer but I had only seen her put effort into encouraging someone once. Her effort had failed miserably. I was the effort that failed miserably. I watched her as she brought her hands up to her cheeks and pressed them into a weird imitation of a smile and her voice suddenly went up a pitch as she spoke. “Sean. You’re my bestest friend in the whole world and I’m so happy that you’ve finally decided to quit drinking.” At this point, her smile was stretched wide and her eyes closed while her hands waved at her sides like she was an anime character doing a bit. Then she ended it with two thumbs up. “I always believed in you Sean” I was speechless. I watched with my jaws on my chest as she sat down, picked her book and continued reading like nothing had happened. “What the heck was that?” Surprisingly, I wasn’t the one who asked the question. I turned to see my other friend, Jasper standing at the doorway with three boxes of pizza balanced on one hand and a six-pack on the other. I shook my head and turned back to Rian, but she was back to ignoring me. “Sean. What the heck was that?” Jasper asked dropping the beer and the pizza on the table. “I’m gone for two minutes and you guys have gone full freak on me?” “Dude, I have no idea what the hell just happened.” I was just as confused….. actually, more confused than he was. Seeing as neither of us had any answers, we turned to the one person who would. She didn’t even pay us any attention. “Come on, Ri. You’ve got to explain that” Jasper pushed when she ignored our stares. “I don’t want to.” Rian said simply. She reached over and grabbed a pizza slice from one of the boxes Jasper had brought in. “How did you guys even get to that?” Jasper asked. “cuz I’ve been running calculations and I just don’t understand how you guys got to ….that in your conversation” I shrugged as I grabbed a slice. Jasper handed me a bottle of beer while looking at me expectantly awaiting the story. I looked to Rian and she was actually listening. “I’m gonna quit drinking.” Jasper laughed. “Yeah right” “I’m serious. I’m gonna quit. I’m gonna change my life. Be a good person.” I’d actually been thinking about it for a while. When my ex-girlfriend, Janice, broke up with me, I’d retreated into the bottle. Within a span of two years, I became an alcoholic. I lost my job. I lost the respect of my peers. I lost my own self-respect. “Just like that?” Jasper asked. “Yeah” Jasper and Rian shared a look. I didn’t understand what was being communicated but clearly it was about me. I hated when people spoke about me behind my back and they both knew it, so they were probably doing it to annoy me. “What is it?” “Nothing” Jasper shrugged, taking a swig from his bottle. I snatched the bottle from his hands. “Tell me” He looked at Rian again. “Look it’s just…. We’ve been here before.” “What do you mean?” “Remember when we held that intervention after you crashed your car?” I flinched. I did remember. That was the only time I’d ever heard Rian give a speech; an inspiring one at that. I also remembered the promise I made them – to stop drinking. Most importantly, I remember breaking the promise the next night when I got into a drunken fight with Rian’s fiancé. They’d broken up that night after Rian got into a shouting match with him. He asked her to pick between us. She picked me. “Look, Sean. We really want you to change as well. But the thing is you’re never willing to put the work. Change isn’t automatic. It’s a process. You’ve got to actually want to change if not…” He shrugged. “You’re wasting everyone’s time” “That’s harsh.” I said quietly. “I’m sorry man. It’s the truth” I looked at Rian. She was always in my corner. We made that promise when we were young – Rian and Sean against the world. “Do you agree?” She looked away from me. “I’m always with you Sean. But I don’t think I have the strength to even try again if you’re not going to go through with it” I hadn’t realized how much I’d been hurting her or those closest to me. Suddenly it all made sense. Why they were always around even when they didn’t need to be. Why Rian hadn’t been on a date for over seven months. Why Jasper was always the one to get the beer. They were trying to make sure I wasn’t passed out drunk on the rails outside of town again (That only happened once. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life) Right there, I made a decision. I grabbed the bottle of beer Jasper had handed me earlier and walked to the kitchen. I could hear Rian and Jasper following me. I stopped at the sink and poured out the entire content of the bottle into the sink. I turned back to see their surprised faces. “I’m serious this time. I’m done being a liability. I want to change. No, I need to change” “It ain’t gonna be easy Sean. You’ll have to join AA sessions. Avoid bottles for the rest of your life. It’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. Are you sure you’re ready for it?” I nodded. “Sign me up” “Okay” Jasper said with a smile. I was proud of myself for making the decision but what made it all better was Rian’s smile. She hadn’t smiled like that in a while.


Hal coughed and blinked open his burning eyes, his breath stuttering as a wave of heat and nausea rolled over him. Holding his position bent forward against the steering wheel of the intercity transit bus, he took several deep, ragged breaths, focusing down at a mustard stain on his outsized middle as he attempted to regain his bearings. Another blast of heat assaulted him, hot enough to cause him to wince beneath the cover of his folded arms, and he shook his head weakly from side to side. Hazy memories began to cohere with his rational mind, and as they did, the distant sound of screeching began to rise in his ears. _Screeching—the screeching of tires… the pain in his arm and chest… the impact_ Jerking upright, Hal clutched a hand to his heart, gasping and squeezing at the meat of his chest. He was still in the bus… He had been driving, but then… Blinking furiously, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. A second wave of screeching wails met his ears and he frowned, turning to squint out through the glass doors. Where was he? He had been driving through the tunnel, but that didn’t look like concrete they were wedged up against… And that sound… That wasn’t tires against pavement. It almost sounded like— “—A great wailing and gnashing of teeth…” Hal spun in his seat, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice. His eyes fell on a man—a priest, clearly, by the collar at his throat. Black of hair with gray at the temples, he stood, staring out the window before him, a distant and highly troubling expression on his face. Hal grunted a bit as he leaned to unfasten his seatbelt, then turned the rest of the way to take in the state of his passengers. Staring back, he paused. _Where were the rest of them? There had been at least eighteen passengers at his last stop—where were they?_ Only three people remained on the bus: the priest, still staring through the window, a young woman, maybe eighteen at most, dressed to the nines in the thickest goth glam Hal had ever seen, and a young man wearing dark-rimmed glasses and sea-green scrubs. Both of the latter two were finding their feet, beginning to stare about at their surroundings, a look of confusion, similar to that which Hal, himself, was feeling etching their features. “Is everyone alright?” Hal asked hoarsely. “Where’s everyone else?” “Saved…” The priest’s voice was quiet and distant. Hal waited, but no further explanation followed. Shaking his head, he turned away. _Sounds like EMS must have already started getting folks out._ And just as well—Hal really didn’t feel like dealing with a shellshocked priest just now. Reaching his hand out, he fumbled to open the door, but it was jammed hard against the wall of the tunnel. Heaving himself up and out of the driver’s seat, he started walking down the center aisle. He stopped short when he made it to the priest. He hadn’t moved as Hal approached, just stood there like a statue, staring out the window. Heat pressed hard against the side of Hal’s face, and he turned to look out the same window. Flames glowed against the outside of the bus, stuttering and flaring in unsteady bursts, fighting against the interior lighting for dominance against the thin pane of tinted glass. _Shit! we’re on fire!_ Hal caught a momentary glimpse of his own stunned face in the reflection as the fire wavered and disappeared once again. Pushing past the priest, he quickly moved to the rear exit, throwing his shoulder hard against the glass-paned door when it wouldn’t immediately open. It budged, but only by a small crack, and through it, Hal was able to glimpse a mangled, soot-covered mass of corrugated steel, the remains of what looked like a shipping container, wedged tightly against the outside. He pushed against the door once more, but quickly gave up, turning back to try the emergency exit instead. Glass imploded from the opposite side of the bus, and a shriveled, smoking form hurtled in through the broken window. “Shit! Shit—oh shit!” The man in scrubs was shouting, scrambling over the back of the seat in an effort to distance himself from the burned and twisted body writhing in the aisle, right next to where he had been sitting. A few seats forward, the goth chick began screaming. A sigh of relief passed over the lips of the burned man, and Hal watched in shock as he relaxed against the filthy floor in what looked like rapture, nuzzling one blackened cheek against the rubber aisle. _What in the hell is going on?_ The rush of searing heat from the broken window brought Hal’s attention back up, and the sound of screaming and screeching increased. _Dammit, we’ve got to get out of here._ “Alright, everyone—off the bus, now! We’ll send EMS for him.” Crossing to the emergency exit, he jerked the lever up with one thick fist and threw it wide. Glass crunched underfoot as he waved the passengers forward. Goth chick was the first to jump ship, skirting around the smoking and sizzling man with a squeamish twist of her fishnet-clad legs, leather boots notwithstanding. The man in scrubs, casting one hesitant glance downward on his way past, quickly followed. “Yo, padre, you coming?” The priest, unmoved from his distant attentiveness, even through the entrance of the burning man, blinked at Hal as if coming back to himself and then nodded, turning to follow the others through the small exit. A scorching gust greeted Hal as he stumbled heavily to the ground, and he lifted an arm protectively in front of his face. Squinting through the caustic, sulfuric wind, he found the others just a few feet away, hovering close together far back in the space between the bus and the wall. Light flared from directly beside the huddled group and they all cried out as the nearest set of tires ignited and burst, dropping the bus sharply in their direction. Goth chick threw herself against the wall of the cave but then immediately jerked away again, as if burned, heavy streaks of black mascara running down her cheeks as she began to hyperventilate. “Where are we?” she cried, staring around the dark space with wild eyes. “What happened?” Hal held both hands out toward her, palms out, hoping to stave off any more hysterics. He really didn’t have time for hysterics. “Look, just calm down. Nobody panic. Miss, what’s your name?” Frantic eyes found his face. “A-Amelia.” Hal nodded, then turned to the man in scrubs. “Doctor Benjamin Turner,” he answered at Hal’s raised brows. “I’m a resident at County General.” _We’re in the middle of a freaking emergency and this guy’s going to make sure I know he’s a doctor?_ Hal shook his head, spitting out a globule of ash-tasting saliva before turning to the priest. The father furrowed his brows. “Who I was doesn’t really matter now. My judgement has been passed.” _Judgement? The hell’s wrong with this guy?_ Ignoring his words, Hal asked instead, “You said the others were already rescued. Where’s EMS? The cops?” The priest just stared at him. Hal stared back, the expression on the father’s face making him think there was something he wasn’t catching on to. Another blast of heat pressed against him, and he scrunched his eyes shut. He shook his head. “Whatever, Padre. Come on, we’ve got to get out of this tunnel before the whole bus blows.” “I wouldn’t.” The priest’s voice held a note of warning, and Hal paused in his motion of turning toward the rear of the bus where a small gap remained between it and the wall. “Excuse me?” “This cave, this… crevice, of unnotice—this is likely our last reprieve before final judgement throws us eternally into the fiery furnace. Whatever breath of the Kingdom we carried here with us… it will not abide long, not here.” _Fiery furnace? Judgement?_ Hal blinked hard at the man, shaking his head in frustrated bewilderment. “Dude, what the hell are you—” but then he broke off, slapping a hand to the side of his face as, with a painful flash, he remembered. _His vision shrinking to a small, bright haze; passengers and tires screaming in equal volume as the bus spun sideways; the oncoming semi careening through the freeway tunnel…_ Shaking his head, Hal cleared his spinning brain. “Are you telling me…” he began, a sinking drop plummeting from the pit of his stomach all the way to his toes. Then he shook his head again, scoffing at the ridiculous notion. This guy must have hit his head something fierce. “You’re crazy. How could a priest and a doctor end up in Hell?” He cast a momentary glance at Amelia but said nothing, earning a reproachful look in return. He ignored this, though; clearly, she hadn’t been going to church in those platform boots… Doctor Benjamin Turner, MD looked slightly uncomfortable, but it was the priest who replied. “It’s not simply a matter of our deeds that save our souls.” Then he took a ragged breath, staring out past the rear of the bus at the dim glow of light filtering in. “And it would appear that some sins truly are unforgivable…” Hal spared him one last incredulous look before turning away. “Whatever you say, Padre. I’m getting out of here.” He motioned to Amelia. “You coming? Doc?” Doc Turner nodded and moved to follow Hal and Amelia toward the dim light at the end of the tunnel. The bus had halted crookedly in the narrow space, and there was only a small crack between the rear of the vehicle and the wall in which to pass through. Sucking in his gut, Hal squeezed his body through the narrow gap, wincing as the heat of the stone burned his skin. His thoughts unconsciously slid back to the priest’s ominous statement as he felt it sear across his back. A rush of scorching air blew past him as he emerged around the bus, and he spun away from it, blinking to find the others following with much less difficulty. Clearing the ashy grit from his eyes, he turned back to the red glow. The sound of screaming was louder, nearly overwhelming, and Hal found himself adamantly denying the priest’s words. Again. And again. And then again. A horn blast, deep and thunderous, shook the tunnel with its basso call. Slapping his hands over his ears, Hal ducked his head, cowering against the heated wall. Through his squinted vision, he saw the red light at the end of the tunnel begin to flash. _Firetrucks! Thank God! But did they have to blare the horn like that?_ He turned to the others. “Looks like EMS is straight ahead,” he shouted over the remaining echo. “Likely thought it was too dangerous to enter the tunnel or something.” _That would do it, right? They were worried about the integrity of the tunnel so they didn’t drive the vehicles in?_ He choked and coughed on another lungful of caustic smoke, surprised at the worry he felt when he realized… it didn’t smell like diesel fumes. A tendril of flame shot up the wall to his right and he shied away. Amelia peeled her hands away from her ears. “Something’s not right,” she whimpered, staring around at the confining space. “Look,” Hal maintained, “you can see the flashers—they’re less than fifty yards away.” Doc Turner moved around her, staring at the mouth of the tunnel as he wiped his forearm across his face. A streak of black remained in its place. “No, she’s right.” “I’m telling you—” Hal argued, motioning to the light, now a dim, steady red again, and he hesitated. _Not flashing?_ “Look at this place,” the doctor hissed through a choked cough. “Does it look like a traffic tunnel to you?” Hal stared at him, squinting against the caustic air, the smell of sulfur and hot iron thick in his nostrils. “Look!” And as the young resident’s arm shot around in a frustrated attempt at illustration, Hal looked. Really looked. He blinked through the haze of heat, searching the walls, the ceiling, the floors. _Where were the lamps? No lines on the road? Those walls were made of stone, jagged and rocky, not concrete… Where the hell…?_ But he stopped that thought dead in its tracks. “Look, it doesn’t matter where we are! We need to get out before that whole bus goes up in flames!” Not waiting for an answer, Hal spun and began marching down the tunnel, skirting sporadic bursts of flame as he moved purposefully on, trying to ignore the rising sense of dread growing in his middle as the sound of cries and wails increased with every step, trying to keep his pace steady as the blistering wind blew with increasing fury against the exposed skin of his face and hands… trying not to think of the priest’s words. But as he emerged through the mouth of the tunnel, all thoughts of denial or rescue or redemption left him. Towering walls of rock and flame extended out from either side of him in an endless stretch, curving around until they faded into the distance amid a rippling haze of smoke and heat. Slowly, his gaze followed the concave arc of jagged rock as it plummeted downward to form a fiery, gaping basin. Hell was a bowl… Hell was one giant, inescapable bowl filled with writhing bodies, all screaming and scrambling over each other in a bid to climb to the higher reaches. Hal followed the rise of the sloping walls, his eyes tracking the burning escarpments up to where they terminated, high above them, their peaks shrouded in a glowing black event horizon of brimming darkness. The darkness sucked at him, pulling at his clothes, his duty vest, whipping the burning heat over his face until he was forced to turn away from the boundless expanse before him. A scream from right beside him caused him to jump, and he spun to find a body, crusted and blistered, climbing over the edge of the cliff at their feet. One smoking hand was clasped around Amelia’s leather-clad ankle. She screamed again and kicked out at the body, breaking its grip and causing it to fall backward from where it had emerged. Shocked, Hal quickly stepped to the brink. Leaning cautiously out over the edge, he watched as it tumbled, crashing against rocks and other bodies in its descent, those bodies joining the first to create a grotesque cascade plummeting to the center of the fiery bowl where they disappeared with agonal shrieks into a vast, burning lake. Hal stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape the precipice. Suddenly, the horn sounded again, and, in a panic, he ducked beneath the shelter of his arms, pressing his forearms hard against his ears when his hands overshot their goal. He felt a rumbling begin in the soles of his feet as the horrid blast reverberated over the increasing volume of cries and screams. And as he looked up, his frantic gaze sweeping the ledge, torrents of writhing bodies burst from the walls in all directions, flowing over each other in macabre rivers of flesh, oozing from cracks and crevices as if the walls themselves were bleeding. Hal flung himself backward into the passage right as the bodies began tumbling over the mouth of the tunnel in a sickening waterfall of limbs and twisted faces. The heavy, repetitive sound of flesh smacking into stone made Hal’s gorge rise and he backed away, deeper into the darkness to find the others already there—all three of them, including the priest. The father simply stared out at the gruesome river of fire and flesh, a grim acceptance in his features as he began to edge forward. “Father!” Hal shouted, gagging as fear-ridden nausea clamped his throat closed and his stomach heaved. “I am undeserving of that title,” the priest answered sadly, waiting for the cascade of bodies to ebb before moving closer to the lip of the cliff and staring down toward the lake of roiling fire. Hal coughed and gagged again, shielding his face with a forearm as a blast of heat smelling of brimstone and burning corpses rose up from the depths below. “Father, get back!” But the priest kept inching forward, eyeing the lake with a terrible intensity. “The fire already grows hotter. If I commend myself now, before the torment truly begins, will I meet oblivion? If I seek my second death, rather than flee it, will it still be eternal fire that awaits me?” Hal watched in horror as the priest inched a toe over the edge. Perhaps it was simple instinct that caught at the man, for Hal truly believed, in that moment, that the priest was about to commit to that second, irreversible step. But, instead, he stumbled, wheeling an arm out behind him to catch his balance before he could slip fully over the edge. Amelia, eyes wild, darted forward and grabbed the back of his jacket. “What are you doing?” she cried, clutching at his sleeve, pulling him back toward the mouth of the tunnel where he stumbled and fell against the inside wall. He was breathing heavily, and there were deep furrows in the center of his forehead. He didn’t seem capable of answering her, though. He just sat there, staring out at the infinite space, listening to the cries and struggles of the multitude, now once again climbing up the fiery walls. “We need to get back to the bus.” Hal looked around. It was the doctor who had spoken. “What?” “The bus—didn’t you hear what the priest said before? He knew where we were the moment we came to. We weren’t getting burned back there—we need to go back!” Sure enough, Hal could see the skin on Doc Turner’s face beginning to redden and chap from the blistering wind that was a constant plague here, outside the tunnel. Nodding, Hal heaved himself up and staggered after the others, back toward the bus. He collapsed against the tires when they finally reached their goal. Had it been so hot here before? He was breathing heavily, gasping against the rawness of the heat, tears cutting paths through the soot and smoke on his face as they leaked unbidden from the corners of his stinging eyes. Hal wiped a hand across his face, absently surprised when his fingers didn’t come away dripping with sweat and tears; the heat had cooked the moisture right off the surface of his skin. Suddenly, he remembered what had befallen the last set of tires, and he quickly pushed himself away, moving instead to the open emergency exit door. “Jesus Christ!” Hal leaped back, clutching a hand to his heart as he met the raw and blackened gaze of the burned man. He sat crouched in the opening of the small door, blocking Hal’s way and grinning down at him with a lipless leer. “Not anymore,” he rasped, “but once, yes.” The priest shuffled near, peering around Hal as he blocked the heat from a nearby burst of flame with a sleeve. “Blasphemy!” The tormented soul chortled in low, gravelly tones. “Oh, yes. Plenty of that around here, as well.” “Ignore his words. He is one of the damned.” “And here, too, you stand, priest—unworthy servant.” Hal felt another wave of nausea rise up when a globule of flesh ripped away from the body’s half-formed lips as he spat out his words. The doctor suddenly looked as sick as Hal felt, but Amelia was staring at the creature with a look of morbid fascination. …Perhaps a similar fascination as what landed her here in the first place. “Who are you?” she asked, inching closer, her voice just audible over the rush of flame and wind. “I am old and again, and your histories know me well,” he hissed. “I have been named Nero, Vlad, Khan, Himmler… I have ruled you, conquered you, taught you and enlightened you. I have been your king, your council—I have even been your pope.” The priest curled his lip at this last but did not speak. “Amun, you may call me, as that was how I lived first.” “Amun,” Amelia echoed. But then Doc Turner pushed his way forward, causing Amelia to stumble even closer to the burned man. “You’ve been all those people—you’ve gotten out?” Suddenly, Hal was paying very close attention. “Mmmm,” the soul crooned, “oh yes, there is a way out…” But then he struck like a snake, darting his hand out and catching Amelia by the throat, jerking her close. Hal and the others leapt forward, but they were brought up short by Amelia’s terrified squeak when the charred fingers abruptly tightened their hold. Amelia was squirming and whimpering, but Hal’s gaze was drawn, transfixed, to the creature’s hand and arm, where, in the manner of flames coruscating over burning wood, new flesh was beginning to ripple and bloom over the once scorched and peeling extremity. “There is a way,” Amun continued, inches from Amelia’s shuddering face, tipping his head slightly as he took in her porcelain features. “And if you take me there, I will deliver you from an eternity of torment.” The grinning face moaned, and Hal watched in horror as a slender tongue slipped out and licked Amelia from neck to hair.


High Priest Aelin stood solemnly in front of several men and women, struggling to maintain eye contact. After a few moments of silence he spoke, “I’ve seen it. Our so-called age of ‘gods’ is coming to an end, again.” He shifted uncomfortably before continuing, “But this time there *will* be a war, and...” A tall man with a thick black beard, Daylis was his name, raised a hand to cut the priest off before he could continue. The group parted as he walked toward Aelin at the front of the dimly lit room. Yellow light from the torches on the marble walls illuminated Daylis’ face as he turned to face the crowd. There were sixteen members, including Aelin and Daylis, in attendance. The room was full of mixed emotions ranging from resignation to anger. “Brothers,” Daylis started, “Sisters, we knew this would come eventually. We have been here longer than any other world. Clearly some of you have forgotten, but we are not *actually* gods. I’ve let you play with these people for too long. This is not what we came for,” he stopped to glance at Aelin. The priest was no priest at all, he was simply playing his role to ensure mankind stayed devout while the others acted as deities. A cold breeze came in from an open window causing the short man to shiver. Daylis turned back to look each member in the eye. “It’s time to go,” he said firmly. Several in the crowd started at this statement. Selene stepped forward, scowling. An adventurous strand of long silver hair fell down in front of her face at the sudden motion. “*No*, we’re not leaving again!” she shouted, “I don’t give a damn if they rebel. We’ve followed you long enough. Leaving just isn’t worth it. We’ve done enough.” A tall man with shoulder length black hair and a shaven face nodded in agreement. “She’s right. I’m not leaving, Dayl.” He rested his hand on Selene’s shoulder. “I say we just end them and start over again. *Here*. The two of us should be able to remove them.” Daylis stepped forward, pointing at the man, “No, Alcaeus, I *will not* let you kill them. That is *not* why we came. Besides, what do you think started this mess to begin with? The squabbling between all of you has driven a wedge between them.” He turned to look at Aelin. “There are, what, *five* nations now?” Daylis asked. The priest looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, there are six. One for each pair of ‘Creators’, apparently. Though one nation is on the verge of collapse due to Selene and Alc’s conflict with Thyr and Marnez. But...” Thyrion interrupted Aelin, glaring at Alcaeus. “*My* people were innocent,” he said growing red with anger. He pointed a finger toward the pair. “If anyone should leave, it’s you two. Your barbarous zealots are a plague, but I'll be the cure.” What was once a religion worshipping all sixteen members, Creators and Overseers, slowly evolved into several different sects revolving around a specific deity. Only in the last century had the tension between the different groups turned violent. Mankind had split itself into six nations, waging holy wars and creating hatred amongst the gods themselves as their personal playthings were killed by another’s. “No, Thyrion. They are not your people. We came here to nurture and save life,” Daylis said, arms outstretched looking through the crowd, “not to control and destroy it. We’ve done our job. We should have left long ago.” Aelin stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I didn’t ask you all to come so you could argue,” he said. Outside the window of their mountaintop temple, the moonlit world of men was silent. “Listen to me. Rebellion is not our main concern. Something is coming for us.


"Run away with me." Her pale blue eyes glistened in the fading sunlight, shimmering with hope and joy. Her childish tone and mellifluous voice washed over me, drawing me into the idea. The words she said could not be taken back, and our conversation snowballed before my eyes. "Run away with me," she repeats, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice. Four words that offered so much promise yet so much fear. I could see myself with her, my other half, living beyond the world of parents and responsibility. Perhaps we would rent a small apartment somewhere in the Midwest, or perhaps we would travel the world together. The imagination is a powerful thing, and these four words grasped onto mine and let it loose. I saw my future with her; the future is blurry at best, yet it is with her. As the words hung in the air, I studied her face and she mine. Wisps of hair splayed out from their dark home, struggling to remain independent of their raven black origin. A few strands fell across her face, perhaps trying to conceal the hurt that lay within her eyes as she understood my answer. Her lips touched mine, and a single inaudible word drowned out the rest. "Please." The strength of her ensuing silence tore my heart and I struggled to return to a few minutes before, when all that mattered was staring deeply into those same gorgeous eyes that now begged me to relent. I struggled to respond, finally managing to squeak out "why?" "Because you love me, because you promised me anything, and because I need to get out of here." "I hate that word." "But you love me." "I do." "Say it." "Not yet." "When?" "I can't answer that." "I love you though." "Debatable." As she registered my words, I lost myself in her smile. She had a smile as bright as the sun, a smile that could drown problems in a sea of happiness and desire. Aphrodite herself would have been jealous. Yet the quintessence of her smile existed in her mind. She did not even begin to grasp the beauty of her smile, constantly insisting that she had flaws. To another, maybe she did have flaws. In my mind, these were what made her perfect. "Are you even listening to me?" "Did you know you have the most adorable smile?" "Run away with me." "No. It's not going to work now. Maybe in the future." I had to look away as the hurt surged in her eyes, and I felt tears begin to form in my own. I had to do this, I had to be strong. She was my everything, my alpha and my omega, yet our time was ending. Very much like summer turns to winter, the heat and passion of a relationship turn to distance and cold. For once in my life however, I felt myself clinging to the summer and dreading winter. As is human nature, I longed to turn back the wheel of time so as to spend the rest of my life in that moment before I said no, that moment when her eyes shone like diamonds and when the light reflected through her black hair to completely dazzle me. Reality hit me hard, as I saw the tears in her eyes and felt the tear in my heart. I fought the urge to take everything back, I told myself the right thing had to be done. She needed to move on; I was merely an anchor, tethering her to the past when she deserved a bright future. The human heart does not accept logic, rather, it longs for what it cannot hold onto. She had become an ideal in my heart, the basis for which all of my following relationships would be compared to. This girl, whose imperfections made her perfect, whose love improved my empty heart, and whose smile brightened my darkest day, would leave my life in a heartbeat. She understood. She knew our relationship could not live, yet she tried to resuscitate it with that soul stealing smile. "I know you love me." "Love means being able to let something go. You were always to good for me." "Yet you're the one ending it. Who's too good for who?" "I'm your anchor. I hold you back. You could be so much more and you settled for me. You had a better guy, he made you happy." "He wasn't you." Those words felt like a knife twisting in my chest, and I'm left speechless as she starts her car and drives away, away from her past and into the future. This had been my goal hadn't it? She's better off now right? Idiot. "I love you.


Hi im this 18 year old kid and something has been teetering on my mind. People have been saying this town I'm in has a quote on quote dark past. Whenever I walk around this small but very big eerie town there's always strange happenings, things that people can’t explain. You may believe or not believe in these strange happenings but i can tell if you were to ask anyone who lives here they will tell you lies to make you stay. Sometimes this town's curse as I may call it sucks you in and won't let go.

May 16th 2020, a dark and seemingless night, I was walking home from a party and before I reached my front door step I heard something coming from one of the sewage pipes. As any senseless teenager would do, I went to put my ear closer to the drain and I heard some sorta growling and or some chanting. It was already 12 out so what was the bother if I went to go check it out. After about 20 minutes walking through sludge there was this big opening with the ceiling about 40 feet high and paintings everywhere.

For 18 years there was no talk about this not even local party goers in the town knew because if so this would be the party spot. The next day because obviously I was not staying down there, I asked a few friends if they wanted to come with me back down. About 16 minutes of persuading Ally, Markus, and Josh they said they would come with the only expense I have to pay for dinner for all of them and when I tell you they are not cheap anyways back to the story. At 12 we all jumped in and started walking but when I started to hear that chanting I stopped all of us. They all asked why we stopped and I told them do you guys not hear any of that chanting and to my surprise all of them said no. well then let's keep walking and josh all mighty and tough started to lead down the pipes. When we reached the big opening it was like all the chanting stopped but the weird part was all the paintings were missing. It was like someone went down there and painted it all over but nothing was fresh though. They all asked if I was lying just to get them down there but in fact I wasn't because it was all here last night.

When we got out of the pipes it was daylight which wasn't possible because we were down there for maybe an hour or two. We went to my house first and my family was still there but they seemed sad and very surprised to see me and my friends. They sat us all down and said that we’ve been missing for about a week now but like i said it couldn’t have been possible. We told them where we went but when we described the opening it was like the entire town flipped upside down. We were sent to the police station not only to tell them that we are here but each of us got interrogated for being down there. With all the crime shows i've watched when you get inargatoed they think one of a few things, you are hiding something, you have seen something you were not suppose to, or last but not least it is a matter of government hands and they don't need 4 meddling kids being somewhere where they are not supposed to be. We all agreed not to say anything about what I was hearing as we all got interrogated. They told us to never go back down there but we are meddling kids. We grouped up at Ally's house because both her parents work and it was summer break. When we got settled i told them when i was down there the first time about 20 minutes is the max before you need to start heading out. We got rope, flashlights, and we are hoping to try to figure out what is going on. As soon as we got there they had steel rebar cemented into the ground so we tried figuring out another way to get in. Josh knew a party spot that had access to the sewage systems and we all looked at Josh like he was some noble when in fact he just knows every party spot in town. When we got there we saw some sorta light coming from the pipes so we started walking in but then the light disappeared. We followed the direction of the light and we realized that it was maybe taking us there because the chanting started back up but this time everyone else heard it too. We kept following the light until it dropped off to a ledge where the opening was. We then realized that the steel rebar was fake because then we saw the same people who interrogated us at the police station just right outside the opening. We all watched and when they stepped into the opening we couldn’t see them. It was like some sorta reflection of the room was getting casted to us but we saw them step back out and they were shocked. What we were hearing them say was something we never thought was possible. They go on to say that the longer you stay in there the shorter time is or in better explanation faster than outside of this strange opening. We waited until they were gone and tested it for ourselves. One of us with a timer outside started the same timer inside and said to wait for the 2 minute mark. But when Markus came out he started running the same way we came in. We all ran after him to ask what happened but all we got from his frantic breathing was a lady, drawings in what looked like blood, from there we were all spooked.

We all got back to Ally's and we had him explain everything. But what I'm about to say may be disturbing for people reading. This monstrous look of a lady with super long legs who looked at him and went back to drawing was eating what looked like flesh…


Last night I felt very very sick. My tummy hurt and no matter how much water I drank I always felt so thirsty. I crawled into bed with my mommy so I could snuggle on her and cry, but I guess I was crying too loud because she picked me up and sat me outside her bedroom and closed the door. So I curled up where she set me down, and cried all night with no sleep. I woke up in the morning and saw my mom getting ready for work. I walked up to her and let her know how bad my tummy was hurting and how sick I felt. As she held me in her arms, she made a few phone calls and I heard the word "vet" mentioned. She walked into the kitchen where my daddy was making breakfast and told him she was taking the day off to make sure I was okay. She started getting out breakfast for me and my sister. I was feeling really sick and grumpy, and I snapped and hissed and growled at my sister.Mommy was mad at me for doing that and locked me in the bathroom. After a few minutes she came in to check on me. I could tell she was mad, but all I could focus on was how bad my tummy hurt. I don't think Mommy understood, but she listened to me and within a few minutes she had me crated and ready to visit my doctor. The doctor is such a scary place, but mommy and daddy were there so I felt safe. Lady Doctor came in to the little room and started petting me all over and looking in my mouth. She told mommy and daddy that I would need to stay for a couple more hours so she could run some tests. I saw mommy and daddy freeze, and look at each other sad and scared. After giving me pets and kisses, they left for what felt like forever. Lady Doctor stuck needles into me but it didn't hurt that bad. I was mostly just scared and wanted to go home. When mommy and daddy finally came back, Lady Doctor talked to them. I could tell something was wrong because mommy and daddy were crying. They put me back into my crate and took me home. My parents were so sad. Mommy was crying all day, and I felt way too sick to try and make her feel better. I always could make her happy when she was sad, but But my mommy is so amazing,and even though she was really sad but today my tummy hurt too bad. I could tell she didn't mind too bad because she made me a plate of bacon all for me. Bacon is my absolute favoritest treat in the whole world. She seemed to know I was very very thirsty and she put water bowls in all of my favorite spots to lay down. Mommy and Daddy's friends came over to visit me. They seemed really sad too, but I couldn't help but feel loved as they gave me pets and kisses. I was the center of everyone's attention and loved it. Mommy and Daddy stayed up all night hanging out with me, kissing me all over. They were actually being kind of annoying and waking me up from my sleep. But I could tell they just needed my love, so I flipped over and showed them my belly like they always loved. In the morning, mommy and daddy gave me lots of snuggles. They made phone calls to someone saying they couldn't do something. They took lots and lots of pictures of me and even cut some of my fluffiest hair. They both gave me more kisses than I knew what to do with, and left the house for somewhere with me resting on my favorite tower feeling happy. My tower is next to the window, and I saw them taking pictures of me with the sun on my face. I love the sun, I love laying in its warmth by the window, it's my favorite. I'm so tired but my tummy hurts too bad for me to sleep. Then something weird happened. Grandpa came over and put me in my crate. He brought me to a different Doctor. It was cold and smelled scary. I wanted my parents but was happy grandpa was there to pet me. The vet gave me some shots and suddenly I started to feel really really cold. Grandpa kept kissing me and calling me a good kitty. He was crying too, and I had never seen grandpa cry before. It was getting dark and hard to see, But my tummy didn't hurt anymore. I was getting really sleepy, and I couldn't help but remember the first day I met mommy. She was a lot smaller than she is now. She was so happy to see me and take me home. From that day on we were bestest friends. Thinking about that made me all my cold spots get switched up with warm. Sleepily, I remembered the first time I met daddy, too. That wasn't so long ago at all, but daddy quickly became my favoritest person ever. It's getting harder and harder to think now. My tummy stopped hurting though. Now I can finally go to sleep.


Wendy was sitting on the curb side, her feet buried amongst the crispy dried leaves in the gutter. It was 6.10 pm Saturday, her dress had a ripped hem and was held together with a safety pin, her lipstick smeared. She was shaking with nervous laughter as she held the snapped off heel of her favourite blue Damon Romanio shoe in one hand, and her cell phone with a flat battery in the other. If only she had not opened the letter in her mail last Saturday, she would not be in her current predicament! She had wandered out to her mailbox, Saturday morning, to check her mail as she always did. Three letters were sitting in her mailbox. The first, her phone bill, the second, her insurance bill, and the third, she was unsure of, so she flipped the letter over checking the senders' address. At first, she thought she might have made a mistake. “Stephanie? No, it couldn’t be!”, she had not heard from Stephanie for a couple of years now! “Oh no, I hope this is not…”, her thoughts trailed off as she ripped open the letter. There, printed in bold, across the top of the letter were the words, Invitation to your High School Reunion. Stephanie had sent Wendy an invitation to their up and coming High school reunion. It was to be held at a local venue, the next Saturday. During Wendys' awkward High School years, she felt she never fitted in with the other girls like Stephanie. Wendy was the study freak, while the other girls partied all night. She was the ugly duckling, and they preened themselves in front of a mirror. She preferred science fiction or factual books to their romance novels, Tai curry to their ‘bird food’ and salads, indeed they were like chalk and cheese! Wendy had always been well organized. Studying hard, she was a straight-A student. When she left high school she continued her study, working toward her goals. Passing her master's degree with honours, she was now a successful architect with her own business. It wouldn't matter who or what she became, girls like Stephanie always made her feel disorganized, awkward, and inferior. The fact that they were extroverts, while she was an introvert, did not help her situation either. “No, I’m not going”, she thought as she read the invitation.

“I’ll just let her know that I have a huge workload bogging me down and I have been working overtime to catch up”, she was not going lie to Stephanie, she would tell her the truth. Wendy flipped her phone out of her pocket, texting Stephanie to decline the invitation. “Now is as good a time as any,” she thought as she tapped out the message and pressed send. Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she headed toward her door when her phone started to vibrate. Without checking who was calling she unlocked the screen and answered it in her usual confident tone, “Hi, Wendy speaking”. “HI, Wendy”, Stephanie’s familiar voice echoed in her ear, “You got the invitation then?” “I, I, err, yes thank you”, Wendy stuttered. Stephanie was already making her feel nervous! “Great, we will ALL be looking forward to seeing you! Take some time off work. Don’t forget, at 6 pm, don’t be late”, then she hung up! “Oh great!”, Wendy mumbled to herself, “How on earth am I going to get out of this? I need coffee!” She opened her door and stepped inside. Walking into her kitchen, she filled the coffee percolator and proceeded to brew herself a strong coffee. Flipping her phone out of her pocket, she typed a quick text back to Stephanie, “Huge workload. Not sure I can make it re-Saturday”. Beep, beep! Wendy’s phone alerted a text message, “All work and no play makes Wendy dull! 6 pm Saturday, don’t be late!”. Wendy tossed her phone on the counter in disgust, “I’m not going”, she mumbled as she drank her coffee. The next week passed by slowly. Wendy worked hard and gave herself very little time to think about the coming reunion. Whenever thoughts crept back into her mind, she would convince herself that she was not going! Deep down though, she had to admit, she harboured feelings of curiosity. It was the same thought that continued to roll around in her mind, “I wonder what everyone else has been up to since departing ways after High school? Perhaps it would be fun to catch up with a few people?” Friday. Beep beep! Wendy’s cell phone alerted a text message. It was from Stephanie, “Looking forward to catching up on Saturday, 6 pm, don’t be late!” Wendy started to reminisce and was thinking about her High School years. She pulled out her yearbook from the bookshelf, and proceeded to flick through old photos of friends she had let slip her mind. Slamming it shut, she repeated, “I’m not going”, in yet another one of those attempts to convince herself. Soon Saturday rolled around. Wendy went to work, putting in a few extra hours as she usually did, besides, she didn't have anywhere to be by 6 pm, did she? All-day Saturday, she flipped wrist constantly checking the time. 4 pm Wendy decided it was about time she headed home. She turned off the lights and locked the door. Walking out into the parking lot, she unlocked her car and jumped in. Beep beep! Another text message from Stephanie, “See you at 6 pm!” followed by a smiling face emoji. Driving home through the busy traffic, Wendy let her mind wander again. She was thinking of all the friends and acquaintances she had not seen for several years. Finally, she asked herself the question, “Am I going?” Arriving home, she parked her car, unlocked her house, and headed inside. 5 pm Wendy was standing in front of her bathroom mirror. Her reflection staring back at her, eyebrows deeply furrowed and a serious expression on her face! “I must be crazy, insane, or both?” she muttered, “but dammit, I’m going to go to this reunion!” Jumping in and out of the shower quickly, she scrubbed her face, and then applied a fast coat of ‘war paint’. She flung open her wardrobe door, quickly rummaging through the hangers holding her many dresses in place. Too old, too new, too low cut, too high cut, too pink, too blue, time was ticking on! 5.15 pm “This will do!” she thought as she grabbed a pretty floral dress off its hanger. She threw it on over her head and began fiddling for the zip behind her. Just as she had almost zipped her dress, the tongue snapped off the zipper! “Darn!” she thought, “There is no time to change this dress, it took me far too long to choose already!” She sprinted back into the bathroom and found a safety pin in her cupboard. Pinning the zipper of her dress in place to hold it together, she slipped on a cute pair of her favourite blue Damon Ramanio high heel shoes and made her way to the front door. 5.20 pm Slamming the door shut, she headed toward her car. Halfway there, and she suddenly realized she had left the car key in the kitchen draw. Tottering and wobbling her way into the house, she stumbled inside. She had not worn these heels for a while now, and was experiencing a bit of trouble with her balance! Back in the kitchen again, tipping junk from the draw, she spread it on her kitchen counter and found the car key. 5.25 pm. Slamming the door she made her way out to her car, unlocked it, and jump in. Flicking her wrist over again, she checked the time on her watch. Quick mental calculations, she estimated that she would still have enough time to get to the venue with five minutes to spare. Adjusting her rear-view mirror, she caught a glimpse of her reflection, only to discover, with horror, her lipstick had smeared, most likely when she put her dress on earlier. She decided she could sneak into the lady's room at the venue when she arrived, fix her lipstick, and would still be on time! There were many intersections and traffic lights to cross through if she took the direct route to the venue. She, however, knew a short cut through a few back streets that might get her there faster. Making her way there, she turned into Maryville Street, unfortunately for Wendy, she had not expected the un-manned road works cluttering the road. Large signs, potholes and course chip covered unsealed portions of the road. 5.45 pm. Weaving her way through the road works, she swerves to avoid a road cone. Her rear wheel falls into a pothole, and she hears a loud pop and then pffffffff. Winding down her window, she looked behind, only to see her rear tyre slowly deflating! Pulling off and parking against the curb, she flicked her wrist and checked her watch again. 5.50 pm “OK, cutting it fine,” she thought, “I can still make it on time if I walk the last couple of blocks and fix my lipstick on the way.” She opened the car door to step out. Somehow, as she stepped out, the heel of her shoe got caught in the hem of her dress. She could hear it ripping as she lowered her foot down to the unsealed road surface. Staring down at her torn dress, she momentarily contemplated looking in her first aid kit, for another safety pin to hold her ripped hem in place. “Perhaps I should ring for help?” she thought as she pulled her phone out of her pocket.

The screen was dull. The remaining power on the phone was just enough to illuminate the screen. It read Battery 2%! The mad rush and stress of her current situation were becoming all too much for her! As she stood there, she started to shake and was soon laughing nervously. She must have looked like a complete mess to passers-by! She was going to a reunion she did not want to go to, and now she was running late! Not only that, she had smeared makeup, a ripped dress held together with a safety pin, a flat tyre, and her phone was now displaying a 2% battery life. It could not get any worse, or so she though! Wendy walked around the back of her car towards the pavement in defeat, when suddenly, she stumbled in the loose chip on the road surface. Her foot slipped! The heel of her favourite blue Damon Ramanio shoe snapped off just as she grabbed the boot of the car to steady herself. She picked up the broken heel, and then with an awkward high and low stepping motion, she made her way to the curb side, and sat down. It was now 6 pm. Her High School reunion was already underway at the venue. Stephanie made her entrance and was standing on stage behind a podium. The crowd of ex-students gathered around in anticipation of her announcement. “Thank you all for coming”, her voice boomed out over the loudspeaker system. “We did arrange for Wendy to be here, and to be the recipient of a surprise award, for the Most Organized and Successful Past Student”. Stephanie’s eyes scanned the crowd in front of her looking for Wendy, “It appears that Wendy couldn’t make it. Has anyone heard from her? “ Meanwhile, Wendy was sitting on the curb side, her feet buried amongst the crispy dried leaves in the gutter. It was 6.10 pm Saturday, her dress had a ripped hem and was held together with a safety pin, her lipstick smeared. She was shaking with nervous laughter as she held the snapped off heel of her favourite blue Damon Romanio shoe in one hand, and her cell phone with a flat battery in the other.