#Welcome to Micro Monday Hello writers and welcome to Micro Monday! It’s time to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic, you ask? Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I provide a simple constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. This rotates between simple prompts, sentences, images, songs, and themes. You’re free to interpret the weekly constraints how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.**   *** #This week’s challenge: - **Image Prompt: ** - **Bonus Constraint (10 pts):** Use the words starfish, reflection, and tide This week’s challenge is to use the above image as inspiration for your story. You may use any part of the image and interpret it however you like, as long as the connection is clear and you follow all post and sub rules. The bonus constraint is not required, but I encourage you to give it a try! The base words should remain intact but you’re welcome to change the tense, if needed (i.e. reflection to reflects/reflecting is fine). You can check out previous Micro Mondays .   *** #How To Participate - **Submit a story between 100-300 words in the comments below (no poetry) inspired by the prompt.** You have until **Sunday at 11:59pm EST**. Use to check your wordcount. - **Leave feedback on at least one other story by 2pm EST next Monday. Only **actionable feedback** will be awarded points. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Nominate your favorite stories at the end of the week .** You have until **2pm EST** next Monday. *(Note: The form doesn’t open until Monday morning.)* ###Additional Rules - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post. Micro serials are acceptable, but please keep in mind that each installment should be able to stand on its own and be understood without leaning on previous installments. - **Please follow all subreddit rules and be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here; we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. You can find a list of . - **And most of all, be creative and have fun!** If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail.   *** #Campfire - On **Mondays at 12pm EST,** I host a Campfire on our server. We read the stories aloud and provide live feedback for those who are present. Come join us to read your own story and/or listen to the others! Everyone is welcome and we’d love to have you!   *** #How Rankings are Tallied Weekly points are awarded based on the following system. **TASK** | **POINTS** | **ADDITIONAL NOTES** |:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:| | **Use of the Main Prompt/Constraint** | up to **50** pts | Requirements always provided with the weekly challenge | **Use of Bonus Constraint** | **10** pts | (unless otherwise noted) | ***Actionable* Feedback** (one crit required) | up to **15** pts each (5 crit max) | You’re always welcome to provide more crit, but points are capped at 75 | **Nominations your story receives** | **20** pts each | No cap | **Bay’s Nominations** | **20 - 50** pts | First- **50** pts, Second- **40** pts, Third- **30** pts, plus regular noms | **Voting for others** | **10** pts | Don’t forget to vote before 2pm EST every week! *Users who go above and beyond with feedback (more than 2 in-depth, actionable crits) will be awarded Crit Credits that can be used on r/WPCritique.* *Note: Interacting with a story is not the same as feedback.*   *** #Rankings for - u/AliciaWrites - u/MaxStickies - u/OldBayJ - u/poiyurt - u/katherine_c **Crit Stars:** - u/AliciaWrites - u/Blu_Spirit - u/dewa1195 - u/katherine_c - u/MaxStickies - u/OldBayJ - u/poiyurt - u/TheLettre7 - u/Tomorrow_Is_Today1 *Note: Being that I was a participant this past week, all votes have also been verified by another mod.* *** ###Subreddit News - Join to chat with authors, prompters, and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly Worldbuilding interviews, and other fun events! - Experiment with tropes and different genres with the brand new feature on r/WritingPrompts! - Explore your self-established world every week on ! - You can also post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


Lily was brushing down the old wooden desk she used for check-ins when she heard the door open. When she looked up to great her customers, she saw Mrs. Barnschweigel. An older woman, probably in her late 50s, she was particular about her room and everything else. True to form, she headed for the desk and Lily suppressed a tiny sigh – she really didn’t have time for whatever manufactured crisis was coming her way, she had a group of new guests that were due to arrive any minute. But Lily knew the key to the success she had made of the small resort was word of mouth, most of her new customers were friends or family of old customers. She believed in treating all of her guests like family, even the difficult ones. “Good morning, Lily.” Mrs. Barnschweigel called out as she strode across the room. The woman was louder than Lily liked, she ran a quiet establishment, just like her mother and her grandmother before her. Loud guests were frowned upon, but Mrs. B was a frequent guest and a surprisingly good tipper, so Lily never tried to shush the older woman. Lily smiled faintly, “Mrs. Barnschweigel.” The older woman had never stated the courtesy, “Please, call me x” that most of Lily’s customers did; Lily thought of her as “Mrs. B”, but would never call her that to her face. Lily had the feeling that the woman liked feeling a little superior and enjoyed being called by her more formal title and would frown upon familiarity from “the help.” “Lily,” here it comes, “can you send your maid up to my room again, dear? I know that this is a ‘rustic lodge’ but I really must insist that she redo the dusting. I woke up this morning with a frightful sore throat and I’m so allergic to dust.” Lily knew it wasn’t the dust, Margarite, the housecleaner ensured that each room was spotless. Still, keep the customer happy, “Of course. I’ll send her up right away.” “Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Barnschweigel had a weirdly formal, old-fashioned manner. Lily thought that the woman wasn’t older than 50, but she spoke as if she had been around in the 1920s. Lily suspected it was an affectation, designed to make her appear sophisticated. The woman wandered off, certain her wishes would be immediately acted upon. Lily picked up the desk phone and called Margarite, “Hello, Margarite. I hate to ask this, but can you please visit room 213, Mrs. Barnschweigel’s room. She would like some extra dusting.” Lily heard the door open again, just as she hung up the phone. This time, it was the group she had been expecting. Hikers that were planning on walking the small piece of the Appalachian Trail that ran just behind the lodge. They had reserved four rooms, doubles, and one single. The leader of the group, an older man with grey around his temples smiled as he walked toward the desk. Lily thought he was probably Native American; he had a chiseled bone structure and strong facial features. “Good morning. We’d like to check-in, the Swiftwater group. I’m Darren Swiftwater,” he gestured to the tiny woman by his side, “This is my wife, Siante.” Lily turned to greet the woman, but she was looking towards Mrs. B, her brow slightly wrinkled and her eyes narrowed. Lily turned back to the man, “Mr. Swiftwater, welcome to the Royson Lodge. Your rooms are all ready, let me get the keys.” Just then, Siante Swiftwater crossed the room towards Mrs. B. “Karen Oglesbee!” she cried out, and touched Mrs. B.’s arm. Mrs. B. turned with a start. “Unhand me. You have mistaken me for someone else.” But Lily had seen a touch of panic and, maybe even fear cross Mrs. B.’s face. But those emotions were gone quickly. Now her face was like granite, all emotions erased, leaving only the imperial woman Lily had come to know over the years. Siante wasn’t deterred. “Karen Oglesbee, I know it’s you. Where have you been all of these years? We thought you were dead.” Everyone in the room had gone quiet as they watched the two women. Mrs. B. took in a deep breath and drew herself up. “I said,” her voice deep and cold, “You have mistaken me for someone else.” She shrugged her shoulders tightly and left the room. Lily turned to Darren Swiftwater, he was standing as still as a mouse caught in an eagle’s sight. He stared at the door Mrs. B. had departed through. His warm brown face had gone pale and his mouth fell open as if to call Mrs. B. back. His wife turned to him, and as she saw his face hers contorted into something ugly, then smoothed out. She came to him and rubbed his arm, “It’s okay honey, I think I was mistaken.” Lily checked in the rest of the guests without incident and they left the lobby to go to their rooms. Mrs. Barnschweigel leaned her back against the door to her room. Siante Bravebird and Darren Swiftwater, after all these years? The lodge was 2,000 miles from the small town that they had all grown up in. She couldn’t believe her bad luck in finding them here. She had cut all ties to her home town, to her life, when she left high school. She had even legally changed her name from Karen Oglesbee to Karina Del Mar. She’d always thought it a little ironic that after losing her ugly last name, she married a man with an even uglier last name. After he died, she’d considered changing it back to Del Mar but she enjoyed the status that came with her husband’s name. She’d done a lot to earn it, it was hers. She wasn’t Karen Oglesbee or Karina Del Mar anymore. She wasn’t sure who that made her now because she didn’t feel like Karina Barnschweigel either. Karina considered leaving the lodge early, but the two weeks she spent here every year was the only genuinely free time she had. The rest of the year was caught up in fundraisers and board meetings. Once Harold had died, it was up to her to keep the foundation running. It was a job she excelled at, she loved. But it took so much of her time and energy that she needed the down time she had at the lodge. Even her staff knew not to contact her when she was on vacation. She wasn’t going to allow people from her past to disrupt it either. She would just avoid them, and if she saw them keep up her “it isn’t me” stance. Karina quickly decided to order room service, not wanting to chance running into Darren or Siante but was aggravated to find out the lodge didn’t offer room service. She was informed that they had a buffet style dinner and breakfast, and bagged lunches – as most of the guests were mountaineers and hikers and left the lodge for the day. Of course, she had known this but was so rattled she forgot. She decided to wait until the outer edge of the time allotted for dinner, in hopes of avoiding her old ‘friends’. It wasn’t really an inconvenience; Harold had liked to eat later than most and she was used to staying up late and then sleeping in Around 8:45 pm, Karina left her room and went down to the dining room. She carefully peeked into the room and was pleased to see it was empty. Karina approached the buffet, happy to see her plan had worked but a voice behind her made her realize it had not, after all. “Hello, Karen.” Said the deep voice from her past. Karen shuddered a little, her body remembering the man. “Don’t bother to deny it. I know it’s you.” Karina turned around, lifting her nose slightly. “I go by Karina now,” stiffly, not allowing herself to soften. Darren’s lips turned up slightly at the corners. “Karina, then. How have you been?? “Did you really stalk me to engage in small talk?” Darren blew out an outraged laugh, “I’m not stalking you, Karina.” He shook his head, his chin tightening in frustration. “I just needed some answers.” “I don’t have to answer your questions, Darren.” Darren reached out and took one of Karina’s hands. “Please.” Karina softened as she saw Darren’s eyes droop in old remembered pain. She knew she was responsible for that pain, for more than he knew. “Fine. Come sit with me.” The couple went over to one of the small tables by the large window. Karina sat for a long moment, thinking. How much should I tell him? Darren sat watching Karina’s face, she was struggling with exactly how much truth to give him but he wouldn’t settle for less than all of it. He reached out again, asking simply, “Why did you leave?” Karina tightened her jaw and looked directly at Darren, “Because your mother paid me to.” Darren dropped her hand as if he had been burned. “What are you talking about?” He knew his mother didn’t have any money, back then they’d been living on the reservation. They were poor, on the verge of poverty. “To be fair, she got the money from my mother. Neither family wanted us to be together so our mothers made sure we wouldn’t be.” “But why would you agree? I loved you, I thought you loved me.” “I did love you. But you couldn’t take care of me.” Darren’s eyes widened at her words; she knew she was hurting him but he did deserve to know. She’d been as wrong as their mothers all those years ago. At the least, she owed him honesty now; as much honesty as she could afford, anyway. “I was pregnant. My mother was going to kick me out, you and your family lived on the reservation. You didn’t even graduate high school. I knew you couldn’t take care of us, so I took the money and left.” “Oh my god.” Darren sat still, but emotions skittered over his face. Finally, he looked up at her. “Did you…?” Karina shook her head, “I had the baby. I gave her up for adoption. Then I took the rest of the money and put it toward tuition. I went on with my life, just like you did.” She hoped the one little lie amongst the larger truths was enough to get him to leave her alone. “No. No, you didn’t give her up.” Darren’s eyes narrowed as he watched her face. “Even after all these years, I remember how you lie.” Karina stood up, her voice shook, “You don’t get to tell me how you remember anything. You are married, you have your life exactly what you and your mother wanted.” That last night, Darren’s mother had told her that Darren would marry Siante. He would stay on the reservation and raise his children the way generations of his Native American family had done. She’d obviously been right. “That’s not what I wanted.” Darren’s eyes blazed hot, “I wanted to marry you, I asked you to marry me.” Karina shook her head, not wanting to remember, “Yet, in the long run you married the woman your mother picked out for you. Go home with her, be happy. Take care of your wife, your children.” “Not that it’s any of your business, but Siante and I were never able to have children.” Karina closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry.” She knew how much he’d wanted children; he’d talked about it even when they were just high school sweethearts. “I want to see my daughter.” Karina and Darren locked eyes, she remembered the first time she saw him – long, silky hair even shinier than hers. She was only five years-old, but she fell in love at first sight. She took his hand then and said they’d be best friends. And they had been best friends right up until the night she betrayed that friendship. Karina sighed and took out her phone. “Dari, there’s someone I want you to meet.”


I remember the day of Thanksgiving would start early in the morning, with Thanksgiving breakfast. Dad would make pancakes shaped like turkeys, and then he would take them into the bathroom and eat them all while making turkey noises while my mom would sit in the kitchen and cry. After that, we'd turn the game on and Dad would begin drinking. First one, then two, then three gallons of chocolate milk. He'd yell at the TV and call every player "Roger". Like "Throw the ball to Roger!" or "C'mon, Roger, throw the ball!" It wasn't until much later that I realized he was watching soccer and they rarely throw the ball. Mom would get to work in the kitchen making the bird. Dad was vegetarian, so the bird was usually a bunch of vegetables that mom put in a blender and then shaped into a turkey. But most of the time there was plenty of meat in it as well, because my mother hated my father and she found this to be funny. So funny she'd laugh the entire time she was making the "bird" and sometimes so hard she would vomit into the sink. She was crazy. And not the laughable kind of crazy. She was really nuts. But so was dad. I guess we all were. I guess it's a crazy holiday. But it wasn't all crazy, a lot of it was fun. Like when we'd exchange Thanksgiving gifts. Typically a Thanksgiving gift was whatever you could find that was moist: wet towels, soap, grass...I remember one year I received a shoe. It was a Thanksgiving miracle and I remember putting the shoe on and running out into the street screaming "It's a Thanksgiving miracle!" but then I got hit by like three cars. The first one sent me into the other lane, then the second one sent me into the original lane and then this guy backed out of his driveway and hit me again. I lost the shoe, but I will never forget the look on everyone's face when my leg was amputated. It was like "WHOA!" After the game, dad would go into the den and put up the tree. The tree was made of turkeys, ironically, and it really started to smell by the first day of December. But dad would always say "It's tradition!" And then vomit. The turkeys were basically just impaled on a post and we hung no ornaments on them. In fact, whenever I see a turkey a feeling of mirth and awe flows through me all the way to the stump I still have from getting hit by all those cars. Once the tree was put up, we'd hang underwear from the chimney in the hopes that St. Nick would come and try the underwear on and leave little notes about our weight. Like one year I'd get "You're too skinny to play football" or another "You get your degree at John Porkins?" We were gratified by Santa's comments and we would strive to lose or gain the weight he prescribed. Until we found out that there was no Santa and it was actually aliens that were doing it. But then we hunted them down and killed them. But they turned out to just be our neighbors and that's why Mom went to jail. After preparing for Christmas, we'd watch another soccer game and then play Monopoly together. We'd open up the board and then put all the pieces out and then dad would wave his arm over the board and say "Foreclosure!" and then throw the game at one of us. Whoever was hit with Monopoly had to go make him cocktails. It was a helluva game. One time I made his cocktail too stiff and he told me that I couldn't go to bed until I ate the couch. I gave it a try and three days later he finally let me go to bed, but you could tell he was disappointed. "Now, son, that was a couch. And you only ate half. Do you realize there are children in Africa with no couches to eat?" I felt awful for awhile, but then it went away. But then Dad got mad that I wasn't still feeling bad and he sent me to Africa to look for couches and I found a bunch, but by then he had died or moved. I forget. But I wasn't 34 until I returned, so I'm sure he had a rich life. At dinner, Mom would put out the turkey and she would sing theme songs from TV shows that would always end up just being the Cheers theme song because she would forget the melody and words of whatever she was singing. Dad would pat us all on the heads and ask "Gobble, gobble?" Like his voice would go high at the end, like it wasn't just a turkey noise it was him trying to communicate. Each year we'd try to answer and only once did someone say the right thing and it was my sister. "Gobble, gobble?" "Yes?" I would ask. And he'd frown and move to the next kid. "Gobble, gobble?" And that one year my sister said "Morley Safer" and my dad nodded. It was the only time that worked. We kept trying "Morley Safer" after that, but it wasn't the answer anymore and we all just kinda looked foolish. Then we'd eat. Dad would always remark "I'm glad there's no meat in this." like he knew there was meat in it and was warning my mom, but she would just laugh nervously and pinch me really hard under the table. After dinner, my mom would take us all out to a national forest and leave us there. We still don't know what my parents would do at night, because it took hours to walk back home. I guess some people would call my family "crazy", but they were my family and I loved them all.


Jeremy Adler sat on the floor of his bedroom, leaning on the back of his bed frame, reading whatever book had stumbled into his hands at an astonishingly fast pace. Reading was Jeremy's thing . He would read at such a speed that you couldn't even be sure he was absorbing the words. Getting sick of his reading, he decided that once he finished this chapter, he would take a break. But once he did arrive at the end, he extended his stop time to just another chapter, until before he knew it, he had no intention to stop. His position changed several times throughout the reading process. He'd rotate from lying on the floor to sitting up, to hugging his knees, to resting on his side. This speed reading activity always did a number on Jeremy's neck, which was exactly what he was thinking about when he heard it . It was like a shimmer, or a sparkle. So gentle and quiet the first time, Jeremy assumed he'd imagined it. Or perhaps it was just him, subconsciously shifting in his seat, causing a ruffle. But the second time only confirmed it. When he sensed movement in the room, his eyes darted up, directly at a spot on his wall where there once was nothing but a bland, ivory wall, now hosted a window shielded by mist. He was confused. For some reason, not at all surprised, but confused.

Jeremy’s room was on the top floor of the house, which resulted in him having the highest ceilings. The window was high. He didn’t want to go downstairs and face having to explain why in the world he would need a ladder, so he pushed his bed just far enough to reach the window.

Jeremy stood on top of the bed and peeked over at the clouded window. He raised a brow, stumped. Maybe it’s foggy outside. But that wouldn’t make sense, the window wasn’t there before. Jeremy plopped down on his bed, jolting the springs. He so badly wanted to give in to his curiosity, to climb and take a peek, but he restrained. He stood up and began pacing around the room, weighing the options. After about a minute, he realized he was wasting his own time, and that this peculiar investigation was inevitable.

Jeremy didn’t understand why he wasn’t shocked so much as intrigued. His hyper mind raced with questions and he was thirsty to find an answer to them.

He made up his mind and stood back up on the bed. Reaching to open the window, he was greeted with more dusty, cool mist. Without second thought, he shoved a hand through it, and was met with cool, but warm air. It was perfectly fitting, the exact temperature you would have imagined the mist to be. Now that he had just barely tasted it, there was no way he could stop. He needed more . He had almost no upper body strength, he was skinny and his scholarly mind was completely uninterested in sports of any kind. Thus, he somehow managed to reach up to the window. He pulled himself over the ledge, and though he thought he had stabilized, he lost his balance and fell over the other side of the window--into the mist. He began falling. Down, down, down. His body spun to the command of the wind and he fell for what felt like hours. Really--it felt like hours. First he was confused. Why aren't I landing onto the floor of his lawn? But eventually he moved onto fear. Am I going to hit hard ground? And lastly, the stage of disbelief. This isn't happening. Pinch. Once he became aware of his surroundings while falling, he realized his eyes had been closed the whole time. He opened them, and reached ground. Jeremy winced, but felt no pain. It was a material under his back that he couldn't quite determine. Jeremy sat up to meet the eyes of a group of ogling...people? One (woman?) had wings on her back, tender, like Tinker Bell! One (man?) had two colorful parrots, one resting on each of his shoulders. Jeremy could have sworn he was seeing things. He wanted to scramble away--his head was begging for it--but his body was not complying. He sat there staring at the odd group as they returned the expression. "What is it?" The fairy woman whispered. "Is it a doll?" Another one said. "It's eyes are far too small to be a doll. A garden man perhaps." A different man suggested. "What? It isn't growing any leaves, it can't be." They finally silenced, the four of them, Jeremy had now determined with his newly focused eyes. His eyes widened and he gasped when he saw a creature with the silhouette of a human, but scales instead of skin! The fairy woman stepped forward and offered out her hand with a strained smile. "I am Grevillea, dear, what is your name?" Jeremy was silent. She was talking. To him. "Does it talk?" Scaly person said. Jeremy coughed and blinked several times. "Jeremy," he had their attention, "is my name." They looked unimpressed. "What kind of name is Jeremy ?" A metallic looking man said. "What kind of name is Grevillea ?" Jeremy retaliated. Fairy lady scoffed. He stumbled to his feet. "Where are you from?" Robot guy said. "Colorado." Their faces were stoic and unresponsive. "Earth? Floating rock in a galaxy? No?" Silence. "Okay, um, I'm not from here. I fell out of my window. I need to get home." He tried to simplify. "How does one fall out of a window?" The robotic man questioned, stroking his chin. "I-I don't know. I just did. That's not the point. Who are you?" Jeremy was starting to get a headache. "I am Kitt," The robot-man spoke. "My name is Grevillea." Fairy woman said again. "He knows that," Scale skin lady said. "I am Etis." Jeremy couldn't help but ask. "What are you?" She scoffed. "I am a dragon nymph. How rude." Jeremy hadn't meant to be offensive. Considering other's emotions was low on his list of priorities at the moment. The parrot man stepped forward. "I'm Zink. On the left: Port. On the right: Ruffle." He pointed to each parrot, speaking in a low, raspy voice. Jeremy could not deal with these peculiar names. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," He said to himself with an untimely grin. "What's Kansas?" Etis asked. "Where the hell am I?" The strange creatures all bursted out into laughter, before realizing he was serious when he made no effort to deny his question. "Where are you?" Kitt chuckled, "Why you're in Eternity! More specifically, Caverest City. It's the capitol, didn't you know?" Jeremy shook his head. Kitt went on, "We were actually on our way back from a stroll on the outskirts, the entrance is right past those gates." He pointed. Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, sorry to be blunt, but I need to get out of here. Will there be anyone in there who can direct me home?" Etis and Grevillea whispered into each other's ears. Etis then spoke up. "Perhaps we can consult the Chancellor." Kitt, who Jeremy had now discovered was quite talkative, interjected. "He's why this is the capitol, you know. Because he chose to live here. Zink often entertains the Chancellor with his birds. Perchance-" He is cut off by Zink. "They are not birds!" His face is red and angry. "They're parrots." "Right, right. Parrots. Anyways," Kitt drones on, "Zink could possibly get us a meeting with the Chancellor, couldn't you Zink?" Zink, who was seemingly still bothered by the mislabeling of his parrots, huffed without a response. Jeremy wasn't sure what to say. Instead, he just followed them into the indigo colored gates that lead to Caverest City where he would apparently be meeting the infamous Chancellor. After the five of them entered the gates, Jeremy felt a shadow casted over him, it became darker. Within the city, there were tall, almost dystopian and futuristic structures and buildings. But the floor was the strangest part. It was...rock? When Jeremy looked up, he yelped at the dome that engulfed the entirety of the small city. "What's that up there?" He mumbled just above a whisper. "Thats the cave, silly. Wow, you really aren't from here." Etis replied. He saw it now. He was in a massive cave. So tall that the high-rise buildings didn't hit the top, and decorated with blocks of buildings. Eventually, with Jeremy still processing how he had somehow gone from his bedroom to...here, they reached a tall skyscraper. This was clearly the tallest one of all. The top nearly reached the cave's roof, and surely had a spectacular view. Within this tall skyscraper, lived the Chancellor, of whom Jeremy didn't quite understand other than a Star Wars reference. When the group attempted to enter the elevator, there stood two guards, both dressed in indigo suits with matching glasses. Jeremy did a double-take. "Hello," Zink began, "Chancellor's parrot entertainer. Assistants." He pointed to the rest of them. Jeremy had now determined that Zink was a man of little words. Jeremy wasn't sure what he thought of Etis and Grevillea, for they both remained composed. The two people in odd colored suits exchanged glances before nodding them to pass and enter the elevator. ~~~~~ Kitt had been arguing with the guards in front of the Chancellor's door for quite some time, but Jeremy literally could not keep track of time. There wasn't a clock in the whole city. Twenty minutes felt like twenty years but sometimes a day felt like an hour. Time was fuzzy in Eternity. Grevillea, Zink, Etis, and Jeremy stood back watching Kitt attack the guards until the two doors swung open. " What is all this ruckus?" An intimidatingly calm voice slowly sounded into the hall. Jeremy didn't need to ask. The Chancellor. Well, it was safe to say he looked nothing like Darth Sidious. This man was middle aged, with some specks of gray in his hair and wrinkly eyes. He had defined features and a chiseled face. He was eminently striking, and particularly hard to read. Jeremy thought the group was about to be killed or arrested but the Chancellor's sharp gaze turned to pierce the eyes of the guards. "Am I to believe you are denying my good friend Zink entry?" "N-no sir." One began. "Certainly not sir." The other defended. "We-we didn't know." "Come in." When they entered to his glorious central living room, the Chancellor poured two cups of a sort of liquor--one for him and one for Zink. The two sat while Grevillea, Jeremy, Etis, and Kitt--who was unusually mute--stood awkwardly, observing. "Why are you here?" The Chancellor directed his question at Zink. It appeared that Zink had been modest about the true connection he had to the Chancellor. "The boy. Not from here. Fell out of his window. From..." "-Colorado!" Jeremy interjected. He cleared his throat. "Sorry." "In another world. Called Orth." Zink continued. "-Earth. Sorry." "Needs to get home. Doesn't know how." No one spoke while Kitt, Etis, and Grevillea looked terrified and uncomfortable. Everyone stood, staring at the Chancellor. "I've never heard of such a thing," He confessed after longing quiet. "Are you familiar with The Cliff of Cessation? Theres a woman by the name of Haeledi. You must go see her. She lives in the Green Abyss." Grevillea gasped, clutching her heart and Kitt stood wide-eyed, gaping. Jeremy rolled his eyes. He'd grown to understand that drama was a common trait in this duo. "What's the Green Abyss?" Jeremy questioned genuinely. "Oh! Don't say it!" Grevillea collapsed onto the couch. To avoid more humiliation in front of the Chancellor, Jeremy thanked him profusely and pulled them all out of the building, until they were standing on the rocky cave street. "Okay. Let's go." He said and began walking towards the direction of the gate. Zink tagged along quietly, but Jeremy stopped when he realized the other three weren't following. "What are you guys doing? C'mon! I wanna get out of here." "Listen Jeremy," Grevillea sighed, "I know you're foreign, but you don't know the Green Abyss. It rests under the Cave of Cessation, and the people that go don't come back." "Etis?" Jeremy said. She gave him a nod, showing her support. Jeremy turned to walk the other way, with Etis and Zink following. Kitt and Grevillea stayed back. "Oh crap." Jeremy groaned. "How are we going to get there?" But when he looked up, Etis was gone, and in her place stood an enormous, dazzling, dragon. She roared and Jeremy gawked in awe while Zink climb onto her back, parrots included. He swallowed and copied Zink's actions. Just as Etis was about to take off, Jeremy heard a grunt. " Ugh. We're coming!" Kitt hollered from the ground with Grevillea lifting up her colorful dress to follow. Jeremy laughed as they gripped Etis's scaled body, and suddenly felt wind blow into their faces. They ascended, watching Caverest City get smaller and smaller. It was indeed a spectacular view. ~~~~~ Jeremy didn't know he'd been sleeping until he woke up to a light tap by Grevillea, signaling that they had arrived. He sat up to see the large, eerie cliff from above. His thoughts were interrupted. Can you guess who by? "This feels like a terrible idea. Do you know what cessation means? The end. Death. Gone! I don't want to die!" Kitt whined. "So where is the Green Abyss thing?" Zink held tight to his parrots and lead Jeremy to the edge of the cliff. "Down." Jeremy sucked in a breath. He understood the fear Grevillea and Kitt had now. Far, far down, there were trees. Hundreds. But no ground. Right were the tree stump would end, lay more trees. "...And I've heard of Haeledi. She lives in the trees! I heard she kills every creature who attempts to seek her guidance. Is she an elf? Do you know? Is she a nymph? Is she-" "KITT. Shut up!" Jeremy was a reserved person. But Kitt had clearly exposed a new side of Jeremy he himself didn't know of. Kitt silenced in astonishment. "I have to go down there. It's my only way out." "There might be other ways, Jeremy. But for this way, I cannot go any further." Grevillea soothed him, and Etis purred, still in her dragon form. "No." Zink surprised everyone, "We go down together." And he jumped. "Zink! Zink no!" Grevillea screeched diving in after him, with her fairy wings keeping her afloat. Jeremy looked down, shocked, only to see that Zink was alive and well, for he himself had turned into a tremendously large parrot. Jeremy climbed back onto Etis's back, looking at Kitt. "Are you coming?" Kitt joined him, shaking with fear. "Do you transform into something?" Jeremy asked, trying to lighten the mood or avoid the fact they were going into certain death. Kitt chuckled and shook his head, and they were off. Down, down, down. They plummeted, apparently fine for a while until the pressure of the wind began to increase. Similar to when Jeremy fell from his window, he had no concept of time. In fact, there had been no concept of time this whole trip. They could have been here for days. Did his parents miss him? He turned back to Kitt. "What time is it?" He yelled over the wind. Kitt looked at him with a puzzled expression. "What's time?" Jeremy faced forward again. Ah, he thought to himself, Eternity. Suddenly, Grevillea's right wing ripped, due to the stronger wind. She yelped, and Etis fought the wind to go catch her, but she was too late. Grevillea's second wing did the same, and she disappeared. "GREVILLEA!" Kitt yelled. He began to sob. The wind was ferocious now. Sound had become simply an idea, not a thing. Jeremy's ears hurt from the wind until he couldn't feel them anymore. Jeremy watched the wind from above rip Zink's bright red tail, causing him to lose balance. He began sinking until he too, was gone. Kitt was crying hysterically now, understanding they were next. Kitt was speaking but Jeremy couldn't hear. Kitt then ripped off a leather necklace, and tied it tightly to Jeremy's neck, just before the wind threw Kitt off Etis's back. Due to the wind's antagonizing power, Etis forcibly transformed back to her rough, humanlike form, separating from Jeremy and her too disappearing from his sight. Jeremy didn't know what was going on. There was no emotion. No shock. Nothing. "Dinner!" He heard a faint echo. "Dinner!" It became louder. He was falling, staring up at the overcast sky, everything in slow-motion. "Jeremy, DINNER." He looked up from his book. His mother was standing in the doorway of his room. "You were really into that book, huh?" She laughed. Jeremy was silent, shifting his gaze between his mother's perplexed look and the book in his hands. He was in his room. There was no window on the wall. "Hey, nice necklace by the way, where'dya get it?" His eyes were vast, as he glanced down at the necklace that had been on Kitt's neck just moments ago. Jeremy was silent. "Mom," He said slowly, "Where am I?" Her brows furrowed. She scoffed. "Um, Colorado?" "On Earth?" He asked. "No, on Saturn." When she realized he genuinely believed he was on Saturn, she corrected herself. "Jesus, yes you're on Earth. Whats gotten into you?" He swallowed. "Long day." "Alright. It's dinner. For the eleventh time." She smiled and left. Jeremy closed his book with shaking hands and looked on the front cover. There, drawn on were the images of Grevillea, Zink, Kitt, and Etis--in dragon form of course. And right above them rested the title of the book. Eternity.


        For the fifth time this week, Jasmine saw the little girl propped up in her bed looking out the window of Whitebridge County Hospital.  This part of the Whisper Valley train line was unique because it loops around in a way to give passengers a discernible view inside some of Whitebridge County Hospital. Not only was Jasmine able to identify the girl’s shoulder-length dark curls and olive skin, very much like her own, she saw the girl wave. Could she see Jasmine smile and wave back at her?  Jasmine swore she could see the girl’s bright but heartbreaking smile. She was in the hospital, so Jasmine was sure the girl was anxious and sad. Jasmine guessed that the child was seven or eight years old. Being in the hospital is scary enough for an adult, but for a child it is overwhelming.               Jasmine felt a genuine connection to the little girl and worried about what was wrong with her that she had been in the hospital for at least a week. She knew all too well that hospitals liked to release patients as quickly as possible. When Jasmine’s dad had heart bypass surgery, he was only in the hospital for three days, and when she broke her leg a couple of years ago, they didn’t even keep her overnight. So, when a patient was kept for at least five days, there had to be something seriously wrong. Jasmine remembered when she was seven, she’d been hospitalized for a ruptured appendix and later developed sepsis which required her to stay in the hospital for 13 days. It was the first time she came face to face with her own mortality, something a child shouldn’t have to do. There was a nice nurse that helped her through it though.               Although Jasmine had never spoken to the girl, she almost felt as though she knew her. She realized that was ridiculous. How could she know someone she’d never met nor spoken to? Still, Jasmine sensed a familiarity between her and the girl. Was that real, or was Jasmine’s yearning for a child of her own getting to her? At 32, Jasmine was concerned that her biological clock was ticking, and so far she hadn’t met a man with whom she wanted to have a long-term relationship , let alone marry and start a family with. Sure, she could get pregnant through a sperm bank, but that wasn’t her thing. She truly wanted it all—to continue to be a respected English professor at the University where she worked and to be a successful author,  but also a wife and mother.               Jasmine decided that if the girl was still in the hospital window on Monday that she would visit her after work. Being somewhat familiar with what seven- and eight-year-old girls liked because of her two nieces, Jasmine went shopping over the weekend. She envisioned her girl being imaginative and creative, as she was as a child, so she wanted to purchase gifts to encourage those things. Jasmine’s nieces, like her when she was little, loved their dolls and dollhouses.  She bought a lunchbox style dollhouse, that the child could play with in or out of the hospital. It was quite impressive with its wood printed flooring and wallpaper with a cloudlike pattern in blue, pink, lavender, and peach pastels. Jasmine would enjoy having some of the furniture, such as the sleigh bed and standing “brass” floor lamp, in her home if they were the right size. Jasmine also purchased two female dolls, one White and the other Black, which would fit in the dollhouse perfectly.               On Monday, on Jasmine’s way home, she disembarked the train at the Diamond Grove stop and walked to the Whitebridge County hospital holding a large gift bag with pastel pink polka dots, stuffed with tissue paper, and adorned with a bow. Jasmine knew that the woman at the information desk wouldn’t divulge any information about a child, so she greeted the friendly middle-aged woman with a smile and proceeded to the elevator like she knew where she was going. Based on her calculations, the little girl was on the fifth floor, east side, third window from the left, probably room 508. When she approached that room though, she noticed an attractive old woman with curly winter white hair cut into a stylish hairdo propped up on her pillows dozing. Jasmine did a double take. My God, she looks like my grandmother, but Grandmom is alive and well in her home. I just talked to her last night. She was doing great. Did she have a heart attack, and nobody told me? Jasmine panicked, but when she looked at the name posted next to the doorway, she saw the last name was Sanderson, not her name Cook.  Figuring she miscalculated the room the girl was in, Jasmine continued to the two rooms on the right and left of the room she’d just observed. In two rooms, she saw an elderly man, in another a middle-aged and elderly woman, and further down the hall two middle-aged men.               A slender no nonsense nurse approached her. “Mam, are you looking for someone?”               “My coworker asked me to drop off this gift to her niece. I thought she was in room 508, but there’s an elderly woman in there, so I started looking in the other rooms around 508.”               The nurse looked puzzled. “This is the cardiac ward. There are no children here. She would be in pediatric ward, the 4 th and 5th floors of the B wing. Take the walkway over there and follow the signs. You’ll eventually end up on the west side of the hospital,” said the nurse and hurried away.               Now, Jasmine was the one who was perplexed. She’d always prided herself on having a keen sense of direction and could always figure out what was east and west. How can I be so wrong? Maybe she is on the 5th floor on the west side of the hospital, but that doesn’t make sense. The west side wouldn’t face the train tracks. When Jasmine got there, she nonchalantly glanced in some rooms on each side of the fifth floor. Sure enough, none of the windows had a view of the train station or tracks as far as she could tell.               Jasmine approached the handsome thirty something man at the nurse’s station. On his nametag was the name Bryan Sanderson. Was he related to the woman in 508 in the east building? “Good evening, Mr. Sanderson. I’m having a bit of a problem here. Maybe you can help me?”               “I’ll try,” he said with a charming smile.               “I have a gift to deliver for my coworker’s niece. She told me that her niece was on the fifth floor of the east building, but I found out that’s the cardiac ward. The floor nurse told me there weren’t any children there. “ What’s the little girl’s name?” Bryan said as he moved towards the computer.               “That’s the thing. I can’t remember her name. I feel terrible about that. My friend did tell me her niece had a view of the train tracks.  Do any of these rooms in the children’s ward have a view of the train station or tracks?” “Definitely not. Only the east side has that view. My mom was a pediatric nurse at this hospital before the children’s wing was over here. I remember her telling me stories about how children were housed on the fifth floor of the east building and, on one side, the kids could see the train station. Conductors would blow the whistle when they went past the hospital. The kids loved it.” “When was that?” “She started here in 1990 or maybe it was 91.” Along with a dazzling smile, he has the most alluring blue eyes. “My mom worked here until 2013. She’s been Director of Pediatrics at Children’s Hospital in the city ever since. Why don’t you call your friend and at least get the niece’s name,” said Bryan as he started entering information in the computer. Jasmine could see that Bryan was getting impatient with her. She had to contact his mom. Something very weird is going on. Maybe this guy’s mom could shed light on what’s going on. “I suppose that’s what I need to do. By the way, do you have a grandmother or aunt on the cardiac floor?       “Nope. Why do you ask? “          "When I went to the room, I thought my friend’s niece was in over in the east building, I noticed the name Sanderson next to the doorway.”               “Unless I have a relative I don’t know about, nobody related to me is in the cardiac area.” Did his eyes just twinkle? Bryan looked up from the computer briefly. “Good luck. Once you find out your friend’s niece’s name, come back. I’ll be glad to assist you.” “Thanks. By the way, what’s your mom’s name? I have another friend who’s a nurse at Children’s Hospital. I’ll ask her if she knows your mom.” Jasmine had no such friend, but the lie might enable her to get in touch with Bryan’s mother. “It’s Miriam Sanderson,” said Bryan and continued typing. “See you later.” While Jasmine waited for the next train to take her home, she called Children’s Hospital and obtained Miriam’s office phone number and called it.  Since it was already 6:00, Jasmine didn’t expect anyone to pick up, so she was surprised when Miriam did. Jasmine explained that she was a Social Science major at Coventry University. “I’m doing a report on the importance of stimuli when children are in the hospital. Could I call you over the weekend to ask you a few questions?” “I’m sorry, I'm really busy this weekend, but I’m done working and am waiting for my husband to pick me up. He won’t be here for another 20 minutes. We could talk now if you’d like.” “That would be great! Thank you so much. Would you be able to tell me about when pediatrics was in the east building and how kids would watch the trains? Did that have a positive effect on them? “Oh my. It sure did. There was one little girl I’ll never forget. She was on the 5 th floor around 2001 or 2002 when pediatrics used to be on the 4th and 5th floors of the east building. The poor little thing had a ruptured appendix which cause her to acquire sepsis. It was really touch and go for a few days. By the time she was released from the hospital, she’d been here two weeks.” Jasmine couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It sounded like the girl Miriam was describing was her. Unexpectedly, Jasmine remembered details of her interminable hospital stay when she was seven. Once she started to feel better, she was really bored. When she didn’t have visitors or wasn’t reading or coloring, she’d watch the trains to pass the time. The sound of the whistle was really soothing and the sight of all the train cars moving past her window was really kind of hypnotic. She wondered where are all those people were going—to work, to their grandparents in another town, or on vacation? The stories Jasmine made up about them kept her busy for what seemed like hours. “What did the patient look like?” “I can see her right now. She was the cutest little thing. The child had beautiful shoulder-length dark curls that her mother would brush for her every day when she came in. I’d say she had olive skin, but it had a bit of a pallor since she was so sick. Despite feeling poorly, she always managed to smile at the nurses and to say please and thank you. Such a sweet little girl. Whenever I was in her room, I’d spend some additional time with her, giving her an extra cup of juice, putting a cool damp cloth on her forehead, talking to her…” Jasmine’s heart was pounding. She took a couple deep breaths. “Do you remember her name?” “Jasmine. I remember that because it was such a pretty name. I can’t recall her last name though. It was at least 15 years ago when she was here, but she made an impression on me. Aside from being so sweet, she absolutely loved the trains. She could see them from her window. When she was so sick, I’d make up little stories about the people on the trains. Then, when she started to feel better, we’d tell each other stories about them.” “Mrs. Sanderson. I believe that little girl was me. Thank you so much for taking such good care of me. “That little girl I saw looking out the hospital window was me too, but that doesn’t make any sense. How can the current me and the child me both exist in this time and place?

Jasmine felt her entire body tremble. Was the elderly woman who looked like Grandmom me too? Is this real or am I hallucinating? “Jasmine, are you still there?” “Sorry. Yes, I’m here, but I’m suddenly feeling a bit nauseous. I don’t think my lunch agreed with me,” Jasmine fibbed. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Please call me again. Maybe we could meet for lunch sometime. I could answer more of your questions for your paper. Besides, I’d love to see you all grown up if that’s alright with you.” “That would be lovely, Mrs. Sanderson. Thanks again for your help,” said Jasmine and placed her phone in her handbag. I think I need to go back to the hospital. I want to meet the woman in room 508 in the east building.


*Time: 2024, one year post outbreak* Back when the outbreak began, Austin was ordered to evacuate, as all major cities were. Almost everyone complied, and those who weren’t were rounded up and forced to by the military. Everyone the government had on record was accounted for and pushed out of the city, whether they wanted to or not; but no one stopped to check to make sure that I, the blind homeless man living in an alley between a hotel and a convenience store, ever complied with the evacuation orders. \_\_\_\_\_ I woke up in my shelter (a former hotel room), and my first feeling was the same one I felt every morning; hunger. So I put my braille copy of *To Kill a Mockingbird* back on my shelf (I had a bad habit of reading myself to sleep)*,* and decided to go check on my traps, hoping I’d caught something to eat. If I was lucky I’d get a racoon or a possum, but if nothing else I was sure there’d be a rat or a pigeon. I grabbed my mobility cane, strapped on my utility belt, and carefully opened the door to my room. I poked my head out, carefully listening to anything that might have been an infected. I hadn’t heard or smelled an infected in weeks, but you could never be too careful. I didn’t hear anything, so I continued walking. Even though I had muscle memorized my way out of the building, I still held onto my wire just in case. I had long set up a series of wires in the building to always lead me back to my room if I got lost. I unlocked the building’s front door, and once again listened for the infected. I heard nothing, so I pressed on. I could tell just by the feeling of heat on my skin that it was daytime, so I knew there’d be less infected wandering the streets. The infected preferred to be out at night, they only wandered during the day if they were really hungry. I learned early on that if I stuck with the same buildings each time, animals would stop falling my traps after like, a week or so. But after a month or so, the wildlife would forget, and I’d be free to set up traps there again. So, I tried to change my locations at least every 3 or 4 days, and not use the same buildings for at least four weeks. Today the start of a new set up. As I was approaching the building (I memorized how many steps it took to get there), I heard the one sound I wanted to hear the least; the low pitched snarl of an infected. And even if I couldn’t hear him, I could definitely smell him approaching. Most infected start to smell after a while, but this one was particularly rancid. From the sound of it, it was alone. I waited for it to get closer, and could still only hear one footstep at a time, so I felt a bit lucky that it was a loner. I drew my revolver, and waited for the infected to get closer. As he did, I isolated the sound of his growling; once I had a lock on his head, I aimed, and pulled the trigger. I then checked to make sure I didn’t miss. I put away my gun and drew my machete, ready to fight it off if it was still alive. It wasn’t; I felt it’s lifeless body with my mobility cane, I knew it was dead. I then continued towards the building where I laid my traps. Once inside, I ran my cane along the wall, checking the snares I laid out. My first three snares were nothing. This was expected, not every single one could be a winner. But as I approached my fourth snare, I smelled something, so I knew I must have caught something. I felt it to take sure it had died; it did. So I put my plastic gloves on, and bent down to feel what it was; it was a racoon. I then put it in a plastic bag, tied it to my belt, and then moved on. While I continued searching, I heard something else walk into the building. Then, I heard the growls, and knew it must have been infected. But it wasn’t just one this time, I could hear at least three growling mouths. And they were getting closer. I couldn’t fight all three at once; there was no way I could isolate their sounds quickly enough to shoot with accuracy, and trying to fight them off with my machete would’ve been hopeless. So instead, I ran. I found a door. I opened it. I then closed it behind me. But this wasn’t going to help me for long; the infected weren’t very smart, but they usually remembered enough of their old lives to do basic tasks like flipping light switches and opening doors. While they stumbled towards the door, I wandered the room more. I found a staircase; this must have been the emergency stairwell. I started walking up, hoping I could lose the infected on another floor. But then, as I was approaching the top floor, I could hear a loud pounding coming from above. Something was stumbling down the steps. I drew my gun, and waited. I could only hear one snarl, so it must have been another loner. Once I isolated his sound, I fired, and could tell just by the sudden *thud* on the ground that I landed another shot. But I didn’t have time to even catch my breath, because the other three infected were coming. I dashed up the steps, hoping to escape them. I got to the next floor, and felt the walls until I found the door. I opened it, dashed past, and slammed it behind me. I then started feeling for a piece of furniture I could use to barricade the door. I didn’t find anything, and I could hear the infected approaching. One of them opened the door, but before any could enter, I threw my entire body weight against it. I could tell something was caught in the door, probably an arm or a leg. While still pressed against the door, I pulled my machete, and started flailing. I must have hit something, because one of them screamed in pain and recoiled. I quickly realized how futile it would be to try to hold them back much longer, so I sheathed my machete, drew my gun, and took a few steps backward. The moment I heard the door swing open, I opened fire. It would have been pointless to try to shoot them back in the lobby, but in a tight doorway where all three would be stumbling over themselves to push past, I knew I’d have to hit something. I fired my four remaining shots as best I could, and then took off running. I had no idea how many I killed, and had no intent of waiting to find out the hard way. The explosive sounds of the gunshots gave me temporary tinnitus. When it wore off, I could hear one set of footsteps and one snarling mouth stumbling after me. I didn’t have time to reload my gun, and could tell by my cane that I reached the end of the hallway and had no idea where else to run. So I drew my machete and got ready for a fight. As the infected got closer, I started flailing my machete. Most infected are smart enough to not run face first into a blade. It would instead circle me, hoping to catch me off guard. I swung at it, but missed, and it grabbed my arm. This was bad, but not the end; it would be if it bit me, but a scratch wouldn’t infect me. It then tried to pull me in close, probably to land a bite, but I quickly slashed it with my machete, and cut its arm clean off. It then howled in pain; that was good, it’s howl let me know exactly what it was. I then raised my machete and threw out one last slash, one that buried my blade in its skull. I then paused and listened for any more infected. I heard none. I reloaded my gun, just to be safe, but still, I heard nothing. With all that madness out of the way, I breathed a sigh of relief, checked to make sure my racoon was still where I left it, and started making my way back out. This was the hardest part of my new life; anytime I lost track of where I am, it’s a struggle to get back to a landmark. But thankfully, all I had to do was follow the hallway to the end and go back down the stairs to end up back in the lobby where I started. I don’t know how long I’m going to make it living day by day in the ruins of my city. But at that moment, all I needed to know was that I was about to have dinner.


We're 25,000 feet above ground as I look at the photos from the day before and a tear escapes my eyes. I stop to admire the handsome man sitting next to me whose hand is still clutching one mine even as he snoozes. I'm happier than I've been in years, but as those photos tell me, someone will always be missing. I can see my father in my mind’s eye. I can't help but think that he should've been the one to walk me down the aisle, not dear Uncle Ben. I'm positive that he would have tears in his eyes that would mirror my own. My reveries are interrupted by the intercom. The pilot announces we're about to land as a flight attendant tells me I should wake Dan up. I whisper his name by his ear as my free hand caresses the stubble that covers the brown skin of his face. He looks at me, eyes slowing focusing before he drops a tender kiss to my lips when he comes to. *** The view from the airplane had been fantastic, but on the ground it's even more breathtaking. After spending some lazy days sunbathing in Cancun, we go on a road trip to Belize. We stop by any and every interesting beach, park or tourist attraction on our way. We chat with the locals, learn about their lives and make new temporary friends. I don't remember feeling that free since I used to go on boat trips with my dad. Our destinations were always uncertain and involved lots of open sea swimming and diving. It feels like going back home even if the Caribbean sun makes my skin look almost as red as my hair. Dan jokes that I no longer look like the Little Mermaid, as my dad used to call me. He says I look like the little shrimp now and I playfully punch his toned arm as he applies sunscreen to my burnt skin. It's certainly easier to swim in Florida where the sun is a bit more forgiving. Still, considering that I haven't swum or been to a beach there in over 10 years, this is perfect. *** We're having lunch one day when Dan excuses himself to go to the toilet. He comes back talking to a man who gives him his card. He has a broad smile on his face as he returns to our table. “Who was that?” “That guy was the owner of an amazing resort focused on sports and nature here. From what he’s showed me, my gym pales in comparison. They have everything there! He’s invited us over. Do you wanna check it out tomorrow?” We drive over the next day and Carlos, the owner, shows us around. His attire is much more casual today as he isn't wearing a suit and his exposed dark skin shines under the sun. He and Dan end up spending a lot of time talking, so it is a relief that his teenage daughter, Alicia, stays with me. Our group goes horseback riding next to a river and then we Canopy walk until we reach a zipline. I feel alive as my body glides down towards the ground. I wonder how I could keep myself so far away from nature for such a long time. It's true that all sorts of creatures swim around the corridors of the aquarium I work at, but this is different. I'm so lost in my thoughts that I almost get kicked in the backside as Alicia is gliding down. Her black curls, that are even darker than her skin, dance in the wind until her feet hits the ground. They cover her face for a moment and she’s brushing them away when a boy screams from far away. “Lici!” Alicia looks at the group of people the boy is in. He says something to her in what I assume is Kriol, the Belizean Creole. Her eyes dart between me and them. “I should go. Will you be okay?” “Yeah, sure. Dan is right over there.” Alicia is already a few steps away when she turns around. “You know what? We’re going to take some of our guests to the Great Blue Hole tomorrow. I bet you’d love it, Becca!" She raises her voice as she continues, "I’m sure dad won’t mind talking some more to Dan, right dad?” "Definitely not! You gotta come with us!" Carlos exclaims as he proceeds to tell us about Amberguis Caye, the island close to the Blue Hole. “Thanks. We’ll think about it,” I tell him, but I'm sure I won't be going. We decide to stay the night as the sun is about to set and we sit by the beach to watch it. Dan wraps an arm around me and drops a kiss to my temple as he asks me about going to Ambergris Caye. “I don’t know…” I trail off. “We don’t have to dive or go on the boat trip at all. We can see how it’s like there while we wait for the other tourists to come back.” In the distance I can see Alicia and her group of friends having fun. Spending the day with her reminded me of my own girlhood. It makes me realize I'm keeping myself from doing things I used to dream of. “Actually, we should. I can’t be held hostage by fear forever, Dan. It’s been too long since dad went missing and I can’t let go of it. He went fishing, there was a storm, his boat capsized and it is scary, but I need to go back to the sea. That’s what I love!” I confess and I feel his hands squeezing mine. *** Ambergris Caye is just as splendid as both Carlos and Alicia had told us. Dan and I look at each other when we get to the Great Blue Hole. We reach a silent agreement, so we reply in unison when Alicia asks us if we would rather go snorkelling or diving. Alicia warns us about the dangers of the Blue Hole and tells us not to swim too deep or too far away. Dan and I look at the fish and I point at the ones I hadn't seen in real life before. I see a barracuda and follow it from afar for a few seconds only to resurface to talk to Dan. I dive again when I don't see him and after a few attempts I rush to the boat to ask for help. Some sailors dive with me as we look for him until Alicia grabs my hands and pulls me to the surface. "Your tank is almost empty," she says as she points at it. As we return to the boat she tells me we have to go back. They'll ask the coastal patrol for help, but as it's almost night they'll only conduct the searches on the following day. It will be too late by then. All I could see were reruns of the fateful day in which Uncle Ben called me during class to tell me they could not find my dad. To these days I wonder if we could have found him had I convinced the other fishermen to keep looking after the coastal patrol gave up. I was not about to make the same mistake again. “I’m going back in. Give me another tank,” I state, but I can hear my voice breaking. “Becca, we must go back. The sun will set soon and everyone’s lives will be in danger if we don’t make back in time. We’ll miss the airplane, too. We have nowhere to stay here.” “I can’t leave him,” I say through the tears I can no longer hold them back. "If you want to go, just go, but I'll keep looking for Dan." Alicia walks away from me and I hear her talking to her father in Kriol. I'm sure they have a small argument before Alicia comes back. “Come on, we’ve got 30 minutes. Gear up,” she explains as she grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet. We put on our masks and grab new tanks. We move straight down as quick as possible. I'm looking around as frantically as I can for any sign of Dan. I end up losing sight of Alicia until she materializes next to me while pointing at something. I notice her other hand is clutching a beautiful necklace I don't remember she had on before. She lets go of it as she starts guiding me towards the direction she had pointed at. I see the necklace has a bright blue pendant in the format of a shell attached to it. My mind snaps out of it when I see a figure stuck to a rock a couple of minutes later. It’s Dan. Alicia and I proceed to pull him with us and we keep swimming upwards until we finally resurface. Dan is taken to a hospital once we get to the shore. Carlos rushes to the airport with the other guests, but he arranges reservations with a friend for us and Alicia before he goes. I stop pacing and sit next to her. I thank her for saving Dan's life as I see her toying with her necklace and decide to ask her about it. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. Just a childhood gift from my mom,” She says as her long ebony fingers trace its length and stop at the pendant hanging from it. I feel like it’s bewitching me again until she hides the pendant underneath her blouse. “What happened to her?” “She comes and goes. This is the only thing she’s ever given to me.” “I’m sorry. I know what it’s like not to have your mom with you. Mine passed when I was very young and then my father passed, too." “I'm sure your parents are watching over you from wherever they are, though. We were really lucky to find Dan in time, Becca.” “We were…” I clutch my coffee and tell her to go get some rest. I pace some more after Alicia is gone until a nurse informs me that Daniel Sanchez wants to see me. She guides me to his room and I dash towards him. I was the one supposed to soothe him, but I can't stop crying. As I calm down, Dan tells me he's seen something weird when he was underwater. He describes people in colorful clothes talking to him. I tell him it was probably the lack of oxygen that caused him to see those things, but he insists that he wants to go back there. I try to dissuade him from this idea, but as I can't I decide to go back with him against my best judgment. *** We've been swimming for a couple of minutes when Dan suddenly stops. He points at a piece of rock that looks unlike any other and proceeds to palm it, as if he was trying to find a lock or something that would open it up. Nothing happens and I pull at his arm, desperate to get back up and leave this place that almost turned my biggest dream into my new worst nightmare. Dan is starting to follow me, visibly defeated, when Alicia motions us to stop. I look at her in horror as she removes her mask and gets her necklace from the inside of her swimsuit. She turns it towards the rock and it jerks slightly. She pulls it aside and a tunnel appears before our eyes. Dan and I can only stare at each other. She tells us to follow her and we surprisingly can make out her voice despite the fact that we're many feet underwater. Before I'm able to stop him, Dan follows her and I have no option but to follow them. We reach the other side and I'm appalled. It was like walking into an underwater castle. Colorful reefs and pearls adorned the walls of the caves as the light touched them. "Luminescent algae," Alicia tells me as she sees the confusion in my face regarding the origin of that light. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Welcome home." "Home?" I ask and the noise reverberate inside my mask. Alicia moves towards me and started to remove my mask., but I hold tight onto it. "Come on, take it off. You can breathe down here." I remove it reluctantly and I'm shocked to find out that I wasn't drowning. "See? You weren't called Little Mermaid for nothing." "How do you know that? I've never…" I start to ask as she rushes towards Dan and stops him from removing his mask. "She can breathe down here, but you can't. If you want to die you take it off!" she warns. "Why can we stay without the masks but he can't?" "We're… mermaids," she explains as she makes air quotes with her fingers, disdain written all over her face. "Well, not mermaids as they picture in fairy tales, but we can do pretty much everything they do. We don't lure poor fishermen to kill them, though. And actually, not having a fish tail is a plus." I glance at Dan again and I wish I could hear what he's trying to tell me. This is madness and maybe he could talk some sense back into me. "Are we dead? Did I lose my consciousness or am hallucinating?" I scream and manag to scare some of the fish that had been peacefully swimming nearby. "Not at all. Come, someone is eager to see you." As she pulls another rock, we enter what looks like a huge covered patio. Half a dozen people — if I could call them people — who were going about their business stop to look at us. Most of their mouths are agape and they seem to be just as shocked by seeing us as I am by seeing them. Alicia keeps moving until we reach another arc. She yells and a somewhat familiar face greets us. She hugs Alicia and then stops to look at me. “Rebecca Stewart?” “Yes. Rebecca Sanchez now, this is Dan, my husband,” I tell her while turning to look at him. He's still by my side and holding my hand even if his eyes can't stop roaming the space around him. “Who are you?” “I’m Hellen. I'm Lici's mom and Ben’s daughter.” “Ben’s? As in Uncle Ben’s?!” “Yes. Haven’t you told her anything?” Hellen asks Alicia, who shakes her head. “Well, there’s a lot of catching up to do, then.” Hellen explains that we're merpeople. Alicia and I were first cousins once removed. Uncle Ben and his wife had met through my parents and fallen in love. Her mother had to come back to the sea because of her and Ben stayed in Cortez as he wasn't a merperson. “I couldn’t live up there, not for long. Some of us can’t, we don’t know why.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I met Carlos one day when he was diving here and we had little Lici,” she says nodding towards her daughter. “Not little mom,” Alicia said irritated, but I could barely pay attention to her as all the information sunk in. “Oh, teenagers… Anyways, I went back visit my father when my mom passed as he couldn’t come himself. Your father was taking me to open sea so that I could meet our people and swim back. He went underwater to greet them, but we were attacked as we were approaching them.” “Attacked? By whom?” "We don't know for sure, but there are many groups of merpeople who are against us mingling with humans. Apparently they found what allows us to breathe when we're on land and they did something to prevent us from going back. Your father lived with you and your mom there for almost 20 years. I could stay there for a month or so. Now we can't stay even for a couple of minutes." "We? Does that mean that..." I can't bring myself to finish the sentence. I had to let him go. I couldn't create false expectations... "Your dad is alive, yes. He's the one who found Dan here when he was out there trying to sneak a peak at you. Luckly Alicia was around." We swim towards another arc on the other side of the cave and a man pushes the hanging beads aside. "Dad?!" I scream and I grimace, certain that tears would be rolling down my face if we weren't underwater. “Little mermaid!” He squeezes me in his arms. "Why didn't you tell me? I've missed you so much!" "I've missed you, too! I made sure Alicia kept in touch with Ben, but..." "I mourned you, I still do! You could've let me know!" "It was dangerous to contact you. As much as they hate those of us who live outside the sea, they keep in contact with humans. They could find you and keep you from living on land. Your entire life was in Florida..." I step back from his embrace and glance at Dan. Him, dad and now Alicia. They were the people I cared the most about. "No, dad. My life is right here." *** Dan and Carlos work together at the resort now while I work at a marine reserve. Alicia starts studying Oceanography and we help each other out. I explain the most complicated subjects to her and she gives me a hand at the reserve on weekends. Whenever we can, we study merpeople anatomy as we try to discover what enables us to breathe as humans and fish. Each month we head to Ambergris Caye to spend time with our underwater family. Every time we dive with Dan and Carlos we hope someday we'll be able to reunite again. On water and on land.


The elderly woman diverts her attention for a moment, just a moment, to the beauty of her surroundings. Her gentle eyes take in the water around her, the delicate ripples which stimulate one another in a sort of domino effect. She remembers playing dominoes as a child. She recalls the delight her toddler self would feel when she would poke that first domino, sending to lot of them falling down. The thought of fallen dominoes reminds her of a heartwarming scene she had witnessed at the camp, roughly a week ago. Three of the members, girls aged four, five and six, had joined hands and swung around and around until they had felt dizzy. They then collapsed onto the grass, giggling. The woman’s grey eyes twinkle as she remembers the joy which the scene had brought her. It made her heart feel full. The woman closes her eyes for a moment and listens to the chirpings birds in the inland trees, to the refreshing winds gently pushing along their canoes, and the steadfast movement of the river. “Are you ok?” The elderly woman opens her eyes and smiles down at the source of the timid voice, a young four-year-old boy sitting in the canoe alongside her and the other children. “Yes love, I’m alright.” She pats the boy’s wild locks of hazel hair. He beams up at her. The elderly woman lifts her gaze from the young boy and watches another canoe, only inches behind their own. The canoe, also filled with a set of young children, is being led by a man around the same age as the elderly woman; he was in his seventies. Her husband. ---------------------------------------------------------------- “Oh, look!” the young woman says to her husband, pointing a finger at the winding river. There are two canoes, one led by an elderly woman and the other by an equally elderly man. She spots two canoes, each filled with young children of different races and ethnicities. The children appear to be happy and intrigued by the big friendly river and the mysteries it masks under the deep waters. “Hmm?’ her husband says absent-mindedly, laying down blissfully on the outstretched picnic blanket. He sits up and his blissful demeanor is opted for one of surprise. “Huh, I wonder who they are,” he muses, also intrigued. “They’re likely part of some sort of camp.” “Careful honey!” the young woman suddenly calls out, gently reaching for the arm of her toddler. The carefree boy had innocently been making his way over to the shore of the river, fascinated by the canoeing children. Together, the young family watch as the two canoes slowly but surely make their way down the massive, twisty turny river. ---------------------------------------------------------------- As the elderly woman stares down at the chatting young children in her canoe, each one almost swallowed whole but their lifejacket, she feels a familiar pang of sadness. That sadness is caused by a familiar reason. How sad it is that all of these children are less than six years old , she thinks to herself, listening to the children’s laughter. Actually, most of the children were exactly six years old , though a few were younger. Orphaned at such a young age. She herself had been orphaned at the age of sixteen, and at the time she had thought that to be a very young age. She had been devastated when the orphanage had brought over these incredibly young children to participate in their specialized camp. She couldn’t help but feel grateful that she had been able to share fond memories with her parents in her short time with them. A few of the children, the youngest ones, didn't remember their parents at all. The elderly woman watches them huddle curiously around a young boy and the pretty rocks which he had collected when they had been on shore. The proud young boy is the same child who had asked her earlier if she were alright. The child displays his prized possessions. “That one is pretty!” says a five-year-old Malaysian girl. The local orphanage sponsored children from all around the world, and particularly dealt with very young children. The girl’s parents had passed away when she was only two years old and she didn’t remember them well. Shyly, she points to a brilliant red rock in the group and says, “May I touch it?” The young boy nods and, with a smile, he hands the rock to the excited girl. “That rock is really pretty!” the elderly woman agrees, admiring the beautiful shade of red. Red is her favourite colour, the colour of love. “I like that one,” says a six-year old boy, sponsored from Egypt. He points to a simple looking, smooth grey rock. It is similar in shade to the woman’s own eyes. “You can touch it,” the young boy says, handing it to his Egyptian friend. “Maybe you will find more cool rocks when we return to shore,” the elderly woman says and the children nod their heads eagerly. The kids thoroughly enjoy being outdoors, to the delight of the elderly couple. The beauty of nature is so often overlooked ; the elderly woman had said to her husband. Suddenly, the elderly woman notices that one child is not part of the huddle around the rocks. A five-year-old girl sits a little further back in the massive canoe. Her eyes are fixed on the river waters, a pair of eyes which had a mature aura about them that made the Indian girl seem far older. Her eyes dart back and forth fascinatedly, as she follows the twisty turny pattern of the massive winding lake. Sensing the elderly woman’s gaze, the Indian girl turns to face her, fixing that same mature gaze upon her. The woman smiles. “You like the river?” she asks and the Indian girl nods. “It’s like a snake,” she says in a low yet crystal clear voice. The elderly woman chuckles, “It really is.” “How’s it going you lot?” Startled, the elderly woman turns to find the second canoe has moved forward so that it is now on the left side of her canoe, opposed to just behind it. Her husband chuckles. “Scared you? Sorry, didn’t mean to.” With a crinkling smile, he gazes at the children who all peer up at him adoringly. They love him. He has a way with them. In that same shy voice, the Malaysian girl asks, “Story time?” The elderly husband beams down at her. “That’s right love. That’s why I canoed over here. Would you all like to hear another story?” The children nod eagerly and the elderly wife smiles. Her husband is a retired pilot and a very good sailor so he has plenty of old stories to tell. The children soak them up like a sponge. “Tell us a scary story,” the young boy with the rocks says, looking up cheekily at the massive figure of the husband. “Oh, but not too scary,” the Malaysian girl shudders and I chuckle. My husband smiles thoughtfully and says, “I’ve got a scary story for you but it has a happy ending. Would you like to hear it?” All children nod. “Alright then.” As the two canoes steer in a snake-like fashion along the rivers, the husband begins. “This happened to me when I had just become a pilot. I was really excited. I had wanted to fly a plane since I was…” he smiles at the young Egyptian boy and pats him on the head, “…your age. I loved planes. I wanted to fly them so badly and I finally could. “ The elderly woman smiles to herself. She’s heard this story before. “I decided to take my best friend for a ride. He actually had no idea that I was becoming a pilot, I wanted it to be a surprise. When I told him I got my license, his face was priceless,” the old man chuckles, remembering his old friend. “I had asked him where he wanted to go and he said anywhere. He just wanted to fly. We decided to fly over Oklahoma. It was only a half an hour flight from here, easy stuff even for a beginner. We hopped in the plane and we were off. “ “Ok…la…homa,” says a three-year-old girl, spelling it out carefully with the same meticulousness of a baker icing a cake. A sudden droplet of water lands on the nose of the unsuspecting elderly woman, and she looks up at the sky in surprise. Rain? She waits a few moments but no more droplets fall. She turns her attention back to her husband and smiles at the eager looking children. The younger handful of the children couldn’t always really understand her husband’s stories but they loved crowding around him and listening all the same. “Yes, Oklahoma. I should have known,” the man says cryptically, then goes on. “Anyways, we were really having a good time. The sky looks so beautiful up close like that, and everything down below looked so small. The houses and trees seemed so tiny.

We were enjoying the view when I noticed something. The skies had grown a little dark, they were grey. Then I saw droplets of water falling from the sky; rain. It was raining-" “I love rain,” says the four-year-old boy, owner of the prized rock collection. The old man nods and smiles, crow’s feet and dimples coming into display. “So do I, boy, but I wasn’t going to be able to enjoy it that day. At first, we didn’t care. Just a little bit of rain. No big deal. We kept flying, chatting, joking around. Then, I heard it. The first roar of thunder. That’s when I realized how much darker the skies had grown.” “A thunderstorm?” says another six-year-old boy, a quiet sort from South Africa. “Scary!” shivers the Malaysian girl. Suddenly, a shower of rain strikes the surprised group and they look up at the sky. It’s raining. “Uh oh,” says the elderly husband, turning to look at his wife. “Maybe we should return to shore. The kids will get soaked and we don’t want anyone catching colds.” “I agree,” she smiles down at the disappointed expressions on a few of the children’s faces. “Don’t worry, we can go rock hunting again, instead.” The two canoes began to turn around, winding down the river in the opposite direction. “Um…are you going to tell us your story?” asks the South African. The elder husband’s eyes brighten. “Yes, sorry! So, it was raining, like it is now. Then, we heard thunder. I remember being afraid but trying to hide it. I was only a beginner pilot, remember. I didn’t want to fly through a storm. That's every beginner pilot's worse nightmare. There was nowhere to land, however, so I had to keep flying. I remember the thunder had sounded so loud. Fierce like a lion. It was scary. It was getting harder to see, too. The sky was completely dark, as if somebody had painted it black. My hands were shaking a little but I was trying to stay focused. But then…there was lightning. Big flashes of lightning. Right in front of me. That’s when my friend and I looked at each other in fear. We didn’t want to get struck." A sudden rumble echoes above the group. The rain is falling down more forcefully. There is another rumble; thunder. It is still a long way back to shore. The elderly couple exchange a glance. The elderly woman remembers learning something at a young age that most kids her age had known. It’s never a good idea to be in water during a thunderstorm. Noting the fearful expression on the faces of the drenched children, the husband says calmly, “Don’t worry. We’re heading back to shore.” Suddenly, his eyes light up as a he remembers something. He turns to his wife. “The tarpaulin!” He stops canoeing for a moment and bends down to open a hidden compartment built into the floor of the canoe. A small blue tarpaulin is found, folded up neatly and ready to be used. “Of course!” said the wife with a laugh. “I forgot about it.” She pulls out tarpaulin from her canoe. “We had packed this just in case. Here children, you can use this to cover your heads so you don’t get wet.” Their fears forgotten temporarily, the children laugh as they use their little fingers to drape the tarpaulin over the heads. “I used to make forts with my blanket,” the Egyptian boy smiles. “Like this.” Ignoring their own drenched bodies, the elderly woman and husband try to pick up the pace with the canoeing. Thunder roars above them and the children huddle together under the tarpaulin, fear having returned. The husband looks up at the sky, fear on his weather-worn face and he prays silently that lightning won’t strike the water. Suddenly, the Malaysian girl gasps and points a trembling finger at the clouds. “Lightning!” she says in a quivering voice. The husband turns and sees another clash of lightning, fortunately going from cloud to cloud and not cloud to ground. “Don’t worry,” he says, gently. "It’s just hitting the clouds, not the water.” It was a tense ten minutes to shore but at last, they gave a cheer of relief as they made it. “Hurry into the camp!” the elderly woman instructs the children, the moment they reach land. The children don’t need to be told twice and, dropping the tarpaulin, they hurry to the humble, home-like building which resides only metres away. The couple pull the two canoes far inland and hurry to join the children. As they do, the elderly woman turns back just in time to see another bolt of lightning illuminate the sky. She shudders and hurries inside. To their surprise, they find the children surrounding a young family, a husband, wife and very young boy. The only worker in the building, their young twenty-five-year-old grandson, comes to greet them. ---------------------------------------------------------------- “I told them to come inside and take shelter!” says the young man who let the young husband and wife in with their toddler. The young husband and wife are surprised to see the elderly couple and children they had spotted canoeing earlier. The elderly couple smile at the younger one. “No problem at all, don’t worry!” says the elderly woman kindly, smiling at the young family. “Would you like something to eat?” “Oh, I think you should dry off first!” says the young woman with a laugh. The elderly woman glances down at her drenched self and at her husband. She grins, “You’re right.” “I think you and the children should all dry off,” the grandson says amusedly and, agreeing, the group head off. The grandson is left with the young family. “Are they orphans?” the young husband asks quietly and the grandson nods sadly. “Yes, they are. Our camp is paired up with a local orphanage which specifically deals with very young orphans, under the age of six or so. Sad, isn’t it? We try to give them a little bit of fun and companionship in their lives. My grandparents are really amazing and the children love them. It’s wonderful.” “Those poor children,” the young wife says, suddenly clutching her toddler tightly. The child squeals in surprise but giggles at his mother’s affection. “Would you look at that,” the young husband suddenly says, pointing outside with a laugh. “The storm has already stopped.” Sure enough, the dark skies had been replaced with a glorious blue canvas. Sunshine was already beginning to beam down on the earth once again. ---------------------------------------------------------------- “Why, the storm is gone!” the elderly husband says as the crew returns downstairs to join the grandson and young family. “Can we look for rocks again?” the Malaysian girl asks, a shy hand clutching her arm. “Yes, it looks like the storm is gone! Anyways, if it starts to rain again, we can hurry back inside.,’ says the elderly husband. With a smile, he turns to the young family. “Would you like to join us?” “We would love to,” the young husband returns the smile. The lot of them head outside and smile up at the glorious sunshine. The world was peaceful once again. As the adults watch the children laugh and play together, looking for the most unique rocks, the Egyptian boy shyly approaches the elderly husband. “What happened…in your story?” The elderly husband beams down at the boy and slings an arm over his shoulder. “Well son, it was pretty scary. We could hardly see a thing and we were afraid of being struck by lightning. Nowadays, we have great technology and our planes can generally handle being struck. Not in my day, though. But…” the elderly man finishes with a smile. “We survived. We made it. I couldn’t see a thing but I managed to keep the plane flying straight and we didn’t crash into anything. We managed to land. That’s my moral for you, kid. Always be faithful, always have hope and stay positive, no matter what life throws at you.” The boy nods, “Thank you.” With that, he joins his friends. The sunshine beams down on the happy scene.