The last of the campers either made their way up the steps of the bus that would be carrying them home for the night, or those old enough to drive themselves piled into their cars and pulled out of the dirt parking lot.

All that was left to finish for the night was to pull out the supplies for tomorrow’s craft for the youngins, write the outline for the camp sermon, prepare the special treat for the campers and to finally finish her Bible notes for the day.

Shouldn’t take too long if she got back to the farm right now and got started on her chores.

Savannah Ash, Sav for short, pulled up the long driveway, bumping along every pebble, feeling every imperfection in her older than dirt pick-up truck that everyone said she should replace, but she just couldn’t part with.

Realizing that it was 5:30, she ran into the house tossing her keys on the counter and changed into her work clothes, slamming into a wall of muscle known as her brother, as she zoomed out of her room.

Beau, with his 6’6” towered over her 5’10 frame, but though he hated to admit it, Sav could keep up with him on most things.

However, she didn’t play football so they’d never know the answer to that mystery.

“Whoa, where are you in such a hurry to?” he asked, his booming voice filling the house.

He was seven years older than Sav and he had practically raised her since their parents passed away when she was twelve.

“You know I got to get to the calf barn so that I can feed the cows and start getting the Jerseys weaned,” she replied, getting a little irritated that he was still standing in her way and her to-do list kept growing, “not to mention I have to get stalls for the new babies ready and bring them over.” She watched as his stern face morphed into a big grin and turned to sprint back to her room as his huge hook of an arm came and pulled her into a headlock and began messing up the pony tail she had just pulled her hair into.

“I was just messin’ with you Sav,” he said with a laugh, finally releasing her.

She pulled away, and looked him in the eyes as she fixed her hair. “Very funny,” she said with a look that reflected how unamused she was, “do you still have more seeds to plant?”

“Yeah, I have probably another three acres that need seeds.

I’m going to go do that while you are in the barn.

Let me know when you're done and we’ll figure out dinner.”

Without a word of response, she gave a quick salute and headed to the back door and slipped on her dirt-caked pink crocs.

As she walked to the calf barn, the sun hung golden in the sky, bathing the world in warmth.

She looked around the farm and smiled to herself.

Beau had done a good job of keeping the farm going since their parents died.

He did most of the work on the actual farm during the day, with the help of a couple other farm hands.

That meant that he was in charge of the cows and planting the seeds and harvesting of the crops.

Today he was getting the pumpkin seeds in the ground so that they would be ready in the fall for the pumpkin patch.

Sav was in charge of the calf barn and was also in charge of the bakery.

She would help out with whatever else she could, but she knew that this was Beau’s project.

She stepped into the barn and got to work thinking about how proud their dad would have been of Beau.

The town knew the story because they all had pity for the family when the Ash kids lost both of their parents in a car accident, but the pity was quickly replaced with respect.

Respect for the fact that Beau had raised his younger sister while expanding the family business the way their late father had wanted to and keep the family legacy alive.

With these thoughts occupying her mind, Sav’s chores were done before she knew it.

Later that night, after a dinner of barbecued chicken sandwiches with slaw and corn on the cob, Sav cleaned up the table and did the dishes.

She headed over to the bakery so that she could check inventory and then whip up the treat that she was bringing to camp in the morning as Beau headed into the den to watch some sports show.

Sav was greeted at the door with the ever present spicy sweet aroma as she flipped on lights and set down her bag.

Reba MacEntire streamed through the speakers above as she tied on an apron and thoughts of her momma crossed her mind.

She could see her standing over by the massive industrial ovens bouncing along to Reba’s “Pink Guitar” as she pulled tray after tray of her famous beignets out of the heat. Snapping out of her day dream, Sav began her Thursday night ritual of baking beignets for the campers on Friday just as her

momma had done when she was alive.

Although, once she started, she noticed that she was going to have to make more than she thought seeing as the bakery was out.

Not that Sav minded--it meant that she got to spend more time with the woman she most admired.

It wasn’t until 10:30 that the music fizzled out of the speakers and Sav removed the flour speckled apron that she had worn like a shield for the past three and a half hours.

She left the trays on a cooling tower, flipped the lights off, locked the door and walked back to the main house.

Opening the door, a sports announcer’s voice floated down the hallway as he announced the Braves, Giants score.

Sav walked into the den to see her brother passed out in the recliner looking like a spitting image of their father.

Turning back to the kitchen, Sav made herself a cup of tea before making her way to her room. After showering and pulling on her favorite red flannel pj shorts with the matching tank top that says “Country Girl”, she settled in her desk chair with her tea, her Bible, and her notebook.

Opening the Bible she let the withered bookmark float to the desk and she read the message that stared back at her: to my beautiful baby girl, you are an angel sent to me from God and I am so proud of you.

You will do great things.

Tears pricked her eyes as she slid the bookmark to the side of the desk and began reading, silently taking notes with Lauren Digal stream softly in the background.

This was how Sav always ended her summer nights--outlining the sermon that she was going to give in the morning shortly after the campers arrived.

It was the job of the camp director and she learned from the best having watched her mom do it for years.

Many parents of the campers over the years have come up to her and told her that she is just like her mother.

Everyone in town knew that the place to send their kids for the summer was over to Meriam Ash’s Chirstian Church Camp.

After her mother passed, the camp wasn’t open for a couple years, but once Sav turned fifteen, she started getting things ready and she brought back the camp as yet another way to honor her mother.

Soon the clock read 12:00.

Yawn. Stretch. Put the bookmark in the Bible.

Close the cover.

Crawl into bed.

Sav laid in her sea of pillows and stared at the ceiling.

Life was hard without her parents, but at just eighteen, she had accomplished so much.

Though she did not get to experience the rest of her life with her parents, she knew that they never truly left her.


2099          There was an eerie silence enveloping the decrepit building that was one of many in the compound that had been ravaged by Millenial forces.  It was like the still before a storm, or the final moment as one waits to die. I can’t fathom being 150 years old.  I feel better now than when I was 80.  Science and technology have come a long way but it is exactly that technology, manipulated by forces of evil, that made longevity a life sentence rather than a gift. “Dietrich, come.  It’s time for us to move.”  said my ally, Petron, while he looked out the window toward the setting sun.  Darkness would provide added cover for our journey to our next location. I gathered my belongings and made sure that my laser pistol was fully charged.  As much as evening and night normally brought clear passage to the next city or place of refuge, one had to be prepared.  There was always the chance that the Millenials were listening. “Chance favors the prepared mind,” I said aloud. “ Under Siege 2 ,” Petron replied.  “A lesson to be learned.” We started our trek to the next safe house. With the destruction of the majority of surface structures, safety was best found below ground where interventions could be implemented to thwart detection devices.  It was risky to move but it was a necessity since many of the Millenial forces honed in on safe houses after a period of surveillance.

We walked along in silence initially, wary of being heard.  The journey would be two deca-grids and would take two to three timespans to complete if we kept a steady pace.  I was the first to speak.  “What are the chances we make it to

Base 3  without being noticed?” Petron laughed.  “Chance favors the prepared mind,” he mimicked.  “We’ve done all that we can do to be successful.  I can’t believe that they would annihilate us if we were caught, although there have been gruesome stories about what the Millenials will do to extract what they consider vital information.  Two stragglers marching from one safe house to another would not be a prime resource.  If that were the case, they would have found us by now.” Petron’s words put me at ease.  “It’s sad in a way that we are in this position.  With all the positive advances, the negative prevailed, destroying what could have been Eden, turning it into Hell.” Petron nodded.  “Cyber-hacking for profit and undermining government and all that held the world together in the mid-twenty- first century was the cancer that could not be cured.  People could no longer thrive in unison but needed discord to fuel their energies.  The Millenials won out with their underlying falsehoods that brought the majority to their side.  Fortunately, medical advances and the great scientific minds of our time have been able to circumvent the Millenial invasion and provide an existence that, albeit guarded, is extended beyond what one would have expected sixty years ago.  We must have faith in our mission and keep moving forward.” The conversation helped to make the trek seem shorter.  I signaled with my Identi-card to the safe house which was nearby.  As we approached, a hole opened in the ground and an elevator rose above the surface.  We scanned our arm chips and the doors opened.  The elevator started downward and the surface went back to being an area of a non-descript landscape of bushes and trees. “Welcome, brethren,” a man met us as we entered through a hidden door into a vestibule where we went through an initial screening.  “I am Weldon, the new Prefect here at

Base 3 .  The former leader, Centani, was captured by the Millenials and we have yet to hear of his fate.” “I am Dietrich and this is Petron.  We have come from

Base 27 .  What do you need us to do?” Weldon was gracious.  “Take time to refresh and then we can discuss your areas of expertise and how you can best be of service here at

Base 3 .” The pair rested a bit, then provided Weldon with a thumb drive of their resume and work as well as recommendations from other members of the Resistance. “We are one of the few Bases that employ computerized extension for obvious reasons.  Too many portals and the Millenials would be able to track down activity easily.  We vary times and utilization after monitoring Millenial output so that we can best use what we have without detection.”  Weldon set his eyes straight ahead to impress upon Dietrich and Petron the importance of a rigid protocol.  There would be no room for deviation. “We understand,” Petron added.  “I can help with the cyber operations and Dietrich possesses an uncanny ability for rousting out Millenials and gathering sensitive data that will come in handy for tracking activity and intentions. “Are you up to the task?” Weldon wanted to know.  “You both seem a little long in the tooth.” “I’m 150.  Yes, I know, I don’t look a day over 125,” I smiled.  “Petron is a youngster.  He’s 92.  We have both been cleared for maximum activity so, yes we can do whatever needs to be done and yes, we are ready to be of assistance.” “That is good,” Weldon confirmed.  “I know you are both aware that the forecast for the turn of the century is grim, at least for those of us who still fight for what’s best for humanity as opposed to the self-interest and greed that are part and parcel of the Millenial focus.  Dietrich, you are old enough to have studied Roman history and their downfall.  I don’t want us to follow in those footsteps.  Our capabilities are far advanced technologically, but the world has been destroyed by the selfish minds of people who have not developed their critical thinking beyond what is personally gratifying.” “Amen, brother,” Petron chimed in. “We’re here to be of service,” I said.  “No matter how our earth evolves, I have lived a good life so I have nothing to lose in being of assistance to those who want to put a positive spin on the global community versus the self-indulgent battle of alpha personalities trying to prove who has the biggest penis.” Weldon smirked and Petron burst out in laughter, a spray of water exiting his nose. “Thank you,” Weldon offered, “though I am still trying to wrap my hands around that last image.”

The three shared an embrace.  It was time to save the world.


Tim saw the blue and red light flashing from a distance.

He shouted, 'Patrol Car, Ron.' Hearing this, Ron hid behind the railings of the top of the water tank of the town. Tim hid behind the concrete fence walls around that water tank. The police siren murdered the silence of the night. The intensity of sound was increasing, and as the car passed by the water tank, the siren sound began to decrease.

Suddenly, the car stopped, and the policeman reversed the vehicle to park in front of the water tank. 'He definitely saw us,' thought Tim. The policeman left the vehicle and switched on the flashlight. He beamed to the top of the water tank as he noticed two things when passing by. The first thing: the gate was open, might be the mistake of a waterman. The other thing: he saw a silhouette behind the railings at the top of the water tank.

He was looking for that silhouette with that beam from the flashlight.

Ron, meanwhile, swiftly moved to the backside of the water tank away from the beam. Tim also moved behind the cabin of the waterman.

The policeman continued the search only to give up after few minutes. He closed the gate and continued with the patrolling.

As soon as the policeman left, Ron resumed his work amidst the deadly silence. The moonlight assisted Ron in his quest. Tim did not want to participate in that task. He was here only to observe and caution Ron about the impact of his action.

'No, you can't do that on your own.' cautioned Tim at the top of his voice.

The silence hidden in the darkness allowed Tim's voice to reach the top of the water tank. Ron was moving around the tank in circles and sometimes up and low. Tom could hear the hissing sound of the Spray-Can.

Tim shouted again, 'It will appear in a negative light. Vandalism is not the way to bring change.'

'Will you keep your voice low. I am up here only and I am not deaf.' Ron shouted. 'Listen, use proper ways. Don't deface this water tank. If you can convince the planning committee, they will themselves demolish it. Can't you see?' argued Tim. 'I have been explaining to them for almost nine months. If they were keen enough to listen to us, we would not be doing this.' explained Ron. 'Don't say we. Say I. It is all your plan. I will never take the refuge of vandalism to prove my point.' 'Whatever suits you. To make those deaf ears listen to our voice, this is my final step.'

'Let us again go door to door and garner some more support.' 'What good will do that?' 'The committee will listen to those united voices.' The discussion continued for another hour until Ron finished his work. After that, Ron glided down the vertical stairs like a pro and landed with a big thump. It was time for the patrol car to return. Both of them hurried out of that premises and closed the gate.

'What good this vandalism will do?' asked Tim. 'Let the sunrise tomorrow and you will see.' They were walking down towards their car. They parked their car a mile away from the water tank to cover their tracks. They reached the spot in the middle of barren land, some feet distant from the road. The passerby won't even glance there. They arrived home and climbed up through the rope into the bedroom that they shared. Tim and Ron even lived together before they were born. They entered this world as twins, and only their birthdate was identical. All the other things were different.

Tim and Ron were only a year away from college, but they were far ahead in the level of intellect of their counterpart.

The newspaper mentioned nothing of the graffiti. But the social media picked up at around noon. The picture of graffiti was all over the internet. That picture would make a huge impact.

The water tank was considered the unique landmark of that town, and the water supply came from there. Now, the problem was that one philanthropist decided to develop a sports complex at that place. The philanthropist can choose any other location for the Sports Complex, but this location had many benefits.

But, the planning committee did not approve the plan. They will miss this golden opportunity. Tim and Ron took it upon themselves to change the opinion of that committee.

They started doing meetings, but only a few cared about the issue, let alone support the cause. They went door to door and explained the benefit of a sports center to locals. Many arrived at the meeting. Some were curious, and some had nothing to do, and some were genuinely concerned about the issue.

The minor support changed the mind of four committee members in the latest hearing. However, one member vetoed to halt the momentum. The twins tried to convince him, but he was hell bend on saving the water tank. The identity of the town mattered more than the town's progress. Tim and Ron took the refuge of social media to increase awareness about the issue. They ran ads, played testimony of those who enjoy the benefit of having a Sports Complex in the town, and also made groups of like-minded people only so that Tim and Ron can influence them to support the cause. The Twins were confident that the committee would rule in their favor after seeing huge support, but the reverse happened. Now three members went against the destruction of the water tank.

Ron knew that something was not right. He let his inside sherlock holmes lose inside the digital world. He investigated the one member who vetoed using his digital footprint. Ron was good with computers, and coding helped him earn a scholarship to an Ivy League college.

He nicely combed through all the details of that member and found more than three anomalies in the past month. The first anomaly: Huge sums of money transferred in an offshore account by his wife's name. The second anomaly: a flat purchased in his son's name. The third anomaly: Two small but equal shares of fund transferred to two newly created offshore accounts of the other two committee members.

The picture was clear. Someone was giving bribes to those three committee members. Who was doing that, and why this much money for a simple sports complex.

Ron began the deep dive and at last found the source of the money. Someone used a dummy corporation to hide the reality. Luckily, Ron solved the mystery. It was the owner of a construction company that specialized in entertainment parks. The phone of the committee member helped a lot. It had all the call recordings that painted a clear picture of what was cooking between them. The owner of that construction company wanted to build an entertainment park. Right where the water tank stood and all the open land near it. If the philanthropist constructs the sports complex, the upcoming entertainment park will lose its place. That means the owner of the construction company will lose billions in revenue.

So, the owner bribed that committee member who vetoed. That committee member further bribed his two colleagues, and all was set. Those three members would then pass the plan for the entertainment park. They will shift the useless water tank to another place. Ron then vandalized the water tank with graffiti, shouting in colors. It said that: I will only relocate myself for entertainment park. Don't entice me with Sports Complex.' The next day instead of asking who wrote it, everyone was asking what is written? The momentum built around 2 in the afternoon during lunch, and that is when Tim anonymously shared the call recordings between the owner and the committee member.

It took only five days for the plan to get approved, and on the fifth day, the water tank was razed to the ground for the groundbreaking ceremony to ensue in the evening. Sports Complex will now be a reality for future generations to hone their skills and talents, all thanks to the persistent effort of the twins.


I know this may be hard to imagine, because you’ve only ever seen other little kits like you, but there are monsters in the world that are born without fur. No pelt, no tail, only a tuft on the top and sometimes a shaggy mane. The rest of them is bare skin, angry pink or brown, as tall as trees. Without their fur, the beasts are cold all the time and destroy everything in their paths to get warm. They don’t dig cozy holes like us – they tear down trees and raise hills to build their huge dens. Even the dens don’t keep them warm, though, so they eat and eat to stave off the cold. They pluck fish straight out of rivers, strike birds from the air, and move swift through the dark and strike deer from a minute’s run away. Everything they see goes down their craws and they burn it in their gullets to keep warm. But not even the fires in their bellies can heat these naked monsters. Eventually, they go out in search of fur. They come out in the day, when you’re sound asleep, and set their traps. They hide strings in the leaves to slip around little necks, they leave food to entice little babies only to snap them into crates, and they hide metal jaws to clap around tiny paws. After waiting until the cold darkness fades, they return with sharp claws and hungry bellies. They slice the skin right off your back and use it to cover their own bare hides. Sometimes, very early or late in the night, you’ll see one, lumbering along with the skins of a hundred little foxes patched together to keep him warm. So remember, kit, to sniff with care when you’re out in the world, and look out for the furless monsters in the woods. [ABOUT] I've written a few children's stories and love the freedom of them.


‘How can I protect her from any more suffering?’ He asked himself. The sky was clear and the sun was bright. Jared always considered himself plain. He wore old jeans and t-shirts with cheap prints of jokes and dry humour on them. For clothing he owned more jackets than anything else, they helped to hide his stomach, something he doesn’t want the world to see. His dark hair hung slightly lower than he’d like; the barbers might’ve seen him in the afternoon. It was 11:00am on a Saturday and he had just arrived at Amy‘s flat. The neighbours weren’t great but the rent was very reasonable. Through the rotting door, up the creaky steps and there she was. Most people don’t like to live near the centre of town, but to her it was home. “It’s been a whole year already, huh?” Jared’s eyes lit up as she came into his view. “I cannot believe we’ve both made it this far!” She replied quickly with a grin filling her face from ear to ear. Amy’s flat was much cleaner than the rest of the building. The rooms were small but the bright-coloured walls and abundance of shelving units brought the space to life. Light filled the halls from the windows. They both stood in the kitchen and Amy offered him a drink to which he nodded. As she poured the fizzy pop into a glass, Jared looked over to the corner of the room. Maximus, or Maxxie, as his friends call him, was in his cage trying to run on his hamster wheel. His fur was brown and white, and his whiskers were long. The wheel squeaked and creaked as it slaved to roll. “Sorry if that’s a bit distracting.” Amy apologised as she gestured towards his now full glass, “I want to get a new one but...”, her eyes closed shut and she took a deep breath, “I’m not ready to go out yet”. The air froze for a moment, but the atmosphere of peace swiftly returned. Normally their Saturday meet-ups can last hours as they talk to each other about their thoughts and feelings. They caught up on the week’s events and, after only half an hour, Jared excused himself with the promise of a surprise for her. He went back down the stairs and left the building. Jared ran so he could make it to the bus stop in time. His heart raced as he took his seat at the front of the vehicle, fanning his face with his sweaty palm. The journey should take no more than thirty minutes. Suddenly, his phone buzzed with a notification. He reached into his pocket and pull it out to read ‘Congratulations! It’s your 1-year Anniversary with Amy!’ ‘The last year has been hard, but worth it’ he thought. Jared’s mind wondered. Looking outside, the area was less than pleasant. Boarded-up buildings and houses, dead plant life and littered roads. There was one ironclad shop in the centre of the street selling tobacco and questionable milk. ‘I wish she could afford to leave this place’, he thought. Twenty minutes later, outside of the town’s harrowing centre, he arrived at his destination: the pet store. The store was large and the air conditioning loudly fought to keep the heat outside. The smell of animal biscuits and sawdust was overwhelming to those unaccustomed to it. There were multiple glass enclosures featuring a variety of different rodents and small, fluffy animals. Towards the back of the store were the toys and treats available for purchase. The Isle labelled ‘Hamster’ immediately took Jared’s attention and he moved towards it. Only two Hamster running wheels remained, one was blue and the other was pink. ‘Maxxie’s current wheel is the same as the blue one’, he thought, ‘or should I go for the pink? It’s Amy’s favourite colour.’ After a moment of deliberation he took the blue one to the front of the store. Once parting with £10.00 for the wheel, Jared left the shop, walked for 30 seconds, and turned the corner to meet a very unwelcoming face. The last time he’d seen this face he was given a grotesquely vivid description of what would happen the next time they met. His skin went pale and his brow began to sweat. “You’re that little shit from the self help group, right?” Kurt said as his arms and neck began to build tension. Kurt’s boots came down with heavy stomps as he inched closer and closer to Jared. His jeans were both dirty and torn and his muscular chest was contained only in a black tank top worn out of pure vanity. Kurt’s bloodshot eyes noticed the wheel clutched in Jared’s now trembling hands. “You think I don’t know who that’s for?”, he asked rhetorically as he continued at a slow, steady pace forwards, “You think you can keep her away from me forever?!” he asked, gritting his teeth as his eyes started to water. Jared’s mouth opened and, weakly, produced a sound. “I don’t-... I just want her to get better-” he began to say before he was swiftly interrupted by the impact of Kurt’s clenched fist forcing its way through his side. Jared fell shoulder-first into the ground, still cradling the wheel in his arms. Kurt’s black boots drove their way into his stomach, leaving Jared panting for air. After a futile struggle, the wheel was relinquished from the safety of Jared’s grip and thrown to the floor before also meeting the weight of the steel-capped hammers carried by Kurt's feet. As the nearby shoppers noticed the assault, Kurt took a look over his shoulder and ran. As he sprinted, a small bag of powder fell out of his pocket, only for Jared to notice. As soon as Kurt was gone a young couple helped Jared up and another older lady got her phone out and offered to call the police, but he declined. The next twenty minutes he spent leaning on the wall, staring at the pile of blue, plastic shards on the ground. His face was red and hidden by his knees as he lightly sobbed. Finally, he got up and shuffled over to the small bag on the pavement. His world stopped as he clenched it into his fist. His grip got tighter and tighter before he opened the bag and emptied the contents onto the floor. “No,” he muttered to himself, wiping the final tears from his eyes, “I couldn’t do that to her. We’re a team…. We’re a team…” Through the rotting door, up the creaky steps and there she was. He was finally back to the only safe haven the world has to offer. Amy was in her bedroom lying face-down on her bed with an MP3 player in front of her. The room was as bright as the rest of her home. Amy was wearing small denim shorts and an overly large, red hoodie. Her short, brown hair was pinned back to allow room for her headphones. She looked up and saw Jared with a childish grin on his face. “You’re back!” She sang as she hopped up onto her feet to hug him, “I have a surprise for you!” She produced a small token from her pocket with the inscription ‘1 Year!’. As Jared held it in his right hand, she produced another one from her other pocket and tapped them together. Jared’s eyes started to water, but he kept his composure enough to continue with his own surprise. “Close your eyes.” Jared said softly. She took a step back and did as she was told. Slowly, he grabbed her hands and made them into a cupping shape in front of her. While her eyes were still shut tight he produced a new hamster wheel from behind his back and placed it on her palms. She opened her green eyes and her face immediately lifted with delight. She hopped on the spot and ran through to Maxxie, who was still slaving away on his current wheel. “I love it!” She said as she started to swap the wheels, “I love the pink! How much was it?” she asked. Jared smiled softly. “I’m so glad. Don’t worry about that. You’re worth it.” He says. ‘All of it.’ He thinks to himself as he holds the 1 year chip close to his heart.


It began with the scent of crushed lavender. At that moment there was no recognition of self or other, only the unmistakable feeling of change this wafting fragrance brought to an otherwise still and vacant mind. The scent overwhelmed him but even at its height, the moment was tainted by the subtle realization that it was beginning to fade. In an effort to compensate for the loss his attention shifted to the warmth of the sun on his face; another fleeting but equally intoxicating sensation. Despite his own desire to keep his eyes shut, the light seemed to work its way under, prying them open. A lavender field lined with trees came into view. He surveyed his surroundings. Jacob’s thoughts remain scattered and incoherent but he could at least remember himself. How long had he been standing there for? His inquiry was suddenly interrupted by a red figure to his left. A door. A free-standing door. A free-standing door furnished with a brass knob and matching knocker. Jacob looked behind him for any other signs of activity before venturing further. Now Jacob was certainly no builder, but it was common knowledge that doors should typically be attached to buildings. For this reason he pushed against the red specter, testing its reality and half expecting it to fall over. The door was surprisingly firm. In fact, for a door placed in the middle of a field it appeared remarkably unweathered. The other side of the frame revealed nothing. At this moment a dull but unmistakable ring emanated from the wooden monolith. Jacob’s curiosity piqued. Pressing his ear against the immaculate red wood grain Jacob steadied his breath and listened intently for any sign of life. But not a sound could be heard other than the rhythmic thumping of his own heartbeat. The thumping briefly distracted him from the question of the door but it was soon interrupted by another ring. Jacob’s pulse quickened. The ringing reminded him of the kind of bell one might find at a shop counter. Was someone calling for help? As though in answer and without much thought Jacob’s hand found its way to the door knob and turned it. With his weight still resting firmly against it, the door caved in. Jacob stumbled across the threshold. However, instead of the feeling of loose soil and broken vegetation, his distressed leather oxfords found themselves comforted by the soft padding of a Persian rug. As his head lifted his eyes darted across the floor, following the dark wooden beams to the finely detailed wooden balustrade above. Directly above him hung the most elaborate chandelier he had ever seen. Hundreds of finely cut crystals of varying sizes suspended by gold thread and refracting the light of hidden sources gave the chandelier an ominous sense of both weight and fragility as though it were some illuminated sword of Damocles that would fall at any given moment. Jacob hurriedly moved forward, however, remembering the red door, he looked back to spy what it looked like from the inside. It was gone. Now he was most certainly committed to this path though he did not know where he was going or from where he had come. His field of view widened. Surrounding him on all sides were various doors; some closed however, many were opened. Through the door to his left Jacob could see a man in his early 50s dressed in a vest and tie clutching a black, corded rotary phone and sternly addressing someone on the other end. Jacob quickly shifted his gaze to another room. A woman in her mid-thirties and sporting a black-laced fascinator and red lipstick caught his eye before closing the door. “Excuse me sir.” Jacob shifted his attention to the source of the voice; A uniformed woman occupying a service desk in the centre of the lobby. “Excuse me sir, may I help you?” the lady enquired. “Help me?” “Yes sir. How may I assist you today?” “Can you please tell me where I am” Jacob asked. “Why yes, of course sir; you are in the lobby sir.” “The lobby? Well, yes I… I can see that but where is the lobby? What kind of place is this?” Jacob remarked. “Where would you like to go sir?” “What? How can I possibly know where I want to go if I don’t know where I am?” “Well sir, it seems to me that if you don’t know where you are then you should start with where you would like to be. Then you will know where you are not.” Jacob stared at the woman in complete bewilderment. “Just… just tell me the name of this place. Please.” “Certainly sir. This is the Hilbert hotel. Now, where would you like to go?” Although Jacob felt this answer to be sufficient he had the sudden and uncomfortable feeling that it didn’t make any difference. Whether this place was called the Hilbert hotel or perhaps went by some other name, he was still lost. The concierge was right. If he didn’t know where he was going then it didn’t matter where he was. At this point Jacob realized that he didn’t know much of anything. No relations, no friends, no work, no home. Nothing. And so, he began to panic.


64 AD. The Great Fire of Rome occurred in 64 AD. Dave knew this. It was an easy one--for him, at least. So why hadn’t he been able to answer the question? That smug prick Rex Green--whose real name is Morton, Dave happened to know, Morton for chrissakes!--had flashed him that big plastic smile of his, a circle of perfect white in that fake-tanned, plastic face of his, and Dave had frozen up, had drawn a blank, had reached down into the well and come up with a big bucket of nothing. In that moment he was able to picture how he looked to the studio audience, and how he would look to the television audience when the show aired--like a confused, sweaty simpleton. He had stammered, his eyes roving around the studio, taking in the audience, the cameramen, and his two opponents, before coming back to settle on Rex Green, longtime host of America’s third favorite primetime game show, *Take It or Leave It?* Then the buzzer had sounded, like the judgment of a cruel and unforgiving god, letting Dave know that he had run out of time. And with that, his brief stint as a game show contestant had come to an end. Now here he is, at some bar with an Irish name, drinking watered-down bourbon and lazily tracing some scratches in the countertop with one finger. There’s a ballgame on the TV hanging in the corner--no HD, not in a place like this, just a beat-up old set that had almost certainly had a pair of rabbit ears hooked up to it not long ago. Dave glances up at the game. The Yanks are beating the Orioles 6-zip in the bottom of the eighth. He doesn’t care one way or the other--he has no dog in that fight. Then a sloppy prick in a business suit speaks up. “Hey, Marty, why don’tcha turn it to that game show?” Dave grimaces, and it isn’t the bourbon that makes him do it. He hopes the guy doesn’t mean that show, *the* show. He checks his watch. It’s 8:31. Yep, just about the right time. “What game show?” the bartender asks. “You know, that show,” the drunk says. “The one where the guy is always asking people if they wanna take or leave it.” Dave can’t decide if that reply makes him want to laugh or cry; in the end, he does neither. The bartender (evidently Marty) walks to the TV in the corner and starts flipping through the channels. “Which channel is it on?” Marty asks. “I think it’s on channel eight,” the drunk tells him. Yes, it is on channel eight; Dave knows that, just as surely as he knows when the Great Fire of Rome occurred. Marty the barman flips to channel eight, and right there on the screen, staring out at the television audience with that fake smile of his, is Rex Green. Dave takes another sip from his glass as his red-rimmed eyes swivel away from the TV. From the television: “Now that we know how the game is played, it’s time to…” And at this point, the audience, the contestants, and the drunk at the bar all join in, like one big happy, demented chorus: “Take it…or leave it?!” The audience claps; so does the drunk. Dave just groans. He can’t remember now what made him want to go on that ludicrous show in the first place. He chances a glance back up at the set as Rex Green asks the first contestant--a pretty young woman wearing a University of Michigan sweater--who the twenty-eighth President of the United States was. He tells her that this man had been an avid hunter, an explorer, and a soldier. “Easy,” Dave mutters. “Theodore Roosevelt.” “Wuzzat?” the drunk asks. “Teddy Roosevelt. The answer to the question.” On the TV the young lady from the University of Michigan answers: “That would be Theodore Roosevelt, Rex.” “Well, Sarah…that is coooo-rect! You just won five thousand dollars!” Sarah from Michigan smiles, and the audience applauds. “Hey,” the drunk says, turning to Dave. “Good one, man.” Now Rex has something he needs to ask Sarah: “Now Sarah, you can either take the five thousand dollars, and pass to the next contestant...or you can leave it, and answer another question, this one worth ten thousand. Sarah, do you want to take it…” *Oh God*, Dave thinks. Once again, everyone joins in: “Or leave it?” *Like Goddamn sheep.* “Leave it,” the drunk says. “Five grand ain’t nothin’ these days. Leave it.” “Well, Rex, I think I’m gonna leave it.” Cheers from the studio audience, and in the bar the drunk wears a smile of self-satisfaction on his big moon face, as if Sarah had taken his advice personally. “Okay Sarah, now for the ten thousand dollar question. This symbol is a nonstandard punctuation mark used in various written languages and intended to combine the functions of the question mark and the exclamation point. What is it?” “Interrobang,” Dave says. “A whatabang?” the drunk asks. “Just…watch,” Dave says, waving a hand in the general direction of the TV. “That would be an interrobang, Rex.” “That is coooo-rect!” More applause. “You’re good,” the drunk says. “You should go on that show. You could really clean ’em out.” “I did go on.” “Go on where?” Dave sighs. “I went on that show. I went on there this afternoon, as a matter of fact.” The drunk looks at the TV screen, then back at Dave. “Then how come you’re not on the tee-vee?” “They film that show weeks in advance. My episode won’t be on for a while.” The drunk looks back to the TV, his brow furrowed as if he is still trying to work it all out in his head. He turns back to Dave, and now Dave tenses up, not wanting to hear the question he is certain the man is going to ask. “Well, how’dja make out?” And there it is. How did he make out? He didn’t make out well--not at all. “I, uh…” There’s a commercial for shampoo on the TV, promising an end to dandruff. Marty the bartender is looking up at Dave as he cleans a glass with a dirty rag, having picked up on the conversation. From the back of the bar came the sounds of pool balls clacking together as someone breaks. Dave’s stomach feels like a tight knot wrapped around a lump of hot coal. And the drunk is staring at him, wanting to know how he made out. “I cleaned ’em out. Just like you said.” “Well, all right! Tell ya what, have another drink on me. Whaddya say?” “No, I have to get going,” Dave says. “Thanks, though. And be sure to keep tuning in. I’ll be up there on that screen before you know it.” Dave pays his tab, considers a trip to the restroom for a piss before beginning the walk back to the hotel (paid for by the good people at *Take It or Leave It?*), but decides against it. He can hold it until he gets back to his room. Then he hopes to sleep a dreamless sleep. He walks to the door before stopping and turning back toward the bar, toward the drunk and Marty the bartender, toward the TV screen, on which another commercial is ending and the show is coming back on. He wants to say something, but he is at a loss for words. And then a line from a song half-remembered floats to the surface of his mind. “These bars are filled with things that kill.” “Huh?” the drunk asks. But Dave doesn’t try to explain himself. He walks out the door, slipping out into the shadows of the night. On the TV Rex Green is flashing his million-dollar smile, and everyone is clapping, each one certain that if they ever get their chance, they’ll clean ‘em out.


The man’s right hand crept over the divider and slowly brushed the woman’s fingers. He never averted his gaze from his book of course: this was all part of the experience. He touched her hand softly, only using the back of his index finger to start. She was reading as well, and while she normally needed silence and concentration to read, she didn’t mind getting distracted by him. Jacob was different. “Would you care for something, my good sir?” said Erin playfully, keeping her eyes focused on the little black symbols scribbled on the white pages before her. Jacob puffed his chest proudly and turned to look at the side of her head. “I must urinate and I demand you unbuckle…your seatbelt, so I can get past you and go to the pisser.” He made sure to emphasise the P. “Oh, is that right…unbuckle my seatbelt, eh?” “Yes, that is. Not sure what else I could, let alone want to, unbuckle right now.” Erin closed her book and turned to grin at Jacob, not minding that she lost her page. “For now, let’s ignore how incredibly sexy I am and how badly you must want me right now,” she said as she delicately scratched his arm. “Now regarding your bladder situation, it’s just that I can’t help but remember you stealing my Window seat even though I clearly have 32C…even someone as dense as you can see the predicament you quite literally put yourself in, right?” “Erin. I will climb over you and you will like it.” “Fuck. I give in. I’m too young and pretty to die of suffocation today.” She clicked the button on her seatbelt and slid out into the aisle. As Jacob slid over as well, she blocked the exit. “What’s the password?” She almost sounded genuine as she smiled cheekily. “Prawn is life 123,” he replied coolly, looking directly at her deep green eyes without batting an eyelash himself. “Wrong.” “I’m not kissing you.” “Wrong.” “I will piss on you.” “Unlikely and admittedly a fetish.” “I love you.” “You may pass.” As Jacob slid past, Erin gave him a playful spank before she sat back down. She closed her eyes and smiled. Only Jacob could make plane rides enjoyable. He could make anything enjoyable. He returned and thirty minutes later, the plane began its decent. Erin reached over to hold Jacob’s hand. “Remember when we first met? I still think about it sometimes you know. It was ages ago yet it’s so clear in my mind.” Jacob popped up the divider to rest his head more comfortably on hers. He grinned as he sassily replied, “How could I forget my first visit to the Strip Club? Spent a hefty $3 on you!” “I know and it was the most I’ve ever gotten!” Erin stated with glee. “Once you proved you were rich, boy…you had me hooked like crack. Now I’m never leaving you! Love me!” She turned to kiss him on the cheek, then the collar-bone, then proceeded to nuzzle her head into his neck. He smelled good. He always smelled good to her. They stayed in that position in silence until the plane’s wheels touched down on the tarmac. Jacob kissed the top of her head. Erin stuck her pinky out and Jacob did the same. They looked out the window and to their delight, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.


The final evening of our vacation on the tranquil beach, where the setting sun made me ache for summer to last forever, Beside me, my friends and I sat on a weathered wooden bench, our toes buried in the cool sand, watching the fiery orb’s descent. We were a tight-knit group, bound by years of collective experience and an endless supply of laughter. This trip has granted us a much-needed respite from the pressures of our daily lives. Like a dancer ending a lovely performance, the sunset symbolizes the passing of time and bidding farewell. Similar to a ballerina’s bow at the conclusion of a spellbinding performance, the descent unfurled with beauty and poise as it bid the world farewell. The waves lapped at the shore, synchronizing with our hearts. Seagulls soared overhead, their cries a symphony of freedom and longing. My partner, Denise, nestled close to me, her hand entwined with mine. Her eyes, the color of the ocean depths, reflected the shimmering hues of the setting sun, like two pools of liquid amber catching the last drops of daylight. We had found love in the golden days of summer, and this vacation had been our secret garden, where our love had blossomed and thrived. Our closest friends, Reggie and Gina, sat next to us and quietly stared at each other for a while. Reggie’s unwavering commitment to Gina was evident in how he held her, like a knight protecting his beloved from the world. As the sun touched the water, the sky turned a beautiful shade of orange and pink. The scene was even more magnificent in its reflection on the ocean. I wished our laughter would forever resonate on the shore, time would stand still, and this moment would endure eternally. As I made my silent plea to the heavens, something extraordinary happened. The sun hesitated, caught in a moment of indecision. It lingered in a celestial pause that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The world seemed to hold its breath, suspended in this enchanted stillness. Gasps of astonishment filled the air as we watched the celestial spectacle. Unexpectedly, the sun, the wellspring of all existence, withdrew as though time had enigmatically reversed its course. It ascended with a newfound vibrancy, casting a brilliant blaze of colors across the beach as if the universe had granted us a second act. Metaphors spun through my mind like fireflies on a summer night. As the sun rose, it brought with it a tune long forgotten, one that had returned to serenade us. This melody reminded us that, while we often long for the past to remain, the future holds the key to hidden treasures. Denise’s fingers tightened around mine, her eyes brimming with wonder and a touch of mystery. “It’s like a hidden revelation,” she murmurs. I nodded, caught in the moment. “A waltz with fate,” I replied. Reggie and Gina, equally awestruck, exchanged a knowing look. “A romance scripted among the constellations,” Reggie pondered. As the sun continued its ascent, the hidden meanings of this extraordinary event unraveled before us. It was a reminder that time is not a relentless river but a winding path of possibilities. It urged us to cherish the present, for it held the power to reshape our future. With newfound resolve, we left the bench behind and ventured towards the water’s edge. The waves welcomed us, like the embrace of a long-lost friend, into the ocean’s depths. Laughter filled the air as we danced and splashed in the waves like children caught in a world of enchantment. Experiencing the rush of excitement sweeping over you is undeniably exhilarating. A shadow passed over the beach. The sun, which had burned so brilliantly, dimmed. Panic gripped us as we watched the sun’s light slowly fade. “What’s happening?” Gina cried out. The sun, now a mere ember, appeared ensnared by fate. It was a cruel twist, a reminder that even the most bewitching moments could be fleeting. Amid our despair, a voice, soft as a whispered secret, reached our ears. I met a woman with eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of countless sunsets. She said, “Life is like a fleeting moment, and we must cherish every precious second”. She reminded us we cannot contain time, no matter how much we long for the past to stay, as her words lingered in the air like a spell. The sun, once again, began its descent, sinking below the horizon and leaving behind a trail of stardust in the twilight. We returned to the bench with a sense of acceptance, like explorers who had glimpsed a hidden treasure destined to return home. The sun’s final descent was a poignant reminder that life is a gallery of fleeting moments, each a masterpiece of its own. As darkness settled over the beach, we huddled together, our hearts heavy with the weight of our revelation. The diamonds of the stars shone brightly against the canvas of the night sky, bringing solace and strength to our hearts. Our vacation last night has brought us full circle, from wishing for a never-ending summer to accepting the passage of time. Every star had a story to uncover as we observed them. In their shimmering light, we found the promise of fresh starts. It occurred to me as I lay on the sand and looked up at the many constellations overhead that the sun’s unusual reversal might have been more than a coincidence. Something in the air—a whisper in the wind—suggested a profound truth was waiting to be exposed. As the night wore on, we drifted into a dreamless slumber, the echoes of the evening’s enchantment still reverberating in our hearts. Upon awakening, the sun rose, renewing hope. We gathered our belongings, preparing to leave the beach behind and return to our everyday lives. As we left the hallowed shore, I could not help but carry the memory of that extraordinary evening with me like a cherished talisman. The sun’s cycle left us with a gift: appreciation for the present and wonder about the universe’s mysteries. We departed from the beach filled with gratitude for the time shared and the mystery of that unforgettable night. The truth that life itself is a dance made up of transitory, one-of-a-kind events is what we ultimately remember, not the sun’s quirky waltz. I could not help but smile as I took my last look back at the vanishing shoreline. The warmth of that special evening will remain in our memories, inspiring us to cherish every moment and dance gracefully amidst the symphony of life. Memories endure, illuminating our journey even after holidays and sunsets, reflecting the beauty of each step we take.


“We’re running out of time,” he said, yanking my arm harder, “come on.” An hour earlier… My breath quickened as I started to wake. The air was stale and tight. My eyes only saw darkness due to the black handkerchief tied tightly around my head. Thoughts were running through my mind like a train that had just hopped off the tracks, but I attempted to focus on the outside noises. I flinched as the van sped, hitting a bump causing me to flop, slamming my tailbone into the cold metal. Wincing as I resituated, I listened. I could only hear soft traffic sounds in the far distance, making me think I was being driven out to the countryside. I took a deep breath and whispered, “hello.” I cringed at the silence. I had guessed I was alone on this ride, but I was hoping to hear a small voice hiding in another corner. My hands started to ache from the cold, hardening the plastic zip ties around my wrists. I kept rubbing them together, trying to gain relief or loosen the connection, but it’s been unsuccessful. Pushing my back against the van wall caused me to shiver. I was indeed developing ghastly wet pit stains under my arms due to the oozing sweat leaking from my body. I never realized someone could sweat so much in subzero temperatures. My joints even stiffened from the chilled air. I huffed as I thought about the stupid outfit choice I had decided to wear tonight. I leaned my head back into the van wall as tears filled my eyes. What is happening? It had just gotten dark, and my two girlfriends arrived on time to pick me up for a night on the town. We had a plan to visit this new nightclub that was only five blocks away from my apartment. I can be a bit modest, so my original outfit fit my personality. Jenni insisted I change as she rummaged through my closet recklessly. I absolutely hated the dress she and Nikki decided on, but to be more “fun,” as they put it, I pulled it on with internal sadness. Another chill ran through my spine as my naked knee scraped against the metal floor as the van jutted forward. Awkwardly twisting my tied hands over my body, I tried to yank the hem of the dress further below my butt, but I was ineffective. The heat of my breath filled my nose as I struggled again to free myself. Why? Why am I here? The van abruptly stopped, causing my elbow to wedge into some crease sending severe pain radiating into my shoulder. The silence was damning. I strained to hear something, anything. A few moments passed, and I heard a door slam producing a sway into the belly of the van. My mind raced again. What could I do? If the doors open, should I run, should I stay still, should I start shouting for help? Tiny droplets of light beaded through the handkerchief as I heard the back door creak open. My body shook from the rush of iced air filling the space as the door must be now wide open. “You, okay?” I didn’t respond to the man’s voice. It sounded like a man. His body spray infused around me, singeing the tiny hairs in my nose. It was shadowy and pine-like. It reminded me of the scent my brother used during his senior year of high school. “Miss?” He said again. I found myself stuck in place, frozen in time. As much as I wanted to say something, my mouth had locked in fear. “What do you want me to do?” He yelled. I could only hear a faint response. Unable to understand what the person in the distance said, I leaned forward as far as possible without being obvious. Drilling my knee into the head of a metal screw on the base, I grimaced to keep my position. I unintentionally started to shake from the chill that now consumed the van. Trying to focus, I sucked in the cold air. It burned as it hit the back of my throat. I pulled my knees closer to my chest, keeping my ankles tightly together—this stupid, stupid dress. My mind was so blurry from the evening. Even though my eyes were covered, I forcefully closed them, attempting to remember anything before I knew this person, this energy I felt in front of me would rip me out of here. I pushed back into the wall tightly as I felt it starting to move. Someone was getting in. “Hello,” I squeakily whispered. “Ah, she speaks,” the man laughed, “we’re here,” he said, shuffling around. I could feel the van rocking back and forth. My heart sunk. In these few moments, I had grown accustomed to this van. I didn’t want to leave it. His body spray was still as heavy as ever as he got closer in proximity, but with him no longer blocking the doorway, I wafted smells of nature and ice. I tried hard to stop shaking, but the temperature combined with my fear wasn’t helping. Realizing I hadn’t said anything other than hello, I racked my brain for something else to say. “Where’s here?” I shouted, sucking in the air. I was unsure why I yelled that, but I couldn’t understand anything right now. Scared that there was no response from the man, I muttered, “are you there?” “Yes,” he said, “I heard you.” Taken back that he was unwilling to answer my question, I shook more. It was becoming more and more uncontrollable. Although it hurt, I pushed my back harder into the wall behind me. My legs were not bound together. I could make a run for it, but I don’t think I’d get far in this dress, with my eyes covered and my wrists tied. I hardened as I felt a hand touch the bare skin on my right upper arm. “It’s okay,” he whispered with a small laugh, “are you able to stand? We have a short walk.” “Where are we going?” I crackled. “Can’t say yet,” he said. I could feel it coming as my lower lip trembled involuntarily. A breath escaped hard, and the smell of body spray and my angst made me sick. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, placing now both of his hands on me. “It’s okay, and you don’t have to be scared. You’ll see. Deep breath, okay.” I was unable to respond, “I told them this was a bad idea,” he muttered under his breath. “Told who?” I shouted. I didn’t even know where that came from. “Come on,” he said, pulling on my shoulders, attempting to make me stand, but I couldn’t as much as I wanted to. I had been in this position for so long that my body ached at the idea of moving. I was glued to the van. He pulled again, thinking I was unwilling to work with him, and it hurt slightly. “I’m trying,” I said shakily, not wanting him to yank me again and holding back a sob, “it’s cold, and I’m sore.” “No problem,” he said. I felt his hands move to my ankles. Slowly he pulled my feet from under my behind, straightening my legs. I cringed as my knee scraped against the screw head as it crossed, wedging my dress further up my thigh. “Sorry,” he said coolly. “It’s okay,” I said, calming down. He seemed nice, or perhaps I had already started to feel what they call Stockholm syndrome. I started shaking. Vomit felt like it was at the base of my throat. “You’ll need to scoot forward to get out,” he said. His voice interrupted the shock that began to fill my soul. I bent my knees slightly. I can do this. I’ll run. My legs did feel better. Sliding my butt forward, I reached my feet as far as possible, and my toes hit the open door’s breeze. Now realizing where the edge was, I scooted until I was dangling from the edge of the entrance. The rush of excitement filled me at the possibility of escape, and the cold was beginning to feel more welcoming. Without thinking, I slid off the edge with my newfound confidence, touching my feet to the ground. As I straightened my stilettos and found my footing, I felt this independence for a few seconds. I crossed my arms over my body and tugged the dress down. The air around me was unambiguous, but I picked up this new scent once outside. Something musty and stagnant. It was thick and sweaty. I scrunched my nose, “what is that?” I said. “You’ll see,” I heard quickly. I stumbled as he pulled my tethered wrists forward. “Whoa,” I said, “could you at least remove the eye cover.” “I can’t,” he said sternly, “come on.” Digging my heels into the ground again, I could feel wet snow pushing through the straps of my shoes, soaking my bare skin. I took a step forward, but the now melted snow accumulated between the inner sole and my foot, causing me to slip. An unexpected sob was creeping into my psyche. I stuttered a few breaths trying to keep pace with whoever this man was dragging me ahead. I couldn’t understand why that new smell was so pungent, but I couldn’t hear a thing—only our crunching footsteps and breath. Every few moments, I noticed the sound of a car far off in the distance. I sighed low. I hoped Jenni and Nikki were okay. After I’d changed this evening, we had a few shots of green apple vodka at my house. It had been in my freezer for eleven and a half months. It was one of the only things my ex left behind. That’s why Jenni and Nikki had shown up tonight. Stacy had left so abruptly. We were together for two years. We had a cat, an apartment, and a life together. I came home after work one day, and she was gone. A solo letter sat on the table. I repeatedly read my name on the cover until I had the nerve to open it. Long story short, she apologized, said she had found someone else, and took the cat—the vodka as a consolation prize. Present “We’re running out of time,” he said, yanking my arm harder, “come on.” I stopped walking and jerked my hands away from him. The air went silent without the crunching of our footsteps, and the smell of sweat was growing stronger. “Sir, I need to know what is happening. I’m freezing, my feet hurt, and I don’t want to do this anymore,” I said, straightening my stance and pulling my dress down again. There was nothing but silence. It felt darker outside, too, because no glimpse of light was coming through the handkerchief. My once strong stance was already starting to crumble. That may have been a bad idea. My ears tingled as crunching footsteps got closer. I yelped as my legs flew up from under me and my head flung back. The body spray hit me in the face as the heat of his chest pushed against my side. “Hey!” I shouted, squirming in his arms as he began to walk, carrying me like a large dog. The crunching of his feet in the snow filled the air again, but this time I could hear the beat of his drumming heart exerting energy. His warm breath hit my cheek with each stride. As much as I hated it, it was a pleasant mint, and I had been so cold. My body started to lose tension as I gave in. Although it hadn’t been that long, I was exhausted. I didn’t want to give in, but I conceded, resting my tied hands on my crunched lap. My body bounced up and down with each step he took. Now, I was beginning to wonder what this man looked like. His arms felt big and muscular. They were tightly wrapped around my back and under my legs. He hadn’t been aggressive. Although forceful, his touch has been light. He had some plush jacket on because I could feel the waterproof material touching parts of my skin. It had to be unzipped because his inner shirt had been dragging against his chest, moving with my body on every step. His upper body felt chiseled. Ugh, I stopped myself, sucking in another breath of body spray. Squeezing my eyes closed under my handkerchief guard, I listened to the man’s breathing and heavy footsteps. After the vodka shots, Jenni, Nikki, and I left my apartment. A slight headache developed the more I thought about the shots. I remember locking the door behind me. The street was busy. We’d walked about a block when Nikki wanted to run into the convenience store that was lit up like a Christmas tree for gum. I remember watching her at the counter paying. My head jutted forward, and my legs swung against the air as the man squeezed his arms tighter around me, pushing a gasp of air from my chest.

“Sorry,” he said, “missed a step.” He lifted me slightly to resituate his hold, pulling me in closer, but I noticed another sound this time. Instead of focusing on the crunching snow, I searched for the soft noise. I listened closely to the tiny thumps of a beat. This man’s breath was interrupting my attention, but it was nearby. “We’re almost there,” he said, stopping, “sorry, the van broke down back there.” My breath caught as I thought about what he said. I didn’t understand. The smell of sweat grew more robust as he started to walk again, and I was beginning to hear the music noise more clearly. “What’s going on?” I said. “See for yourself,” he said, slowly lowering my feet to the ground. My legs felt rigid again, and I was so cold. I shivered as my toes slid further into the straps of my stilettos. The man placed his hand on either side of me, helping me to steady myself. The beat of the music was louder, and tiny glints of light were peering through the handkerchief. I could see an outline of a door in front of me. His hands began to move from my side up to my head. He yanked the tie of the handkerchief. “Ow,” I yelped. “Sorry,” he said, moving slower to loosen it. It fell from my eyes, finally allowing me to see the world around me. A large metal door was in front of me, glistening from the one pendant light above it. The thumping music was rumbling through the creases of the door, and the smell of people was noticeably spicy. The building was large and industrial. On the right was a large parking lot packed with vehicles. I scrunched my nose in confusion, turning around to see my captor. There he was, a tall, well-built man. He reached his hand out to me, “Taylor,” he said. I just stared at him. He had a buzzed head of hair and crispy brown eyes. His smile widened at my examination. “Oh,” he said, reaching into his pocket. I shuddered, thinking this might be it. The end of the line. He tilted his head, questioning my reaction, and smirked, pulling a pair of scissors from his pocket. He motioned for me to lift my hands. I did and watched as he snipped my wrists free. “Gia,” I said, slightly stunned while rubbing my wrists.

“Sorry about all this, Gia, but Jenni and Nikki swore me to secrecy. I’m still not supposed to say anything. I’m to coerce you into the door behind you.” I looked beyond his head and saw nothing but woods and snow. No lights, no highway, no nothing. He turned around, following my eyes, raising his hand to point. “The van is back there. Again, I’m super sorry. It literally just broke down. It’s my cousin’s, so who knows,” he shrugged. I furrowed my brow and stared at him. I was still so lost in all this. “I’ll make it up to you in there. I promise,” he said, smirking, grabbing my attention, and motioning to the door. Deciding I had no choice and was desperate to get answers. I turned back to the door. I hadn’t noticed before, but there’s no doorknob. Turning back to Taylor… “just push it,” he said in anticipation of my coming question. I sucked in one last breath of countryside, cold, and body spray, leaned forward, and pushed the door significantly. The noise barreled through the opening of the door, straining my ears. I had been so used to the silence it stunned me. The space was dark but vomited laser-colored lights from every corner. It was people on top of people, on top of people dancing, screaming, and drinking. There is a bar straight ahead. I saw two men spinning and dancing in a lit disco cage to my right. My mouth unintentionally dropped open as I turned around to find Taylor. “SURPRISE!” I stumbled backward from the tremored scream of two women. My eyes focused, and with my mouth still hanging open, my brain registered them, Nikki and Jenni. “Gia! You needed this!” Nikki said, grabbing my arm. “Let’s get you a drink,” Jenni said, meeting at my opposing side, “we heard you had some car trouble. Did we get you? Were you so scared?” Still unable to answer, I let them drag me to the bar, and waiting was Taylor, with four bright blue shots. “Death to green apple!” He shouted.


Today’s the day I change. No! Seriously, I am so over being forced to lock myself up every full moon. Especially after last week, you would never believe what happened. I was about to start locking up a few minutes before the full moon, when my grandma decided to pay me a visit. Since she owned the little place I call home, she decided to let herself in with the spare set of keys she insisted on taking from me. As for what happened next, doesn’t quite require any explanation. Grandmas and wolves are not a good combination, especially when you’re a werewolf. Well, at least now I own the place.               Now you know why I need to find a cure, and there is only one creature who can help me and that is a witch. They are just as hard to find as some other old lady willing to fill the vacant position of grandma in my life. Lucky for me, I know someone who may be willing to help me find a witch, Peter. Peter is the leader of a small group of goblins. He and his group were all forced to mine right below Count Dracula’s mansion for blood pepper root, which is the root of the spiciest peppers in existence. When Dracula became a vegetarian, he decided to start eating the roots of blood peppers. It’s not relevant to how I’m going to find the cure so let us proceed. I went to Peter’s cave, just off the south coast of Transylvania, and managed to pull a few strings until he agreed to help me. He never wanted to have to see my face again. We hitched a lift on a dragon. A few days later, we arrived in Scotland.               Peter suggested that we should spend the night at his cousin Oliver’s hotel known as ‘’Macbeth’s palace’’. We did so but regretted it instantly. The entire hotel smelled of moth balls and garlic. We decided to leave before breakfast as we could only imagine what atrocities would be waiting for us at the breakfast table. We made it about a mile away from the hotel, when we heard the thundering sound of hooves pounding the cobbled road. It was Peter’s Cousin, Oliver. He handed us a letter with no name on it and galloped off. We opened the envelope to find a little note saying ‘’travel to the witches shack’’ written in a neat golden handwriting. That is exactly what we did. A few full moons later we were smashed on the back of the head by some fairly smelly creatures. I suddenly regained consciousness as an old woman was wafting some foul scented mud in my direction. I stood up, knees shaking and realised that the old woman seemed to be blind. As I took a shaky step forward, there was a crunch under my foot. Looking down I saw a skull which was about two thirds of the average size of a human skull. The old woman didn’t turn her head in my direction. I was about to continue when she smiled and picked up a doll. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach as I confirmed in my mind that she was a witch. She gingerly held the doll there in her hands for a few seconds, until with one fluid movement she dropped the doll on to the floor. I screamed as I fell to the floor like a boulder. She stayed still for a few minutes as I struggled to breathe, then she told me that voodoo dolls are tricky little things. Your friend Peter resisted and paid the price she said. She picked the doll up and put it back on the shelf as I regained control of my movements. ‘’Let’s talk’’ she told me. After we had a talk it all made sense, well sort of. Anyway, the witch’s name was Catherine, and she was going to turn four hundred and twelve that same week. She knew I was travelling to find a cure, and she almost had all the ingredients needed; but she needed a dragon’s egg to complete the cure. She told me where to find the last colony of dragons and that I had better hurry if I wanted to get an egg before they hatched. I arrived at Buckingham palace that same day. It had been abandoned for centuries, or at least that’s what I’d been told. There were dragons circling the palace and occasionally swooping down to pick up some poor prey. There was a zombie at the entrance but no other visible life-forms. I hurried down along the dungeon passage to find the secret entrance. After a few good hours of searching, I found the right waterfall and walked right through it. There, on a pedestal was an egg that seemed to be glowing walked up to it, mesmerized, picked it up and started walking back the way I had come. That is when all hell broke loose. The floor, walls and ceiling started to crumble. I ran and didn’t stop until I was back in the open air outside the palace. There were at least four dragons after me. So, I did the normal thing to do, I ran. Okay, it wasn’t the normal thing to do but it was definitely the most instinctive thing to do.  Three of the dragons lost interest in me, but one remained and kept up the chase. I arrived at ‘’the witches shack’’ and at once gave the egg to the witch and went to hide in the far corner. The dragon roared as the witch went to greet it. The dragon left the shack. And the witch told me we need to wait for the egg to hatch. The next day the egg hatched, I know this because I woke up with a small rabbit sized dragon biting my nose. The witch picked up the dragon and put it on the counter near a cauldron that appeared out of nowhere. Catherine lit the fire below the cauldron and started chanting what sounded like her spell. ‘’Frogs tongue, blood pepper root, a wizard’s curse, a demon’s horn, a wolf’s howl and a dragon’s child’s hair.’’ Now we need to leave it to set, so that it will be ready for you to drink it on the next full moon. The following month, Catherine took me to a little shed before the full moon started and chained me up. She left nothing to chance. I was bound by my arms and legs and after putting a muzzle on me we waited for the moon to rise. She waited an hour after the moon was up and then gave me the cure. It worked almost instantly, reversing the dreaded, horrific, monthly process. Within seconds I was human again. I went back to my old home, yes, the one where I had eaten my grandma and lived the rest of my life as a normal human. A totally transformed human, convinced that no more change was required!


Prologue I’m an adult now. I’ve got bills, and rent, and I have to put gas in my car. I’ve damaged my body over the years and I feel it more now than back then. I have a hard time sleeping. On the outside I look mostly normal. Caucasian male, standing about 5’9” and 155lbs. Later on in my life I’ve come to learn that I’m actually quite beautiful. I also really enjoy my privacy, so if you’re readying this and you know who I am, please keep quiet. Also, I’m not a writer. People who know of me would say I’m a good enough person. I give money to homeless people and I take good care of my friends and I treat my significant others well. I’ve got a good relationship with my mother. I’ve been known to stick up for the weaker person more than once in my life. The people that know me a bit more personally would tell you that I’ve got a bit of a dark side. I’ve got a tendency to disregard rules. I’ve pushed the envelope many times. I’ve committed crimes when it suited me. I’m charismatic, I always have been. I didn’t really understand that until my 20s. I never really cared much for image or sex appeal unless it was to get something that I wanted. I’m very good at that, getting the things I want. It’s certainly a contributing factor to my hedonistic tendencies. I’m a great liar with an amazing poker face. I’ve got a knack for being hyper analytical. I generally lack remorse and regret. I’m not known for being merciful. I’m mostly driven by purpose. There is little I do without forethought, and I’m a great tactician. When I decide to do something, I always seem to make it happen. It’s always been that way. On to the point This is about when I was younger.


NB (swearing and indications of abuse) Jim strolled into the drawing room. It smelled of furniture polish, perfume and after shave. He stood before the ornate fireplace, his hands held loosely behind his back. His eyes skimmed the mostly bowed heads and solemn faces. The huge gold-framed mirror behind him reflected the multi-faceted chandelier. In the centre of the room stood an oval mahogany table and six chairs everyone had avoided. Instead, they crowded on the three sofas and four armchairs scattered about the drawing room. Jim took an in-breath and began. I’m sure everyone here is aware of my granddad Harry Grimes’ death in Thailand two days ago. He was in some small remote village where he had a heart-attack and then someone stole all his belongs. Luckily, the police traced him to a local hotel and then they were able to inform me of his death. Some remote village? Heart attack? More like spending too much time in a house of ill repute. Low moans and grunts reverberated around the oak panelled room. Harry was an amazing character. We all loved him. I’m sure all of you in this room loved him and will miss him as much as I do. Jim gazed at the bowed heads. One woman wiped her nose on a paper tissue. A man covered his mouth as he gave out a gentle cough. He was an arsehole. Everybody loathed him, including me. He helped many people. Always with a smile on his face, asking what he could do for them. So long as there was money in it. When we had that terrible snowstorm two winters ago, Harry went to nearly every house in the village and cleared their snow for them. He didn’t ask them if they wanted it cleared. He did it anyway. He was selfless. He went back later and asked for money from each of them. He always looked after the elderly and the most vulnerable in the village first. Always. Yea, the vulnerable so they didn’t know he was frisking them and the elderly ‘cause they had tonnes of dosh and he knew it. He really was a kindly soul throughout his life, and I am sure he is greatly appreciated now that he is in Heaven. More like he’s gone straight to hell. Harry kept some livestock, as you all know. He knew a great deal about animals, sheep, cattle, dogs. He also rescued animals and got them back on their feet and found them new homes. I have one of Harry’s dogs myself. It was extremely thin when I first got it off Harry, but it is fine now, and Harry helped me look after it. Told me what to feed it and stuff like that. He was very good to me regarding the stray dog. I’ve seen him ill-treat those animals. Cows he left un-milked until he got some poor neighbourhood kid to do the job and work for nothing. Animals left in filthy conditions. He didn’t care about the creatures at all, he just wanted to look good in the neighbourhood. Good old Harry, the dog and cat rescuer. Harry loved sport. Not the kind of sport you’ve got in mind. He enjoyed chasing balls around the football pitch. Harry would be the first to admit he was not that good at football, but he enjoyed a run around at weekends with the boys in the field. If you think chasing boys is a sport, then yes, Harry really enjoyed that. He’d pretend to chase the football and have a fumble, I mean tumble, with one of the lads. And he’d give the lads the run-around in the showers afterwards. My brother’s friend Jack told me all about it that night we had our first kiss behind the rhododendrons out the back. It was Dave’s party and I really fancied Jack, and he fancied me back then. He told me all about Granddad Grimes and what he used to get up to on and off the football field. Harry was very good with his hands, too. Too right. Handy Harry, the girls at the club, called him. A hand on your backside or a hand around your waist that slowly crept up and up. I’m sure there isn’t one person here who has not been on the receiving end of Harry’s generosity and his handiwork. I know he often came to our house to mend a cupboard or shelf or re-do a bit of wiring. He was a carpenter by trade and, as far as I know, he did his apprenticeship. A brilliant man when it comes to wood. Would you come round the back with me for a minute? Would you like to come and see the stray dogs I’ve got in at the moment? Would you like to see the litter of kittens that Maisie, the stray cat, just had? Yep, he was very good with ‘would’. Harry was a gentleman through and through. Harry was no gentleman he was a lousy deceiving git. Now that Harry has left us, we are short of an accountant at the club. Harry did the job well for what must have been twenty years. It was a voluntary position, as you all know. Now we need a new accountant or at least a stand in until we can get things sorted out further. I’m hoping somebody here at this extraordinary meeting will volunteer the job. I have someone in mind, but first I want to put it out to all of you to give everyone a fair chance at the job. So, hands up if you feel like volunteering. Fidgeting and feet shuffling noises resounded around the room. No-one raised their hand. I want to know exactly how the scumbag forged our signatures and syphoned all that money from the club without anyone finding out. You don’t get to own a holiday home in Florida and another one in Spain with the kind of pension Handy Harry got each month. I knew he was up to something, and he knew I knew. Mary raised her hand. I’ll do it. Thank you, Mary. I was hoping you would. I know you have a maths degree and some accountancy knowledge. If you hadn’t put your hand up, then I was going to ask you to volunteer, anyway. I’ll give you the keys to the safe and filing cabinet before you leave today. Now, if there are no questions, then you’ll find tea and sandwiches in the kitchen. I hope we can all stay for a while and reminisce about my wonderful Grandad Harry Grimes. I can’t wait to get my hands on those accounts and find out EXACTLY how Harry syphoned off all that money…..


“ We shouldn't have done that.” “I know,” Sarah sighed, breathless. “ But I couldn't hold back any longer.” “ Me neither” Tom confessed, guiltily. “For weeks I've been thinking about doing this, but I kept telling myself that I shouldn't. It'll hurt me as much as everyone else.” “Sometimes, we have to give into our instincts. It's only natural.” Sarah reasoned. “But I can't keep this a secret. We're going to have to tell Mark what we've done.” Tom looked mortified. “We can't! He'd be so angry with us, me in particular. I initiated this.” Tom rung his hands together in an unconscious reenactment of what Mark would do to him, if he found out their secret. “We have to! I couldn't live with the thought of what we've just done.” Sarah lowered her head in shame. She had always been the type to tell the truth, even when the consequences, would be worse for her. When Tom and Sarah met two years before, she found herself telling him about her life, her family and her weight problems. She had never felt so comfortable with a man before then. She told Tom about the way in which Mark had made her feel ashamed about how she looked and she how he pointed out all of the things that were wrong with her. No matter how hard Sarah tried though, her efforts were never enough. It wasn't so much what Mark said, it was the looks of reproach and almost disgust, that made Sarah feel useless. He would look at her in the mirror and sigh at the sight of her. “But do we have to tell him the truth? This could be a one off and we can go on as if nothing had happened.” Tom shrugged to show that what they had done, was really no big deal. “How can I explain where I've been today then? I was supposed to meet him at three.” They both looked at the clock. The time was 4.30. It was getting darker early now, with the onset of winter. “You can tell him that you bumped into a friend, you got talking and lost track of the time. It's not exactly a lie, is it?” Sarah paused, thinking about whether or not she could say that to Mark. “I don't know,” Sarah answered, biting her lip. Sarah always did this when she was nervous or considering something. Tom found this very endearing, almost sexy. “Could I tell him that? Would he believe me?” “Of course he would!” Tom wanted Sarah to go along with his idea, not just for her sake, but his own. “It nothing out of the ordinary, things like that happen all of the time.” “Yeah, I suppose...” The pair remained silent. Tom was relieved that it looked like Sarah was going to accept his idea. The silence was broken by Sarah. “But what if we want to do this again? It was difficult to stop the urge the first time.” “We won't.” Tom insisted. “This will be the last time.” Tom was definite, but Sarah could detect a hint of regret in his voice. Thinking about it, Sarah wasn't sure that she wanted this to be the last time either. Without warning, Sarah rose, jolting Tom out of the way. “I've made a decision. I'm going to tell Mark.” “You can't!” Tom rose from his spot. “I thought we decided to keep this afternoon between you and me.” Sarah tied her trainers and grabbed her coat. “Sarah! Wait!” Tom called to the empty space, as the door closed. “Shit!” Tom grabbed his things and ran out, to stop Sarah from revealing their secret. It wasn't just the consequences of their actions that he was worried about. It was the fact that he and Sarah had a secret that was theirs, it was time that they had spent, just the two of them. He didn't want to admit it, but Tom had fallen in love with Sarah. He didn't care about the way she looked. He loved her sense of humour, they never had awkward silences between them and he loved that she loved geeky things, like he did. He had to say though, that when he thought about her smile, her eyes and her curvy body, a shiver of pleasure ran through him. “Sarah! Sarah!” Tom ran out into the car park of the fast food restaurant, nearly getting himself run over, by a car pulling out of the drive through. “You can't stop me!” Sarah strode with determined focus, towards her car. She pressed the fob on her key ring, the light flashed, indictating that the car was unlocked. “I'm going to tell Mark that we've just eaten a Double cheese burger and fries.” Tom reached Sarah's car. Out of breath, he leaned against the car. “Well ok.” Tom sighed in defeat. "Just don't tell Mark about the milkshake. You know how many calories are in them!” “Look!” the look of panic went out of Sarah's face. “We're adults. Why should we care what some bully of a personal trainer thinks? We don't have to hide our secret. If we want to eat a burger now and then, what's the problem?” “Exactly!” Tom smiled, suddenly felt more confident about confronting their personal trainer,Mark. “I mean, you don't need to put up with that creep. He's nothing but a power hunger gym bunny, who gets his kicks by putting people down. You're beautiful, just as you are.” Sarah was stunned by what Tom had just said “I....I don't know what to say. I thought we were friends.” “We are, but..” Tom wasn't even sure that he should say what came next, but he knew that he had to, “I had hoped that we could be a bit more...” Tom thought for a moment that his friendship with Sarah was over. They could never go back to being friends, if she didn't feel the same way as he did. Then, without warning, Sarah leaned in closer and kissed him. “Well I think we can arrange that.” They stayed silence for a moment, before Sarah opened the car door and got into the driver's seat. “Come on, what are you watiing for? We've got gym subscriptions to cancel.” Tom smiled broadly and got into the car. Both of them felt light, knowing that however Mark reacted to what they were about to tell him, they would deal with this together.


Mr. Pepper and his wife Sonya as well as their two sons Brandon, who is twelve years old and Anthony who is fourteen years old. The family has two guests, 13 year old twin cousins named Mark and Luke. Mrs. Pepper is getting supper prepared for everyone, her husband is writing a business presentation on his computer, the two cousins are playing computer baseball against each other as Anthony is finishing the third page of his English report as Brandon is working on his science project that needs the power of electricity. All of a sudden, all the power goes out and Anthony screams as he just lost his whole English assignment, Mr. Pepper's business preparation is erased, all the lights go out in the whole house and the two cousins yell at each other- who has won the computer baseball game. Anthony yells at Brandon, what did you do to cause the power to go out!! Everyone gathers in the living room after each group finds a flashlight. The sun is shining brightly, with no clouds, so lightening is not the reason for the power outage. Anthony says Brandon must have done something wrong with his science project. Their father says "Not likely". The parents talk to each other, was the power bill paid? Sonya says: " Yes, four days ago, here's the payment". Mr. Pepper talks to his neighbors. Everyone's power has gone out. One of the neighbors has an adult son who is a city police officer. The non emergency call to the police department, Mr. Pepper and his neighbor learn there was an automobile accident and during the accident someone knocked over a utility pole and power is out in the entire city. The cousins say aloud: " Looks like pizza tonight". Anthony and Brandon tell their cousins: " Not likely as landlines don't work when their is no power. Mr. Pepper has an idea, he tells the boys Brandon and Anthony to get paper plates from the pantry as well as plastic utensils. The two boys quickly help their mother get everything back into the refrigerator. Chef Boyardee is served on the picnic table in the backyard. When supper is eaten and the garbage is thrown out, everyone enjoys a kickball game in the backyard- 3 versus 3. The game is played for an hour. The power has not been restored so Mr. Pepper tells his sons Brandon and Anthony to set up the dome tent in the back yard. The boys also check, there are enough sleeping bags for everyone for the night. The sun is now setting on a September evening, so everyone sits in a campfire circle, however no fire is needed as the evening is hot. Mr. Pepper tells his two sons, with two cousins listening, the two reasons he asks his sons to look over each other's English essays is it helps with editing and each son has proof of having written their assignment, just in case a classmate writes something similar. Anthony states he has learned to save documents on the computer after every page finished. After a couple campfire games played outside in the backyard, a messenger comes to the circle and tells everyone, the power should be restored in about two hours, if not call the power company. Brandon and Anthony do a skit learned in Boy Scouts. Anthony pretends to be sitting at a campfire and Brandon pretends to be running from the forest yelling there is a bear coming. Anthony gets his two shoes on and then after a couple of steps, he stops and ties his shoelaces. Brandon yells: " What are you doing, there is a bear running this way and you stopped to tie your shoelaces". Anthony replied: I don't need to worry about out running the bear, I just need to outrun you". Everyone is laughing. Mr. Pepper tells everyone how he got a couple Scouts in his troop in trouble at Summer camp as the skit told to the Scouts called the Raisin Bread skit is considered dirty. Mr. Pepper disagreed as his Scoutmaster taught his troop the skit. In a period of a year, Mr. Pepper asks 100 males about the skit between the ages of eleven to seventy, fifty percent said it was dirty, fifty percent said it was " Not dirty". This led Mr. Pepper to go his oldest aunt, the one female to break the tie. He tells her where the skit came from and it was a lesson about not judging a book by its cover. Here's the skit: An English King had a cook who passed away. To avoid 400 applicants, the king stated an applicant must bring a sample piece of bread made and cooked. The first person brought white bread. King replies: " I hate white bread, it reminds me of a snowboarding accident, no job". The second applicant states: " I have rye bread". King replies: " I hate rye bread, it reminds me when my older brother was seriously bitten by a snake, no job. Third applicant tells the King: " I have raisin bread". King looks at it, smells it and even tastes it and he tells the third applicant he is the new cook. Twenty four hours later, the new cook tells the king he has rye bread. The king complains: " Being last you know I hate rye bread". Cook replies: " Sorry sir, but my rabbit died last night." The aunt stated that the skit was disgusting, however not dirty so the tie was broken. The cousins Luke and Mark are laughing and telling everyone they haven't had so much fun. They even tell Brandon and Anthony that they will be joining a Scout troop when they return home.  During the evening in the backyard, a lunar eclipse occurred.  Mark took the picture on his phone and e-mailed it to his cousin Brandon who received an "A" on the assignment. Anthony wrote about the fun with family due to a power outage.  The parents showed love and companionship through the ordeal.  Everyone was having so much fun, that no one realized the power had returned to the house until they woke up the next morning and heard noise from the house.