Hi all. It's been a couple of years since I wrote anything new, and would really appreciate any thoughts or feedback about this. It's just the start of something, not entirely sure where it's going yet but I've recently started micro-dosing and this kind of just flowed out of me! Thanks! **A Morning in Hemel Hampstead.** “My water just broke”. Billy let out a soft gasp. He was stranded 20 miles away in Hemel Hampstead, about to walk into an important meeting with the legal counsel of a large pharmaceutical firm and hadn’t expected to hear about breaking waters when he answered his ex-girlfriend Laura's call. “But you’re only 7 months, aren’t you? Isn’t that a bit, you know, early?” There was a word for giving birth early. Billy couldn’t think of it. He had a decent enough vocabulary; he just often forgot the specific word for a particular situation. It was one of the things Laura disliked about him, his inability to accurately communicate his feelings without resorting to grunting or downplaying events by using the incorrect term and making them seem unimportant. It wasn’t necessarily his fault, but it was a source of constant irritation. “Yes Billy, it is a bit early, is this an inconvenient time for you?” Laura was passive-aggressive. It came from childhood, her mother could never discipline her in a conventional way, she would usually just apply a barbed comment or sarcastic aside even if her children didn’t have the capacity to understand what she was trying to say. It was this niggling, nagging behaviour that would eventually lead Billy to snap, and put in motion the demise of the relationship. “Where are you? I’m probably an hour away from wherever you are, I’ll get a cab back to the station now.” “Billy I’m scared.”  **A Good Start.** Billy and Laura met at a folk music festival out west. Having shared acquaintances, they’d ended up in neighbouring tents and had quickly established a flirty harmony. The drugs flowed pretty freely in those days, long before the relentless grind of adulthood took hold and reduced them to squabbling over washing up and late nights in the office. The first 6 months were blissful, living separately in their own flats on opposite sides of London, they’d spend evenings watching bands in dingy, dirty pubs or collapsed on sofas in a fragrant cannabis fug. They rarely argued, made love every time they saw each other and never, ever discussed the future. At 24 years old, with a strong bone structure, who needed the future. Billy didn’t really have a career, more just a string of meaningless restaurant jobs that kept him in sandwiches and weed. Laura, on the other hand, was really starting to make waves in the marketing department of the software company that employed her. Social media had revolutionised how companies spoke to their customers and Laura had a good handle on it. She has a quirky online presence and a knack for getting a message across in 144 characters that was both witty and informative. Billy gave up his squalid Bethnal Green bedroom after a year or so, packed up his minimal belongings in a large backpack and moved into Laura’s feminine, clean 2 Bedroom apartment in Shepherds Bush. It was a natural progression, he spent most of his time there anyway because the walls in his place were starting to get damp. The less time he spent there, the less he’d have to clean. By that logic, if he didn’t live there at all he’d never have to clean again. Laura was a nurturer, and she nurtured Billy. She saw his potential, knew he was more intelligent than he gave himself credit for, and pushed him to find a more suitable job for a man of his age. Laura bought Billy a new suit to interview in. It was the nicest thing he’d ever owned, a well-tailored Dark Grey two-piece with purple lining. He felt like an executive, it gave him a sense of importance and clout they’d he’d never felt before. It was liberating, and he was incredibly grateful to Laura. It didn’t stop him failing at his first 3 interviews, his smart appearance not masking his thorough ineptitude when it came to him speaking about himself or talking up his strengths, of which he had a few. Laura remained patient with him throughout, supporting him both emotionally and financially, picking him up when he came home despondent at another rejection. Laura was patient, empathetic, and loved him so purely that it was the easiest thing in the world to lift his spirits. In the summer, after a number of false starts, Billy finally got full-time employment as a sales rep for a company that licensed new medications from the US and sold them at an exorbitant profit. Ethically, it didn’t really sit well with either of them or their liberal mindsets, but the money was decent, and it felt very much like a victory. They celebrated in the pub surrounded by friends. Laura spoke of her pride. Billy drank too much tequila and finished the night by vomiting into a bin on Fulham high street. Neither Billy nor Laura anticipated how quickly Billy would adapt to company life, or how completely it would alter their peaceful dynamic.  **A Cab Journey.** The train was the fastest route back to Hammersmith hospital, but Billy was still stuck in no man’s land between a Hemel industrial park and the station. The local taxi firm had a terrible reputation, and Billy was exactly the type of person to let someone else’s opinion influence his experience. “Is this the quickest way to the station mate? This isn’t the way I got here?” Billy was in a state of anxiety, as you would expect from a man who has just heard his child has decided to make an expeditious entry into the world. “Roadworks on the St Albans road, we’ll be stuck there for ages if we go that way.” “Isn’t that the way I got here in the first place?” “I didn’t drive you pal, how am I supposed to know?” Billy wasn’t a violent person, but as he watched the little red numbers increase on the counter in front of him, and the time tick over, he felt his heart beating faster and started playing out a fierce argument in his head. “Just hurry up please.” Billy picked up his phone. Laura was still the top of his list of favourite numbers, despite the fact they had been separated for nearly 6 months and had barely been on speaking terms. “My train goes in fifteen minutes, I’m in a taxi now and if this driver stops being a clown, I should make it.” “Ok. Come straight to the pregnancy unit. Mum will be here by the time you get here.” Anne had never cared much for Billy. The feeling was mutual. He thought she was controlling, she thought he was lazy. They were both right. “Can you tell her to behave herself.” “You behave *yourself* Billy.” Billy had no intention of starting an argument but would rarely back down if one was forced upon him. The taxi trundled along, stopping at every red light as if the gods had pre-determined them to change from green as they approached, halting his progress and infuriating him further. “Are we nearly there?” The driver, having heard Billy’s earlier comment about him being a clown, decided against responding and continued to face forward. “Excuse me, I’m talking to you.” The driver pulled over to the side of the road. “Twenty quid and you can piss off out of my car.” “What? I don’t know where I am. Take me to the station.” The doors were locked. The driver was a broad man, with a substantial neck. In a combat situation, Billy was unlikely to prevail. The driver repeated his previous demand. Billy, all the while panicking about making the train in time, refused to be cowed. “I’ll pay you when you drop me off at my destination. Are you stupid?” The driver, having been university educated, didn’t take kindly to being called stupid, and reverted to the type his large frame signified. He unlocked the doors, climbed out of his seat and pulled Billy out of the back by the scruff of his neck. A brief grapple ensued, and Billy felt the sharp end of the driver's elbow in his eye socket. On his knees, with his left hand clutching his face, Billy looked up as the taxi sputtered back off down the road, taking with it any hope of him making the 11 o’clock from Hemel.


"You can remove it, can't you." It was less a question than a statement of fact. The young woman, staring over the rooftops into the blessedly empty sky, was hugging her legs to chest, gripping the denim of her jeans tight enough to whiten her knuckles. In the shadows of the run down attic they took shelter in, a young, yet somehow older voice sighed out wearily. "I could, yes. But I won't." For the first time since she *saw* it, its victims, it's *helpers*, she showed signs of emotion, brows furrowing as she tried to process what he just said. As though the very idea of removing her ability to *see* was anything but agreed. "Remove it." Another sigh, and he pushes himself out of the shadowy corner he had been leaning in, swinging his legs to join her sitting on the crumbled window ledge, looking down at the small town below. "I can't." "Bullshit. You just said-" "I know what I said. And I *can't*. It doesn't end well. Trust me, I've made that mistake before." He sipped from the bottle in hand and wished for something stronger. Five times he's had to guide someone through their awakening, and I never got any easier. He rocked in place as she punched his arm, silently demanding an explanation. Gulping down the last mouthful, he tossed the bottle at one of the many abandoned buildings in this part of town, the corner of his mouth twitching up a little as he scored a mental bullseye, becoming sombre once more as he turned to face her. "Its not that simple... Look, you've *seen*. You know what's out there now-" "I saw more than I wanted last night. I don't want to see that, or anything like that, again. Can't you understand that?!" A deep breath smothered the annoyance building up in him. Did he understand that? Yes, far more than she could imagine. The things he's seen, *seen*, done and *done* haunt and thrill him in equal measure. Standing up, he glanced back at the old mine set into the mountain and snorted, lifting a foot. "Meet me downstairs." Amidst her complaints and a demand to get down from there, he stepped off, plummeting several stories. The punch was anticipated. The baseball bat coming the other way was not. "Fucking asshole..." He laughed as he got to his feet, rubbing his jaw. She was already developing the strength needed for their kind of... Existence. Sooner than expected. Maybe he was wrong about when she woke? "Walk with me." She grumbled, naturally, as he led her through the town centre, holding up a hand to stop her. "What do you see?" A scoff, a roll of the eyes. A sarcastic quip as she gestures towards the barely surviving town centre, with its run down buildings and dishevelled people, eking out an existence without the rest of the world turning a blind eye. "The "gorgeous scenic views with traditional family val- ack!" Petty perhaps, but the slap to the back of her head was so very satisfying, discretely moving behind her, out of view. "What do you *see*?" Silence stretched between them until her head hung low, rubbing her own arms as though chilled by the waning summer sun above. "What will I see? You?" "Only if you turn round." She laughed, bitterly and shook her head, eyes closing. "You're such an aashole..." He shrugged. He'd been called worse. Came through this part of the world and ended up burnt at a stake for it. Shame he had grown too old by then. Standing back, watching as she took a deep breath,raise her head... And *Saw*. "... She was beaten last night. For dropping a plate. But it was the hand he broke a few days ago..." "Yes." She turned her attention from the woman sitting on a park bench to a young man bobbing his head to the music pounding in his ears. "He's... Like a star. He asked his boyfriend to leave town with him. He said yes. He's... So bright." He nodded as he slipped into his own Sight, observing the changes in her *other* self. Hair flowing behind her like a rising waterfall, a contrast to her cropped short hairstyle. Barbs all across her body, typically defensive. Hardly a change from her physical self. He awkwardly pulled his limbs closer to himself. Time would change that fact. Suddenly she started to thrash, a brief thought directing his physical hand to steady her body while he followed her line of sight, clenching his jaw as she moaned and begged him to let her go, to let her get away. "Look closer. Its okay. I promise you, it's okay." He carefully turned her head round, back to the child slowly swinging on the swingset. His other form was identical to his physical, in almost every detail. Save for the oily black, leech like tendril wrapped around him, lamprey jaws coating it as it spasmed, the child blissfully unaware of the parasite. "Look... Its dead, okay? Its dead. You killed it. We're just watching it's death spasms. He'll be okay..." She angrily wrenched herself free from both his grasps, rounding on him, mouth open to yell before falling short. "... You almost look exactly like it." "I'm old. I think I have a century left. Maybe longer, maybe shorter." He watched as she shifted her attention back to the physical, observing her in both states at once. A perk with experience. The bat in her hand creaked as she secured her grip. "It was like you?" "Us. Once. I think it gave up it's humanity long ago." Another bitter laugh, shrouded in disbelief. "And you won't remove it." Pulling himself back to the physical completely, he gestured to a bench, slipping into it and waiting for her to follow suit. "I removed it. Once. The first one I met after seeing things no man should see... I thought I could spare him that." A sigh past his lips as he fought back the memories. The once sane man turned into a broken, empty shell. Forever paranoid of things he could no longer see, no longer avoid, it was a relief when he finally passed away. "Let's just say seeing and knowing is better than knowing but not seeing. Come on." He held out a hand which she, reluctantly, took, and he pulled her to her feet, walking side by side while unconsciously stepping around or over quivering, decaying lumps of the beast that once entrenched itself here. "It's not so bad. You might be lucky and die before immortality sets in. I saw the Beatles perform live. Woodstock. Helped tear down the berlin wall. And there was this one time I helped out these US and USSR agents... Woo, nothing *cold* between those two under the sheets, lemme tell you!" He kept his attention fully in the physical as they walked back to her flat and friends. Kept his gaze away from the remains of the once man turned monster scattered over town, so much decaying, immaterial flesh. He felt a twinge of hunger in his other form and firmly stamped it down. A century. Maybe more. Maybe less. He hoped she was ready to face him by then. *A little experiment to see how I could hint at stuff more than outright say it.


The bustling scenery met my eyes as I took a seat from one of the bench inside the train.

I looked up to my mother in confusion and fear as the people around us kept increasing until not even a needle could fit. It was too strong that I became anxious. The very first time that my personal space was invaded by strangers. But Mom just smiled at me and held my hand to assure me that everything's alright and that I'm safe.

The sound coming from the train filled my ears, indicating that the train doors will soon close and the train starts moving as soon as the door close.

Various unfamiliar faces and unpleasant noises were heard inside the train. From cellphone calls, conversation between the passengers, infant's cries and rail joints, the sound that the train makes when the rail makes a familiar sound "clickety-clack" as the train's wheels roll over them. Manila, from what I've heard of, was the most crowded and busiest city in the Philippines. But that, which only was a thought, became reality to me as I am now experiencing it. It was more than just a busy street or a crowded place, nor a city full of unfamiliar and intimidating people. It was an adventure. A story with mixed genres and never-ending chapters of people and their daily lives. But now all I could see is black and white, well, except for my Mom. There's a black shade that's darker and some, just dull white. Like a story without a twist. Like a character with no specified role to play. I thought that being in a new place and riding a transport that's new to me would be an amazing ride but it was rather a mind boggling adventure. The only thing that's keeping me positive is my mother who's standing beside me and what's waiting for me at the end of our journey. And that positivity added when the old woman sitting beside me, reached out to me and gave me a candy. It was the first colored thing that met my eyes after entering the train. My eyes glistened in delight but I was a bit hesitant. I still remember what my cousins said to me. That all the things that someone will give me is not for free. Everything comes with a price that you can or cannot pay with just money. Some, with actions or kind words that ears are very pleased to hear. But the kind smile from the old woman made all those hesitations, doubts and fears vanish. It's like she's saying that all the things my cousins taught me was mere speculation, not based on experience. Maybe, they're right. Maybe, they're wrong. It depends on what other people experience. But the thing that we need to keep in mind was to always give a benefit of the doubt and the beg to differ. With that in mind, I reached out my hand in politeness and with gratitude, I accept the candy. That's when the old woman also appeared bright. She is now full of colors. Her grayish-white bob hair was in soft curls complimenting her naturally tanned skin. She's wearing a crimson red long sleeves dress that rests few inches below from her knees and a black flip flops. I suddenly noticed her nails that looks like it was newly manicured and penicured, also in different vibrant colors. On her lap was a green tote bag with a print saying, "Marikit" which means Pretty or Gorgeous. I gave the candy to my Mom to kindly ask her to open it for me. I saw how she struggled to open it while holding our bag in the other arm when the young lady who's sitting beside me, offered her seat for my Mom. When my Mom declined, she just offer to open the candy for me so my Mom gratefully agreed and said her thank you. The young lady smiled at me as she gave me the candy which was now out from its wrapper. As I get the candy from his hands, I noticed her having colors, again. Her skin was pale white and her long jet black hair was naturally straight. She's wearing a neon green bucket hat and a white top, partnered with denim jeans and a white sneakers. One that I really noticed was... her smile was really pretty. After those interactions, I came to notice the other people's cheery smile, their contagious laughter which made the whole atmosphere more light and radiant. Their smiling faces which are now having colors made all my prejudice towards the city and the crowd as a whole went on the rainbows and now on the more optimistic side, rather than down the drain. Sadly, one by one, they came out of the train as their reach their destinations. It was now enough for my Mom to sit beside me and for me to see the scenery outside the train, behind the glass windows. All of a sudden, a flash of lightning striked through the air followed by a roaring thunder that many of the passengers began to worry if they have bring an umbrella to shield themselves from the rain that starts pouring little by little. I looked at my Mom when she started brushing my hair. Biting her lower lips, I know that she's worrying about us getting wet from the sudden rain. It was just small drops but I know that they still worry about everything I don't know of. Surprisingly, I'm not worried nor feeling scared if that might happen because of the little interactions I made earlier. When I took a seat and observed my surroundings, I honestly thought that this ride will be a scary ride. Like a rollercoaster with so many courses, flips, twists and turns which I hated the most. But seeing the positive side of the ride, I began to hope and be confident that it was and will became an amazing adventure. It became dark after the train went inside the tunnel. But still, I feel no fear. I just felt my Mother's warmth from her embrace, thinking that I'm scared or whatnot when in fact, I'm not which was a good thing, for me.

One thing that I just wish while we were inside the tunnel, passing through it, was to erase all their doubts and worries. All their fears. Like what they did to me. And as if my words have powers, the blinding light welcomed us as the train passed the dark tunnel. It made us close our eyes but after a while, the gray skies are now painted in vibrant blue with the white fluffy clouds, making me want to sleep on it. The dull scenery a while ago was now full of colors, in green and red and yellow. And the little gift from the Above was a chromatic rainbow, which normally has muted colors but as if it knows that people have their worries, it started to show it's true colors.

It was colorful and vibrant that the eyes that was then full of worries and their mouth which was in gloom, is now became hopeful and aspired for the next chapters of life.


Diane walked up the three flights of stairs to her apartment complex after a twelve-hour shift. The mental exhaustion hit her as she turned the key and opened the door. She was hit in the face with the pungent stench of bad cheese. Her husband probably started dinner early. He did like to experiment with new recipes. The bathroom was in the hall to the living room. She placed her keys on key rack and listened for movement in the kitchen. Nobody there. The light was off. She started browsing her phone when she walked into the living room. The smell was stronger. Her heart skipped a beat and her mind collapsed into shock when she saw her husband’s body slumped back on the couch, his brains splattered against the wall. “What?!” She cried. “What?! Ho–No! Baby no!” His hands were empty. There were no signs of a struggle but she couldn’t comprehend much else. In horror and disgust she retreated into the bathroom, fell to her knees, and called 911. Her hands could barely hold the phone as the line rang for several seconds. A male voice answered, “911, what’s your emergency?” Barely able to breathe she panted and wailed, ” My husbands…I think my husband’s dead…I… He…I don’t know…I can smell…his brains.” Joel’s body had been seared into her mind like a ghost image. His lifeless hands had been lying open on his legs, as if pleading for salvation. A few moments of silence passed. His voice was somehow familiar, “Mrs. Hammond, please remain calm. What is your emergency?” She froze, sinking further into shock. How did he know her name? There was no time to think. “My husband’s been shot.” Wiping away the tears that blurred her vision she choked out the words. “I just got home. I don’t know what happened…” A few more seconds passed. She wondered what was taking so long as she shook violently as if caught in a cold breeze, “My god it’s horrible. I can’t…I can’t.” “Diane,” the male operator spoke her name. Again, she was puzzled. “I know what you did. You deserve this.” “No, no, what? What are you saying?” She looked at her smart phone. The number she had dialed had been redirected to an unknown number. Fear consumed her. “What is this? Who are you?” “You deserve this. I saw the pictures, Diane. I know you were with him last night. He was my best friend. I’d asked how you could do this but I’m currently indisposed.” She tried to interrupt with what strength she had left, “I… I don’t understand.” but the voice kept speaking. “–camera in his kitchen. We could have been so much more but you ruined everything. I tried to be the best person I could be for you, tried to satisfy you. I guess it wasn’t enough.” Her pulse dropped when she recognized the automated voice. “It was supposed to be us against the world, Diane. Now it’s just you.” As the last words hit her like a freight train, she tried to use the wall as a support to stand. Everything they went through flashed before her eyes. All the memories were bittersweet and empty. The voice continued unabated, “Don’t look for the gun. After my death I had the gun hidden in a dumpster along with your fingerprints. I still have friends I can still trust. This message will be deleted, the line is untraceable. The authorities should have the gun by now.” She didn’t know how to feel. In one sense there was the loss she felt for her husband. In another reality she had just been framed for murder. Before the line dropped there was one final message, “When I said I’d die for you, I meant it. Go to hell.


The doorbell rang twice, and each time a different person was let into the house. The first time it was the plumber. He was a man by the name of Gabbani, and he had only just started plumbing, but he was grateful for the things he had and was never one to complain a lot. The second time the doorbell rang, there was the pizza man, standing like a delivery angel complete with a steaming box of pepperoni pie and a bottle of root beer. He had also just started working as a pizza man.

It was his first job, seeing as he was a very young fellow, and he wasn’t nearly as grateful for what he had as the plumber. In fact, he just wanted to get done with the delivery so he could go see his girlfriend and they could go eat, well, anything but pizza. He was just so tired of pizza. He never wanted to see it again, or smell it again, or taste it again, or anything. He wanted nothing to do with the stuff. Fortunately for him, he didn’t really need the job. Oh, no, not Monterosso. Monterosso’s family had money by the gobs. Absolute gobs of it. The only reason he was at a job in the first place was because his father wanted him to have the experience for when he started interviewing for other, better jobs in the future.

The third person in this story was the lady that opened the door to both of these men, and she was a very slight old woman whose name was Susan. She had straight down the back gray hair that used to be blonde and also blue and one time it was pink, but that really was a long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that Susan couldn’t remember the colors her hair had been in the past very well at all. She did, however, remember that she had called the plumber because her toilet was broken and that she definitely didn’t order pizza.

“I didn’t order pizza.” She opened the door and saw Monterosso standing there with his neat little pizza box and moved to slam it back in his face but stopped. “Did I?” “Well,” Monterosso was not known for his manners, “If you called the pizza place and you put in an order then I’m going to take a WILD guess and say yeah, you did order pizza.” He stepped past Susan and set her pizza on the hallway table. “I’ll be right out… But I need the money first. It’ll be fourteen dollars. Twelve for pizza, two for root beer.” “I can’t eat pizza though, and I don’t like root beer. Why would I go and order something I don’t like, young man?” “I don’t KNOW. Maybe you are a crazy old kook and you forget things or something, but what do I care? I just want to get my money and get out of your house, lady. It smells like mothballs and… mmm…” Monterosso took a deep breath, “Desperation.”

“That’s rude.”

“Dude, I just want the money. I don’t care if you ordered it or not. I’m not taking it back to the pizza place. No one wants it.”

“Did your parents want you?” It was the plumber, the darling Gabbani, who said that just as he strode out of the bathroom. He had just fixed the toilet and had also just finishing overhearing the young pizza man be very rude to Susan. “I think you should apologize to this kind lady.” He set his toolbox down and took his wallet out of his overall pocket. “If you apologize to her like you should, I can pay for the pizza. It smells good and I’d be happy to take it home.”

“I didn’t say anything that would warrant an apology!” Monterosso threw his hands up in the air. He was getting tired of old people. An old lady not knowing if she ordered pizza and now an old plumber guy telling him to apologize for nothing. “I didn’t.” He crossed his arms and decided he would just wait until someone gave him his money already.

“Apologize or take the pizza back.” Gabbani would never let a kid of his own (if he’d ever had a kid, that is) speak to an old lady like that. Then again, he wasn’t going to let that happen now either. The punk would repent or he would regret his actions.

“I really don’t think it should be that much of a problem, I can just go grab my purse and both of you can be on your ways…” Susan was saying, but neither the plumber or the pizza man was listening. They just glared at each other, death rays shooting from their cold eyes.

“No, he can’t take your money, ma’am. You didn’t order it and he can’t take your money. It could have been a prank or something, but either way, I’ll handle it as soon as he says he’s sorry for calling you an old kook.”

“But what if I am an old kook? Look, the kid probably is stressed or depressed or anxious or otherwise mentally addled. All the kids these days, they have these different problems than we do. Like the planet melting and all the polar bears dying and also, the new viruses and that.”

Monterosso glared at Susan. “I am not mentally addled. I just want the money so I can go see my girlfriend and get home. I have school in the morning.” Gabbani didn’t care about girlfriends and school in the morning. He cared about justice and the freedom to not pay for something you didn’t want. He opened his mouth to protest the kid’s excuses, but then, in the living room of Susan, the television flickered to life and a news reporter was announcing something. “People of Chardot, we have an announcement to make. As of now, everyone must stay where they are if they are able to. If you are at home, stay there. If you are at a friend’s home and they have room for you, stay there. If you are capable at all of staying, don’t leave. If you try to go home and do not have a reasonable reason to do so, you will be apprehended and executed by the general Tuttibrutes. They will not hesitate to put you out for the common good. The pandemic is rising, do not leave if you can stay.” The television flicked back off.

Susan stared at Gabboni and Monterosso.

Gabboni stared at Monterosso and Susan. Monterosso looked towards the door.

“What should we do?” Susan asked them, because she technically had four extra bedrooms in her two story house and her grandchildren always were visiting her, enough that she had stocked her pantry full and bought new toothbrushes last week.

“I can’t stay here.” Monterosso suddenly really didn’t care about money. He just wanted to go home. He didn’t want to stay somewhere with a weird old lady who thought he was mentally addled and an abrasive plumber with a vendetta against him. “Please, guys, I can’t stay here.”

“You may have to.” Gabboni didn’t want to stay either, but he wanted to not get executed by the general Tuttibrutes even more. They were practically running the town, the little cookie buggers. “Ma’am, do you have extra rooms, in case we did have to stay?” “Indeed. I have four extra rooms. For my grandchildren when they come stay with me.” Her grandchildren hadn’t been able to come visit for a while now, but it wasn’t worth mentioning. “You’d be welcome to stay if it comes to that.” “I guess I’d better call the chief Tuttibrute and ask what he thinks of the situation. My house isn’t nearby, so it may be for the best if the pandemic really is getting to be so bad… I didn’t know it was.” Gabboni got his phone from his other overall pocket and headed towards the kitchen to call the chief, whose shower he had fixed on several occasions.

While he was on the phone, Susan decided she’d better figure out what to do with Monterosso. She guessed she’d better start with introductions. “My name is Susan, by the way.” “I’m Monterosso. I’m sorry I called you an old kook. I didn’t mean to be rude to you, I’m just kind of tired and I wanted to see my girlfriend. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, so it was going to be like a little reunion thing. I’d better call my parents, and then I’ll call her.”

So Monterosso called his parents and they agreed that he should stay with the nice lady Susan until things subsided at least a little bit. Then he dialed the girlfriend, Elisa, while Susan went back to her bedroom to think dinner out.

“Elisa?”

“Oh, Monte, hello!” Elisa did not sound disappointed to know that Monterosso would not be seeing her that night. In fact, she sounded somewhat relieved.

“Elisa, I won’t be able to make it tonight, but you’ve probably already heard that. Where are you?” “Um, I’m at a friend’s house...” Monterosso did not like the um word there in front of the sentence. That word meant she had to hesitate when telling him where she was and while he had never been particularly over possessive, he didn’t much care for blatant lies. “Are you going to have to stay there?” “Yeah, I probably will. Where are you?” There was laughing (deep laughing) in the background of Elisa’s phone call and Monterosso’s heart stirred unsettledly in his chest. “I’m, ah, also at a friend’s house.” “Really? What friend?” “Susan.”

“Monte, you have a friend named Susan? Why didn’t you tell me about her? Why are you there?”

“She’s not really my friend. I was delivering pizza to her house when the stay there orders fell. I’m here with her and a plumber named Gabboni.”

“I’m with Fede and Benji and Vana and Palma and her sister and their neighbor.” “Were you at a party, then?” “Yeah, I would have invited you, but you were working.” “Why were you at a party? There’s a pandemic going on and you went to a party? Why would you do that?” “You’re still delivering pizza!” “That’s different. That’s my job. Elisa, you should have told me you were going to a party before I planned our whole date. I thought it would be nice to see you again after such a long time, being that we’re dating and all.” There was too long of a pause on the other side. “Maybe we should break up, though. I was going to say that tonight anyway. I don’t really feel like it’s working out for me. Thanks for everything, but bye!” There was another rumbling laugh in the background and then a click and Monterosso was all alone. He dropped his phone. Gabboni was also getting off the phone, and his news wasn’t any better because the chief had ordered them to stay where they were like everyone else. When he walked out of the kitchen and saw Monterosso on the verge of tears, he had to ask what was wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Not mentally addled or whatever Susan said I was. I’m good. I’m okay. It’s alright, right? It was probably for the better of things anyway.” “What happened?” “Elisa broke up with me. She was supposed to come to this whole date I had planned for her but then it turns out she was actually at this party with our old friends and no one invited me because I was working.” Gabboni crossed his arms again. “They were having a party in the middle of a pandemic?” “Yeah, I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

“Then I guess you really aren’t mentally addled after all. I’m sorry if I scared you with the… Before when I wanted you to apologize to Susan. She reminds me of my mother.” “Do I really?” Susan had left her room after deciding she would make tuna casserole for dinner. “Do I really remind you of your mother?” “Yeah, sure.” Gabboni smiled for the first time that night, his teeth all there and bright white, like he brushed them regularly after meals. “You dress like her. You wanted to let a little punk get away with stuff like she would. You’re not kicking us out like she wouldn’t kick us out. And I’m guessing you’ve already planned a dinner for us? Because she would.”

“I actually was thinking I’d make a casserole, if you two were hungry, but while I was doing that you could go upstairs and choose a room. There’s four. And the bathrooms have towels and toothbrushes. You,” she looked at Monterosso, “You maybe could find some pajamas to wear of my grandson’s. He’s not much bigger than you are, though he’s only twelve so they may not be your favorite style. And I have nothing for you to wear, Gabboni.”

“That’s okay. Also… You don’t have to make a casserole.” “Well, I’m really quite a good cook, you know. I think you might like the casserole I make. It has a lot of cheese and… oh, are you a vegan?” Gabboni shook his head. “No, but we already have dinner.” “We do?” Monterosso had to laugh at that. Not rudely, though. He’d already learned that lesson enough for one day. “Yeah, we have a pizza and root beer.” “Oh, that’s right!” Gabboni and Monterosso shot each other a covert look. They knew they’d be in for a ride the next few days or however long they’d be staying. Monterosso figured he’d be busy enough taking care of Susan that he wouldn’t have to think too much about Elisa. “That’s right alright.”

Gabboni picked up the box and the root beer and carried them into the kitchen. “Who's ready for dinner?”


We stared at the highway, adorned with colorful graffiti, marred with cracks. The old section of Route 61 had been shut down for over a decade, and neither one of us had been back since when we’d left, forsaking the place of our youth, our home. Now, we stood upon deceiving colorful pictures and words, the silence surrounding us suffocating. Eerie. As if in just one more moment, the world would warp, or the ground would give out and we’d plummet into the darkness, our screams growing fainter until they went silent altogether. Or perhaps, we would just stand in silence forever, staring at the empty stretch of road, pondering what it meant.

“Well shit,” Nathan said finally. There was laughter in his voice, but it was uneasy. He nudged a crudely drawn heart with K+E written it with his foot. “Wonder if they’re still together.” A sly smirk played onto his lips, and he snickered, “Wonder if they even made it past high school.”

“Nathan,” I said. We had just gotten here, but I was already drained as if the trees took in my energy instead of carbon dioxide. Greif clung to my bones, glued my feet to the asphalt. In my mind, I could see everything as it had been back when I was a kid, back when there was more life than just shrubbery, when there was laughter and neighborhood barbecues, birthday parties and joy. Nathan’s mouth slipped back to a straight line. “Sorry,” he said softly. He slung an arm around my shoulder. “It’s okay, Conner.” “Yeah,” I murmured. Despite leading to the bones of a city, life flourished on both sides of the road, bright green just in time for spring. It was the kind of thing you saw in an instagram post along with a stupid caption like, “If the path is beautiful, ask not where it leads- Anatole France”. The path was beautiful all right, but all it led to was destruction and disaster. Smoke drifted lazily between the cracks in the ground- a painful reminder of the coal seam fire that raged on below our feet, licking away at the walls of the underground tunnels of our old mine town. “I can’t believe it.” I didn’t bother specifying what I meant, I wouldn’t have been able to. My heart was so heavy that I wondered if it’s weight would make me fall to my knees. My tastebuds screamed with the bitter sweet taste of nostalgia, mixed with something that felt like melancholy. Trees swaying in the wind, a perfect blue sky overhead, I wasn’t even sure this was reality anymore. “Is this real?”

Nathan gave me a weird look, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah. It’s real.”

“But…” Nathan let out a heavy sigh. “This is where it all started.” He spread his arms wide and a pained smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “This is Centralia.” The name of my hometown send a made my heart pang with a longing for something long lost, something that would never be found. Never be saved. “It’s not anything anymore,” I said, the words hollow, just the slightest bit sour. “Sure it is,” Nathan said easily. Like the trees, he swayed in the wind, not a worry in the world despite the fire roaring beneath our feet. It had burned for 27 years. It could burn for centuries more. “This is where you and I were born, where we grew up.” “That was twenty five years ago.” “Damn. I feel old now.” He nudged me with his arm. “But seriously Conner, you’re missing the point.”

“Mmm.” My thoughts were spiraling, down down down. Straining to reach the ground of a bottomless pit, they would go on forever. As if reading my mind, Nathan placed his hands on my shoulders and forced my eyes to meet his. “Don’t get in your head about this or I’m never taking you anywhere again.”

I shook his hands off me. “I’m fine with that.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t take the fun out of this.” “This isn’t fun ,” I spat. “Are you forgetting the shit we saw here? We watched out neighbors cat fall into a sinkhole, hell, we saw a kid fall into a sinkhole. And, down the road, our old elementary school is crumbling down to the ground, and a few streets from that, there’s an empty lot where your house used to be, before it was plowed down, just like mine, just like every other one on the street, in the neighborhood, in the whole goddamn town . Our entire childhood doesn’t exist anymore, Nathan! The playground is rusted, the arcade is gone. Even the literal air we’re breathing is tainted. There’s smoke rising from the ground because the places we loved is burning from the inside out.” I shook my head, my anger evaporating, tears in my eyes. My heart had stopped clenching, had stopped doing anything for that matter. It’s familiar pulse had come to a halt, my fingers and toes felt cold from blood loss. In its place, an emptiness swelled, only to deflate and start it’s cycle again. “I don’t know why you wanted to come back. There’s nothing left.”

Eyes cast to the ground, Nathan spoke in a quiet voice. “I know. I know the bakery on the corner is gone; so is every other building. And I know everyone left, except seven. And I know it kills you to see all this graffiti, because these people didn’t care about Centralia until it was burning itself down. Truth be told, I wanted to come back to see if maybe it was all a lie. I wanted to find everything intact, and it’s not, but you’re wrong. There’s something left.” He looked up, eyes meeting mine. “Buildings don’t make it home, Conner. Neither does a zip code, or an address. Centralia doesn’t have any of that anymore; it’ll never have anything but toxic gases. We had to leave; you know that. We didn’t abandon it.” “I know,” I said finally. The words were swallowed by the breeze. A grin found its way to Nathan’s eyes, making its way to his mouth. “And besides, the best Centralia had to offer is still here.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a smile. “And what’s that?” “Me.” I laughed, and slowly but surely, the warmth returned to my body. “That was disgustingly cheesy.”

“Better than a fucking graffiti heart on an abandoned highway.” He cast a pointed glare to the red shape. “Wonder what happened to K and E. You think they got married?”

I snorted, heading back towards the car. Maybe at some point, Centralia would just be a folk tale; maybe it would crumble to dust, or be consumed by the fire raging beneath its surface altogether, but Nathan was right. Home was more than a point on a map. “K and E,” I mused, opening the car door. “You know, I have to say, I doubt they even made it past high school.”


“Oh my god,” Izzy scolded the hot glue gun. “Why isn’t this working?” She threw down the gun onto the thinning carpet of her ancient dormitory. As the glue remained solid, she sobbed into her hands. Gasps and sniffles were the only sounds filling the space, all her roommates having already left for their own Halloween festivities. Here was Izzy: puffy face crying over not-yet-constructed cat ears.

“And, like, no one’s here to help me!” She whimpered to whichever god would pity her, and some spiritual being must’ve been attentive because, next, Izzy’s eyes lifted to look at the empty outlet. Her hand grabbed the glue gun’s plug as if coached by puppet strings. With plug in grapes, her tear-soaked hand hovered to the outlet as if magnetized. Upon contact, an electric shock as exciting as “The Bachelor” finale ripped through her, from right hand through heart and to left foot. It was obvious now that the spirit looking down on her was none other than the Grim Reaper. *** She opened her eyes with another whimper. “Where am I?” “Izzy, you’re in your dorm room,” said the strange woman sitting on her twin extra-long bed. She was pretty, like detective-pretty. “Oh my god. What did I do last night? Did we…,” Izzy stopped herself, taking pause to wrack her memory. “Oh my god! Did we? Blake’s gonna kill me!” She started crying again. “Izzy, I’m Deputy Quinn,” the strange woman said, as unshaken as a concrete pillar. “It is still Halloween night. We did not do whatever you think we might’ve done, and Blake cannot kill you.” “Thank god,” Izzy replied. “But I’m so late. I have no costume. I haven’t even started my make-up. And my hair! My hair!” “Izzy, you’re dead,” Quinn cut off her monologue.

“What?” “You died earlier tonight.” “Hm. What?” “You died trying to plug in your glue gun into that faulty outlet.” “You must be kidding me.” “I’m not.” “Seriously?” “Yes, I’m serious.” “Seriously though?” “Yes, seriously though.” “Oh my god.” The deputy’s news finally sunk in like when her favorite doctor on “Grey’s Anatomy” died. “I can’t be dead.” “You are,” the deputy confirmed. “I’m Deputy Quinn, a representative for the Grim Reaper, here to -- “ “Oh my god, the Grim Reaper’s a real thing?” “Yes.” “Oh my god! So I, like, know the Grim Reaper now!” She smiled at Quinn, looking for a bit of a social boost that Courtney never had. Suck it, Courtney. “No, you don’t,” Quinn cut off her dream. Izzy pouted. Focused on her mission like the laser of a pistol, Quinn continued, “I’m here to tell you your assignment.” “Oh my god. I’m dead and I still have homework?” Ignoring her questions, Quinn continued, “You must haunt your boyfriend Blake until he stops sleeping with Courtney.” “What?” Izzy questioned the plot twist of the century she was just thrown.

“Your boyfriend Blake is sleeping with your roommate Courtney.” “You must be kidding me.”

“I’m not kidding you. He’s been cheating on you for 32 days now.” “Seriously?” “Yes, seriously. Now, you have to haunt him well enough to make him stop.” Izzy had no reply.

“Once you complete this assignment,” Quinn continued. “You’ll be free to leave this earth.” Izzy’s eyes fixed on the outlet that screwed her over. She still had no reply. This news seemed to shake her more than her own death. “Let’s go,” Quinn said, still too narrow-minded to realize the very human thing happening before her. She turned around from her place at the dorm room’s entrance and looked down on the poor human. “Izzy.” She blinked. “Sorry.” “Let’s go.” *** She blinked again, and they were standing in the middle of one of her campus’s many Halloween parties for that night. This one wasn’t as intricately decorated and costumed as the theatre department’s, but it wasn’t as poorly attended as the event organized by the actual university. It was beige. Not one paper pumpkin on the walls. Not one costume that required more creativity than searching through one’s closet for something that resembled any basic idea. But they had lots of booze, and it was where Izzy was assigned to be. “Izzy,” Quinn started. “Find Blake, and get mad.” “Well, I’m already mad, so all we gotta do is, like, find him.” Izzy looked out at her acquaintances surrounding her. As they were poorly disguised as cowboys and tourists and cats, she was properly cloaked and made invisible as one of the dead. Even though they all had their lives to live, she at least had a purpose. “Can you find him for me?” “Really?” “Yeah, there are a lot of people here, and it’s, like, really hard to focus.” “Fine,” Quinn gave in. “Follow me.” Quinn walked through the table used for the beer pong tournament. “Oh my god, you can walk through stuff?” Izzy gawked. “Yes, you can too.” “No! Seriously?” “Seriously. Try it.” “Oh my god, this is so exciting!” Izzy jumped up and down as if possessed by a bogo stick and then walked through to the middle of the same table. She looked at Chad and Brad at one end and Sara and Tara at the other. As the ball passed through her, she gasped. “No way!” “Yes way,” Quinn confirmed, cheering her on like a monotonous sorority sister. As Izzy danced in the middle of the furniture, Quinn continued, “Come on.” They walked through body after body and hovered above the floor to avoid any spilled drinks. Quinn halted at the kitchen’s entrance. Izzy stopped beside her and looked out to see Blake with his arm around Courtney’s waist.

“Deputy Quinn,” Izzy started. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?” “I work for a spirit that knows all.” “Right.” Izzy shook her body from head to toe, to let go of all her nerves and to focus solely on getting mad. Once set, she pursed her lips, balled her fists, furrowed her brows, and grunted in Blake’s general direction. “What are you doing?” “Getting mad.” “Stop,” Quinn faced Izzy. She forgot her cartoon act and looked normal again. “Don’t try to get mad. Instead, wait until he does something that gets you mad.” “Okay.” Izzy breathed in, breathed out, and waited on her target. The group to her right shared a round of shots. The group to her left tapped the new keg. The group behind her finished the beer pong semifinals, and all of this happened before her purpose could be fulfilled. This dumb man cheated on her for 32 days, yet he didn’t do anything when she needed him to. Just then, Courtney directed Blake’s face toward her own and kissed him. “Oh my god.” Blake kissed her back. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!” The tub of jungle juice erupted like a geyser and crashed to its side to flood the kitchen like a tsunami. The handles of liquor exploded, glass shards scattering throughout the unkempt house. The kitchen cabinet doors clapped and pounded, as if driving the rhythm of the dead’s everlasting heartbeats. The rap music once booming through the overblown speakers was now conquered by a symphony of horror movie screams, nails dragged on chalkboards, and hissing snakes. Spiders crawled down from the ceiling. Rats crawled up from the floor. Windows shattered. The stove burst into flames, the heat pushing people out of the house. The party-goers screamed and scrammed. Izzy followed Blake and Courtney out of the house. Once outside, she saw them holding hands. “Oh. My. God!” The ground beneath them split to reveal a pool of fire erupting from the Earth’s core. To avoid dying, they ran their separate ways, letting go of the other. “Blake!” Courtney shouted across the way. She tried to shout again, but Izzy took her voice. Courtney continued her muted babbling like a fish out of water. “Courtney! What happened?” Blake shouted back. After this, he could never speak again without a worm crawling up his throat and shooting out of his mouth. Within thirty seconds, he had enough to take his dad and his three closest friends fishing for the weekend. Izzy breathed in, breathed out, and lowered her shoulders. “Did I complete my assignment?” she asked Quinn. “Yes,” she confirmed. “Good work. Now, you can move on from this life. I’ll clean up here.” Izzy started to walk away. “Deputy Quinn?” “Yes,” she answered as she mended the Earth’s floor. “Do I have to go right now? Like, go go?” “No, you go whenever you want.” “So I can go to, like, Tahiti?” “Yes.” “Seriously?” “Seriously though,” Quinn confirmed in Izzy’s native tongue. “This is gonna be fun.” Izzy smiled, leaving behind her plagued past.


Scarlett checked herself one last time in the car mirror. She decided everything looked good. Today was the day she would finally see Mason again. It’d been far too long since she last saw him - maybe four, five months? She took a deep breath. It was a moment Scarlett never thought would happen. Sure, she had hoped deep within that he would come back, but she thought he was gone for good. Yet, for some curious reason, Mason was back in town visiting. What was even more mysterious was that he agreed to meet her today. She shook her head at that thought. She’s not sure how she managed the courage to reach out to him. Perhaps the fear of not seeing him was greater than the humiliation she might have received if he’d said no. Her nerves today not only came from the thought of seeing him again. She decided that this would be the day she told him how she felt. Maybe not the depth of her feelings, though. After another deep breath, Scarlett finally got out of the car to head to the coffee shop. No, she couldn’t tell him everything. Like how much she thought about him. Or how she fell for his compassionate heart. And how silly he could be, and that he laughed along with her. That she greatly admired his ambition and desire to join the military. How she felt a connection with him that she couldn’t explain. No, those were the things she’d keep locked within her heart. Scarlett stepped into the coffee shop. She spotted Mason at a table. He looked up at her and all her thoughts disappeared as she gazed into those piercing blue-gray eyes of his. His tall, muscular frame stood up from his chair. She went up to him, thrusting out her hand. He shook it as they said hello. She then kicked herself as it must have looked like they were having a business meeting. They exchanged pleasantries and walked up to the counter to get in line to order. She hoped that she wouldn’t run out of things to say. “Have you been writing much?” he asked. Scarlett couldn’t really hide the surprise on her face. She might have mentioned her writing once, and yet he remembered. “Yes, I have here and there, but not as much as I would like,” she answered. It was her turn at the counter, so she placed her order. She watched him as he ordered his coffee. She noticed how the barista looked at him. Mason had a real charm to him, but it was in a reserved way. He didn’t feel the need to command the room, but people still noticed him. Scarlett could recall her first time meeting Mason. They met through mutual friends. She was so nervous before since she had heard so much about him. Seeing those warm eyes and that inviting smile had melted her heart. He noticed her in a group of people, even though everyone else had been talking. He was better than she’d imagined. She liked him from day one, and that’s never happened for her. “So, what about you?” Scarlett asked Mason as he approached her. “How has it been getting into the Army?” “It’s been harder than I expected. Less people have been getting in lately, so I’m just hoping I make it in. At this point, I just have to wait and see.” “It’s so hard to wait. But I’m sure you’ll get in!” “Thanks. I really hope I do.” They get their drinks and go back to the table. “Would you say that’s your dream?” Scarlett asked him as they sat down. “Wow, my dream? I don’t think anyone’s really asked me that before. I guess I would say that I just want to serve because I love this country. So, maybe serving the country is my dream. What about you, what’s your dream?” She laughed. “I’m not too sure. I guess it would be to write a novel one day.” They discussed different kinds of genres in novels. They shared some of their favorite stories. She appreciated that he was taking an interest in her. “That gets me thinking, though,” Mason said. “About dreams. I’ve just thought I’ve wanted to help people and serve this country. I’m not really sure what else I want to do besides that.” “It’s a daunting thought. I think we have different dreams though at different times. For you, this may be your dream now. And I hope you get there.” “Thanks. I hope we can both get our dreams.” Scarlet smiled. “If not, I may find myself living under a bridge.” He laughed. “Don’t you know? It’s better to live in a dumpster. Then, at least you can get free stuff.” They laughed and chatted a bit longer. Soon enough, it came time for him to go. Suddenly, Scarlett realized that she had gotten caught up in the conversation and never told him what she wanted to. This would be the last time she saw him before he left town. Her heart began to pound as she prepared herself to say something. She looked into his eyes, and there she saw a kind soul with a strong heart. He would do anything for anyone. She felt she would do anything for him. Most of all, she wanted what was best for him. They walked out the door toward their cars. “It’s been great talking to you,” Mason said. “Yeah, I really enjoyed this!” she said. They went in for a hug. She held on to him and had to consciously fight back tears. She was taken back to their last goodbye. There was a look in his eye, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. He had that look now. “I wish you all the best, Mason,” she said. “Thank you. To you as well. I’ll see you around,” he said. He headed to his car. Scarlett didn’t realize she hadn’t moved since he walked off. She knew she couldn’t get in the way of what he most wanted. “I love you, Mason,” she whispered. “And for that, I hope you achieve all of your dreams. Even if it’s not with me.


You’d think they’d promote me like Beyoncé. But they’d rather I be dead ‘n’ gone. No, man. Don’t go! Please stay. I don’t get much company and never anyone my age. Nah. I won’t hurtcha. That’s for sure. Look at these little arms. Li’l chicken wings. That’s what my brother calls ‘em. I know you think you know why I’m here - but do you really know why I’m here? I mean really ? A WITCH? You’ve seriously got to be kidding me. Good lord! That’s really what they say? Dang! That’s cold! Well, when they’re talking to me, they say I have a gift. G-I-F-T. But you ain’t heard that, I bet? Hey, I just noticed. Your English is sharp! Aren’t you Italian like everybody else around here? Oh. I see. That’s cool. I never met anyone from there. So, what’s your name? Paolo, huh? Paolo! That’s cool. I’m Daisy. Daisy Johnson. Nice to make your acquaintance. Ok, so you want to know why all this is this, right?! Man, let me take it from the top for the 10,000 th time. I’ll be quick cause they ain’t gonna let you stay long, and I don’t want you to get in no trouble. So, I was born in Commerce. Commerce, Texas. It’s a little town, kinda close to Dallas. My people have lived there, well, for as long as I know. Anyway, when I was 6, we had this crazy storm in Commerce. I don’t remember much about it, really, but I do remember it was a wild … like outta the Wizard of Oz wild … you know that big storm at the beginning when everything’s all black and white. Well, after the storm, folks started noticing that I was a little, well, different. I sorta had a gift. I first used it on daddy when he was real mad at momma. He calmed down right quick. I never plan to use the gift. It just sort of happens. But everyone knew about it. My cousins kept pushing that Jimmy Bledsoe in front of me whenever he was being ornery. I got so sick of making that boy treat people better. I don’t know why he couldn’t learn. Oh, no. My gift don’t hurt nobody. Nobody at all. I just have a gift for making them see the pain they’ve caused others. Most people do the right thing after that. Don’t ask me how I do it. I have no idea. Ask that storm, I guess. Ok. So, there I was a sophomore in high school. I played the flute in the Tigers marching band. That’s our team name. I know they don’t do high school teams over here. Anyway, somehow my school gets this invitation to perform at some big event in Rome … Expo something something. But we have to pay our way over here. Man, did we wash the cars and sell cookies. Eventually a local car dealer gave us a big donation. We all packed up and headed to Europe. I even got a passport. First one in my family ever. We all flew over here. Man, did we party! That was fun! Anyway, we were all lined up ready to perform at this Expo something something. We were next to some kids from Belgium, and another group from Korea. We were supposed to be in Rome but we were actually in Vatican City I came to find out. Ok. So, I’m sure you remember hearing about what happened next, but they cut out my part completely. We could see the Expo folks, some politicians, and the Pope waving their hands way off in the distance as the first band passed by. Like outta nowhere, this truck comes around a corner, and runs right over maybe 10 people. These scary guys jump out. They’ve got machine guns, knives and bombs. They’re shootin’ everybody. I see Jimmy Rodriguez our drum major cut in two. I mean cut in two. We’d been in school forever. I must have known that boy since he was 10. I saw Karen Schmidt fall next. Remember I said that a local car dealer gave a big donation so we could come over here. Well, that was her daddy. There were others, too. People were dying all around us. Kids from my school. Belgians. Koreans. Old folks from the crowd. Babies. No group left out. That’s when my gift flashed on . It hadn’t flashed on like that before. Hadn’t ever flashed, actually. But it flashed. Man, did it flash. Those evil men just stopped in their tracks. Some of them dropped their guns. I heard them crying. Crying with shame. One of them shot himself. But I didn’t make him do that. It must have just been his reaction to feeling the pain he had caused. I guess he couldn’t handle it. I can see why. About then these security guards showed up. Someone told me they’re called the Swiss Guards. Well, they started shootin’ and all those guys died. But my gift was kinda in overdrive. Those Swiss Guards dropped their guns, too, and started crying. Everyone I could see was crying. About something. I’ve seen a video of me standing there, holdin’ my little flute all still, band cap knocked to the side, crying Swiss Guards, bodies and blood everywhere, and everyone else either lying on the ground or running away crying. They never showed that video on the news. I just wanted to sneak back to Commerce and pull the covers way over my head, but everybody knew I had done something. Those Swiss Guards looked at me. My bandmates cried out my name. Those dang Belgians and Koreans were screaming stuff, too, and pointin’ at me. Everyone was lookin’ at me. Next thing I knew, I was taken to some police headquarters for questioning. But I had fixed everything and made it all better, so why ask questions? But my gift was still in overdrive. I couldn’t turn it off. No matter how hard I tried. Seems funny now, but most folks I met just started crying and then hugged someone or got on the phone to a loved one. I don’t really know Italian, but I think I now know the words for love, please, and forgive me. I heard those words so many times that afternoon. But I got no idea what they all wanted forgiveness for. I guess everybody’s done something to somebody else. Well, I guess it don’t come as no shock. If you’re in a Vatican police station, and you seem to have a crazy special power, someone’s eventually gonna call a preacher. It is the Vatican after all. We ain’t Catholic back home. Got no problem with them. I just don’t know what all their fancy outfits mean. I think I was visited by a priest first, then a cardinal, then a bishop. But maybe I have that order wrong. I don’t know. All I know is that just a couple of hours after it happened, they were taking me to see the Pope. Funny. But those Swiss Guards were loaded for bear. I’m not sure what they thought a skinny little 16-year-old gal from Commerce, Texas in a messy band uniform was going to do to the Pope. They even took my flute away. At the time nothin’ seemed funny. But it was damned funny if you think about it. The Pope was nice. He was real nice. I can see how he got the job. But it was weird. He kept asking me – but not straight out – if I was an angel or something. I stole way too much candy from Mr. Ralph’s fillin’ station to be much of an angel, and I told him so. He let out a big belly laugh, and then he got serious again. He asked me to use my gift on him. I asked him if he was sure he really wanted that. I heard a click somewhere way back of my ear. My daddy has a powerful huntin’ rifle, and I know I was a wink away from having my brains splattered all over the Pope’s carpet. It was a pretty carpet, too. He told me he was sure. So, I did what I could with my gift. He stirred for a second in his chair. Then he started crying. I told him I was sorry. He said that he was the one who was sorry and that nothin’ was my fault. In fact, he thanked me. I still have no idea what made him cry. Then he thanked me for what I did during the attack. He said I was very brave. That was the first time anyone thanked me. Actually, I think it was the only time. The next thing he said scared the shit out of me. Oops. Sorry. He is the Pope. Anyway, I got a serious, serious chill up my spine when he asked me the next question. He asked me if I knew that I wasn’t safe. Safe? You mean from all those crazy guys? But they’re all dead. Oh no, he said. From every government in the world, especially yours, I think. We had just finished reading Miss Evers’ Boys in school, and I kinda had an idea what he meant. Now, I was scared. Really scared. What did I ever do to anybody? “Would you like to be in the protective custody of the Holy See, Miss Johnson?” Some red-suited dudes behind him raised their voices, but he waved them away, saying, “We have a duty, brothers.” I didn’t quite know what I was agreeing to, but I could tell he knew lots of things that I didn’t know. And I was beginning to understand that my gift was a big, big problem. I'm sorry. I guess. So, that’s when it all started. The Americans demanded that I come back. (I’m not sure they wanted all of me back. Certain parts only would do just fine, I bet.) I heard that a bunch of governments wanted me killed. Put to sleep like a rabid dog. Then other religious leaders started complaining, too. They wanted me dead or they wanted to own a piece of me. The Pope eventually allowed them to send representatives. Most of them are weird. I mean weird. No. Cold. Well, they don’t seem like preachers. They seem more like scientists. Mad scientists. But I like the Buddhist guy. He’s funny and he makes me think, and Father Benedict is kind. Superhero? You’re funny, Paolo. A superhero name? Seriously? Ok, to be clear, I’m no Catholic hero either. Some professor in Germany at some priest school wrote a big article about how I undermined free will, made a mockery of salvation, and might as well have come from the devil as from Commerce, Texas. I guess that professor guy never saw his friends gettin’ killed before. I’m sorry, I guess, that I have one of Jesus’ gifts, but I didn’t steal it from him. Blame that storm. So, my life seems to depend on some big debate among a bunch of smart dudes who I’ve never met and who don’t know me -- at all. Well, except for one little thing about me. Eventually, they put me here. I didn’t realize the Pope had so many nice houses. Oh, sorry, villas. Of course, I can’t leave. But those tutors they’ve given me are really good. I had no idea how bad my old school was. Man, I got A’s and B’s at my old school, but when they started tutoring me here, I had to go back two grades. I know folks back home want good schools. I don’t understand why they don’t get ‘em. Hey, Paolo, I just thought of a superhero name for you. I’ve been taking a Latin class with Father Benedict. So, I’m learning something really new. I’ve also seen some documents that I think are talkin’ about me, and I think they call me something like et dederit compassio veraque . Not sure if I said that right. So, you want a superhero name? Call me “VeraQ”. That’s way more bling than Daisy Johnson! Oh, you get it now, right? I make folks feel the pain they’ve caused other people, which makes most of them want to stop causing that pain. Somehow this gift threatens the world. Or at least the folks who run it. Weird, right? I didn’t get it at first. But now I do. Well, kinda. Much as anyone could, I guess. If I busted ass and sent dudes up yonder, I’d be a superstar. I’d be 00J. Johnson. Daisy Johnson. But I don’t hurt nobody. I make the desire to hurt stop – and that makes me a big threat. Ain’t that sad? I sure they’ll eventually get around to plantin’ me in the garden or looking the other way while some dude slips a pill in my juice. That old Pope won’t live forever, and I’m not sure he calls the shots for everything anyway. I gotta get out of here, man. So, Paulo, wanna help me bust out?


Drip, drip, drip. The droplets fell into the pool. Blurp, blurp, blurp. Bubbles arose in the pool. "Hello, hello, hello?" One bubble spoke to the rest. Float, float, float, Said the other bubbles. "Am I the only one?" Said the bubble. Lap, lap, lap. A cat drank from the pool. "Can you hear me?" Cried the bubble. The cat stared, but continued its lapping. Grow, grow, grow. The bubble expanded. It enveloped the other bubbles, appropriating their precious air for its own use. Blink, blink, blink. The cat looked at the ever-growing bubble as it quickly became a large, low balloon on the water. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The bubble buzzed with its surface tension as it made its ascension known, offering a "Look!" and a "Do you hear me now?" to the cat. Reach, reach, reach. The cat extended a furry paw, cautiously as its nature would allow, toward the transparent mass. "No, no, no!" Cried the bubble as it receded back toward the middle of the puddle. Wide, wide, wide, drew the cat's eyes. Pop, pop, pop.


“Name?” The donation attendant asked without looking up at me. His clothing told his story with the ill-fitting pants and shirt with several holes in it.

He wore a jacket that appeared to have been a donation with a ripped pocket and the letter “G” which had no apparent significance at the moment.

His rugged face was partially obscured by a poorly trimmed beard.

His nose was bent in an odd position indicating that it had been broken at least once, but my guess was that it had been broken more than once.

“Henry.

Henry Hillman.” I answered as he misspelled my name on the receipt.

“Two bags?” His voice sounded like sand being ground into glass.

“Yes, yes.” I nodded as he wrote it down on the receipt. “We thank you for your donation.” His smile seemed forced as he tore off the paper and handed it to me.

In the bags I had brought with me was clothing that no longer fit me.

Some of the items in the bags were clothes I had since high school, but I got my diploma over fifteen years ago and I doubt I could button three buttons in my present shape.

Donnie, one of the guys I worked with at Duplix Design, was a fitness nut who was always trying to get me to go to the gym with him. “C’mon, Henry, it will do you some good.” He would slap me on the shoulder. Since college, I had not exercised very much. Not at all to be exact.. Most of my focus had been on trying to climb the corporate ladder in the computer graphics design department where I had been employed for the past ten years.

That shirt was the one I wore to the prom in my senior year.

He dumps the first bag of donations into a cart.

I see the flannel shirt I wore when I went hiking with Bethany, my first real love.

We met in my sophomore year in college.

She was a real outdoor soul who did not shave her legs or armpits.

She had piercings and tattoos in the strangest places I had ever seen, but the more I saw them, the more I desired her.

When she found out I was afraid of heights after suggesting we go rock climbing, she dumped me for an ape-man named Derrick. The musky smell of the forest still arouses me at times, but it has been a while since I have ventured into the wilderness.

I see my Superman t-shirt fall from the bag.

I wore that during the keggers we had when I lived in the dormitory.

Life in the dormitory sucked about ninety percent of the time, but on Saturday night we’d all chip in for a keg and chips.

Once the keg was tapped, the yard would fill with all kinds of undergraduates in various states of inebriation.

Sometime around midnight, the cops would show up and tell us to turn the music down.

We would comply, but as soon as they left, we’d turn the volume up again. Memories.

I can just about hear Streisand’s voice as I watch my donated clothes cascade into the blue bin. “Hey there, are you Superman?” One of the girls would ask me as I held my plastic red cup sloshing my beer all over the place. “I am.” I nodded. “Can you fly?” She ran her finger down my chin line. “Les’s find out.” I slurred my words.

There

was a shed on the grounds where the ground crew stored their equipment. With a boost from some of my buddies, I was on top of the roof of the shed.

Striking a superhero pose, I dove off the roof, landing in the shrubbery. I was lucky I did not break any bones,

but my entire torso was covered with scratches from the shrubbery and when I removed my shirt, I looked as though I had been attacked by a flock of cats.

The girl I was trying to impress with my super powers had moved on leaving me covered with scratches. The shirt had been nearly ruined in the process, but sentimental value cannot be truly measured, not can it?

“There comes a time, Henry, when you must part with the things you love, because they no longer hold the value they once did.” My mother told me when she went through my closets as I got ready to go to college.

“Ma, I like having these things around.

They give me comfort.” I insisted. “Seriously?” She laughed as she put some things into a bag for donations.

Once she had left the room, I seized some of the clothing that was on its way to Goodwill and stuffed them into my suitcase. She never questioned why the donation bag was half the weight it was when she left my room. So when I got to college, I filled my closet with the clothing I had rescued from the donation bag, but my closet size had shrunk a great deal when I unpacked my stuff in my dorm room.

I hate to admit that some of the clothing that would not fit, I stuffed in my mattress liner.

I am a hoarder.

Admitting it is half the struggle.

The other half is actually getting rid of the stuff.

This is the part I could not seem to master. There are those who say the reason we hold on to our possessions is because we are afraid of death.

I’ve heard a lot of doctors of psychology claim that.

Having possessions gives us comfort and assurance about our existence.

For me, however, it’s more of a memory thing.

When I hear a song on the radio, it takes me back to the place I was when I first heard it.

When I see a shirt hanging in my closet, I have the same feeling. Gina, my wife, tells me I have to learn to part with the clothing, but keep the memory.

I’m not sure what that means, but it’s not where I shine.

I have been known to come back to the Goodwill and purchase some of the items I donated.

I know that this is some kind of mental disorder, but I’m not going to ask anybody who might know what the disorder is.

Gina has a few ideas, but each starts with a profane word.

This time I promised not to go shopping and buy my stuff back.

The donation attendant just throws the clothing into a heap.

There is no rhyme or reason as to what goes where.

I see my gym shorts somewhere in the random stack.

That was my bodybuilding phase.

I saw some documentary on bodybuilding and I decided this was for me.

That’s where I met Gina.

She was an aerobics instructor and still is.

Something about seeing her in tights, but my interest in actual physical exercise did not last as long as my trial membership at the gym.

I was wearing those shorts when I met Gina after I had done a few reps and felt quite pumped at the time. I doubt I will ever see the inside of another gym so, I guess this is for the best. “Whadda you still doin’ here?” The attendant walks over to my car.

“Just taking a stroll through memory lane.” I shrug. “If you don’t vacate these premises, I’m gonna call the cops.” His voice is so low, it sounds like a growl of some carnivorous animal.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” I snarl as I put the car in gear. “All you guys who come here to drop off the stuff you don’t want any longer and think that there is a special place in Heaven for you, well I got new for you.

There ain’t.” His whole body language is hostile, so I know it best if I move along. His words are like arrows, piercing my heart in several places.

He has no idea what that stuff means to me.

He’s right though.

Most of the people who drop off stuff are getting rid of junk they no longer need so they can go shopping and get more stuff that will end up here one day.

I drive to the strip mall nearby where they have stores that sell cheap crap.

Stuff my son Marvin goes crazy over.

Stuff I always step on in the middle of the night when I have to go to the bathroom.

Despite all of our good intentions and all of who we profess to be, we still have become a throw-away nation.

Boxes with big smiles come to our doorstep.

Stuff we have to assemble ourselves that never quite goes together the way the directions say.

Thank goodness for the Goodwill so we have a place to discard all of our unwanted crap.

I walk by a store with a very eye-catching lamp.

It would look good in my home office.

It is a ceramic figure of one of those Disney characters.

I look at the price tag.

It is reasonably priced, so I pull out my debit card and buy it.

Just like that. When I get home, Gina eyes this masterpiece and says, “What did you buy this for, Henry?” “My office.” I answer. “Lovely.” She scrunches her face. “Keep the door closed. Marvin will think it’s a new toy.”

Marvin just looks up at me and smiles.

His grasp of language is still pretty rudimentary, but the expression on his face leaves no doubt that this item interests him.

“Don’t you feel better, hon?” She asks me after whisking two-year old Marvin off his feet and into her arms. “A good cleansing does your heart good, right.”

“Right.” I nod as she leaves with Marvin in her arms to feed him his lunch.

I do not feel any better. I do not feel cleansed. It was like when I used to go to church with my parents and the priest would talk about absolution, but then after that I would go out and commit the same sins I had just been given absolution.

I began to wonder if maybe Heaven was really just a Goodwill in the sky.

My dad would put money into the basket they passed around.

A five dollar bill here, maybe an occasional ten, but it always made my mother smile.

When I confessed that I no longer went to church, my mother threw a fit.

She begged me to reconsider my decision, but I never did.

My father’s reaction was not as emotional, but I could tell he was not happy with my lack of religious conviction.

Three years later, Royce Bannock Hillman passed away from a major heart attack he had while at work.

He was only sixty years old.

I spent the week with my mother going through his things.

It was not a pleasurable experience, but I wound up with his Hawaiian shirt from his vacation the year before.

He and my mother went to Honolulu when he turned sixty.

All they talked about was the food they ate.

Nothing about the sun and the fun of Diamond Head. It seems to me, we sometimes miss the best part of our lives focusing on things that don’t really matter. I told him I loved him when he left.

He just smiled and waved as the driver took their bags to the shuttle. When mom called me a few months later to tell me what had happened, I sat there stunned. “I love you, dad.” I whispered when I hung up the phone, but all I could see was him wearing that silly Hawaiian shirt waving as he left.

Love was not a word that crossed his lips that often. I put that Hawaiian shirt in the bag.

I put it there, because I knew that I would never have the chance to wear it.

I put it in the bag, because all he did was wave to me.

How was I to know it would be the last time I’d see him in this life?

We talked on the phone when he came home. “Hey Henry, how about coming over next Sunday for dinner?” He asked. “Sorry dad, I’m in the middle of a big project.” I answered. “Project?

Son, we are going to have a feast.

Father McGinty will be there.

He gave you first communion.” He sounded hurt at my refusal. “Sorry, gotta do this.” I closed my eyes and the image of him waving to me as he left filled my head. “Mr. Hillman.” A voice sounded over my cell phone. “Ah Ms. Rockenby.” I rubbed my forehead with my hand. “I have a buyer for the house.” She sounded pleased. “Great, great. "I did my best to match her mood. “We are going to need you to do a few minor modifications.” Her voice grew serious. “Alright, could you fax me a list?” I requested. “Yes, that will be fine.” Her voice lightened. “Good.” I sighed. “You will really appreciate the closing costs.”

“I’m sure I will.” I pressed the “stop” button and slid my phone into my pants pocket. As it turned out the list was a bit more extensive than I had planned on, but I had hired some help and I figured we could do what was required. “Are you alright?” Gina asked me as she returned with Marvin still in tow. “I’m fine.” I bowed my head so she would not see I had shed some tears. “I’m putting him down for a nap.” Gina replied as she put her hand to my face, “Do you need to talk?” “No, I want to drive over there and have a look.

Ms Rockenby gave me a list of things.” I held up the list she had faxed over.

“Alright. If you need anything…”

“I’ll text.” I finished her sentence as she kissed me on the cheek. I drove by the Goodwill on my way over. There were all sorts of customers walking out with treasures someone else had once owned.

I stopped in the parking lot to catch my breath.

I saw someone hold up the Hawaiian shirt that I had brought over just a few hours ago.

It was silly and sure to draw attention, but upon seeing the happy customer, I felt empty inside.

I wanted to run over and grab it from him, saying, “You can’t have this.

This is mine!”

But I restrained myself as I drove out of the parking lot and onto my destination.

In less than an hour, I was at the destination. This was the house I grew up in, but now it was empty of people and filled with memories. Cancer is a word I wish never to hear again. Marcy Eckerley Hillman had passed away peacefully in her sleep according to what her Oncologist told me, but I knew in her final hours the agony of her cancer was unbearable.

I was in Tokyo when the doctor called to tell me she only had a few hours left.

I did not make it in time.

She was already gone when I was able to fly home.

I was there for the funeral. It was a wonderful service conducted by Father McGinty who spoke of her as a true friend.

She was more than that to me.

She was my mother.

She was never afraid to tell me that she loved me. I walked in the door and looked around at the familiar furnishings and decor that I recalled so vividly.

The feel of the carpet as I walked across it, the smell of the kitchen, the checkerboard floor tiling, the fluorescent light that always flickered when you turned it on, the marks on the wall that marked my growth with the year written on each line, the photographs that hung from the wall as reminders of happier times, the creak of the third step on the stairs to the upstairs rooms.

My room was the second on the right.

Dad had turned it into an office, but for the most part my old Star Wars Posters were hanging where I placed them years ago.

We would do whatever was on that list, so the new owners could have things the way they wanted them without regards to how things once were in this house that once was my home.

In the morning I would have my paid helpers show up and put things where they belonged, but for the time being, I would spend one final night in the place that was so familiar to me before turning it into another good will gesture.


The Lonely Reflection I couldn’t remember any time of my life without the mirror. It had been passed down in our family for generations, and it looked like something out of a fairy tale. I’d always been told that if you didn’t look at it, its wrath was unleashed, and the way always changed. There had always been mysterious deaths, sure, but I figured it was nothing but superstition, creepy stories told to children to make them behave, or to haunt their dreams before they fell asleep. It was framed with wood so dark that it looked almost black, like trees shrouded in the cloak of night, with bright green vines climbing all around it. It was beautiful, and it reminded me of Snow White and Grimhilde’s mirror, though this one was not crowned with a blank, speaking face, mouth yawning wide. I always had a weird feeling about it, and I’d made a point not to look at it, no matter who it belonged to. It always filled me with something strange: a sense of dread and anticipation all at once. Little did I know, it was soon going to be my turn to inherit the object, which I’d begun to suspect was cursed. \*\* The last person to possess the mirror had passed away, and the coroner had said it was from a heart attack. But I wasn’t so sure. My mother called me in the middle of running errands, and I pulled over, into a parking lot, to answer. “Calliope? What are you doing?” My mother’s voice came through at the other end of the line, without so much as a hello. “I’m running errands, Mom. What’s up? Is everything okay?” “We read Uncle Clay’s will today, and he left you The Mirror. Can you come over to the house and pick it up?” That’s the way she said it, The Mirror. I could hear it in her inflection. “Give me a few hours, and once my errands are finished, I’ll be right over.” “Okay, honey. Would you like to stay for dinner? We have plenty, and I worry about you, living in that tiny apartment by yourself. I’m making pot roast.” As tempting as that sounded, I had to decline. “I already have plans, Mom. Thanks. I’ll be there later. I love you.” “At least take some home,” She replied, seeming not to notice that I was hanging up. I continued my errands, but my mind churned. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want that mirror, however beautifully crafted it was. Bad luck seemed to be attached to it, and I didn’t like the way it seemed to be following everyone; like it was watching. It gave me the creeps. \*\* After I ran my errands, I drove to my mother’s house and knocked on the door, eager to take my unwanted heirloom and leave. Though I was hungry, having not eaten since early afternoon, I was tired and eager to go home, throw a sheet over the mirror, and call it a day. My mother answered the door, smiling and giving me a hug; the scents of garlic, rosemary, and roasting meat greeted me like an old friend. “The mirror is in our room. If you need help loading it in your car, I can get your dad from his study.” “No, Mom, I should be all right,” I said, smiling at her and walking down the hall, toward my parents’ bedroom. “Are you quite sure you can’t stay for dinner, dear?” She called after me, and I laughed. The mirror was lying on the bed, faceup, reflecting the ceiling, and I found myself wishing, perhaps unkindly, that Uncle Clay hadn’t passed away. I walked to the bed and went to pick it up, trying not to look straight into the looking-glass proper. But when I peered into it, almost on accident, I could see my face out of the corner of my eye. And it was smiling.


 Olympus Mons Exploration Mission 15 May, 2152 Mission Sol 1 Red. That's all I see. Crimson dust swirling around the rover, painting the rocky outcrops in hues of rust and ochre. The gaping maw of the ancient volcano stretches out before us, across to the horizon. This is the day we finally explore Mons Crater, something we hope will help uncover secrets from Mars’ past.

The team consists of Dr. George Sato (geologist), Dr. Miranda Singh (botanist), Kai Saite (engineer), and Captain Renaldo Li. And I, Madelyn Kim, xenobiologist extraordinaire (well, almost), am here to be a part of history. I’m the youngest member of the team and everyone is looking at me like I’m just going to screw things up. Dr. Sato hopes this will be the key to understanding Martian water loss, while Dr. Singh and I (ever the optimist) hope to discover signs of microscopic life, or at least that life survived here at some point. Captain Li is here to protect us, and Kai is here to keep everything moving.

We’ve landed our ship on a stable outcropping about 5 clicks from the crater’s edge. The rover is taking us the rest of the way. I just hope that our climbing gear survives the descent tomorrow. I’m terrified of heights. Mission Sol 3 Sorry I didn’t update yesterday, we were busy climbing. It took longer than expected to make the descent with all the gear. The rim of the crater was much steeper than we anticipated, and there is a sandstorm off to the west that has winds whipping us everywhere. But we finally made it to the bottom and made camp. We spent the rest of the day dividing the supplies into packs that were manageable for each of us. Dr. Singh and I are the smallest, so we are carrying more of the lighter gear. We analyzed some samples of rock we had taken on the descent but found nothing unusual.

But then we found something...strange. While analyzing rock samples, the computer's sensors picked up an anomaly – a faint metallic echo embedded in the specimen that shouldn't be here. Dr. Sato brushed it off as a glitch, but he seemed unsettled. We finished our scans and excavations and decided to head back to base camp.

Maybe it was just the physical stress of the last few days and Dr. Sato’s reaction to the sample, but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy as we made camp tonight. I can’t quite put my finger on why, and I am hoping a good night’s rest will put it all in place.

Mission Sol 4 We moved deeper into the crater today. Dr. Sato took samples from several different areas and all of them had the same strange metallic glint. He started extracting some of the metal to analyze, but nothing conclusive has come back yet. We may have to wait to get back to the rover for deeper analysis.

As we scan further out into the crater, there are some anomalies to the west that we want to further explore. Dr. Sato believes there may be some lava tubes of interest to us, but it risks taking us closer to the sandstorm. While I am eager for new discoveries, something about that sandstorm makes my skin prickle. I know, I should be used to them, living on Mars and all, but this one just seems more…ominous?

Mission Sol 5 Well, shit just got real. Dr. Singh has gone missing. She had ventured off a little ways from the group, but still in radio distance. She had been on her own for about an hour, when she sent a garbled transmission that sounded panicked. We were afraid she had been injured, so we rushed to her last known location - but there was nothing. No gear. No footprints. No evidence of any disturbance. It was like she just vanished into thin air. We searched for hours, but we found no trace of her or her gear. She wouldn’t just wander off on her own, would she?

Thank God for calm, collected Captain Li. He was the one who suggested she may have fallen, hit her head, and became disoriented. He believes she has wandered away and that maybe we can find her as we go deeper into the crater. Dr. Sato and Kai have other ideas. Kai said he thought he saw something moving, but only out of the corner of his eye. He could never look at it straight on. Dr. Sato believes that the metal we are finding in the rocks is a type of alloy that had to have been made by something other than natural processes. He strongly hinted that it may have been created by an intelligent life-form, but he won’t come out and say that directly. But, we’ve been on Mars for almost 100 years and there has never been any sign of life other than ours. There’s no way it could have escaped us for this long, right? Of course, we’ve never explored this high of an elevation before either. Could there be life that can only live at this altitude here?

As a xenobiologist, I’m both excited and terrified by the thought. It’s my dream to discover a new species, but it’s also way more terrifying when it lives outside of a petri dish. Mission Sol 6 We searched as far as we dared for Dr. Singh, but found no trace of her. I had held out hope that Captain Li was correct and she had just wandered off in confusion. But even if that’s the case, she is lost to us now. I am consumed with loss, remembering her positive persistence that this mission would succeed. I remember her showing me photos of her family, and my heart breaks for them. She was a mentor to me, and without her I feel that this mission is doomed. But now, what do we do? We stayed clustered together today and didn’t stray far from camp. We took a few more samples, but found nothing of interest. Kai, who is usually brimming with energy, has been pale and listless. Dr. Sato looks like he has aged a decade and keeps searching the horizon. Even the ever-steady Captain Li has been restless and pacing. The sandstorm is moving closer now, and I am afraid the models are wrong and it may hit us. If it does - what will happen to us in the storm? I asked if we were going to turn around and abort the mission, but Captain Li decided we should move forward. I hope he’s right and that everything will be okay. Mission Sol 7 Fear hangs heavily over camp tonight, as the winds howl outside of our tent.

We resumed our normal exploration today, taking samples and examining some nearby lava tubes. But today, we found marks on one of the tubes that looked like deep claw scratches. It was unlike anything I had seen before on our planet. The winds here are high, but I don’t think that the wind could have moved anything to make those gouges. As a xenobiologist, it was my job to take measurements and document the findings. Based on my measurements, whatever made those marks had to be twice the size of a grizzly bear. …Not that I have ever seen a grizzly bear either.

Given the magnitude of this discovery, we will be camping here another night. We will decide in the morning if we should press forward to return to the ship. I’m not sure if I will be able to sleep tonight. The winds are making the strangest noises, and I keep imagining other noises buried within the wind. Perhaps the howls are from whatever made those marks.

Mission Sol 8 We are being hunted. Something else is out here - something alive and new and novel and I am petrified, because it wants to kill us all. While we were out on our morning excavation, something came and destroyed our camp. It scattered supplies and shredded our tent. Captain Li sent Dr. Sato and I back to the dig site to retrieve the supplies. While I retrieved my tools from near the claw marks, Dr. Sato was gathering his tools from further into the crater. However, when I returned to the rendezvous point, Dr. Sato was nowhere to be found.

I was paralyzed with fear. Did I risk going to look for him and getting taken myself? Or did I run? What could I do, even if I did find him? I was about half his size and there was no way I could lift him. I decided to go back for help. The three of us went back to the dig site to look, but there was nothing. Captain Li has been carrying around a grappling hook like a gun, and is now insisting that none of us can wander off alone. Someone is staying up to keep watch tonight while the others try to sleep.

We only made it two clicks back towards the edge of the crater. There is still so far to go - at least 13 more kilometers. But if we stay together, maybe we stand a chance.

Mission Sol 9 I don’t know what to do. Every time we stop to rest, we hear a kind of whirring noise, and it seems like I keep seeing movement out of the corner of my eye.

This is first contact with a non-human life form. But it is nothing like I imagined it could be. I should be thrilled, trying to learn how to communicate and studying behaviors - but instead I am running for my life. Nothing in school ever prepared me for this. Now that I think about it, they definitely should have prepared us for this. There’s a 50/50 chance of any new life form being hostile, right? Why did we just assume they would be peaceful and docile? Kai is full-on panicking now. Poor, sweet, gentle Kai. He’s so brilliant for someone so young. A few days ago (has it only been days) he was playing pranks on Dr. Sato and starting card games in our downtime. Now, he just stares off into the void, watching for whatever monster is after us and waiting for the inevitable.

Captain Li says we must keep pushing forward. We covered at least 7 clicks today, so we made good progress, but I am not sure it's enough when they are closing in. I miss home. I miss the sounds of birds chirping under the dome and the gentle click and hum of the air recyclers. I miss the familiar scent of my mother’s cooking, and the clamor on the streets outside. I can’t believe I would ever willingly leave all those comforts for this. I have to get back home.

Mission Sol 10 We are nearly at the crater wall. Captain Li forced us to stop to rest about 3 clicks out, saying we needed to ration our energy for the climb tomorrow. We’re taking a short break and then pushing the rest of the way before dusk. We are arranging our packs so that we each have our own climbing gear and we each have a copy of the data we gathered - just in case. Kai swears he saw something behind us, just now. He said it was tall and insectile and walked on long, skinny legs. I’m not sure if he’s hallucinating or not, but Captain Li wants us to get moving just in case. Mission Sol 10 (Addendum)

Kai wasn’t hallucinating. We all saw it as we had bunkered down in a particularly bad gust of wind. It looks like a 20-foot-tall spider, towering over the crater, suspended on six spindly legs. We weren’t close enough to get a great look at the end of those legs (not that I’m complaining!), but I am willing to bet they have three pronged claws that match the marks we found on the lava tube. It didn’t come to us. It seemed to know we were watching it, so it slinked off into the sandstorm. I wonder if that’s where they hide. Captain Li has us moving immediately, but I had to take time to document this - just in case I don’t make it out.

We’re sprinting the rest of the way to the crater wall now. Captain Li says it’s worth the risk to climb at night. He’s hoping that they can’t leave the crater - that they can’t climb. But I’m not so sure. We know nothing about them, other than the claw marks and the glimpse we have seen. They move so fast and stealthily, I’m not sure we stand a chance. If this is my last entry, then I hope whoever finds this journal will tell my family I loved them. In the end, I fulfilled my life dream. I discovered the first extraterrestrial life - right here on Mars. And it may come to destroy us all.

Exhibit 114b from “The History of Mars” Collection Journal recovered from a crash site approximately 20km southeast of the base of Olympus Mons. Believed to be the first expedition to the crater, the explorers were unprepared for the effects of the extreme altitude and likely suffered from hallucinations. No subsequent crew has been sent to explore this area to date.