Charlotte ate green peppers all day long. Both Joy and Greta stared and openly groaned at her in disgust. There she went again in the cafeteria, treating the joy of the spiciest food in the world like it was an ice cream sundae that had come to life. On days like these, Joy Conwell could literally groan out loud. If she didn't want to flunk AP Calculus, she had to get her sorry ass to the library as fast she should say Taco Tuesday. It was definitely more entertaining than someone whose idea of fun was eating a horrible vegetable. Both of them couldn't wait until they could leave the cafeteria to go to the library. At least it was better than seeing unentertaining students feed their selves. Who even wanted to take Calculus? She had better things to do than study a useless subject that wasn’t worth learning about. The thing about Joy was that she didn’t believe in sucking up to others; it was more fun to tear them down instead. Another wise woman in her orbit was none other than Greta Beth Wilford. Her hacker name was “Indigo” back in the day. Joy went by her own nickname: Vanity. With those two names in sync, both girls created the rock band, Indigo and Vanity. Usually, the two devious comrades were always able to cause havoc and create fear in the incompetent souls of others. There was nothing that could tear these two feisty ladies down. High school would be brought down to ashes, just like the rest of this burning rock. Word around Justice High School was the fact that a small but stern librarian ruled the library with an iron fist. She once made three juniors cry so badly for making noise that they didn’t stay around to attend their senior homecoming. How could anyone justify treating children like this? Joy couldn’t take it any longer. If she couldn’t pass her Calculus course, she and Beth might as well make some noise to enjoy. The Lucy J. Beauvoir High School Library had been found in 1908 by some old French fart named Jacques Beauvoir. Honestly, Greta didn’t know the name of the founder herself. She braced herself for seeing the face of Abigail Harper, who was known around her campus as “The Nagging Hag.” It wasn’t even an exaggeration. Abigail had been born in Tennessee, then she moved to Lansing, Michigan when she was twenty-three years old. Now at twenty-eight years old, she had the face of a forty-five year old woman, overweight, not caring one iota about her physical appearance. Dark circles under her eyes remained permanent with no concealer to get rid of them. Another year, another long agony of entitled preppy adolescents not respecting the library. The sardonic tone that captured Abigail’s disdain for children still remained on her mind as she walked towards the Lucy J. Wells Public Library. While its mahogany doors didn’t lose any of the magic, she was able to make sure that everything would remain in tip top shape. Just because she didn’t have a backbone didn’t mean that the whole entire staff had to struggle in this unappreciated institution. Sadly, she was also aware of Joy and her dictatorial ways. Abigail could even recall that fateful conversation that the two young women had when the school year of 2019 started. She was able to manipulate Abigail into giving her a B instead of a D for Intermediate Art. Abigail caught onto it though. Coincidentally, Joy, the cunning former student from art class thought the advice Joy was giving her became so divine in her mind that she wrote it down in her barely filled scarlet diary on March 24 th , 2019. “You could make a living doing that kind of thing.” I suppose I could, but I had never thought about it, until then. Perhaps that was the day that evil had entered her bones. Maybe it had always been deep inside of her soul. If evil messes up everyone’s perky lives, why not join the side of the villains? No one could save Joy Conwell but herself. Besides, she would be King, or in her case, Queen of the Heap. The clock above the bookcases was about to ring. At 12:30 p.m., Joy and Greta were about to wreak havoc on the library. The first step was so juvenile, yet so worth it. Both of them ran down the different aisles of the books. Greta ended up in the category of Young Adults; Joy was in the category of Sci-Fi Fantasy. Joy shot her fingers up and went one, two, three, and both girls slammed the books down yelling, “Freedom!” Thud! Abigail was aghast. She could expect childish behavior from seven-year-olds, but a couple of teenage girls? That was unacceptable. To think that she thought her former colleague Tom was a man who used to be very immature. What was she saying? He is still immature to this day. Both ladies smirked as she shook her head at herself. “Why can’t the two of you just grow up?” She didn’t bother putting her finger up towards her prune lips. Tom lost 25 bucks at the races. He was an old acquaintance back from Boston University when they were both aspiring English majors. The horseracing tournament was an intense one. Despite being in their early 20s, they had already known the thrill of a horse winning a race. Abigail still had that competitive streak in her as well. Most people would find it perfectly insane that a woman would compare herself to a horse, but she felt elegant when she did. Gambling on the other hand was something that Abigail had never participated in. Thanks to Tom’s insistent whining, he bet her that if he won 25 bucks, he would see her groan in agony as she dealt with entitled teenagers. However, if he lost, he needed to become a stripper at Tonya’s Strip Club on Reagan Boulevard. Even though it felt good to see Tom embarrass himself on stage, that didn’t get her out of being a librarian. Budget cuts were bad enough. So she couldn’t risk her job for that. Another arsenal up her sleeve was the woman in 3B. It was originally an abandoned room that allowed high schoolers to get in all sorts of mischief. When the library was forbidden from rebellious pranks, the woman in 3B could put an end to it all. To make matters worse, Joy and Greta had never gotten in trouble a day in their lives. Joy’s father, Wren Conwell, used to own a lot of stocks in the Wall Street market. When the Wall Street crash of 1987 occurred, he lost most of them, but one was still kicking. The woman in 3B took a long drink of her red wind and said, “He was skating on thin ice—that’s all I can say.” Thin ice? What did that even mean? Thud! She turned around to see a lamp on the ground. Abigail couldn’t handle it anymore. She still couldn’t trust the woman in 3B. Was she a friend or a foe? “Well, Ms. Harper, I can see that we will enjoy making your life a living hell.” She was trying her best to not cry in front of the ladies. The last thing she wanted was her supervisor giving her grief for not giving these girls any consequences. Her lips trembled as she spoke. “If you girls don’t leave this library right now, I’ll go…” Greta slammed her hand on the right side of the wall. “You’ll go where? Back to that godawful Michigan farm where the closest thing you had to luxury was a farmer’s overalls? My friend has a wealthy father than can fire you right on the spot.” Joy Conwell straightened her natural fro out, her makeup immaculate as always. As she walked slowly towards Abigail, her eyes had a snide appearance about them. Her Louboutin heels would always remain spotless as well. She leaned close towards Abigail. “She’s right, Harper. You can’t chase us down. We’re like the demonic girls from Carrie, but a hell of a lot scarier.” Tears finally fell from her face. The redness in her cheeks didn’t help matters either. She always turned red whenever she was overwhelmed by unnecessary conflict. Nighttime had come over. The woman in 3B had never contacted her throughout the day. No one had even known about her incident in the library. No matter how hard she tried, no ounce of authority roared through her. Turning on the television, Abigail planned to wash this horrible day off of her. “We’re coming to you live from Beauvoir High School, where two teenage girls had been reprimanded by a librarian. Twenty-eight year old Abigail Harper has been employed at the local high school library for roughly three years. Despite the fact that she wasn’t an experienced librarian, seventeen-year olds Greta Wilford and Joy Conwell…” Bitchy Conwell, you mean. Abigail exhaled loudly towards herself. Who gets this wound up over a child? How were these girls even able to get onto the news? Her head was completely spinning. She saw the newscaster, Mark Frederick, with a concerned look on his face. “She was so cruel….we just wanted to read books in her library. I even wanted to point out that tear in her dress, but she was already having a hard day, and I didn’t want her to feel even more embarrassed.” Abigail’s eyes were still entranced by the television. Greta hugged her with a compassionate smile, even though all she saw was venom. One thing still confused her though: When did she have a tear in her dress? She went over to her bathroom mirror. Nothing was torn on top, so Abigail decided to look downwards. She walked over towards her bed, and hiked up her skirt. Lo and behold, a single tear of her red dress was scene. It was even a small tear, it was a tear large enough to see her underwear. She freaked out. How long was I out in public like this? Did anyone else see? They must have cut me when they were violating my personal space! Abigail took everything to not scream at the top of her lungs. The girls, the news story they were able to manipulate within their own twisted narrative…it was too much. She screamed in a guttural tone, never wanting to let go of her rage. The final tear in the dress was officially her breaking point. A tear in her favorite dress from her deceased husband, Wilfred Torrington III, was clearly a step too far. . As quickly as the tears came, they stopped. She rose up from the floor, splashed water on her face, and went to her desk. On top of her desk was a ripe apple. The apple was succulent enough to taste. It wasn't much of a task, but it would maintain Abigail's sanity against her vengeance against the two spoiled brats who dared to damage her family name. Afterwards, she was able to put on some red lipstick from Revlon in front of the bathroom mirror to feel confident again. These girls wanted war? Fine. They got a bloody battle ahead of them. Nothing would tear Abigail Harper's spirit ever again.


The Warrior fell to his knees, holding a grimy hand to the ragged tear in his abdomen. His breathing was heavy and labored. The saracen's blade had slashed clean through the metal links of his chain mail armor, leaving a bloody gash. The Warrior slowly sat himself down, dripping spots of red on the earth, which mingled with the dust and the blood of his fallen brothers. He leaned his head back against a large boulder and stared up at the ashen sky. The pain in his belly giving way to a dull drone of unfeeling, he let the sounds of the raging battle melt away. Below him, in the valley, hordes of saracen charged to meet the army of crusaders. The rumbling of feet, the clash of swords, the anguished cries of the dying, all drained away from his mind like the dregs of wine from an emptied flask.As his life left him, so did all his resolve and conviction, leaving only a want of sleep.The day was warm and overcast, and the Warrior closed his eyes. The Warrior awoke on a soft, silken cushion. A lantern swung to and fro on a rafter overhead. He was in a carriage. It was dark outside, and the only sound was the clip-clopping of four pairs of horseshoes pulling the carriage into the night. A centurion sat on a cushion opposite him, his red-plumed helmet in his lap.The centurion spoke, in Latin. It took a while for the Warrior to translate. "Is it over yet?"The Warrior shook his head. "Not yet."The centurion accepted this, nodding solemnly. The Warrior's wounds started to ache, and he went back to sleep. The Warrior clawed his way up the wall of the trench, his throat gagging on the noxious green cloud that enveloped the ground, filling his nostrils. Dimly, distantly, through the forest of pain, he recalled being told that the poisonous German gas was heavier than air. The Warrior desperately climbed over the top, forcing himself to stand and take huge gulps of air, but the cloud was too thick. The top of his steel helmet barely broke the top of the cloud, and he collapsed, his lungs full of chlorine. His oxygen-starved mind numbed, the sounds of battle draining away. The blasts of gunfire faded from his mind like the dregs of wine from an emptied flask.Suddenly a carriage appeared out of the gloom. A crusader, in chain mail armor, stepped out and helped him to his feet.The crusader spoke something in a forgotten tongue, yet the Warrior understood. "Is it over yet?"The Warrior shook his head. "Not yet."The crusader climbed into the carriage, and the Warrior followed. The Warrior skidded across the sandy desert ground, dragged by the arms by his fellow soldiers as plumes of dust sprouted from the earth. He heard the creak of a door, followed by frantic shouting in that foreign language he'd been hearing for the past month. One of his squadmates propped him up against a wall, giving him water from a rusty canteen while the others called for a medic. A soldier with a red cross on his sleeve hurried over. He dressed the Warrior's wound, assuring him everything was going to be alright. At that moment the back wall of the house exploded, taking the upper stories with it. Dry dust rained down from the ceiling, spraying the Warrior's raw flesh with dirt. Through the clearing dust, the white trail of a rocket darted through the gaping hole in the house. It hit the ground, the high explosive sending a shockwave through the bodies huddled in the room. The Warrior was thrown to the floor, shrapnel peppering his battered body. Already his squadmates began firing back, the clatter of their weapons blending in with the rest of the white noise. The Warrior's forehead was pressed to the floor, its cracked concrete surface blurred and out of focus. Blood leaked from his multiple hits, and with the medic dead, there was no way to save him. His hands felt the warm earth as he let the sounds of battle fade away. The pop of a grenade launcher, and the earth-shaking boom that followed, all trickled away from his mind like the dregs of wine from an emptied flask. There was the clip-clop of hooves and the creaking of wheels. The door opened, and a voice beckoned him outside. Outside was a carriage, and standing by it was a rifleman, his uniform a hundred years out of date. On shaky legs, the Warrior stood, and the rifleman helped him into the carriage, where a centurion and a crusader waited. The rifleman closed the door behind him and the carriage started to move."So," he said. "Is it over yet?"All eyes in the carriage were on the Warrior.The Warrior saw the feeling in their eyes.Weariness, sadness even, with just a lingering glimmer of hope. He knew that they had all asked the same question, and received the same answer every time. He didn't want to disappoint them, yet - he had to tell them the truth. "No," the Warrior said, shaking his head. "Not yet." And the carriage continued on.


I had barely a chance to enter my chamber before my peace was befouled by his presence. He stood before me, silent, eyeing my person as a stray, starved to a quiet, brooding lust for my essence. I was piturbed, to say the least. For what reason does this creature have to disrupt my own solitude for its own selfish desire of my soul. " Be mindful demon", I said to him. " Be not so careless in encroahing my dwellings". Addressing him directly brought forth no response. I was dreadfully unaroused by his intrusion as wished only for a restful bout of sleep. I abruptly stepped around him, undoing my trousers and removing my shoes in process. Still as a breathless sigh, he turned himself about to maintain a strong gaze enamoured with the prospect of my soul. I unfastoned my tie and removed my shirt, donned my evening blouse and, once more, faced this rude abomination seeking to unnerve my character. " You can stand there if you like", the annoyance in my voice was was masked with an apathetic tone. " Be forewarned, though. Any attempt to molest my wellbeing, be it through an attempt to possess or infiltrate my dreams, will be taken as an affront to my patience and courtesy. I will not stand for it in the least and you will suffer the consequence if you do". A light faded from his eyes and no longer seemed envisioned with the prospect of comsuming my breath. He slacked his form and began to fade away. I granted him one last nod in his departure," I bid you goodnight , sir", and snuffed my lamp.


Last light.  It's like first light for the sailors of old, except it is the final hour of sunlight before the darkness of night swallows the sun for the second half of the day.  Usually, Tholan would be busy at this time with the cruxes, setting up new boundaries.  This night, however, was different.  It was his turn to patrol with Lindia, and both would be checking upon the older cruxes near the trees about five miles out from their community. This night, there was going to be a full moon.  This meant one thing:  the Hunters would be coming.  Tholan couldn't help but remember the lesson from a few days ago, a lesson repeated once a month, yet required out of reasons of security: "The Hunters like to push into the forests," stated Garrold the Gray, the community's leader.  "They also have a knack of coming towards, and even force-entering, homes that are in the woods that they mistook as abandoned.  Hence, the cruxes." Here, he indicated to the large pieces of wood, fixed together into x-shapes with twine.  "These are set up in certain areas as a means to ward off the Hunters, especially if they are of a dark-red color.  For some reason, the Hunters turn away from such a colored designed creation, almost as if afraid of going beyond in areas where these things lie.  Perhaps it's something from their history, or maybe it is like the colors of poisonous animals that warn any to not attack them.  Either way or not, we must be sure that our community remains hidden even with the use of these cruxes, to be placed as far from our community as possible, while keeping any useful resources within the boundaries.  Children are not to go beyond these, I cannot stress that enough!" "Now, are there any questions?" It just happened to be, that day, that a bunch of children actually showed their hands.  Garrold chose one of those hands.  "Yes...uh, Cassie, right?" Cassie, just eight years of age, smiled and stepped forward.  "So, sir-Mister Garrold, sir, uh...is it true that Hunters can kill with a sound?" Garrold shook his head.  "No, child.  That is a fabrication that children spread to each other.  No, Hunters don't kill with a sound, the sound is just accompanied by their ability to kill from a distance.  Next!" Another child was picked at the time, this one named Harlon.  He asked, "Garrold, sir, are the cruxes magical?" Garrold, again, smiled.  "In a way, yes.  There's a special and spiritual ritual that we do, upon and around the cruxes, but you need not worry about how it is done.  You're too young; when you become a young man, we'll teach you everything you will need to know in making, placing, and blessing the cruxes." Tholan remembered that he was the last person picked with a question on his mind.  "Why do the Hunters hunt us?" When that question was asked, Garrold went silent for a minute, pointing his nose to the ground as if the scent of the Earth would give him an answer if he inhaled deep enough.  The smile was gone; in its place, a growing grimace formed on the face of the community's leader.  "Heh, why indeed?" He then looked directly into Tholan's eyes, his grimace now acting out a fake smile for the sake of sincerity, to help relax the audience as they became more invested in the words of Garrold.  "The list goes on and varies, from mistakes of the past to myths that continue to haunt dreams and make paranoia the daily drug ingested by the Hunters.  Many of them blame our people for unprovoked attacks on their people, including their children.  Some view our community as diseased, which actually works in our favor to live out here and carve out our own existence.  There are even a few that believe that, in killing us and even eating us, they'll gain great strength and become far greater Hunters than before.  Regardless," he paused, and waved his hand to the crowd, "the greatest influence of the Hunters is fear.  Fear of the unknown.  Fear of change.  Fear of the idea of a perceived threat near their territories, maybe even replacing them." Garrold waved his hand in Tholan's direction.  "Don't worry about it, kid.  You don't bother them, they won't bother you." Tholan nodded, the memory of that day dissipating in the background of his focus.  He was near a river, one that the community utilized for fresh ingesting as well as bathing.  This was a new spot, so he had to set up his last crux here.  Later, he figured that he would go hunt deer, maybe bring a buck back.  He wondered about bringing Lindia with him when a strange feeling suddenly trickled upon his spine like a cold sweat running up to his skull.  He looked around, wondering if anyone was watching him. No one.  No animals, even.  Tholan shrugged, and set up the crosspiece of wood.  Right now, it was just the plain light-brown wood, two large pieces held together by a carefully tied knot of rope, wrapped tight enough that neither pieces could slide out even if made wet.  As if being reminded, Tholan checked his pack from which the cruxes were strapped; water, brush, rubbing alcohol, lantern, matches, dry cloth, bandages, and a Bowie knife (an heirloom of his grandparents).  He pulled out all the items except the lantern, and then he got to work. He picked a spot near the river, one that was devoid of a lot of plants and was mostly flat.  Using the knife, Tholan dug makeshift post holes and set the crux inside, setting it up as a standing X.  The knife was then used to create a circle around the crux, carving the shape into the ground.  From four points of the circle, he created straight lines directly to the post holes.  He then looked to the sky; the full moon was coming.  He quickly took off his clothes and crouched in front of the crux, waiting.  He looked around, just to make sure of his solitude, and then bent his head forward with his teeth set upon his raised palms. The pale moon shown down from the cover of clouds, waiting for the sun's departure over the horizon.  Tholan waited, ignoring any sights and sounds, keeping his eyes closed and his palms set to his teeth.  He counted the minutes, enduring the night's cold air amongst other things.  Finally, it was time.  He bit into his palms; the blood trickled into his hands and upon the wet dirt.  He rubbed the blood upon the crux, the light-brown now showing as dark-red in the moonlight.  Finally, he carefully grabbed the rubbing alcohol, pouring it in the circle carved upon the ground.  The liquid ran around the carving, making its way to the four points that fell towards the post holes. Now came the hard part; the sealing, followed by the blessing.  Tediously, he picked up a match and, after a couple scratches on the sandpaper edge of the matchbox, took the now lit matchstick and touched it to the circle.  Immediately, the alcohol caught fire, with the post holes catching.  The bloody wooden construct also went up, slowly from the bottom and moving to the top.  Tholan grabbed the dry cloth and suffocated the crux, putting out the fire and leaving the red design within the dying light of the circle.  Before the moon was hidden again, he knelt down and held his cut hands to the crux, uttering a prayer to his community's patron deity.  Once it was done, he erased the circle and lines, pushing more dirt into the post holes to hold the sign. He had to relieve himself and did so a few feet away from his work.  This would drive away wolves in the area, while the crux would (hopefully), drive off the Hunters. The moon was covered, but he was still naked.  He stuffed his clothes in the pack with all the other supplies.  Time for some food, he thought.  He walked to the direction of his home... The uneasy feeling came back, this time accompanied by his hair standing up.  He froze for a moment, then took his pack and pulled out the lantern.  He wouldn't have difficulty with the matches this time, and the lantern shown brightly.  In an instant, the light reflected off of two reflective surfaces in the dark.  Tholan turned instantly, but the surfaces were gone.  Back and forth, the lantern showed the flora, but no fauna. No other animals.  Not even insects.  Tholan knew something wasn't right, and it was close. He ran. Into the woods, staying within sight of the river, he moved quickly through the brush and past the trees, giving an occasional check over his shoulders.  Sure enough, shadowy figures were caught in his glimpses, moving from spot to spot, keeping pace with him.  Their eyes seemed to glow in the dark, following him as fast as he was running. Finally, he reached a clearing.  He slowed and stopped; any more in his current direction, and he would be endangering his home.  This must be where he stands, even if it was his last. Besides, the moon returned. Quickly, he blew out the lantern before dropping it.  The shadowy figures slowed down and started approaching him with caution, four in total and all masked.  Two held bows, one approached with a woodcutter's axe, and one stayed behind the others, with a rifle in hand.  They paused as Tholan composed himself, towering over them and baring his teeth and nails.  He was facing the Hunters, and they were going to kill him. The bows fired their shots.  Tholan dodged one, while another nicked his shoulder.  Steel, he thought.  It was a prelude of what would come.  Damned Hunters, with their hubris in mocking him and his people!  As the bows were being reloaded, he charged, only to be met by the Hunter with the axe.  He definitely saw the silver-lined edges, and moved out of the way of the swing.  In turn, he swiped the first bowman, hitting him in the throat.  A gurgle was made in place of a scream, and the bowman fell with a hand on his neck.  The second bowman aimed his bow, and Tholan dodged yet another arrow (this one smelling strongly of silver).  The axe-man turned and swung his axe again, nearly hitting Tholan's nose.  Tholan, in turn, shifted from the aim of the rifleman, trying to move one assailant between him and the other. A shot rang out, with the round clipping his left ear.  It stung, but he would manage against the wound.  The axeman suddenly charged and shoved the shaft into his chest, almost pushing him down.  He pressed his feet down, digging deep into the earth.  For a moment, the momentum was against him as the axe-man shoved with all his might.  Tholan dug deeper, and halted the assailant.  Then, he pushed back, bringing the attacker back.  He stared deep into the reflective surfaces behind the mask, eyes of fear and determination, and he growled.  The axe-man growled back, and tried to yank his weapon back.  Tholan allowed him, clearing an opening to the chest.  His nails punched deep into the heart of the axe-man, who howled almost as good as Tholan could.  The axe swung back, catching Tholan's left shoulder. The rifleman was now rushing Tholan, his rifle rising to his shoulder.  Tholan saw him coming, but was limited in his movements.  What could he do? The rifleman roared, his finger moved to the trigger... A blur of brown knocked him over, his next bullet missing by a mile.  A thrashing came from the feminine form on top of the rifleman, slashing to and fro.  Near death, he grabbed a knife from his side and slashed at her chest.  Yelping, she stabbed her nails into his eye socket, killing him instantly. Tholan pulled his own nails out of the axe-man's chest, and made his way to the brown-furred individual.  She stood up as well, and growled until he was close enough.  She looked upon him, and her facade changed.  Rushing over, she hugged him, sniffing and licking him all over.  He, in turn, licked her ears. Lindia was wounded, but alive.  They both were.  But they had to leave.  Tholan pointed, and Lindia nodded.  They quickly moved into the darkness; the forest would claim this fresh red sacrifice.


It was Halloween, and everyone was excited in Mayontown. The adults would take their kids to each house hoping for the best for each of the child so they aren’t sad that their child came home crying because they got suckers instead of chocolate. No one wanted their child to come home with less than any other child because they would have to hear it at the annual Mayontown Halloween party every year and everyone knows that the Stevenson family gets their children the most candy. Everyone thinks that they put extra in there, but no one can really tell. That was until they tried this year.

“Okay everyone ready?” The Stevenson’s mom said to the group

“We are.” said the Smith’s mom

“We are.” said the Mason’s mom

“We are.” said the Orlando’s mom

“Wait where’s the Clover’s family?” said the Smith’s mom “Oh, wait I see their van coming now, never mind.”

“Always late to the show.” said the Stevenson’s mom

“Hush, Lisa.” said Sandra (the Mason’s Mom)

“Well, can you blame me?” Lisa asked

“You’ve been late before also to things and we haven’t said anything?” Sandra replied

“Oh, whatever I’m sure you said a thing or two behind my back now let’s all hush and have some fun.” Lisa responded as Rhonda Clover and her family came walking up

“Hey Rhonda how you doing?” Sandra said

“Oh, you know the kids want to wear this and that so they can get their candy. This one lost that so had to go find it and then get it placed right and I told them if they don’t get going then they won’t even get candy so that go them motivated and here we are.” Rhonda replied

“I’m glad I only have two.” Sandra replied

They all giggled and said they better get going before everything is over before they get started.

“Now before we get started remember the rules. No putting extra in the bags. No going back to the same houses after a while. Once, you have went to all the houses you feel you can you come back here and wait for the rest of us to get back here.” Lisa said

“Yeah Lisa, no putting candy in the bags. We know that’s how you been winning every year. We’ve been honest and there’s no way your kids can have double what we have.” Wanda the Orlando’s mom said

“Oh, sure whatever Wanda look in my vehicle right now and see if you see any extra candy in there. Go ahead all of you.” Lisa said

As all the women finally gave in and looked in his van, they gave in that she didn’t have any candy in her van, but somehow, she has some hiding somewhere. The women didn’t say anything, but they knew something was up when her kids' bags were always twice as big as their kids and everyone went to the same houses at least they thought.

You would never think these women could be so jealous over something so jealous, but these women's kids meant everything to them that competition is part of the jealousy issue.

Each of the families headed in a direction where they thought they could get the most candy for their kids. Sandra and Rhonda headed to the houses on the left while Wanda and Rachel headed to the houses on the right. Lisa said that she was going further down to the end of the road and coming back this way. That way when we go to the end of the road she will be at the beginning of the road.

The kids scrambled like crazy to get the best candy possible. They ran from one house to another as fast as possible trying to be the first one there hoping if they were there first, they would get the best candy.

Wanda and Rachel got back to the beginning of the road first and then it was Lisa believe it or not, I guess, she wanted to make sure that we didn’t blame her for cheating again with the candy and then Rhonda and Sandra came following in a few minutes later.

Once every one was at their vehicles they got to their vans and agreed to meet at the town hall to weigh their bags. They warned their kids that they better not munch on any candy or it could be a chance of not winning.

The families met at the town hall and weighed the candy to see who the big winner is for this year. All the other families are hoping that it isn’t the Stevenson’s like every year. Each family went up one at a time.

The announcer called each family up to the stage.

The announcer said, “First, the returning champion for three years in a row the Stevenson’s family that has two children with 20 lbs. 5oz.”

 “Next is the Mason’s family that also had two children and has, oh, 23lbs. 2 oz. “the announcer gasped, “Now just wait there are three more families.”

“The third family is the Clover’s family now this family has four children so watch out! The total is, wow, only 18lbs 5oz. Well, they are small children, but still give them a round of applause. Great try, kids!” the announcer said

“The fourth family is the Orlando’s family they have three kids in the family so they can fight for this too. They have 21lbs. 7oz. Not bad at all so close to being in the lead.” the announcer said

“Well, we have one last family, but either way we will have a new winner it will be either the Mason’s family or the Smith’s family that’s up next. The Smith’s family has two kids and they are not too small so this should be a close call. Okay, is it all on there? Alright, here goes nothing the total is 25lbs. 8oz. The Smith’s family wins the Halloween candy collection trophy for the year!!” the announcer said

We all clapped, but Mrs. Stevenson was not happy at all! Her face could rip you in half! Everyone was congratulating the Smith’s family flipping out the they actually beat the other family. They were saying how they would have to work twice as hard next year.

The moms took their kids to the house to get their costumes off and get to bed for the night because now it was the parents party time. After all the kids were in bed at each house all the parents met at the town hall for the adult version of the Halloween party. The men were in the left corner smoking their cigars and drinking their whiskey and brandy while talking about football and the current scores of the super bowl with what team was sure to win. The ladies lingered over in the right corner drinking their vodka and tequila complementing Mrs. Smith getting the trophy this year. All they heard over the complementing was Mrs. Stevenson complaining that they needed to check Mrs. Smith’s vehicle for bags of empty candy since they accused her all these years.

“Okay, Lisa I apologize for blaming you for cheating. I don’t know how you did it all these years, but you and your kids must have done some hard work because I made mine. We went to every house on the block and they told them they were in a contest and got a couple more pieces not much. Is that how you did it?” Rachel asked

“We did work our butts off you’re right. I’m not sure if they said they were in a contest or not, but we all worked our butts off so congratulations Rachel, I will beat you next year!” Lisa replied

“Well, Lisa, I look forward to it, but are you forgetting we have some other families here that might beat the both of us?” Rachel asked

As everyone laughed at the statement Lisa knew that she would be the winner no matter what!!

Everyone had their fun, said their goodbyes and went their way home.

Lisa couldn’t stand being a loser	!! She hated losing!!! All the way home she thought about that trophy!!!

As Lisa turned left, she saw Rachel’s house. She wanted that trophy so bad. She should have been the star at the party not Rachel. Rachel hasn’t been in the group long enough to win, she thought. All she had to do was crawl in one of the living room windows, grab the trophy, and get out before anyone noticed.

Lisa quietly pulled up to the house and sneaked up to the house. She looked in the window to make sure no one was up and she saw the trophy sitting on the living room table. Easier than she thought, now all she has to do is open this window, grab it, and go.

Lisa lifted up the window and climbed inside she stopped because she thought she heard something. Lisa continued on because nothing seemed to happen. There she was holding the trophy and reveling in the moment when out of nowhere Mrs. Smith’s husband came running down the stairs with a gun. Before she could say anything as she turned around, he shot her right in the chest and she fell.

Bill, Mrs. Smith’s husband ran down to see who broke into the house. He turned on the light and to his surprise it was one of his wife’s friends. He sat there in disbelief as Mrs. Smith came running down wondering what was going on.

As Mrs. Smith came running down, she got halfway down the stairs and started screaming because she saw what had happened.

“Bill what did you do?” Rachel said

“I heard someone breaking in and when I saw them, I just shot before I did anything else. I didn’t know who it was.” Bill replied

When Rachel came all the way down the stairs Bill was calling the cops and Rachel looked over and couldn’t believe what she saw Lisa had died because she wanted that stupid trophy. If she knew she wanted it that bad she would have just given it to her she didn’t have to die for it.

I can’t believe what greed can make you do sometimes even die for it! WOW!!


Bacon And Lanarous Cizon and Dorron sat down in the comfort of their wooden dining table which specifically represented the dining for two near the fireplace on the perfect night which was dark but loud by the deafening sounds of thunder and rain, the best time to fill tummies with deliciously prepared meal and slip in the comfort of warm and cozy sheets. The smell of the soil outside was soothing but their noble wooden cabin loved the smell of freshly prepared turkey bacon savored with melting spices covering every inch, with the pinch of red chili flakes and pepper, served exclusively on beautifully carved glass plate, and complimenting hot Lanarous Delight, bluish green in color which tastes like Vanilla and Chocolate, quite famous in the town of Costerwoods nearby. Cizon and Dorron were highly excited to taste their mouth watering dish which they have been preparing since afternoon and they wished to enjoy every single moment with their dinner. “This is going to be fun”, said Cizon excitedly rubbing his hands together and looking at the meal. “This is the best part of the day”, said Dorron who settled himself rightly in his chair. As they hastened to have their first bite there was a loud knock on the door. Cizon and Dorron looked at each other, this was unlikely because it was dark and rainy outside, and the town of Costerwoods was already in deep deep sleep, but there also was an explanation for the same because it was likely that someone might have lost their way and is looking for a shelter in this extreme weather. “Should we open the door?”, asked Dorron and he looked with suspicion at Cizon. “Not before we hide our meal, I am not sharing that”, said Cizon. “Me too”, said Dorron as he stood up, took the plate and hid their Turkey in the oven back in the kitchen while Cizon somehow managed to hold the glasses along with the bottles of Lanarous and hurried to the kitchen behind Dorron but by this time there was a second knock on the door. Dorron then marched swiftly to the door and unbolted it, his eyes were amazed to find an eyes pleasing girl standing at their door, her eyes were enchantingly blue, and the face was a perfect oval and red hair added to her beauty. Even though she had her cloak hood on, the frills of her dress still dripped rain water; she looked scared and obviously was alone. “I apologize for showing up this late at your door but I did not find the way to the town, it is raining and I do not find it wise to roam in the woods alone”, said the girl in her sweetest but shaky voice. Dorron was lost looking at her and did not speak for another 10 seconds, after which his mind reminded him of her sayings. “Oh! Do not apologize my dear, step in for it would be our greatest pleasure to serve you”, said Dorron. “Who is it Dorron?”, asked Cizon in an echoed voice as he walked behind Dorron and finally his eyes met that of their late night intruder’s. His jaw dropped but the eye contact did not last long. “Make way for the noble lady Cizon”, said Dorron as he simply pushed him back to the wall, Cizon came back to his senses and the girl helped to put in a faded smile. “Close the door will you Cizon?”, said Dorron as he hurried to guide the girl to the fireplace not wanting to miss any moment with her, “I must give her something else to slip in”. Cizon took the hold of the doorknob but before he closed, his attention was caught by a dark figure moving inside of the woods at some distance, he did not look at it for long as he knew it would have been an animal living in the same. Cizon bolted the door and hurried back in. Dorron in meantime gave her the clothes and she rushed to one of the rooms on the second floor to change. “We must give her something to eat, she must be hungry”, said Dorron as he was enchanted by the girl. “Are you talking about serving our meal?”, asked Cizon with desperation. “Yes of course”, said Dorron as it was obvious. “I will cook something else for her but that, I am not sharing”, said Cizon. Before Dorron could speak however, the girl stepped down, wearing Cizon’s clothes, her hair were still wet but she was much comfortable to smile nicely. She walked up to the brothers and said, “I shall thank you for having me, I would have died otherwise”, “Mention nothing of it but are you hungry please tell me”, asked Dorron. “Yes, although we finished our dinner I will prepare something nice for you right away”, said Cizon quickly. Dorron looked at Cizon with the look of disappointment but then looked back the girl and smiled. “I am embarrassed to say but yes I am a bit hungry”, said the girl. “You will have to wait a bit”, said Cizon after which he disappeared in the thin air. “Warm yourself up dear”, said Dorron as he stretched his arm, showing way to the fireplace. The girl settled in and by her side sat Dorron, both on the floor. The girl constantly looked into the burning ambers whereas Dorron was looking at her in moments. Cizon joined them a little later with the bowl of soup in his hands. The girl took the bowl with happiness and smiled at them. “So”, said Cizon as he tried to start a conversation, “What is your name and how come you ended up here?”. The girl heard the question with calmness as if she knew it was coming all along. She took the sip of the vegetable soup and said, “My name is Amber, I live in the town of Costerwoods, I was going to visit my uncle who lives on the other side of the mountain Virago but I lost my way after twilight, and it began raining and rest is before your eyes”. “Poor you, poor fate”, said Dorron simply. Cizon however kept on looking at the girl, who in a little while returned her gaze to the ambers in the fire. “I will leave, the first thing in the morning”, said Amber with a smile, “you have been so kind”. “Make yourself at home dear Amber there are no problems”, said Cizon with a smile. There was a complete silence for some minutes and Cizon grew restless at last he spoke, “We must take your leave now Miss, I hope you find your way easy, call us if you need anything, we will be one call away”. Amber smiled lightly and Cizon helped Dorron on his feet who did not want to leave the girl but his brother, second time in this evening ruined his moment. They both marched upstairs, and even though Dorron knew that Cizon was right about everything in this night he still was mad, but however chose not to speak and walked quietly into his room just opposite of Cizon. Cizon was restless, the rain still poured and as much as he liked sleeping in the coziness of his sheets in rain today something was unusual, he thought the reason behind that was because he was hungry and stomach growled from time to time, but the uneasiness suggested otherwise. It was dark and the candle flames were dying. Cizon slept for half an hour but it felt like a minute, as if he never slept, his throat however was dry and he needed water. Cizon slipped his feet in his night slippers, opened his door and quietly walked downstairs. The fire in the living room was exhausted, and Cizon made sure that his footsteps were not heard for he feared the disturbance in the sleep of his brother and the guest. His feet were moving towards the kitchen but in the darkness of the living room, he saw something moving outside the house in swift movements through the curtains of the windows in thunder lightning, he tried to ignore it. The late night intruder was however nowhere to be seen, Cizon reached kitchen and his heart sank, he froze at the sight of what he saw. Amber was sitting like a beast on the table, her hands clutched the meat of the turkey bacon and she ate like monster, with every strike of lightening she looked more horrifying. Cizon thought he was hallucinating for a moment lightning struck him directly but it was no hallucination, he quietly ran to Dorron’s room and knocked as quietly as he can. “Dorron, Dorron open the door”, he said in hushed voice. Dorron finally opened the door but he was sleepy and could barely understand anything. “What is it that got your wand in a knot at this hour Cizon?”, asked Dorron as he rubbed his eyes. “The girl, Amber she is a witch, or a beast I don’t know but she is not what you think”, said Cizon as he entered in and closed the door behind. “Monsters are not that pretty Cizon, you just have been dreaming”, said Dorron. “No, I went down to fetch water, you have got to believe in me she ate our bacon”, said Cizon “She must have been hungry”, said Dorron. “Not that hungry, she looked like she will even eat you and me”, said Cizon, quickly, he was gasping and sweating. “Let’s do this, I’ll go downstairs with you and we will settle the matter”, said Dorron who was sure about the nightmare that he thought Cizon had. “It is not safe, we must lock our doors and avoid danger at all costs”, said Cizon Dorron, took him by his hand and tried to relive him, he then opened the door and led Cizon out. “Bad idea, bad idea”, said Cizon with a cracking voice. Dorron and Cizon quietly walked down the stairs but to Cizon’s horror everything was perfectly fine, as it was on the first half of this night, the room was warm, the fire was alive in the fireplace and the Amber sat in front of the fire. For a moment Cizon thought he really did dream, but his intuitions told him otherwise. Dorron walked up to the girl who still stared at fire and said, “My brother had a nightmare about you, we are not used to strangers you see”. The girl was quiet for some seconds but at last she said, “One must not take in everyone, showing up their door”, her eyes fixed on fire. “I am sorry I did not understand you”, said Dorron going a little close to her. Cizon’s heart was thumping loud under his skin he knew something bad was coming. Girl looked at him quietly, then in one instance, she grabbed Dorron’s collar and barked at him, Dorron got confused and scared and tried to go away from her. Ambers’ grip was however powerful and there was no easy way to avoid it. Cizon ran to help Dorron but Amber got the hold of his arm, Cizon and Dorron were putting their utmost force and the arm began slipping through her hand, but to add more pain she scratched the whole arm with both of her hands wand long nails. The bond was broken with a loud jerk and Cizon crashed on the wall, Dorron however ran to the front door, Cizon’s head messed up, but heart skipped a beat or two when he saw Amber coming towards him with her tangled body. Dorron unlocked the door and opened it wide in haste, his way however was blocked by another monster, it was an inhuman spirit, made up of nothing but darkness, ready to suck in every ray of light or happiness, it growled on Dorron and before he could understand anything, the spirit growled angrily at him and galloped him completely. Cizon’s sense gave up, his brother was gone, a monster stranger girl was coming for him and an inhuman spirit waited for him at his door, he stood up as soon as he could and ran upstairs, he did not know where to hide or where to go, the images of his dead brother were flashing before his eyes, he threw himself towards the window of his room, and even though it was high, he still made his mind for making a big jump but the inhuman spirit spread his wings growling at Cizon below on the water logged ground, it was the moment of utmost horror, he closed his door, but it was soon smashed by Amber, looking nothing less than a possessed soul, she came nearer and nearer to Cizon and as he looked out of the window, the Inhuman spirit he found was now at the level of second floor, looking like an angel of death waiting for Cizon to give up. Cizon accepted his fate and sat down with his head between in knees, crying and waiting for death when he heard Dorron’s voice. “Cizon, Cizon”, it called. Cizon then looked around him and the voice grew louder. “Cizon, wake up our dinner is ready”, said Dorron as he walked past Cizon sleeping near fireplace in their living room. Cizon opened his eyes, but he was sweating with fear, he looked around his house and his heart received the sense of utmost satisfaction, everything was fine, Cizon knew he was dreaming. Dorron asked Cizon to help him decorate the table and he with high excitement joined. Cizon and Dorron sat down in the comfort of their wooden dining table which specifically represented the dining for two near the fireplace on the perfect night which was dark but loud by the deafening sounds of thunder and rain, the best time to fill tummies with deliciously prepared meal and slip in the comfort of warm and cozy sheets. The smell of the soil outside was soothing but their noble wooden cabin loved the smell of freshly prepared turkey bacon savored with melting spices covering every inch, with the pinch of red chili flakes and pepper, served exclusively on beautifully carved glass plate, and complimenting hot Lanarous Delight, bluish green in color which tastes like Vanilla and Chocolate, quite famous in the town of Costerwoods nearby. Cizon and Dorron were highly excited to taste their mouth watering dish which they have been preparing since afternoon and they wished to enjoy every single moment with their dinner. As they hastened to have their first bite there was a loud knock on the door!


The Diner  The Robo-waiter charged the booth like an Olympic figure skater. It coasted right on up and made a perfect, abrupt stop barely an inch from the table's edge. A pleasant male voice coming from the automated attendant asked, "Are you folks ready to place your order yet?" Seated at the table were a man and a woman, both sixtyish and presenting a countenance common on folk that have hardened against an environment of scarcity and worry. The woman lowered her menu and looked across the table at her dinner partner. He folded his menu and gave the woman a quick nod. She asked their mechanical waiter, "What's your special today?" The automaton started up a display on its chest showing a video of a delicious looking dinner, and answered. "Ma'am, we have country fried steak and American fries, drizzled with gravy, with a side of fresh steamed, garlic-bacon green beans. Today's special comes with your choice of coffee or soft drink, and a dinner roll or biscuit." The woman customer noted a hint of southern accent from the machine's voice, and thought to herself "nice touch," as she said, "Yep, that looks real good. I'll have that, please, with some coffee and a roll." "Make that two," said the man. "Only I'll have mine with a biscuit and a Coke." He gathered up the menus as the woman handed over hers. He passed the menus to the robot who put them in a holding basket, located where a human waiter's leg would be, using one shiny metallic appendage. Meanwhile, it deftly filled two water glasses, and a Coke glass with another arm which seemed to have a drink spout for each beverage on offer. The automaton then inquired, "Ma'am, would you like your coffee now?" The woman thought for a moment and replied, "Actually, no, could I have my coffee after we eat?" "Certainly, Ma'am. Will that be all for now, folks?" asked the robot. "Yes, thank you." she said. "Uh, yeah, I guess that does it." replied the man, then went on to ask "Any idea 'bout how long 'til we can expect to get our food?" "Four, to four and one-half minutes, sir." the waiter answered confidently. The man let out a soft, slow whistle, a look of surprise on his face. "Say, that's pretty fast." "You can say that again." said the woman, as the robot rolled off toward the kitchen. She looked around the diner. It was busy. Every table had customers, a few more sat on a bench by the door waiting for vacancy. Their waiter was already rolling out a delivery to another table without even slowing down. It just swung by the food station and swept up a large tray of meals. The woman said to the man, "Gee, maybe I should have worn roller skates here. Anyhow, that waiter tires me out just watching him race around. " "Imagine it does." said the man. "Did you hear how fast he, it, said our meals would be out here? Under four and a half minutes? I couldn't a kept up cookin' at that pace, busy as this place is today." "Yeah, it sure is busy," the woman said, "I guess people go out to eat more often now." "Well, won't we?" the guy asked back. "Now that we get the Freedom Dividend? Shoot, we can eat out twice as much as we did before." "We never went out to eat before. What in the heck you going on about?" she replied. "Yeah, I guess your right. Well, we sure can now. One thousand dollars a month, for you, me, Tommy. That's an extra thirty-six thousand, each year, until he decides he wants to get his own place. Then, still, that's twenty-four grand for just us. Man, President Andrew Yang came along just in time too. We sure were hurtin, and what with automation taking people's jobs everywhere, and them self driving trucks." As he finished his thought, the man looked over the kitchen at the automated cooking machine that was flipping burgers, lowering fry baskets, and drizzling the gravy over their dinner plates. "Do you miss working the kitchen?" she asked him. "You know what, Alice, sometimes I do. But, I think things are better, now. More time for Tommy now. He and I are enjoying refurbishing all those boats for people. He has a real knack for it, ya know? I'm try'n help him much as I can. But, even though he has a passion for it, he never would have made a go of it, as a business I mean, had that UBI not kicked in. It just wasn't steady enough work. It was too hit or miss between projects. It sure is working out well now though. Folks got more money for things like boats, now." he said. The woman nodded and said, "Mrs. Coleman wants me to clean her house on Mondays and Fridays. And, I can start writing that novel I was always going to write. Besides, look how well this old diner is doing without us, Mel." Mel looked around the diner and began, "Yessiree, the time for man to trudge and toil for his dinner is over at long last, I reckon. We can't even keep up with these machines on our best day. We sure gave it a heck of a run though, didn't we?" Alice patted his hand and looked Mel right in the eye and reassured him, "Mankind created the machines. They're the product of our labors. Honey, we aren't being replaced by machines, we're being served by 'em." Just then the waiter zoomed up to the table again and deposited two perfectly cooked steaming hot plates of food onto the table, and said, "Enjoy your meals folks!" as it rolled away.


She twists and turns under me; if it wasn't the look in her eye that got me going, it was her heavy breathing. So beautiful, so graceful, her body only incited me closer. If any one saw us now they would want to join me, they'd like to get on top of her as well. But I can't let them have her, I am in fact making her mine. She is so soft, her hair so long and sleek; like a black river slowly drowning her as it falls over her sweet... quiet face. My hand passes over her throat and then her chest; I love how it rises and falls, such a gentle girl. My sweet girl, you can not fight me. Look how weak you are now, have I tuckered you out? Do you want me to remove my weapon now? I was just starting to have fun. Oh stop struggling My Sweet, once I pull it out... You'll have only seconds to live. Just close your eyes dear fall asleep now, I'll keep you safe. The knife I had driven into her lungs; now lays on her throat. Her glassy green eyes stare at me, so lonely. Oh, My Sweet, gentle girl still so beautiful...even in your early yet perfect death. Sadly you now bore me child, when your mother gets home she will take your place...


First parts can be read here, Part 5, Please Enjoy, feel free to critique. The more input the better. I had to late post, work has taken up a lot of my time. Thank you to whatever loyal readers I have, I promise I'm always trying to improve. \ I stood in the woods watching the wildlife around me. Stark was behind me with the rifle I had assembled for her, slung over her shoulder. Fenrir was at my left side, off maybe fifteen or twenty feet keeping pace with me. I could hear Stark huffing and puffing behind me as we paused to listen and watch. We had been out all yesterday and today, finding that we were near the top of the hill. I had seen what was east, so I went West yesterday and now I was going north. I had decided we could snag that second cache today and bring it back as well knocking two birds out with one stone. We continued on our course for another hour, keeping quiet. We had not spoken much and I wasn’t sure if this was my doing because I was quiet. Or if there just wasn’t a topic between the two of us that could be brought up. I had the shotgun cradled in my arms as I walked and I could hear Stark’s heavy feet behind me. Deep inside I was growing annoyed with her clumsy movements out here. “Could we take a break please?” she asked me out of breath. I turned back facing her as I stopped. “Now?” I asked. “Please?” she nodded. “Are you fucking kidding?” I grumbled. I took a knee and sighed as she sat on a large rock. She set the rifle aside and I could hear her noisily undoing the hook on her camelback. She drank loudly and every single noise was like crashing glass to my ears. “Is something bothering you?” she asked me bluntly. I turned my head looking at her out of the corner of my eye and I really thought about what I should say. “You are the noisiest person on patrol,” I said to her just as bluntly. “We aren't in combat, the enemy isn’t lurking around the next tree,” she said to me returning the annoyed tone. I stayed quiet not wanting to argue over the matter. She was right, but I belonged to a much different profession despite our military link. “You’re struggling to keep up at a normal pace, should I leave you behind next time?” I snapped. *That came out much more rude than I meant*. I thought to myself. “Look buddy, I’m not some grunt. I’m not attached to a groundside unit. My only postings have been aboard ships as a receiving triage technician. I have literally never set foot groundside in a combat role. Dick,” she said to me. I cringed as I had now realized just how rude I was being. I had not really thought about that, I was used to rucking with a hundred pounds of junk on my back, 20 miles or more a day, patrolling long hours into night and morning. Sleeping for only a few hours and sustaining off of minimal food. I was expecting a person whose job was to dwell on a ship, to keep up with me. I tried to give my attitude a one eighty and I turned to face her better. “I’m sorry,” I said to her. “I will slow my pace,” “Mmm,” she replied but I could see the annoyance in her face. “Ready,” she said, ignoring my apology and standing up. I rose to my feet and continued on my course but making an effort to take smaller and slower steps. We walked in silence again but I could tell she was struggling less to keep up and she wasn’t gasping for air anymore. I felt something in my throat as I was exerting myself. This whole trip I had been clearing my throat and finally I had enough and was able to cough. It was wet and thick like the end of a bad cold. I hacked up a thick bitter mucus and spat it out. It hit the ground and I looked down to see a wet chunk of thick black. I cringed. “Did you just spit that up?” Stark asked me. “Uh… yeah,” I said to her as we both stared at it. “You said you inhaled those spores?” she asked. I nodded, “did that hurt?” “No,” I admitted. Before she could say anything I shrugged, “let’s just keep moving, I’ll let you know if it gets worse,” I said burying my fear. The deep inner fear that there was a mushroom farm growing in my lungs. She didn’t protest only following me. As we traveled through the woods, I looked up and in the near distance I could make out what almost looked like a mountain. It stretched high above to tree tops and I could clearly see it rose almost at a right angle at its face. I stopped and tried to get a better look in the dim light. I could tell that the top of this formation was a ridge and probably a relatively flat surface. “What is that?” Stark asked. “It looks like a monadnock,” I said back to her absent-mindedly. “A what?” she asked. “It’s like a…” I thought about it. “Like a small mountain where mountains don’t normally form. This one is huge though,” I said to her trying to explain. “Oh,” she said as she took a deep breath. I could tell she was winded. “We should go look at it,” I said. “Like climb it?” she asked. I shook my head in reply. “No, it would be too windy on top and too much exposure to weather, I don’t see any tree cover or anything up there,” I said. We continued our slow pace until the ground began to slope. As we approached the base of the mountain the sloping would get too steep to comfortably continue, I noticed a large dark alcove about the size of a large grown man. I approached the dark hole and pulled out a small flashlight. I shined the bright LED light into the entrance seeing that this was a cave. It looked like the rocks over the top of the cave jutted out and created a sort of rooftop. The water drained directly down and pooled at the mouth of the entrance. I stepped into the entrance about half a foot and checked the inside. It consisted of a large chamber and I could feel a draft coming into the opening. The ceiling looked like it gently arched overhead, and the footing looked to be solid rock. The back of the chamber veered off the the right and I could see that I could fit probably ten people comfortably inside of this chamber. I could hear the soft click of Fenrir’s paws as he stepped into the cave and I eased slightly seeing that he was comfortable with this setting. I stepped in further and headed to the back of the cave. I could see that it opened into a smaller chamber. This smaller room led off to the right more, and as I followed this around I could see that it led to a third even smaller chamber that was the size of a large closet or bathroom. I realized that there was light in this room, and I could see a hole about the size of a basketball in the ceiling. I looked back and realized we had walked on a downslope and we were under ground level here. “Corporal?” I heard Stark called to me. The echo spooked me slightly, surprising me. “HM3!” I called back sarcastically. I pat my leg for Fenrir and I walked back up the slope to the main chamber. I could see Stark had set her pack down and she was sitting with her back to the wall. She had her head back and her eyes closed. She looked to me without moving her head and closed them again. “Why did we come in here?” she asked. I thought about it, looked back and forth at the walls and the entryway. I looked back to her and could see Stark was staring at me now waiting for an answer. “We should move,” I said. She scoffed for a moment before realizing I was being serious. “What? When?” she asked. “Now?” I replied. “Why wait? We are already here. This place is more defensible, it has solid walls, we can close the entrance, and I can rest easy knowing that the hyenabear can’t sneak up on me in my sleep,” I said. “Hyenabear?” she asked sarcastically before realizing what I meant. “Damn, that's a good one,” “Yeah, wish you woulda’ thought that one up first, don’t you?” I chuckled at my lonely joke. “Just upack what you have, I will go back and grab the other stuff I can, I will be quicker and I have the map,” I said waving my arm left and right with the PDA on it. I was lucky that we had only been walking a few hours, I was able to half that time alone. I made Fenrir stay at the cave and I went back to camp. I packed my main pack, my assault pack and a jump bag with the contents of my drop pod that I could take. It was heavy but I knew that I was capable of carrying it. I stacked the med box and the cache I had and I began my trek back to our little cave. It was an uneventful trip to and from the pod, aside from hacking up more black gunk. I had decided to not scuttle the pod with a grenade to the interior. I decided it could serve as a small last bastion now that I knew even something as big as a bear can’t get into those. I locked the door with my key pad and shut down any power to save the battery. I made my way back to the cave after packing our stuff up. When I came back in I found Fenrir seated outside the cave on a large rock, with Stark standing at the entrance. I set the stuff down on a dry spot of stone and I looked at the two in confusion. Stark was leaning on another rock with her head tilted back. She looked at me and sighed. “I don't want to sound like a girl, but I saw something in there and I don’t want to go back in until its dead,” she said simply. “Really? I left you with a fuckin’ rifle and I have to be to the one to go smash the spider?” I growled in annoyance. She chuckled sarcastically as I stormed into the cave in frustration. My anger immediately dissipated when before me I saw the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. It was a dark gray and looked like it was a rock at first. It was the size of a softball, with twelve large thick legs, six at each side. It resembled a scorpion in body type, with a small short tail but it didn’t wrap over the top like a typical scorpion. The front also lacked the large pincers, instead bearing two large needle looking arms. It sat still and I seriously debated how to kill this thing. I shined my light on it and the large creature skittered backwards. I realized that the light had scared it. I thought about stepping on it, but the small fear of it brushing off a boot stomp only to stab me or retaliate kept me from doing that. I made a small but important decision, I would shoot it. I withdrew my sidearm and stepped back to the mouth of the cave. Putting aside all safety knowing that shooting a firearm at a rock face was probably on the top ten stupidest things to do with a gun, the risk was worth the reward to destroy this monster. I took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The round shot true and I observed the small critter jerk suddenly as the bullet passed through it. The oversized bug took a few steps and then laid in place twitching. The pop made my ears ring and I could hear Fenrir barking at me from outside. I stepped in further and knelt down looking at the bug. The bullet had made a clean neat little hole with minor fracturing around the entry point, but the bottom of the bug had burst apart and there was catastrophic damage to the internal organs. I had seen that I had made a good choice as I could tell now, the carapace on this bug was thick enough it probably would have survived the initial boot stomp. I holstered my weapon and heard Stark enter the Cave now. “Seriously?” she said sounding irritated. “I got scared,” I said looking back at her. I could see a smirk crack at the corner of her mouth and she struggled to tell if I was joking or not. I kept a serious blank stare before turning back to the bug and debating how to remove the carcass. I decided I would just build a fire and burn it. In a matter of thirty minutes I had a neat little semi circle of large stones against the flattest part of the wall with the highest portion of ceiling to vent to smoke. I had a pile of wood that was beginning to really catch flame and next to this was a semi large pile of wood that was going to dry as the fire burned. I then searched every nook and cranny I could with my light to root out anymore of those massive bugs, but I found none. I scooped the body into the fire as it burned away and I heard the fatty tissue inside the chitinous mass sizzle and crackle. It smelled like burning fat, and it was not a pleasant smell, but nothing strong enough to clear out the cave by any means. I watched as the shell began to blacken but as the fire burned, it never truly was destroyed. As I sat with my back against my pack I took in this cave. Smoke rolled across the ceiling and out of the entrance, barely visible as the fire burned hotter. I could see that the cave entrance did have a small pool of water formed that we stepped through to get in. It was ankle deep and I debated a way to redirect that runoff into a container. As my mind wandered I withdrew a small pouch of electrolyte powder, flavored orange, and I dumped it into a cup of steaming water, I used a foldable knife in my pocket to stir the mixture and set it on a flatter rock by the fire to keep it warm. *Mmmm orange,* I told myself sarcastically. I sat back again and began to let my head wander once more. I had stashed the two crates near the second chamber and I began to debate my next move. I would need to start recovering equipment to find some comms gear to rig up and send out a message. I could get a message far, and it would hit life boat computers, drop pods, and PDA’s. I could get people to come here and although we may struggle a bit for food or water, and maybe space, we would be safe in numbers. I placed my head in my hands and leaned forwards feeling tired from all of this stress. I coughed again and didn’t have to work hard at getting the mucus out of my throat, I spat it off into the flames. I sighed and rest my head back into my hands. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see that Stark had noticed my mild distress. She gave a gentle squeeze and let go with a smirk. “Glad I’m here Corporal,” she said. I nodded and gave a half hearted smile back. “Im happy you found me,” I replied. There was a brief silence before I looked back at the fire. “Ivan, by the way,” I said to her softly. I watched the dancing flames, taking a small log the size of my wrist and tossing it on the fire. A shower of sparks soared towards the ceiling and quickly died as they hit the stone. “Natasha” she replied. I heard Fenrir sigh heavily and looked over to see him staring at me from the doorway, lying on his stomach, head resting between his front paws. I held out a hand and he wagged his tail briefly before approaching me. I pet him on his head and scratched his ears. “Where did he come from?” she asked. “I don’t know, he found me. Like you,” I said to her. “He was in the woods when I got here. It took a couple days, but he warmed up to me, and I him,” I said as I scratched him under the chin. I stopped and Fenrir laid next to me sighing again. “That’s fast for a wild animal,” she said. I nodded absentmindedly. She was right, domestication not being an overnight thing. I took note of it but pressed the thought to the back of my mind. As I thought the day was winding down and we should be getting settled for the evening I heard the sound of a large animal outside. A breathy growl followed by the sputtering I would recognize from a horse. Natasha and I looked at each other. I snatched up the shotgun and flicked the safety off. She had drawn the rifle from the leaning position against the wall. Fenrir stood and went to the doorway standing just out of the last of the daylight cast inside. I edged to the door as the growl came again. I feared another visit from Hyneabear and friends, but as I came around the corner I could start to see that this was not that. I could see from around the wall, a large four legged animal. It was clearly a beast of burden, on it, was a very plain looking dark brown contraption that was strapped around it. *Is that a saddle?* I asked myself as I stared at it. There was no rider that I could see and I began to feel the gears turn in overtime as I tried to process this info. I could see that there were very vibrant blue marks on the animal’s hindquarters. I observed how the animal had a similar build to an earth horse. It’s snout was elongated but it’s eyes were more forward and it’s mouth was flatter and wider. The muscles were larger, and it’s whole frame was wider, almost build like a gigantic pitbull dog without the bark, teeth and claws. “What is it?” Natasha asked. I looked back at her dumbfounded. “Uh…” I responded. “Well?” she asked again. “A horse,” I said without a better word for the animal outside.


My Love/Hate Relationship with New York City Suzanne Marsh I had two strikes against me before I was even born, both my parents were from New York City. My Dad hated the city and would do anything to avoid going there; Mom loved it. My first trip with Mom to New York City I was about five months old. It would be the first of many trips by car, train, bus and yes even plane. The first trip that I remember I was six years old. That year Mom decided to take me to the Bronx Zoo. I rode a camel that day, needless to say once we returned to Grandma’s the bathtub awaited yours truly. The Bronx Zoo was huge compared to the Buffalo Zoo. It was an adventure between the subway and buses. For the life of me to this day I won’t get on a subway; I saw the subway close with a lady’s arm caught in the door. The following year Mom thought I should see more the New York City; ergo we went to the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. The Empire State Building has one hundred and two floors, when it was built in the thirties it was the tallest building in the world, or so they say. The elevator seemed to be soaring we got off on the observation deck on the eighty sixth floor. The deck was all fenced in, Mom explained that a lot of people jumped from that floor. I walked around the deck, begged Mom for a dime to view the city from one of those observation viewers. I had great fun with that; then I had an idea. It was not to brightest idea I have ever had: I looked over and straight down. My stomach did flip flops and I decided it was time to leave. No, I have never returned to the Empire State Building. The Statue of Liberty is something that every American should see. In the 1950’s you took a boat out to Governor's Island, that I enjoyed. We debarked from the boat, walking toward the entrance. We took an elevator up to the skirt, from there we took winding stairs that became narrower and narrower. We ascended to the crown. There were windows that we looked out. That was when I had a very stubborn moment. It took Mom almost an hour to convince me we had to leave. I wanted to stay in the crown the rest of my life, so did not have to descend those stairs! The years went by Mom took me to the Bowery. That was a dirty place even back in the day. She told me about the Bowery and why it was famous. We went to Chinatown, Mom bought me a pair of silk type pajamas and beaded slippers. I still have a picture of me with those blue and pink pajamas, my hair was teased. We roamed Chinatown, Mom purchased a Buddha and incense. Mom lit the incense, it smelled horrible. Grandma spent the rest of the evening basically airing out the house. Time has a way of creeping up on all of us, me included. I have been to New York City several times since my younger days. My husband is a truck driver, we had several loads that we delivered. I have never been an ardent fan of New York City, I never cared for the odors. The city is laid out in a square, it is not accommodating to truckers. The rule of thumb was to stay in Pennsylvania if you had an eight o’clock appointment you left at four in the morning. The first trip my husband made to New York City was as a student driver. His mentor was driving, actually that was a good thing. The city has always been a challenge when it comes to parking. So the situation they found themselves in I could empathize with. There was a sign that stated: no parking here to the corner. There was a red Mazda RX7 parked on the corner. The mentor saw the sign and stopped. He did not want to take out the car. They sat there until one of New York’s finest approached the tractor trailer. He asked why the truck was sitting there with its four ways on. That was simple, the mentor did not want to hit the car: “Get that damn truck out of here you are hold up traffic.” “If I go around the corner I will take out the front of the car!” The cop pointed out that the car was parked illegally. The mentor put the truck in gear and over that beautiful candy apple red Mazda RX7 the truck went. When I heard about it I could still envision my Mom in her burgundy bathrobe, her hair in bobby pins, standing in a parking space while Dad moved the car from one side of the street to the other. Our first trip to New York City was a load of crackers going to Hunts Point, the Bronx. Just the thought that I was going to the Bronx scared me. It was not one of the better sections of New York City any longer. It had a high rate of theft in the area. When we crossed the George Washington Bridge, it was still dark. Trucks are only allowed on the upper level, we sat and waited until the trucks in front of us moved. We followed the directions, this was a load from hell! The first hint that we were in Hunts Point loomed in front of the tractor trailer, it was a prostitute no doubt on her way home. She had blond hair, a tight fitting leather fringed jacket, a very short skirt and glow in the dark pink knee high boots. The windows were up and doors locked. She continued on her way; we did also. The street we were looking for was a tight turn, we missed the driveway. There was a very helpful JB Hunt that told us if we continued down that street, we would be hijacked. My husband found a driveway and turned back to the driveway we had missed. That area was disgusting, between all the garbage strewn all over the area. The smells were horrendous. The adult in me could only remember how the city looked now not back when I was seven. I hated being there and wanted to leave. My desire to go to New York City is just not there. So much has changed over the years. It is still a dirty city but then most cities are. I used to love to go and visit Grandma. I remember there was no grass in the front only cement. Firefighters would open up the fire hydrants in summer so the children could cool off. Those memories remain that memories. The realty of New York City today is totally different from when I was a child. Yes I do have a love/hate with New York City and I always will.


The snow falls gently, as if it has all the time in the world. It covers everything in it’s white mask, disguising the trees, the rocks, the mountains, the whole world. The tiny crystals blend together, a whole being and separate entities. Some crystalize against the window, and I can see their individual shapes, how gorgeous and different each and every one are until there’s enough in the layer to make it one big frost. One could stand there forever, basking in the morning glow against the snow, hot tea in hand as the smell wafts up, feeling warmer knowing how cold it must be outside. My beautiful brown kitten, Puff, comes and rubs up against my leg, breaking my focus.

“Well, hello there handsome,” I whisper to him, picking him up. I turn him so that he’s looking out the window too, and I sigh “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Been awhile since you’ve seen snow hasn’t it?” my mom asks, coming up behind me

“Yeah, I forgot how gorgeous it is,” I respond

“Bet you’ll be surprised by how cold it is too then,” my mom laughs “you being so used to that california heat.” “I’m sure it’ll be a surprise.” “Excited to go out today?” my mom asks “do a little sledding, a little skating, maybe a snowball fight?” Skating. Right. “Oh, yeah. It’s been a while.” I tell her, staring at the ice

“See you in a bit!” she calls as she walks out of the room

It’s been years since I’ve skated. In fact, it’s been years since I’ve stepped on ice. The thought sends a shudder down my spine, chills me to my core. I can feel the anxiety rising, and the possibility of an impending panic attack coming on. I take deep breaths as I walk to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to calm myself down.

“Wassup, loser.” my older brother, Brantley greets me as he comes into the kitchen “When’d you get in?” “What a nice greeting.” I say “Hello to you too, dear brother. How are you? How is school? How’s that girl of yours?” “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just thought I was getting a couple more hours of peace.” I make a face at him “My delay ended up taking less time than I thought, so I got in at about one last night.”

“Well, that’s a shame.”

“Oh, shut up.”

A few hours later we all head outside. The snowflakes land gently on my eyelashes and the cold bites my nose. I pull my jacket up a bit.

“Awe, is Hollywood finding it a bit cold out here?” Brantley knocks into me a little as he walks by. He has his skates flung over his shoulder and is holding a stick in his hand. Instead of responding, I choose to grab a handful of snow and rub it in his face. “Hey!” he yells, dropping his stuff. “Get over here!” I take off and he chases me. I run around the trees in the yard, trying to lose him, giggling as I go. I feel like a little kid again, running through the trees with my siblings and cousins, playing a game of pretend where we’re fighting against some near-omniscient foe, holding powers of another world.

Suddenly I’m face first in the snow.

“Ha-ha!” Brantley calls as I get up, propping one foot on a tree stump and doing a heroic pose. “I have prevailed!” I wipe the snow off my face and stand up. “Now I’m going to be all wet.” “Should’ve thought of that before you pushed snow in my face. You seem to forget that I am now bigger than you, and that you and Ceila can no longer team up on me-” his face falls as he realizes what he’s said “Crap. I’m sorry.” My lip quivers, but I bite down on it to stop myself from crying “N-no. It’s okay. You don’t- We shouldn’t… I-” I sigh “We shouldn’t have to dance around talking about it so much. You shouldn’t have to watch what you say.” “Really?” “Really.” “Oh, uh okay.” he looks taken back “So those therapy sessions… they’ve been working then?” “Yeah. At least, I think so. It’s… it’s better now. At least a little. I came here, didn’t I?” “That’s true. Should we get going?”

“Sure.” Together, we walk back to where everyone else is. I take in the sights. It’s stopped snowing and now it just glitters, undisturbed until we walk on it.

“Hey! Look!” Brantley calls excitedly “Check it out, it’s still here!”

“What’s still- oh!” I see him standing beside an old oak tree, bare and gray now that it’s winter. Hanging from one of the branches is an old tire swing. The trunk of the tree has wooden planks nailed to it. At partway up, there it is. The old treehouse. We had found it before, many years ago. We spent hours in it, playing games and hanging out. “I can’t believe it’s still here.” I murmur, placing my hand against the trunk.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen it in years, and I come out way more often than you.” he looks around “Guess I haven’t ran through the trees in a while.”

“Yeah,” I give a small laugh and look around “me either.”

We spend the day in the snow. Sledding down the hills, being pulled on a tube behind the quad, snowmobiling over mounds of snow. It’s complete nostalgia. It’s as if I’ve time traveled back to a different life. I love my life in California, my job, my friends, the heat, but this place, these experiences will always hold a special place in my heart. Everything feels as it once were. At least almost everything.

It’s near dark before we head over to the fire. Everyone else is already there, eating hot dogs and roasting marshmallows.

“Hey Hollywood!” one of my cousins call. Evidently, Brantley had shared that very endearing nickname with the family. “Gonna join us for a game of shinny after supper?”

Anxiety begins to rise in me, but I remember what my therapist said. Feet on the ground, anchored. Deep breaths, still breathing, still alive. Face your fears. “Sure, why not?”

Everyone’s lacing up their skates. I’m sitting on a log, people all around me, chattering amounts themselves. All I can hear is the rushing of blood in my head. I stare down at my skates. The ice is not in front of me, I can see the edges of it at the edge of my vision.

Before I know what’s happening, I’m gone. I vaguely hear people yelling behind me, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. I just need to get away. From them, from the ice, from her. I hazardly run through the trees, knocking into branches, snow piling on top of me. I don’t even bother to wipe it up. Suddenly, I’m at the trunk of the old oak- and I’m climbing the wooden ladder into the house, not even considering how dangerous it may be. I huddle in the corner, the adrenaline wearing off. “I’m sorry.” I whisper “I’m so so sorry.” We were all obsessed with skating. We loved it. Celia was like a dancer on skates. She could fly through the air, defying gravity. Spin so fast that she became a blur. Brantley and I preferred hockey. The quick motion, the adrenaline rush. He was better than me, but I was catching up. I could’ve probably played for a university. I dreamt of playing for the Canadian women’s Olympic hockey team.

I was 14, Celia was 15 and Brantley was 17. We were at the cabin. It was getting warmer, but not too warm. Everyone else was sleeping. Celia and I snuck out late at night to go skating. We wanted to be under the stars. She loved the stars. She was telling me about this boy that she liked, and how excited she was for their first date when we got home. We laced up our skates. She got on the ice first.

“Watch this!” She called out. She began skating. Fast, so fast. Closer and closer to the middle, like a spiral. She was going faster than I had ever seen her go before. At the middle, she jumped up and spun in the air. She made three full spins before coming down. The ice cracked beneath her as she hit it. She looked up, and I saw the fear in her face as the ice broke. She fell in. I ran towards her as fast as I could. I tripped when I was close to her, and I broke the ice more, falling in behind her. I tried to turn myself around, kicking desperately to get up. My skate connected with something. I was drowning, dying, I couldn’t figure out which way was up.

I woke up to sirens and bright lights, a mask over my mouth and nose and a strangers face hovering over mine.

Apparently, Brantley just so happened to see me fall in as he was getting water in the kitchen. He screamed for our parents as he ran outside in nothing but Star Wars boxer shorts. I remember because he had gotten them for Christmas that year in a pack. He jumped in, bare chested, and grabbed me, pulled me up. He later said that I was so cold that I had turned blue. He thought I was dead. My parents and everyone else in the cabin came out too. They didn’t know that Celi was under too. They only saw me. Only knew that I was there. They were so panicked, so stressed, that they didn’t realize that I wouldn’t go out by myself. It wasn’t until my uncle asked where she was, after the ambulance had been called, that it occurred to them. My brother and dad almost jumped in. They had to be physically restrained. My aunt, an EMT, told them that they couldn’t go in, that they didn’t know where she was and they may only cause her to sink deeper. They didn’t care. They wanted to save her.

Half an hour later, she was fished out. The people who got her out said that she was dead before they realized that she was in there, that there was no saving her, that it wasn’t their fault.

Which, of course it wasn’t. It was mine.

Sure, we both wanted to be out there. It was even her idea.

But when she was pulled up, there was a gash on her forehead. Something had hit her. I had hit her. My skate had hit her head and knocked her out. If I hadn’t been so stupid, had gone for help instead of running to the water, she might’ve still been here, alive. There were so many things that she never got to do. Never went on her first date, had her first kiss, her first love. She wanted to be a doctor. Get married and have kids. Travel the world. Climb Mt. Everest, see the pyramids, go to the top of the effiel tower. She had her whole life in front of her. I killed her, and she never go to do any of that stuff, never got to experience life. And it’s all my fault.

“Lila?” I hear the soft voice of my brother outside of the treehouse “are you up there?”

I sniff, but don’t answer. I just want to be alone.

“I know that you’re there. If you don’t come down, I’m coming up.”

I still don’t answer, hoping that he’ll just leave. A moment later I hear the creaking of wood as he climbs up. He sits beside me, and puts his arm around my shoulder.

“It’s not your fault.” He tells me firmly This time I respond “Yes it is. I did it. I killed her.” “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes I did!” I sit up, now angry “I didn’t go inside to get help. I skated over to the water, tripped and fell in, and I kicked her in the head! The gash was there. She might’ve lived if it weren’t for me!”

Now he’s angry “Damn it Lila, you have to stop blaming yourself!”

“I blame myself because it’s my fault! I-“ “No! Shut up!” He yells “did you push her into the water? Did you purposely kick her to kill her? No! If anything it was my fault- you were unconscious, and I was too stupid to realize that you would go out alone!”

“Brantley, it wasn’t your fault.” “I know. But it took a long time for me to realize that. And it’s still hard. Sometimes I still think that I could’ve done more, saved her too.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I know.”

We sit in silence for a while. Suddenly he stands up and extends his hand.

“Come on.” He says

I look at him, perplexed “Where are we going?”

“Just come on. Trust me.” So I do. We walk slowly through the woods, past the trees. Brantley leads me. I have no idea where we’re going. We emerge from a path, and we’re in front of the lake.

“No.” I say “no way.”

“Lil, listen. After Celia died, I felt… broken.” He takes a deep breath “I couldn’t even function sometimes. It felt like I was dying too. I guess you’d understand that, huh?”

I nod. I do know how that feels. “Anyways,” he continues “it took me a while- less than you- but still. The way that I even kind of got back to being myself was by doing the things that I loved, like skating. I know that I wasn’t there for the whole thing. I know that you experienced it, the whole thing. I know that it’s different for you. You were there, under the ice. But now you need to come back on it.” He steps on and holds out his hand “come onto the ice with me.” I take a deep breath, and grab his hand. I close my eyes, and, ever so slowly, I step down onto the ice.