Bits of wrappers hidden under the store shelves crinkled as the fleshy tendrils of the mop moved back and forth across the cheap tiled floor. “What’s this?” Ryan looked up from the register. Inez continued to mop. A twisted smile crossed Ryan’s face, his voice grew louder “Stealing money from the till, are we?” The mop froze. Inez looked up, “What are you talking about?” “Looks like we are $50 short tonight.” Ryan held up a fist-full of cash. “And *you* were on register today. I just got here.” It was Inez’s first week on the job. She had been tempted by the lumps of cash every time she rang someone out. Who wouldn’t be? Especially when your belly’s empty and you’re not sure the lights will be on when you come home. But, she had resisted that temptation. She needed this job, and there weren’t many others around that would hire a 17-year-old dropout. “I didn’t take anything, if that’s what you’re trying to say.” She stared at him. “I don’t know.” He fanned his face with the bills. “Numbers don’t lie.” Ryan sauntered over toward the hot Cheetos and meat sticks. He placed his elbow up on the shelf and leaned in toward Inez. “You know… Bob would be pretty upset about this. He really, really, *really* hates when people steal from him.” Inez thought back to the rest of her day. Had she accidentally rung someone out? No, it couldn’t be. She had been careful, very careful. She used to get straight A’s in math, and nearly every other subject. She was meticulous, studious, someone with a lot of promise. And then… her mother got sick. Then everything seemed to fall apart. “I didn’t steal anything.” She spat out the words. “Well,” Ryan leaned in a little closer, “Seeing how this is your first week, and I’m a nice guy, I’d be willing to cut you a deal.” A shiver moved down her spine as his eyes moved up and down her face, almost searching for something. “What kind of… deal?” She said as her eyes narrowed. “You see, I could use a favor.” Thin lips stretched across his face. “How about you take my shift tonight?” “Your.. shift?” “Yeah. AND you can pay me for it, too.” The shit-eating grin grew bigger. “Wait… no.” She held her hands up and stepped back. “That’s bullshit.” “Well, hey.” He turned to walk back to the register, shouting over his shoulder. “I’m just trying to be a nice guy. I’m really putting myself at risk to try and cover you. But, if you want, have it your way.” “This is blackmail.” Inez stomped toward the register. “There is no way I took that money, and there’s no way I’m giving you anything.” “Look.” He leaned over the counter. “Either you lose a little bit of money, or you lose your job. It’s up to you.” “You… you...” She pointed her finger harshly. She could barely control the heated breath that rushed in and out of her lungs. Barely keep back the words that she wanted to say to him. She needed that money more than he could ever know. Taking an extra shift was one thing, she would always say yes. She could always use the money. But, *this*? “What’ll it be, darlin’?” Inez stood in silence for what felt like forever, trying to quell her rage. The breaths came in and out in giant rolls of hot air, like steam was billowing out of her nostrils. After a few deep breaths, she was able to fight back the urge to strangle him. Then, finally, she was able to calm down enough to talk. “... Fine.” Her glare was like an icy dagger. “Great!” Ryan grabbed his coat and trotted off to the door. “I really appreciate the favor.” Inez stood in silence, staring at the register. Her mind a constant buzz of memories from earlier in the day. Her head aching with a terrible pressure as she analyzed each passing thought. “Oh, and Inez.” Ryan turned around as the automatic doors opened in front of him. The shit-eating grin grew large enough to swallow a whole pig. “I really think I’m going to enjoy working with you.” She waited for the familiar ding of the doors to let her know he was actually gone. Then she rushed behind the counter and furiously counted all of the cash, dutifully noting the record of every purchase made during the day. It was short. Exactly $50 short. She counted it again. Still short. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out how it had happened. Unless… Ryan had snuck it out when she wasn’t looking as soon as he got into work. The CCTV cameras would show it for sure. But, she didn’t have access to them. And Bob wouldn’t be in until morning. Which, is when her shift would now end. It was only 11 PM. This was going to be a long, long night. The thought of her mother being alone that long, and not knowing where she was if she woke up… it was almost too much. She would call, but she didn’t have a phone. And Bob didn’t like personal calls being made on the store’s phone. Inez slumped against the back of the counter and collapsed into a heap, just out of view of the CCTV. There was no way out of this situation. She was trapped. *Ding*. The doors opened again. An icy blast flew in. It was 100 degrees when she came into work earlier. It wasn’t unusual to get too many customers on a weeknight this late. For some reason, this time she had a very uneasy feeling. Inez crept up, her eyes just glancing over the counter. Something moved past the edge of the aisle, and then seemed to disappear. She stood up and looked around. Then, near the fridges in the back, she saw it again. She crept over toward the aisles, trying to look nonchalant. Then she peeked behind them. A gangly mass of hair was draped around cheap leather. The pockets brimmed with the colorful coverings of chocolate bars, lollipops, and beef sticks. One hand stuffed a bearded face while the other clasped an oversized container of cheesy puffs. The figure grabbed a beer from the fridge. Then it turned and walked calmly, confidently toward the back door. The one that only employees use. “Hey.” Inez’s voice cracked into a tiny whisper as she tried to speak. She was almost right in front of him. The figure did not turn back. Didn’t even acknowledge her existence. He pressed onward, pushing his body through the swinging doors. Inez’s knees buckled. Her body started to shake. First Ryan, now this. Bob would have her head on a plate if he knew she let this guy get away. “Hey… HEY.” Inez stammered as she broke into a run. Her hands pressed against the swinging doors just as the man in the large coat disappeared behind them. “You can’t go back there!” Her body pushed through the opening. But, instead of the dingy back room that smelled of bleach and weed, there was a sudden drop. Before she knew it, she was falling. Air pushed past her face as she screamed into the empty nothingness. It was pitch black. She fell for what felt like forever. But it was probably only a few feet. Her body hit the ground with a large thump. The cold, hard, uneven ground scraped her nose and the side of her face like a cheese grater. Head bounced against the surface, the elbow of her sleeve tore open, a painful groan exited her lungs as the wind rushed out of them. She lay on the ground for a moment. In pain, trying to understand exactly what just happened. Then she looked up. The cruddy old chair of the back room was gone. The walls were dark slate and bare, no emergency exit signs, no labor rules. No buzzing, twitching fluorescent lights hung above her. There was only the light of a dozen moons hovering high above her head like a pack of scattered marbles. She tried to push herself up, but a stinging pain in her knee kept her pasted onto the ground. Painfully, she turned her neck to look behind her. The swinging doors were no longer there. The storeroom was gone. Everything was gone. In its place was a dark, cold world. Like the cliffs beside the ocean after midnight. But there were no lapping waves, and no shore to retreat to. Nothing but an endless sea of chiseled, dangerously tall blocks of stone stretching upward toward the haunting moonlight. As the fog danced slowly over the landscape, they revealed the endless winding of stone walls. Twisting and contorting around as if they were a maze. “You there.” A voice came from out of the darkness. Inez painfully forced herself up a little more, frantically, trying to find its host. Trying to be ready to defend herself. “What in the devil are you doing here?” A figure with a scruffy beard, slightly dotted with bright orange flecks stepped out of the shadows. The empty cheese puff container hung under the pit of his arm. Inez’s lips moved, but no words came out. A million thoughts swam through her mind as she tried to make sense of him. She must be dreaming. Maybe she fell and hit her head. That would explain the pain. There was so... much... pain. She had never had a dream this real before. The feel of the wet stone beneath her palms. The acrid taste of blood pooling out of her split lip and into her gaping mouth. “Well, out with it.” The bearded man stepped closer. “H… he…. Help me.” She whispered. “Me?” The man’s face turned down into a frown. “Help *YOU*?” Inez sat there with a pleading look on her face. “Oh, well isn’t that RICH.” He turned to the walls and shouted at no one in particular. “She wants *me* to bloody help *her*.” He stooped down to her, the wrappers in his pockets crinkling as he bent down. “Am I to be your rescuer then, eh?” His voice was low and unforgiving. “Am I supposed to scrape you up off the ground and lead you out of here like a god damn fucking savior? Could you be so unbelievably daft to be in this place and think that I would fall for something like that? Anyone you can get in here must find their own way out.” Inez’s eyes grew wide. The bearded man practically spat as he spoke every word. “Do you not know where you are, you dolt? Do you think I don’t know? I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’ll be damned if I spend one half of one percent of my energy helping a mindless idiot that dares to ask for anything HERE.” With a jolt, the man was on his feet again. Tattered brown leather swished into Inez’s tear-streamed face as he turned and walked away, back into the darkness. “WAIT!” Inez screamed, head searing, body aching. She looked up once more toward the sky and the jagged, endless row of dark stone. “Wait…” She whispered into the cold air as she sobbed. Just as the sleeve of her shirt was becoming soaked with tears and blood, she heard a noise. The clip-clopping of shoes. She braced herself for whatever might come out of the darkness. The bearded man appeared from the misty shadows again. He took a deep breath. “I had a moment to think.” Inez pushed herself up. “Please… help me…what is this...” “I was a bit harsh earlier.” He interrupted. “It was unbecoming of me, and I would not normally act like that. It’s just… this place. You have to be on your toes. I wanted to come back and apologize. I have a most urgent job to do and it almost made me forget my manners.” Inez smiled through her tears. “Then you’ll…” “Here.” He grabbed her hand. At first, Inez thought that he would grasp her hand and lift her up. But, instead, he pried her fingers open. Into her open palm, he placed a chocolate bar. “I can’t just leave you empty-handed. Here, think of this as a ‘good luck’ and ‘farewell’ gift from me.” A sad smile stretched across the dirty face before he turned around. Inez watched with horror as the bearded man disappeared for the last time.


Greetings, fellow writers. There are to be a few things introduced to this subreddit over the coming months. The first such thing is a "theme". This month's theme? Space Travel. If you've written something that involves space travel in the past, respond to this post with a link to it. If you write something new for the theme, respond to this post with that link as well. At the end of the month, this thread will be archived in the community wiki (an encyclopedia for the subreddit) for all future readers to digest. This will make it easier for them to find something for the mood they are in. Here is a sneak peak at what a few months will hold: - November 2013: Space Travel - December 2013: Winter - January 2013: Resolutions - February 2013: Time Travel As stated, however, only respond with links to space travel related short stories or serials you have begun. After February 2013, there will be no advanced warning on what the theme for the next month will be.


Grief Navigation 2020 GPS System Grieving is a process; a journey. This journeys length is different for every single person who experiences it, and is not equal to the amount of time it takes to "heal". It's a fucked up journey I wouldn't call into a radio show to win free tickets for. I'm gonna describe the journey to you like this, in a way you might understand if you've had your head up your ass: it's driving the struggle bus, guided by the Grief Navigation 2020 gps system. The struggle bus itself is a rusted, rickety old pile of shit. Something from the 60s and NOT well taken care of. Most of the windows are cracked, AC nor heat works and it's obvious at minimum one tire is a doughnut that was never replaced. The Grief Navigation 2020 gps system… never has and never will navigate you correctly to any destination. The voice that speaks directions out loud can not be muted and sounds like a failed Siri prototype speaking in Hooked-On-Phonics. The journey. It's indescribable in so many ways, and the worst thing anyone will ever go through. Like I said before it's different for everyone, cause I bet you already tuned me out. Pay attention. The devastation happens and just like that. Poof. Your vehicle is replaced with the struggle bus. You're upset from the devastation but the struggle bus? That is not real…? For some days, there is a true denial to accept that the rickety pile of shit is here to escort you on this journey. When clearly, it is indeed parked exactly where your vehicle was and has not budged. After these some odd days there is a moment, a realization or an understanding that happens. I won't call it acceptance of the devastation, because it's not. But you just know that it is time to board the rickety pile of shit, the struggle bus. There only appears to be one seat for you, the driver's seat. You turn the key and the struggle bus coughs and sputters to life as something you hear, but can't see boots up. In all it's odd, robotic, Hooked-On-Phonics glory it loudly announces it is the Grief Navigation 2020 gps system. It almost doesn't make sense. It asks where you'd like to go. Nowhere? Onward with every day life? Into a hole? The casino? The bottom of a bottle? Alcohol or prescription, there is no judgement here. Your answer doesn't matter to Grief Navigation anyway. From here you will drive the guided struggle bus to places like: Numb Creek, St. Furious, Gloomsville, Lonely Oaks, Rage Valley, Heartbreak Rapids, Regret Prairie, Depression Grove, Anxiety Park and Guilt Heights. That is only a handful of map examples the Grief Navigation system is equipped with. It will take you to visit these places in no particular order, over and over again. Even if you want to stay awhile in one place. If you want to stop and rest. If you want to leave. If you want to choose your next stop. And you will even find that you can somehow be in more than one of these places at the same exact time. No, believe me. I have no idea how one can be in Regret Prairie and Rage Valley at the same damn time either. You know, I have zero clue about when this journey ends, if it does. Or if you ever stop visiting these places in the struggle bus. I'm only describing the journey as far as I've travelled it. Because it needs to be described, spoken about more. Did you pull your head out of your ass? Did you pay attention? Cause someday your own vehicle just might go poof.


I had always thought a space walk would be an adventure, but now faced with that very task it only seemed terrifying. The computer had handled all of the leg work. It’s mechanical arms extended from the wall helping me click the helmet securely into place. I stared at the clunky metal airlock both unnerved and thankful that it could be my saving grace. “Computer, are you sure this suit will hold up?” I had been urging the computer to move faster as it helped me put everything on, but now I was wondering just how old the suit actually was. There were some things on the platform that were too old for comfort and doing a space walk would be useless if I didn’t come back. “I have done all the necessary tests, Aerie. There are no leaks. Proceed to the airlock” *** “Airlock’s secure Dimmer. Do you have sight on the target?” My eyes were twitching over the screen and my keyboard clacked as I moved my character down the corridor. There was a whole wall filled with monitors that lit up the entire room. “Not yet. Keep your eyes peeled.” “You’re the one with two sets of them.”

Dimmer along with myself were two of the dwindling population of people who hadn’t moved on to VR. I had never liked the idea of plugging myself into a computer. Virtual Reality would pull me too far out of the real world. I already spent most of my days playing games. That was why I took this job in the middle of nowhere on an empty mining platform orbiting an uninhabitable planet on the farthest edge of a galaxy. Oddly enough my gaming skills actually were an asset on my resume. It turns out the defense system of the platform had some similarities to gaming controls. My mother hated it. She also didn’t like the idea of me being alone in space, but it was only for a year while the planet replenished itself.

No one was going to come anywhere near the platform. Surrounding it was thousands of miles of empty space. *** Empty space lay just beyond the window. The computer had sealed the door behind me as it depressurized the airlock. My tether was hooked just beside the door, and I tried to take deep breaths. I had done training for this. It was needed to take the job, but I thought I would never use it.

I jumped as the computer came through the com in my helmet. It’s voice was too chipper for how tense I felt. “Depressurization complete. Deactivating simulated gravity.” My stomach churned and I was sure I could feel all of my organs shifting. I took one more deep breath as I slowly reached for the door release framed with black and yellow stripes.

I pulled it down feeling it click and the red light turned green. My nerves were yelling at me to move quickly, but the rules of zero gravity made that a very bad idea. The doors opened without a sound and despite there being no chance of me falling I felt a sense of vertigo as I looked out into the vacuum of space.

“Reminder to check your tether as you move. Ensure that it is locked into place before moving forward.” “Thank you.” “Remember I am here for your support.” I wasn’t sure how much support the computer could give me outside the ship. It wasn’t much use in the way of emotional support, but at the very least the words made me feel like I wasn’t alone. I slowly shifted out of the airlock attaching my tether outside and cringing as the doors shut without a sound. Now there was only the vastness of space and the thin tether holding me to the platform. *** The platform was not as boring a place to live as someone might think. It helped that I did most of my socializing through gaming, but I also had the computer which could do almost anything for me. The communication signal was one of the best you could get. I needed the boost, but if I were in any real danger it would take hours for anyone to get to the platform, hence the defense system. “Dimmer, the targets in the north eastern section of the building. It looks like my two eyes are better than your four.” I teased. He cursed at me in his mother tongue and I just laughed.

“Aerie, I am in need of external input.”

I sighed. “Duty calls Dimmer. Take them out for me will ya.”

I stretched as I got up. A lot of the external input meant a mechanical issue somewhere that I had to fix or a minor decision that needed to be made by a person rather than a computer. Everything that had to do with operating the platform was in the control room and that’s where I headed. “What’s the issue?” I collapsed into a seat waiting to be told which buttons to push. “It seems that ships have been detected nearby.” “How close?” I sat up straight looking out the window. There were windows on all sides to give a full view of the platform. I had only one other time that ships had come by. They were pirates and thankfully a show of the platforms defense system had been enough to get them to back off. After I stopped being terrified I felt pretty powerful showing off the big guns. “They will be in visual range within ten minutes.”

“Can you tell who they are?”

“They do not fit into any registered vessels in my database.” That was strange. “Can you make a conjecture about make and model?”

“I cannot.”

I looked out the window searching for the ships in the darkness but saw nothing. I sat down in the defense controls and started trying to convince myself that this was just a video game. When the pirates had showed up I hadn’t even needed to send off a shot. I hoped it was the same this time. “The ships should be in visual range.”

I squinted out the windows looking out all directions of the tower until I saw it. My blood went cold. Holy shit. *** “Holy shit.”

It wasn’t until I came around the side of the platform that I had a full view of ships. It was a whole fleet. I could only make out a few from the tower. If an entire fleet of ships hovering close by wasn’t worrisome enough, the fact that they had the Klarian symbol emblazoned on their hulls was. The Klarians were a race of people who were hell bent on spreading their ideals and conquering whatever planets they could. They hadn’t dared to come to this galaxy, but that didn’t seem to be the case anymore.

I wondered if they could see me on the outside of the platform. I had zero defense. This whole space walk would be useless if they could. “Computer record video.”

“Recording.”

I wanted proof of what was happening to send to the company. I barely could believe it myself, they would probably think I had just gotten bored and wanted to play a joke. I couldn’t expect them to take my word, and I kept my helmet towards the ships. I couldn’t see the small ship until it was nearly at the platform. My heart clenched as it landed and I knew the Klarian’s would be searching for any sign of a life. Any sign that someone could send an early warning. I concentrated on getting a full video of the fleet just to have a task to keep me grounded. “They have shut off the emergency broadcast. It seems that they are leaving.”

The emergency broadcast had been a long shot anyway without a message to go with it, but that thought didn’t make me feel any better. A few minutes later the ship took off again and I breathed easier, but I wasn’t out of this yet. I had something to do. *** I had to do something, but I had no idea what. My training hadn’t covered how to combat an alien race bent on dominating galaxies. Not to mention one person couldn’t stand against an entire fleet. “Computer, do they know that I am here?”

“Unclear. The platform is running on minimal power. The chances of detection are low.”

I nodded and I kept nodding until I realized I had been nodding for too long.

“Alright, send an automated message stating that they are entering protected space. If they continue forward there will be repercussions.”

“This platform does not have enough power to take on an entire fleet.”

“I didn’t say we would be the repercussions.” I snapped. The computer stating the obvious was not helpful at the moment. “Message sent.”

“Alright. That will probably do absolutely nothing. Plan B needed.” I scanned over the controls searching for some kind of answer. I pressed the emergency signal, but that would only go to the company. I started pacing. The company had no chance against the Klarians, but what else could I do? I had to get a message to them. If they came because of just the emergency signal they would be annihilated quickly. “Aerie, it seems that they have launched a small ship and it’s trajectory is this platform.”

My heart seized in my chest. I could take out a single ship, but chances are a bigger ship would take out the entire platform. If they found me there was no way that I would be able to warn anyone.

“Aerie, it seems that your gaming friend is wondering where you are.” “Shit.”

I ran out of the control room and back to my desk. I cut Dimmer off before he could speak. “Hi, yeah, there is a whole fleet of Klarian ships floating next to the platform.” “What?” All four of Dimmer’s eyes were wide and if the fate of the galaxy weren’t hanging in the balance I might have laughed. “Yeah me to, and apparently they are sending a ship here to check things out and well I would rather they not find me.”

“Go outside.”

“What?” My brain froze. “Go outside. Do a spacewalk. That way they won’t find you on the platform.”

“Okay. Okay. That could work.”

“Go, Aerie. Be safe.” Dimmer logged off.

I felt like all of my muscles were vibrating. “Computer, shut down all nonessential power. Make it look like no one has been here.” I headed to the airlock. *** I headed to the airlock relieved to be back inside. I stripped off my suit and quickly made my way back to the control room. I halted as soon as I was through the door. The controls had been blown to bits, melted metal curling outward from the blaster’s heat. “Computer, is it still possible to contact the company.” “Negative. Due to security reasons this is the only terminal that can contact the company directly.”

I dug my hands into my hair before looking out the window at the fleet. I had to send a message somehow. My eyes widened and I moved quickly towards my desk.

“Computer boot up my personal terminal.” I had no idea who I could contact, but I had to be able to get a message out to someone who could do something? The screens were shining bright as I fell into the chair and logged back on, connecting with Dimmer. “Oh stars, you're alive.” Dimmer was clutching his chest. In any other situation I would have called him dramatic. I had seen more emotion from Dimmer that day than I had in all the years I had known him. “Yes, I’m alive, but I have a problem. The Klarians took out my direct link to the company. This is all that I have left, but I don’t even know who to contact let alone how.” “How long do we have until they reach an inhabited planet?” Dimmer asked. I smiled despite myself as Dimmer’s tone shifted. Dimmer had always been a tactical gamer and I was thankful for that more than ever. “It took me about six hours to get here from the nearest inhabited planet, but that was on a transportation craft. Who knows how fast the Klarian’s ships are?” I tried digging through my brain, but fear had made it completely blank. “What if you did a live video? If you reach enough people surely you’ll reach the right people.” “Do you think that’s the best idea?” “Do you have any other ideas?”

I pursed my lips. I didn’t and I had to do something. I took a deep breath. “Computer, open a live feed to all my available channels and pull up the footage from my helmet.”

“I’ll send your video to as many places as I can think of. Aerie, get out as soon as you can.” Dimmer’s eyes shined with concern. “I will. You better get all the snacks I want when I visit you.” My chest ached at my attempted bravado. I’d send the message then get to an escape pod, but I didn’t let myself think past that. “I will buy you the whole store.”

I laughed. “I’ll deserve it.” “Your video is streaming and recording.” The computer said. I looked at the screen, my pale face lit only by the light of the monitors. A human gamer alone in the middle of nowhere. I took a deep breath. Here’s to saving the galaxy.


"Finish your dinner son, it's almost time" came his father's voice from the hallway. Andromeda hurried and finished his steak and salmon dinner, washing it down with some sweet red wine. He set down his glass and bolted from the dining room, knowing that the servants would quickly clean up after him. He caught up to his father and followed him down the hallway and out the back door. The evening mountain breeze was cool and brought the smell of the flower gardens to Andromeda's nose. His father stopped and looked at him for a moment. "Today is possibly the most important day of your life, certainly the day that you will remember the most". Without waiting for a reply his father took off and headed towards the wooded path. Andromeda gulped and followed, anxiety building with each step. Andromeda followed his father down the dark tree-covered path and into the next clearing. The tall iron gates of the family cemetery stood before him. In the 18 years he had been alive, today was to be the first time he was ever allowed into the graveyard. They both stood and admired the ancient metalwork for a while in silence. The gates held the family crest in its center with depictions of armies on each side with a gigantic tree in the background. Finally, Andromeda found his voice " Dad, what is going to happen when we pass through these gates? What will I see?". His father smiled slightly and turn to him. "Past these gates, you will see the end, the beginning, horror, and wonders." He hesitated a moment as if to reflect on what he just said, nodding slowly he continued. " You will see the power of the collective human consciousness at work." As soon as he finished speaking the gates shuddered and opened up. Past the gates laid a stone path lined with torches and hooded figures. They began to slowly walk forward, Andromeda looking all around him at the shrouded people and the ancient tombstones behind them. They continued on the path until they reached a large mausoleum at the base of the mountain. The stone crypt was guarded by several large men in dark armor that Andromeda didn't recognize. The doors to the tomb looked to be hand-carved from some sort of expensive hardwood. The carvings showed wolves and giants in battle. The doors groaned and opened up revealing a dark chamber beyond. "Past these doors son...you will learn that our family has a dark history and a darker secret. Our ancestors have had to do some terrible things to maintain the power we have and unfortunately for us. We have to continue or everything will be destroyed." Andromeda felt a slight twinge of sickness in his stomach. "What kind of terrible thing?" He asked his father, scared of the answer. His father sighed and suddenly looked 10 years older. "Murder, genocide, war, the birth and death of religions, manipulation of currency and the media, and even the destruction of nations". Came his reply. " In truth" continued his father. "Our family deserves the worst of punishments, but we can't allow that to happen...we must continue this dark fight and here shortly you'll see why." Andromeda nodded, trusting his father even as the feeling of dread filled his heart. They walked side by side through the chamber and down a long, dark staircase. After what seemed like an hour Andromeda could see light flickering ahead. Sweat trickled down his back regardless of the damp coolness of the subterranean stairs. Arriving at the final landing he took stock of his surroundings. Ahead of him stood a company of soldiers in the strange armor the men outside had been wearing. Behind them stood two massive wooden doors with intricate carvings and heavy black chains. A strange vibration radiated from the wood. A soldier walked over to him and his father and handed them strange helmets. "Wear these helmets, it's the only way to protect yourself from the chaos on the other side of these doors." His father thanked the soldier and slid the helmet over his head. Andromeda asked, "what exactly do we need to be protected from?" His father's muffled reply came from the helmet in Andromeda's hands "have you ever heard the scream of an angel or the cries of a demon? Without these helmets, our minds and souls will shatter". Andromeda pulled on his helmet and felt his heart skip a beat. The heavy black chains began to shake as they pulled back into the walls. The doors slowly creaked open and Andromeda felt his father push him forward and they both passed over the threshold. The doors slammed behind them. Andromeda gawked in confused amazement. The ceiling of the massive cave he now stood in was hidden by a swirling cluster of stars and planets, lightning flashed in clouds and thunder tore through the massive space. The floor of the chamber was a mix of broken pathways and pillars, the flow of a hellish fire illuminated the room. Directly ahead of him a man was chained to a pillar. He wore armor that was rusted and dented, behind him was two massive white wings. The wings were broken and tired together. The man had nails stuck in his eyes. Behind his pillar was a massive giant of a man with a red beard. He was chained in a similar fashion. Slowly Andromeda realized that there were countless beings chained to pillars and walls. All of them in terrible and broken conditions. Andromeda looked desperately to his father for an answer. " Religion" "What?" His father placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly. "Religion, you're looking at religion. That winged man is the Archangel Michael and behind him is the Norse God Thor. Our secret is that we have imprisoned the Gods. We keep them here until they completely fade away from memory. Unfortunately, though, the Gods gain and lose power as humans lose faith or start believing in these powerful entities." A terrible scream tore through the air and pushed Andromeda to his knees. His father continued calmly. "Humans create gods through the power of belief. The more people who believe in the Gods, the more powerful they become. Our great ancestors knew this and began a war on religion. They were shown a technology that allowed them to find and subdue these all-powerful creatures. A technology that the men outside of this prison use currently to hunt down and capture them. It's a constant fight and one we are starting to lose." Andromeda was having difficulty comprehending what he was seeing and hearing. "Who...who gave us the tech?" "A powerful being from another world, yes you could say that a god gave us the tech so we would remove all of the other gods for it's the inevitable occupation of our Earth. Not only do we use its technology, but we have also worked ever so hard to discredit all religions. Our efforts have backfired greatly though. We created the Abrahamic religions in an attempt to control the population. All we have gotten though are countless versions of God, Satan, and endless war. We now have a resurgence of Norse Paganism and that terrifies me. The last thing I want is Fenrir to break free." Andromeda's mind was numb, he was on the verge of a panic attack and his mind couldn't absorb any more of the truth he was seeing. "Welcome to the endless war, to the family power, to the service of our Lord who you will learn about starting tomorrow, and ultimately...our guaranteed doom.


One night I Maria went upstairs to read a book but suddenly I heard noises down stairs I went to wake up my daughter Paula we both went to check what was going on suddenly the lights were turning on and off we both got scared that we went running upstairs to my room then we heard a loud noise it sounded like they drop some dishes on the floor then suddenly we heard footsteps coming upstairs I had the Bible in my hands and also a cross from God in my hands my daughter was so scared that she couldn't wait until the night went over then it was morning then somebody nock on the door I look threw the window it was my friend omar he came to visit us we told him what happened at night he couldn't believe the house was hunted he told us to bring a] padre to the house to put Holly water so spirits can go away from the house so I decide to call a padre to do his work in the house the next night there we're no noises in the house me and my daughter were so happy that we slept good at night and we ate breakfast in the morning then suddenly the house seem normal no more noises at night then we decided to throw a big party in the house invite my friends and my daughter friends we decide not to tell anybody of our friends that the house was hunted my daughter went the next day to school she came from school went upstairs to do her homework suddenly she heard a noise outside she saw a men standing outside spying on her she was so scared that she call the police the guy disappeared when my mom came from work I told her about the man being outside I told my daughter when she came from school to lock all doors and windows the next day I decided to buy a house alarm for the protection of my daughter from that stranger guy that was outside when I went to work I leave my daughter some dinner for her to eat she comes from school eats dinner and does her homework and goes to bed only the days she stays up late when she doesn't goes to school me and my daughter wash movies and get some popcorn to wash the movie we wash scarry movies or action movies sometimes cartoon movies we enjoy the night together or sometimes we make fresh homemade cookies to wash the movie and relax we even play monopoly to have some fun together on my day off I take my daughter to the movies we buy a big soda to share with some popcorn then we go home to relax then the next day I go to work and my daughter goes to school one day the school call me cause my daughter had a fight with a student from class the reason she fight her is because that girl was making fun of my daughter she was telling my daughter didn't match with her clothes so my daughter got mad and fight her she got suspended from school for a whole week one of her best friend brought her homework to the house then when her week suspension went over she tried to ignore that girl that she fight with so she wouldn't get in trouble from school so my mother would be proud of me from not getting in trouble no more I had good grades in school all A's in my classes my mother was proud of me when I was walking from school back to my house I suddenly look at a house that freaks me out the lights turn on and off by itself and nobody leaves in that hunted house I always end up running cause I was so scared of that house its every day I go to school I see that hunted house I get really scared it reminds me of my hunted house that I leave in thanks to the padre he took the ghost out of my house it was coming prom night my mother took me shopping for a beautiful dress the color of my prom night dress was royal blue dress very long my friends at school love my dress my partner for the dance was my best friend omar we dance all night enjoy the food and had a fun night at the prom he took me home on his black convertible car then before I got out of the car he gave me a kiss and told me if I wanted to be his girlfriend I said yes right away cause I always felt butterflies in my stomach when I see him at school he is so cute that I fail in love with him then it was graduation night my mom bought me another beautiful dress this time it was red dress kind of short to my knees when graduation was over my mother made me a big party at the house I invite all my friends from school we had champagne to celebrate our graduation party we had Mexican food to celebrate our graduation party we all had so mush fun we put music to dance I dance all night with my boyfriend omar he told me I look so pretty with my red dress I told him thank you and I told him he look cute with his black tuxedo so we end up kissing again at my party my mother was serving the food to my friends at the party we had Mexican tacos enchiladas a delicious cake that my mother made some margaritas that my mother put little bit of alcohol and some salad also all the food was so delicious that I got really fool me and my boyfriend got fool from eating a lot that me and my boyfriend went for a little walk before it got dark then came back to the house the next morning me and my mom did some cleaning from the party then me and my mom went to the mall to eat Chinese food then she bought me some cute black boots that cost like 50 dollars at the mall we had fun at the mall.


Dumpster Drivers Patsy peeked out her blinds and grabbed her notebook. She watched the dumpster every night to make sure that people from other neighborhoods weren’t using the dumpsters. There had not been enough room in the dumpster for all the residents of the condo community to put their trash. And there were various and sundry rumors about strangers using the dumpster and or walking through the neighborhood at night. Patsy was determined to catch someone. She felt a rush of adrenalin when she saw a gray car pull up. Someone jumped out of the car and put a  Patsy grabbed her pen to write down the license number, but the driver had a temporary tag. There was no way to prove whether or not the person was a resident of the community. Patsy stared at the window again. Surely, she would catch someone or see something interesting. Patsy had lived alone all of her life. She liked living out in the county. She loved listening to the sound of cicadas, crickets, and watching the deer gather at night. The critters and sounds of nature made her feel a little more connected with the world around her.  She’d never been married and her brother was the only family member she had. She and her brother had been estranged for years. She’d moved into the condo neighborhood since the eighties and had been watching the dumpsters every night for the past decade. Anytime she saw suspicious behavior, she would call Condo Cathy, the President of the condo association and report her findings. Condo Cathy had recently changed her number, so Patsy called other residents. She felt like people tried to avoid her even though she was trying to do something for the community. It was a myth that the condo association didn’t want people under the age of fifty to move into the condo community, but children were prohibited, as the Condo Association wanted to prevent “certain kinds of people” from moving into the community. The two women were the youngest residents in the community, and Patsy needed to find out more about them. What if those two women were in some kind of romantic relationship? Yes, times were changing, but that was so unnatural. Patsy walked over to the window again and perked up when she saw someone’s headlights.  A young woman walked out of the car. It was one of the ladies who walked the collie! The woman was sobbing and put three garbage bags into the dumpster. The woman drove away. Patsy grabbed a flashlight, crept outside and walked over to the condo where the strange women were living. There definitely was a story there, and she would have so much to tell Condo Cathy. Patsy perked up when she heard a door slam. The woman she saw at the dumpster was throwing things. “Get out. Just get out!” she yelled. The other woman poked her head out the door. Patsy ducked behind the bushes. “I’m going to call the police if you don’t calm down,” the woman yelled. Patsy guessed the women were probably in their early forties. Her pulse was racing.

“I want you out,” said the woman who was at the dumpster. “All you do is stay in bed all day.” “I have fibromyalgia and my job is exhausting. I don’t need this stress in addition to everything else,” said the other woman. “Then leave.” The door slammed. The woman who had been at the dumpster went back into the house. She came out with another garbage bag and headed towards the dumpster. Patsy turned off her flashlight ducked again. She had to be careful about walking at night, as there were lots of copperheads. Patsy waited till the woman was half-way to the dumpster and than crept out from behind the bushes. The woman was sobbing. Patsy tripped over a pine cone just before she got near the dumpster. The woman looked over her shoulder. “Julie?” Patsy’s pulse raced. What if the woman was a psychopath? Would she hurt an elderly woman who meant no harm? “Who is there?” The woman took out a flash light. Patsy tried to hide behind a tree. “Who are you?” Patsy slowly emerged. “I’m Patsy. I live around the corner. I heard some noise and wanted to make sure everything is okay. “ The woman sniffed. “Everything is fine,” she said. “Well, I heard yelling and stuff. You okay?” Patsy asked. “Are you?” “Also, we have to limit how much trash put into the dumpsters cause they get full so fast.” The woman paused. “Well, I’m moving. And I’m having to throw out stuff.” “You’re moving? Didn’t you just get here? The woman took several deep breaths. “Things aren’t working out,” she said. “I’m sorry,” Patsy said. “My roommate is mentally ill, and she’s having a psychotic breakdown.” Patsy’s eyes widened. She wanted to ask the woman why she was the one who had been throwing stuff, but that might be dangerous. How could Condo Cathy let those kind of people into the community anyway? The woman started crying again. “I thought it would be good for us. We both have always lived alone. It’s hard to be alone,” the woman said. Patsy’s eyes watered. Now the woman was making a little sense. Even crazies needed company, but two crazies couldn’t make a well-be. “I’ve lived alone all my life. My Mama used to say being alone is better than being left alone. By the way, I’m Patsy.” The woman shook her hand.

“I’m Mary. It’s going to be expensive if she moves out. She’s paying part of the rent. Patsy wrinkled her nose. There was supposed to be restrictions on renters. She would have to ask Condo Cathy about the policy, as she didn’t want more rowdy neighbors, but she did feel bad for the woman. Her kind of craziness was starting to make a little sense. “But it is hard being alone. I keep myself busy. If you stay busy, you won’t feel alone. I’m part of the community watch.” The woman nodded. “Well, that’s good you’re busy,” she said. The woman wiped her eyes. “So who is moving?” “My roommate is moving out. All she does is sleep all day, and she’s about to lose her job. She’s missed too many days at work.” “How’d you get mixed up with someone like that?” “We met at an apartment complex. The rent kept going up, so we decided to rent a place together. She seemed to have it together.” Patsy nodded. “Well, you can’t always tell with people. Sounds like you’d be better off without her. It’s better not to get too involved with some people. I like my neighbors, but I keep to myself. You just can’t tell about people.” Mary nodded. Patsy looked up at the sky. The stars were so bright on such a clear night. Patsy had never paid much attention to the stars. She’d been too busy watching the dumpster. “Well, you’re better off not having a roommate if she don’t treat you right. And if you ever need company I live over there.” Patsy pointed to her condo. “Thanks. I guess I better be getting home.” Mary said. “Good luck,” Patsy said. Patsy watched Mary walk back to her condo. The woman looked so alone. Yes, it was good not to get too mixes up with people, but sometimes a person just needed to talk. Maybe Mary wasn’t really crazy, but the roommate was driving her over the edge. Bad company could definitely make a person crazy. Patsy walked towards her condo. After she entered her condo, she decided she’d get some sleep before sunrise. When she’d gotten into her bed, she’d wondered what her life would’ve been like if she’d taken more risks and allowed people into her life. But maybe there were worse things than being alone. At least she’d finally made a friend. sometimes a person just needed a friend and there was always hope disreputable people could find themselves and turn their lives around.


I woke up with a start. Someone was hammering the door to the flat. I looked around wildly – Jimmy and Kevin were up and about. I could see Kevin’s back, facing the door with his arms outstretched. Jimmy was behind him, hunched and making whimpering, sobbing noises. I swung my legs off of the sofa, shaking. I was embarrassed that I’d fallen asleep before the kids I was supposed to be babysitting. And guilty. Was this karma? My limbs still felt dead from sleep, but I forced myself to stand. As I did so, the door hammered again, hard. “Let me in, kids!” I gasped, and my tension melted a little. It was the kids’ mother. She hadn’t called, and hadn’t meant to be back until tomorrow. I took a step to the door. “Don’t!” screamed Kevin, freezing me. I suddenly noticed what he was holding. A silver pistol, far too big for his hands, pointed at the door. It unnerved me how steady his hands were. Beneath that little mop of brown hair was a determined, detached expression. I wondered where he’d got that. Beside him, Jimmy was clearly terrified. He wasn’t quite holding onto Kevin, but he was close behind, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. The door hammered again and their mother’s voice came, sweetly. “Kids!” it came, drawn out questioningly. “Please just open the door.” BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG. Why was she hammering? I looked from the door nervously back to Kevin. He didn’t look at me, eyes trained on the door. I didn’t know their mother well, but she’d always been polite. Normal. Nothing to suggest that she was any different. The kids were kids, but as far as kids go some of the most well-behaved I’ve ever met. They’d been happy to occupy themselves with the TV until bedtime. I had just been about to put them to sleep, that must have been when I’d nodded off. As my mind unclouded, harsh sensibility began to regain control. This was completely out of hand. “Give me the gun,” I said to Kevin. I extended my hand and reached towards him. “You don’t understand,” he said. His voice didn’t crack. ‘Isn’t he only ten?’ questioned my tired mind. “That’s not our mom.” I frowned, shushing the little sudden drop in my stomach that felt a little bit like panic. “Kevin,” I said in a slow, measured tone. “That IS your mother.” His voice did crack this time. “It’s NOT!” His eyes moved away from the door, just for a fraction of a second, to mine, and in that second I saw a very scared little boy. Not fear of being reprimanded, not even fear of being belted. It was the kind of fear that kids shouldn’t know about at that age. His eyes flicked back to the door and he rearranged his grip on the gun, shifting his stance and licking his lips. His voice came again in a tiny whisper. “That’s not mom. That’s not mom.” I didn’t know what to do. The hammering came again. I couldn’t believe how strong she was. It sounded almost like it was going to break down. Why was nobody else in the building coming? My mind was breaking down under the possibilities. Something was very wrong. But I was the adult. I couldn’t just go back inside and hide under a blanket, as much as I might have wanted to. ‘There’s a simple way to solve this’, piped up my rational mind. ‘Go look in the peephole’. I looked at it, and then back to Kevin and Jimmy, and voiced my intentions. “I’m going to go and look through the door,” I said quietly. Why was I being so quiet? My rational brain chided me, but I shut it up. Kevin looked like he was trying to say something. He started a word, then trailed off. As I stepped forward to the door, he inched a little closer with me, as though every centimetre were paper-thin ice that might suddenly shatter. The door was only a few feet away, but it felt like no-man’s land. I didn’t want to take those steps, but I did. My heart thudded as I stopped in front of it. BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG. The last thundering blow was punctuated, as though they were trying to break THROUGH the door. I’d never noticed before, but it was incredibly study. The chain rattled with every blow. I let out a quiet breath as I stepped up to it. The thudding stopped. I moved the peep hole aside. I screamed. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. My feet kicked back and I scrambled back across the hallway on all fours, gibbering. Jimmy cried and moved out of my way as I got back behind the line he’d formed. Kevin stepped back in front of us, white as a sheet. “I told you,” he said quietly. The hammering started again. “Let me in! Let me in!” it came, that voice just like their mother’s but different. I hadn’t noticed the subtle different before, but now it terrified me. Had it been their mother, behind that door? Had it been something else? I felt like I was in a dream. A nightmare. It had to be. I held hands with Jimmy, and found myself crying with him. I woke with a start. The lights were out. I was on the sofa, covered in a blanket. Those sweet kids must have covered me after I fell asleep. My breath rattled out of my chest in a sigh of relief. I got my icy feet to the floor, the fresh terror of the dream subsiding, and shakily walked to the lightswitch. The doorbell went. I must have jumped almost through my skin. My heart was racing again. I felt supremely silly. I glanced towards the boys’ bedrooms before walking into the hallway and turning on the light. “Hello?” I called. It was the mother. “It’s just me,” she said. “I got done sooner than expected, so I’m home a little early. Will you take off the chain?” “Yeah,” I said with a smile on my face. I was sure that my cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. Before I took off the chain, I opened the peephole and looked through. It was their mother. Something inside me unclenched, I took a breath, and I took the chain off the door, opening it. She came inside, taking little steps as she made noises of tired relief. “How were the kids?” she asked, “alright?” I thought back to the dream nervously. “They were angels,” I laughed. “I’ve just gotta go to the bathroom, and then if you like you can go home,” said the kids’ mother. “I’ll pay you for tonight, is that okay?” “Sounds great,” I said. She went into the bathroom and I settled down onto the couch, pulling the blanket into a pile on my lap. I made to collect my belongings from the table. I noticed that my phone was blinking and checked the messages. There was one from a minute ago. It read: “Hope the kids are okay. See you tomorrow.” The bathroom door opened.


He clutched the stems of the melancholie souls in a deathly grip, waiting anxiously for the potbellied owner of the flower shop to finish business with the boy in the late twenties and his order of a 2 dozen roses. Quite pretty they were, the rose flowers, with their red petals dank from the morning dew. Far auspicious a blossom than the ones he was currently gripping, like his life very much depended on it. He'd thought these flowers, the melancholie souls, were quite apt for the occasion he was getting them fo r , because you see, Dariel was not acquiring these for some college sweetheart or as a prop for the coming valentines day. Instead, they were for his wife, stage IV cancer, limping through her final days on IV tubes. He had wanted something more felicitous as a final farewell, something along the likes of marigold, or a bunch of tulips, instead of a pretty symbol of sorrow, but decided against it at the very last moment. For the past 6 months, they've pretended to be a happy couple, ignoring death waiting by the door, fantasized being surrounded by vanilla scented candles and not the sterile odor of the hospital, and as Brayleigh's pragmatic soul would have it, she wanted her last few weeks to be free of the veils of deception and as she called it, free of that "happy little bubble". So there was Dariel, buying Melancholie Souls for his dying wife, instead of being by her side in her last moments. *** The flowers arranged neatly in a vase next to Brayleigh's bedside table seemed to mock Dariel as he sat with the blank sheet of paper in front of him. He'd decided to write a letter to her, something short and sweet to send her off in the next life with little to no regrets. He'd write it down the most prettily and read it out while holding her hand and yes, it would be the most perfect of goodbyes. There was no clean way to enter the deeply folded sections of the heart, so he just picked the pen up, and he poised it over the sheets he'd borrowed from the hospital reception and surprisingly, came up blank. ' How the hell do you even say goodbye?' he wondered absently, then after a brief pause, started writing. "How the hell do you even say goodbye?" Dariel wrote, the ink bleeding and staining his fingers. "... goodbye to someone for whom you baked cupcakes and banana breads for on Sunday's, whose love felt like the ocean and I, the most romantic of shipwrecks, the waves keeping the bits and pieces of me forever afloat. Perhaps, forever is an overstatement. The ocean waves has to calm and settle someday, and when they did, I could feel those pieces of mine slowly sinking. Naw, scratch that. Sinking rapidly. Too damn fast for me to find a piece of wood to stay afloat in an expanse of water that's only ever going to be you. My love was such, that I'd always known I'd never get tied to another girl as long as I lived. 'What if I die?' you had asked. 'Even then', I had declared. " Dariel paused and frowned at the incessant poetic rambling that seemed to crawl over the page like ants on a lost mission. His thoughts seemed to go astray like the wind, blowing in all directions, distracting him from the job he was trying to accomplish. So he took a deep breath, composed himself, and tried writing further, " So, believe me when I say that this is the hardest thing I've ever done. Yes, asking you out as a horny teen does not top the list, although it comes a close second. The first time we kissed? Stars above, it felt good (I know they advised you against falling in love with a writer, who'll immortalize you in their PTSD and make you their muse, but you consoled yourself thinking; 'well, at least he'll write beautiful odes to the mole under my left eye and one liner's to our first kisses' but look at me, describing the synching of our lips and our heart as 'good'). It wasn't perfect in any way though, our kiss. We fumbled over a solid minute on the correct way to tilt the mouth so they would just 'slide' over one another efficiently, before finally settling on an owl's-curious-head-tilted pose, with nose bumping and teeth clashing. Yes it wasn't perfect, but first timers are never meant to be anything but memorable. And they sure were, considering the fact that the taste of your strawberry lip-gloss is still afresh in my mind, as vivid as if I held you in my arms just yesterday-" *** I stopped again, crinkling up the paper in my apparent frustration. What I meant to write was a "short and sweet" goodbye, not this thing I was putting down, whatever it was. A reminiscent poem? I tried to bring my emotions under check and considered what I was going to put down next. That I'm sorry you have to go. I'm sorry that we aged a lot sooner than we had hoped. That I love you, Bray. I'd tell you how you was the first person my poetry held in her palms with such intensity, memorizing and forging free verses to the curve of your lashes and soliloquys to the cupid's bow of your lips and I? I just listened and wrote them. We 'd made that promise, Bray, remember?.... and just like that, my thoughts drifted again, like an aimless wind changing directions without any afterthought, " remember how we said that when sickness will consume the best of us, when one would be lying on a hospital bed like such, the other would find the courage for the last kiss. They'd sneak in some frosted cupcakes on Sunday's and maybe Tuesday's too. The banana bread will be half cooked and the chamomile tea a little too bitter, but we'd gulp it down like ambrosia itself. At that time, it felt like such a faraway vow, you know, a speculation for the hobbling phase of life, but the day we woke up with a greyed hair that moved when we moved, was the day that genuinely scared me. You see, for all my love drenched poems of bravado, I'm a coward, especially in the matters of heart. Especially in the thoughts of losing you. Maybe that's why I've tiptoed around the sleeping form of this goodbye letter that I'm trying to write. 'To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence'' wrote Antoine de Saint-Exup éry, and if that's that case, I'd happily unlatch my soul from this mortal body and spend the rest of my life as an empty husk. After you're gone, I'd go on with my everyday life as usual; folding the clothes on Wednesday's (on autopilot), washing the dishes on Saturday's, but never again will a cupcake be baked. Unless it'll be your death anniversary, and on that day I'll sit by the fireplace like we used to each evening, and write elegy's to what we were before, and what I was right now, a dead man's poem. Only on those days will I allow myself to feel even a miniscule amount of grief that my soul is battering with right now, because if it would have been any more, I would find myself very tempted indeed to carry through the desire of stopping my heart when your own does." Not able to go any further with the opaque wall of tears obscuring my vision, I set the weeping pen aside and neatly folded the page in half and rose, to find the monitor beside your bed going "beep, beep, beep" the air in the room shifts, stills. I become acutely aware of hope departing, leaving the door half open for death to come wander in. Confused, I scream at hope to stop, to be by your bedside a little longer, just enough so I could hold your hand one last time and read out this letter, just enough to- "beeeeeeeeeeeeep..." "beeeeeep..." "beeeep..." -static- *** In the end, Dariel stood in that hospital room, floor scattered with broken promises and withered melancholies, clutching the goodbye letter like his life depended on it, and to say half the truth, it did. In the end, he didn't have the courage for the last kiss. In the end, hope arrived exactly when hope is supposed to. And hope left exactly when hope must, and just like the wind, Brayleigh was gone. ----


***TRIGGER WARNING*** Details of abuse, rape and child lose. The cut-throat razor barely glistens anymore. Years of slicing, scraping and shaping have gradually worn it down. Made it obsolete. Its bluntness won't deter me though, I'll just have to cut a little harder. I turn it in my hand, a museum clerk appraising a lost relic, a murderer savouring the moment, a lover lost in loneliness. Your initials are almost worn from the walnut handle. I had it engraved specially, just for you, gold leafed, just for you. Everything just for you. Everything. The massacre streaked clown in the mirror looks so pathetic that a nervous laugh bubbles up out of nowhere. This bathroom was a haven of sorts, my safe space, cool, refreshing, running water to hide my tears, a lock to close away your anger. I eye the splintered, patched, smashed and repaired door frame, multiple screw holes never filled, a sad account of your determined strength. Some locks just weren't built to hold back your unbridled love. I run a hand through my thick red curls, gathering them as the executioner gathers his noose, hosting them over one trembling gibbet of a shoulder. They were always so overbearing, so demanding, so you. “Love your hair.” Your first words to me all those years ago. Fresh faced out of university, leaning against the packed bar like the world owed you something and you’d arrived to collect. Damn but you were James Dean cool. I tripped right into those ocean blue eyes of yours, sipping my cocktail to hide my stupid giggles at every one of your terrible jokes. Then you kissed me. You. Kissed. Me. Two years, two glorious years of sunny holidays, dancing, surprise gifts, moonlight dinners, it was everything a goddamn hallmark movie wants to be. Even a proposal before the crackling yuletide fireplace. But I said no. Perhaps my gut knew you better than I did, perhaps it could see through your slick greased hair and perfectly manicured nails to something much rougher. Yes I loved you, yes you were good to me, but that wasn't enough. I was only twenty three after all. I could hardly imagine a month ahead, never mind years. Then came one late period, two blue lines, and another reason to say yes. Small and fast. Not the adjectives you want to hear from your fiance's parents when planning a wedding, but they were the big city lawyers with the dinero so who was I to say no. I should have though. No to the proposal, to the holidays, to the kiss. To you. But that was my problem, maybe it's better to call it a weakness. I'd never been one for confrontation, always scared of violence. Still it found me all the same. I'm sure some second year psych student could tell me why. Maybe because daddy hit mommy whilst you cowered behind the sofa, they might say. If only I still cared. So they planned the wedding, the bride an afterthought, their special little boy front and center. Swollen, bloated and sore all over, simply the perfect combination for a perfect day in white. Although your bitch mother demanded I wear cream, the good Catholic that she is and all that. I forced a smile, we kissed, they applauded, we signed a registration and suddenly I officially became we. I never realised what I was signing away until weeks later. It was playful at first, make dinner wife, get me a beer wife, I would snigger and waddle to the task at hand thinking it all a joke. But the punchline never came. Ten weeks out from meeting our precious little boy and you came home drunk. Another late night with the rest of the rookies from the station. You called out my name in that disgusting sing-song as you stumbled down the hall, like you were some cheap horror villian. You never were cheap though. Sex. You wanted it. I didn't. You demanded it. I said no. You stared with a killer's glint. I made for the stairs. You pulled me by the hair. I screamed. You laughed, pushed, held, tore, forced, ripped, choked, came. I wailed, all night, until trauma and fatigue carried me from one nightmare to another. Searing, crippling pain woke me. Barbed wire tightening around my belly, kicks and punches coming from within. Something's wrong mammy, help me mammy. My child, my boy. The crisp bed sheets of the guest bedroom puddled in our blood, I…. The memory is too much, the blade clatters in the sink, I grip the porcelain edge sobbing for the child that never was. I didn't just lose a son, I lost the possibility of everything he could have been. I lost the 'what if'. I tear at the strap of my black velvet dress, three days was enough to mourn you. I'm done. Should have left you years ago, but I stayed for twelve years. Twelve, fucking, years of abuse followed by roses, slaps followed by kisses. But never an apology or explanation. You moved us half way across the country for a fresh start, so you could be a detective. What a shit one you were. And I took the brunt of all your failures. Always thinking it's the drink, or the pressure, or the grief. More fool me. The dress slinks to the ground and I stroke my yellow mottled ribs, your last and final kiss. I grab the razor, my hands shaking. There's no point waiting anymore. I hack, and slash, and slice. Red ribbons spill onto the bathroom floor, dropping like autumn leaves, the dead falling away so the new can begin. Blood runs in rivulets down my forehead, across my ears, stings my eyes. Look at me, a fucking shield maiden of old, barbarian here to stab and maim. Steam clouds everywhere, the shower washes away the blood, makeup, and phantom grief with it. Oh I put on a show for you darling. The perfect grieving wife by your fresh grave. Dripping, I pad across your pristine hardwood floors to the landing. Only two weeks ago I stood down there watching the men in white put out their little numbered yellow placards, bright flash photos highlighting the judging detective's glares. One of their own found dead. An accident? Murder? I was prime suspect number one. Of course. As I knew I would be. I descend past the remnants of shattered spindles, where you twisted your arm, the badly repaired plaster where you struck your back, the glorious final step where you cracked your head, snapped your neck ever so sweetly. My fingers touch the well scrubbed blood splatter that keeps coming through the paint. Stories tell us death smells bad, to me it stinks of casserole and flowers. I need a drink. You always told me I was embarrassing when I drank vodka, so guess what I reach for. Closing the fridge door I see Dolores' back porch light is on. Our little signal. She is awake and there if I need her. She's the only good thing that came from our move here. An unexpected friend when I really needed one. She knew the tell tale markers, big sunglasses, turtle necks jumpers in midsummer. She never pushed, only told her own story over our shared fence. Her husband came back from war a different man. Seems a uniform and gun change some people. Or gives them permission to be the bastards they always were. We bonded. She was the shoulder I cried on, the mother I never had, the best of friends. An ally. An accomplice. I wrap myself in a throw from the sofa and slide open the patio door. Swigging my booze I wander across the lawn to the crackling bonfire. Your suits, pictures of you, our wedding album, everything with you in it. Everything. Bye bye darling. I run my hand over my stubbled head, wince at one of many cuts, then laugh. "You did it then?" I don't need to turn to know it's Dolores, for a woman close to seventy she moves like a cat. You would never hear her enter your house, or cross a landing, especially if you were distracted arguing with your wife. "The neighbours are going to think I lost my mind," I hold out the bottle. "Let them." She drinks deep, smiles at me, puts one arm over my shoulder. I lean in. "Thank y–" "No, never thank me dear. Sure we were in the backyard saying our goodbyes. Remember?" I breathe deep the smoky air. "Is it working?" She asks, nodding towards the fire. "Strangely, yes." It was another of Dolores' ideas, she's great for ideas. Get rid of all that was you, all that held power or sway over me. Like a ceremony, cut it out, burn it away, until you are nothing but a shadow and ash. "So you feel better?" I tilt my head to the full moon, resisting the urge to howl, the night breeze gently caressing my bare, glistening skin. My edge is coming back. I smile, a wide deeply felt smile. "I feel free."


A desperate and destitute farmer turned to God after his harvest failed. Hungry and penniless, he was not able to feed and take care of his daughter. The heavy rains had flooded his fields and ruined his crops. One cloudy day after mass the farmer stood watching the clattering of raindrops on the slate walls of the church steeple. His eyes transfixed on the rough black texture and he became entranced with the rhythmic repetition nature provided. The pastor grabbed the latch on the door after the last parishioners had left the church, taking a moment to ponder at the poor farmer who had steadily refused alms. With a worried look he pulled shut the door behind him, to prevent further wetting of his robes.   The farmer stood exposed to the elements, not paying any mind to the wind and rain slashing around him, wetting his cloak and breeches. He felt weightless in the dark, as if there were no veil between him and God. His internal dissociation brought him closer to the elements, closer to the surface of the slate walls. His eyes widened when he saw her, the pristine shape of the virgin Mary falling off the slate bricks. He felt a comforting warmth fill his entire being, a grogging recognition of the holy, which brought him back to the material world. His eyes watered not only from the rain but now his tears as he uncontrollably sobbed. At a search for meaning his mind began being filled with desperate, blasphemous and irrational thoughts. _Perhaps his daughter would carry the second coming of Christ. It would be her salvation of the suffering she had to endure at the hands of his inept caretaking. He would serve by kindling the conditions that would manifest God’s desire._ It would be his last desperate attempt at saving her from a life of poverty and despair.   At his homestead, the farmer warmed himself by the meager fire that he managed to build and ate a few bites of leek and bean soup with his daughter. After she was put to bed, he pondered his next steps. He felt a strange calm washed over him, as if his goals in life were never this clear. In his limited religious understanding he knew that it was blasphemous to propose his conclusions to the church. The pastor would not help him, and he might even risk excommunication. He decided that with no one else to turn to, he should visit the village witch for advice. He lit an oil lamp to guide him through the darkness, beyond the boundaries of the village, into the confines of the broadleaf forest. He traded the clear night’s sky for a roof of tree crowns. The smell of damp earth and moss and rotting roots met his nose. The chilly night air pricked his skin. He followed the small path that he knew led to the witch’s hut.   There was light pouring out of a small window next to the front door, under the thatched roof. The house was surrounded by a variety of different plants he guessed were used for her medicines. After he knocked, he heard shuffling and the door creaked open. An old woman of small stature stared into his eyes and welcomed him into her home. Inside it smelled of incense and herbs, a cauldron brewing above a log fire emitted a subtle but foul smell. He was nervous, he knew the witch had powers beyond his understanding. He also knew that if anyone found out he was here in the midst of the night, he could be suspected of devilry himself. The witch listened with an understanding look. She explained there could be a way to contrive his daughter’s salvation. She immediately went to work collecting herbs and plants from her garden and combining these in her mortar and pestle. A vial was filled with the resulting concoction. It was to be given to his daughter during a full moon as it would open a connection between the heavens and her body. The witch also stated the ritual would bring luck into their lives. The farmer would not have to fear hunger and despair anymore. Finding what he was looking for, the farmer returned to his homestead with a smile on his face.   At the next instance of a full moon the farmer gave the concoction to his daughter. She willingly took it without question and swallowed the bitter taste down with some water. Nothing of note seemed to happen. The evening went by with hunger in their bellies, as they were accustomed to. The next day the farmer was awoken by a shill scream. He looked over to his daughter’s bed and immediately saw red stained linens. She bled as a woman would do. She was too young for that, he thought. It probably was the witch’s concoction. He panicked; this was not what he had envisioned of his self-proclaimed pious quest. He helped his daughter change the linens. Luckily, she seemed to be fine. He was unsure of what the future would bring. From that day onward his daughter would never bleed again.   The luck of the farmer and his daughter took a turn for the better. Their next harvest was more successful than it ever was. The profits even allowed him to buy livestock, a white sheep that gave them milk and wool. It was a turning point in their life, it was a steppingstone to their future health and wealth. The farmer saw his daughter grow older, taller, and stronger. She turned out to become a beautiful young woman. One day a suitor proposed to wed her, with substantial dowry, and the farmer accepted. With a smile on his face, he saw his daughter leave his home to start a new family. After all these years he never forgot what had happened to them. He saw how his daughter seemed to now be saved from her suffering. It was all he had ever wished for.   Year after year passed. Grey hairs grew in the farmer’s beard. His farm grew more prosperous. He had now even been able to hire farmhands to do the heavy work for him, so he had enough time to spend with his daughter. She led a happy life with her husband, the local blacksmith’s apprentice. She became a devout and pious woman. She learned skills like weaving and knitting. She had already made children’s clothes in the prospect of starting a family. It would not have been for a lack of trying, but she seemed not to be able to bare children. As the years passed the farmer’s daughter grew quieter and sullen. Her body was not capable of that which would fulfill her innermost desires. She grew more distanced from her father and even from her own husband.   One faithful day the farmer sat out on his porch when he saw his son-in-law approach his home. The look on his face was one of panic. His wife had locked herself in their home and was not herself. The two men made their way over to the family home. Piercing crying could be heard outside of the wooden building. The farmer’s daughter cried out: if she could not give life then her life was of no value. The two men tried to break down the wooden door and found that it was barricaded from the other side. With enough force they were able to push aside the bookcase that was pushed up against it. The men found her disconsolate, with frantic darting eyes. They attempted to subdue her, but she managed to wrangle free of their grip and to hastily escape through the opened door.   A chase followed through the town. A flock of geese hurriedly stepped out of the way, honking after the skirts of the fleeing woman. The townspeople looked up from their daily chores to witness this peculiarity that disturbed this otherwise quiet hamlet. The farmer’s daughter plunged her way through a group of workmen, whom had to drop their baskets of wool at her passing. She ran up to the church and entered the nave through the open front door. The farmer followed her and caught a glimpse of her skirts at the stairwell going up to the steeple. When he reached the top, he saw his daughter standing on the ledge of the steeple window, with big teary eyes looking back at him. He tried to utter words, but nothing seemed to come out. She smiled. _This is my salvation_, she said, before letting herself fall.


 The sun fought to enter the room. The windows were shut but the curtains were drawn aside. Sunlight flooded the room, and I stared out of the window, still wrapped in bed. It was early morning after a sleepless night. It had been impossible for me to stop myself from recalling the night exactly ten years ago: I ran and ran, as fast as my little legs could take me. My bag swayed on my back, my ponytail dangled on my head and my eyes were fixed on the road that lay ahead. My heart was thumping in my chest, clearly audible in the silence of the moonlight. The easy wind was blowing, making the weather pleasant. I was about to reach the forest when I stopped. I turned and looked at the road I had left behind, the people I had run away from, the life I had cast off. “I shall never see them again,” I told myself. I didn’t let out a sigh, I wasn't frustrated nor was I gloomy but the thought still fed on my soul. No tears came out of my eyes. I just turned back to the road I was to take and headed forward. I hurried deep inside the forest which was sure to be more caring than the foster home from where I had run away. I was alone. I had always been alone, but for some reason in the dark, wild forest, I didn't feel afraid. I walked further and after consoling myself that I had reached the heart of the forest, I stopped. I looked around as if someone would still manage to reach me. I had been so frustrated from the ill-treatment of the daughter of my foster parents that I could not help but run away from the dreadful place I was brought up in.

Their daughter would pull my hair, snatch my chocolates from me and take away all my favourite things to her room without even asking. And what would my foster mother do? With would laugh and say her daughter was becoming clever! I had packed my bag with my books, clothes, some of my stuff, and a photo of my parents which I had managed to steal from the foster people’s room. Why did I take their photograph with me? I didn’t know myself but I just felt I should and so I did. I sat on the wet damp grass and wept a little, not because I was afraid but because I dreadfully missed my parents. I was only four when my parents died, but I still remembered the little memories I had collected. They used to feed me, play with me, taught me and we had happy times. I didn't remember how they died. I didn't know whether they had died at all. My foster mom had told me they had died in a car accident.

I never believed it was true but I had no proof to prove the cruel woman wrong.

The walls of the room seemed to be restless the last night. I wanted to scream or wail or anything but my voice had gone. Why? I don’t know but it was just gone. And to this day, I remember how many tears I had shed, fighting the world with my back to the wall. I had always wanted a family. House, job, money, or anything can not satisfy the needs of a family. After having such a family as that of my past foster parents, I had always wondered what a home with real parents felt like. The emptiness of a family was still fresh in my heart, even if many years had passed. I had no friends, never made any. I was scared they would make fun of me if I told them about my past or they asked me about my parents. I hated to tell anyone that I was an orphan.

 I reluctantly pushed away the covers and walked to the window. Fresh air and sunlight entered the room as I drew away the curtains and opened the window. I looked down at the garden which was blooming with lovely flowers but it didn't make me smile as it used to every day.

I realized I had to get to my work. I was a designer in a textile company. It was near the seaside and the view from the window gave a pleasant scenery to look at and I always started my work after looking at it. It was Sunday, and an off. I was a part-time writer too, not only because I loved writing but also because I wanted to earn more money. I freshened myself up and got ready. After having a light breakfast, I sat at the desk beside the window. My diary was kept in front of me and I took a pen from my pen holder. I wrote the heading on the page: Thoughts I stared at the blank page, waiting for an idea of a story to strike me but nothing came. I fell in the chair and sighed. Suddenly, I remembered the photograph I had kept of them in the drawer. I rarely looked at their picture as it only made me more gloomy and I missed them, even more, when I saw them. I still picked it up and looked at it to get something to write. "My parents," I whispered. "I wish you were alive."

I ran my hand on the photograph and faintly smiled back at the two smiling faces. I looked at them, not feeling like taking my eyes off them but my diary looked at me in a way that I kept it back and picked up my pen, determined to write something .

"I will write something about my own life," I said decidedly.

Though I haven't seen my mom since she died when I was 4 years old, I am sure she is the most beautiful woman. She has… I lifted up my eyes to the photograph to see my mom's eye color but looked at something else. The photograph was peeling out of the frame. I picked up the frame. I pressed the photo to make it stick back but it remained the same. I tried again and again but it started coming out more.

"It won't stick back," I said. In order to make it look better, I started to take the photograph off from the frame so at least I would be able to keep it safe somewhere. I took it off carefully, centimeter by centimeter, and when it was completely out, I looked at it with a satisfied smile. I opened a drawer to keep it in when a strong wind blew and it flew from my hand and landed face-down on the floor. It revealed something I never would have expected in a place I never would have looked before; on the back of the photograph was a worn-out note, the ink almost erased. Perhaps I never saw the note because the back of the photo was stuck to the frame and hence, covered the note.

Shivers rippled down my spine, the hairs on my arms rose when I read the note. It said:

Dear Bella, Leaving you in the hands of foster care people was our greatest regret, but if only we had any other option… We were poor when you were born and could not afford to bring you up as you should have. We hope you could find it in your heart to forgive us, and we will be glad to have you again, for we hope with all our might that we will afford to have you in years to come. If you find this note, know that we deeply care for you. Below is our address and rush to us whenever you choose, it would make us the happiest parents in the world… I had struggled to find information about my parents before. But the foster people had said they had lost contact with them and weren’t sure where I could find them. They suspected they could be dead. Now I was sure they were alive and waiting for me to get to them.

My eyes welled with tears. I read it again a few times and checked the address to see whether it was real. I believed it was and with new hope, I rose from the floor. I cleared away my tears and walked to the window. The sun seemed to shine brighter than ever as if it too was happy from the incident which had come upon me. I looked at the garden below, knowing I would leave it soon to return to the home I was meant to be in!


On the other side of our Human World, there was a Monster World. There was a young monster named Davi. Davi was a lonely boy. He had seven brothers, but he always stayed home alone. Davi cried everyday. He wanted to make friends. Davi went to talk to his grandfather, who was the guard of the gate which connects Human World and Monster World. Davi asked his grandfather, "I want to go to Human World. I don't have any friends here. Maybe I can make friends over there." Grandfather said "No, it's too dangerous. No one in Human World likes Monsters. You won't make any friends there." But Davi went "Nobody in Monster World likes me anyway. I want to at least try making friends in Human World!" Grandfather decided to allow Davi three days in Human World, and gave him three gold coins, and told him "These coins may help you when you are in trouble." Davi thanked his grandfather, and went through the gate. Davi walked through the dark... Davi landed on the street. He was amazed at the sun, the sky, the tall trees, and the houses! Davi saw a college dormitory in which college girls were petting a cat. Davi sneaked into the dormitory and talked to the cat. "Mr!" said Davi. "How can I make friends with humans?" " Meow! " answered Mr. Cat. "I am not going to tell you because you are a Monster. We don't like monsters. But I see you have three gold coins in your pocket. If you give me one coin, I'll answer your question." Davi gave him one gold coin. Then Mr. Cat went "Ok! All I do is mew and purr at people's feet." Davi said "Thank you, Mr. Cat!" Davi approached the college girls, who were busy chattering with each other, and purred and mewed at their feet. The college girls turned around, and... "AAARRRGGGHHH!!! Monster!!!" The college girls screamed in horror, and ran out of the building! Davi was left alone in the dormitory. He walked out on the street, and he cried and cried and cried all night long. On the second day, Davi saw two young boys playing with a dog in a house. Davi sneaked into the house, and talked to the Dog. "Mr!" said Davi. "How can I make friends with Humans?" " Arf!" answers Mr. Dog. "I am not going to tell you because you are a monster. We don't like monsters. But I see you have two gold coins in your pocket. If you give me one coin, I'll be happy to answer your question." So Davi gave him one coin. Then Mr. Dog went "Okay! All I do is bow-wow, and lick people's faces." "Thank you, Mr. Dog!" said Davi. Davi approached the two young boys, and suddenly licked their faces and BOW-WOWED!! "AAARRRGGGHHH!!! MONSTER!!" cried the two young boys. They screamed in horror and ran out of the building! Davi was left alone in the house. He walked out on the street, and he cried and cried and cried all night long. On the third day, Davi saw a huge house in which an old blind lady was feeding a small bird in a cage. Davi sneaked into the house, and talked to the bird. "Mrs!" said Davi. "How can I make friends with humans?" "Chirp!" answered Mrs. Bird. "I am not going to tell you because you are a Monster. We don't like Monsters. But I see you have one gold coin in your pocket. If you give me the coin, I'll be happy to answer your question." So Davi gave her his last gold coin. Then Mrs. Bird says "Okay! All I do is chirp and sing a song!" Davi started singing a song. Then... "Where does this come from?" the old blind lady approached Davi. Davi was so happy. "This is the most beautiful song I have ever heard,"said Old Blind Lady. Then she touched Davi's face. "Who are you? What is this? Could this be a... AAARRRGGGHHH!!! Monster!!!!" The Old Blind Lady screamed in horror, and fainted dead! Davi was left alone once again. He walked out on the street, and he cried and cried and cried all night long. Davi went back to the gate. He was very sad. The trees, the sun, the sky didn't amaze Davi anymore. Davi met his grandfather at the gate. Grandfather went "Why are you crying?" Then Davi answered "I tried really hard to make friends with humans, and asked Mr. Cat, Mr. Dog and Mrs. Bird for advise, and I followed their good advice, but nobody liked me. Nobody cared about me anywhere. I'll be alone for the rest of my life. Nobody likes me!" Then grandfather answered "It takes so much courage just to go to Human World. And you were on your own Davi. You are the most courageous Monster I have ever seen. Everytime you cried, you learned to be stronger. You don't need anyone else." Davi listened to his grandfather. "Now go home, Davi," said grandfather. Davi walked back to his house, and opened the door, then... Davi's seven brothers rushed to him, cheering "We've heard you were in Human World by yourself?!" "I wish I can be like you!" "You are so brave!" Davi finally smiled. From that day on, Davi played with his brothers everyday, and lived happily ever after. ("Little Monster Davi" I have copyrighted this story in America a few years ago.


I was made a fool last year. That would not happen again. No, this time, it would be Elias who would be the fool. Last year, I made some mistakes. This year, there would be no mistakes. No ridicule. No shame. I prepped my tools as best I could: a perfectly rolled (and laced) joint, a bottle of bourbon, and the will to go through with what had to be done. It wasn’t entirely Elias’s fault. But he was the one who had to pay. He had exacerbated the situation, and perpetuated the pain throughout the following months. Even last week, he couldn’t help but bring it up again. “Okay, Pee Pants!” he chided in front of a few of our fellow co-workers. The remark had lost its humor long ago, but it still managed to make Elias chuckle every time. Of course it did. He came up with it. I deserved some of the blame, to be sure. But it was Elias who had the opportunity to be a hero, rather than a villain. He chose the latter. Now, it was my turn. Elias opened his front door, wearing the same “ugly sweater” he’d worn to the office Christmas party last year. It featured Santa Claus, sunglasses on and cigar in hand, staring coolly out the driver’s side window of a 1960s muscle car. With Santa were a trio of bikini-clad women hanging out of each of the passenger windows, seemingly enjoying the ride. The caption in script across his chest read “Ho-Ho-Ho Indeed!”. “*Pee Pants* is here! Everybody keep an eye on him!” he said before I’d even crossed the threshold. I smiled, handed him the bottle of bourbon, and encouraged him to join me in a drink. He obliged, unsurprisingly. After the shared moment, I receded into the background of the get-together: standing around the table of hors d'oeuvres, nodding along to conversations I wasn’t listening to, and making sure Elias always had a drink in his hand. I wasn’t drinking much, though. Not after last year. I’d been quickly reminded of the incident with each trip to the bathroom. It was that bathroom that I’d nearly made it to last year. Nearly. Instead, I'd passed out on the bathroom floor, with the door still open, and pissed myself. I woke up some unknown amount of time later to an audience of my co-workers. Some of them were disgusted, others were amused, but it was Elias’s laughter that I remembered most vividly. “I had to show them! I-I-,” he choked out between laughs. “I had to show them! I’m sorry! Don’t be mad, *Pee Pants*!” Apparently Elias found me first. Rather than seeing if I was okay, or helping me clean up, he invited the rest of the party to the scene to join in his laughter. The reminders with each trip to the very same bathroom this year only strengthened my resolve. The party was nearly over, and I knew my moment would come. As I exited the scene of the crime for the final time, I watched the penultimate party-goer leave the house and Elias close his front door. “Welp, just us now!” he exclaimed, heading to the kitchen. “One more for the road?” he bellowed. The sound of him pouring two more shots followed. Sure, I replied. A classic rock song, I don’t remember which one, then came on over a speaker in the living room. Elias liked whatever it was, and immediately began bobbing his head and playing air guitar. We clanked shot glasses as he began to sing the lyrics, momentarily pausing for the drink, and picking up right where he left afterward. “I fuckin’ love this song,” he said, unnecessarily. “I bet it sounds great in your car,” I answered after I’d taken my shot of bourbon. “Yeah! It fuckin’ does!” he replied, waving me along as he began walking toward his garage. I felt in my front pocket for the joint, took a breath, and followed. The chill from the garage hit me instantly as Elias continued to strum his air-guitar on the way to his car. The car, which I do remember, was his pride and joy. A 1969 crimson Mercury Cougar. An undoubtedly nice car, but with how Elias talked about it, you’d think it could fly. As I opened the front passenger-side door, Elias started the car. He revved it loudly and smiled wide. Before I could form my lips to mention the fact that the garage door was closed, Elias quickly addressed the potential issue. “Calm down, it’s too cold to just sit out here without it running. We won’t be out here long, anyway,” he assured me. “Just a couple of songs. You have to hear how the new subs sound, I installed them last month.” Seconds later that same classic rock song from before was playing loudly through the car’s stereo, with Elias joining in on vocals. This was my opportunity. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the joint. “Whoa! I didn’t know you were a stoner!” Elias said with glee. “You’re going to share, right?” he asked with a laugh. Of course, I replied, handing him the joint with a smile on my face. Elias rolled the windows of the car down a tad, pulled a lighter out from the center console, and began to light the joint. Smoke quickly filled the car, as the music was joined by a series of coughs, rather than singing, from Elias. “Holy shit! This is some good stuff!” he yelled over the music as he passed me the joint. I told him it was called ‘Amontillado Kush’, but he didn’t hear me. Then Elias turned the music down to a volume that was easier to talk over. I held the joint up to my mouth, making sure to not inhale. “Hey man, I just wanted to apologize,” Elias said. “You know, for the Pee Pants stuff. It wasn’t cool. I can be a dick when I’m drunk.” I shrugged my shoulders while I pretended to exhale and cough, handing the joint back to him. “No, no, really. I’m sorry,” he continued. “I wouldn’t want someone taking advantage of me in a situation like that.” It was really no big deal, I assured him, offering a friendly smile. He took a couple more hits from the joint, and handed it back to me. “Thanks man, that means a lot,” Elias said. He then slumped down and his head thumped against the headrest. “Damn, that-that stuff fucked me up” he said, slurring his words. “I haven’t had the-the spins in a long time.” He turned his head and looked at me, clearly fading quickly. Looking at me blankly, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped further into his seat. I looked at the fuel gage, which told me the car had nearly three-quarters of a tank of gas left. That would work just fine. Exiting the car, I grabbed a nearby shammy cloth and began wiping every surface I’d touched. Standing at the door leading back into the house, I stared back at my masterpiece with the still-smoldering joint in my hand. I smiled, and headed inside. There I grabbed my nearly-empty bottle of bourbon, ran the joint under some water in the kitchen sink, and put my jacket on. As I left the house I placed the rest of the joint back into my pocket, and walked to my car. The rumbling of his idling car could still be heard through the garage door as I entered mine.