He was still following her. She had stopped looking, but she felt it. His presence pushed against her back and propelled her forward, away from the horrible possibilities of what could happen if he caught up. She didn’t know who he was and what he wanted with her. It was cold out but Megan was suffocating under her coat. Her shirt was soaked in her sweat and her breath left her in short, forceful bursts. She had already passed her bus stop and didn’t know where she was going. Megan had seen these streets many times, but was never on foot when she passed by. Her high heels prevented her from running so she maintained a fast trot. Which meant that the man could catch up to her whenever he felt like it, yet ever since she got off the train, he had remained the same distance away with a persistent stride and obsessive gaze. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the man, so she didn’t know what she would say if she managed to call the police. But she was in no position to be making any phone calls anyway. What was she going to do then? Stop and confront him? Yeah, right. Keep running? That’s what she’s been doing and it wasn’t helping. She was choking with panic when suddenly, she was startled by a woman calling to her from across the street. “ Hola! Hey, miss!”

Megan looked to her right and saw an older woman, full-figured and short, headed in her direction. She was wearing a grey jacket over a crisp, collared shirt with two rows of buttons. She had black slacks, the loose kind that a waitress might wear, and black sneakers. Her hair was in a neat bun at the back of her head. Megan was certain she didn’t know her, but she unconsciously slowed down and the woman came right up next to her.

They continued forward as the woman said, “Hello, are you okay? I couldn’t help but notice you look lost. Do you need help?” Her voice was gentle and comforting. Before she could make up her mind whether she could trust this stranger, Megan desperately confided in her with a panicked edge to her voice, “I am lost. But someone is following me and I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.” Hearing this, the woman became alarmed. She sneaked a look behind them, and she might have seen something move, but it could have easily been an animal or some garbage rolling around in the wind. She didn’t think she saw anyone else other than the young woman when she crossed the street. But now she wasn’t certain. “Where are you headed?” She asked. “I was supposed to get on a bus to go home, but I can’t stop to wait for it like this.” “Hmm,” the woman looked at Megan sympathetically. “You’re right. And I know we just met, but I can’t leave you alone if somebody is following you. I live in an apartment just a few minutes that way,” She pointed towards the next street leading to the right. “If you want to call the police, you can do it from there and be safe. Come with me.” Under normal circumstances, Megan wouldn’t go to a stranger’s home alone. But she didn’t have a better option at the moment. So she nodded and the woman gripped Megan’s arm reassuringly as she led them towards her apartment. The apartment, Megan noticed when they arrived, was old. The outside had layers of peeling, faded paint and dirt from years of neglect. They went up the stairs and entered a room, it was exactly just that, a room. The bathroom being an exception, all other living spaces were crammed together and none of the furniture was new. However, when the woman turned on the lights, it was welcoming and felt safe. “My name is Margarita by the way, but you can call me Rita.” The women made their belated introductions as Rita locked the door, took off her shoes, and hung up her jacket. Megan was hesitant at first but eventually she took off her coat and held her belongings in her arms. With permission, she kept her shoes on. “Nice to meet you, I’m Megan. Um, I’m really sorry if I’m causing you any trouble.” “It’s no trouble at all! I was just on my way home from work. I work at the hotel down the road as cleaning staff. Where were you coming from? There’s not much around here.” “Oh, I work in the city at an accounting office,” Megan said. “The city! So you took the train here first. It’s not very safe at this time of night. Is that how you usually commute?” It made Rita anxious thinking that this young woman traveled the distance from the city alone every night.

Not that she didn’t think a woman could hold her own, she made it through some narrow encounters herself. Rita just didn’t trust the intentions of the people that lurked about during these hours. She had grown up in a place where you had to be vigilant at all times and she was accustomed to the fact that life was always trying to steal something away from you. “No, um, actually I just started taking public transportation recently. I used to take my car but...traffic is insane.” answered Megan. “I understand, but you should really take your car if you have one. There’s sometimes incidents of people being followed like you were. It’s not safe,” Rita said again. Megan nodded but didn’t say anything more. “Do you want something to drink? Some tequila?” “No, thank you. I’ve...quit, drinking.” “Really, at your age? Then how about some hot chocolate? That will make you feel better.” “Sure, thank you.” “Okay, then sit right there and I’ll make some.” Rita gestured to a sunken sofa that looked like it had seen better days.

As Rita prepared the hot chocolate, Megan sat on the sofa and intently peered through a window that faced the street. Her leg bounced nervously as she looked for the man. She watched a couple leisurely walking a dog before turning at a corner, but nobody else was visible. Rita brought over a mug for Megan and perched on the arm rest next to her. After blowing a couple times to cool her drink, Megan took a sip. “Wow, this is really good! Thank you.” She drank very eagerly. “I’m glad you like it. It was Chico’s favorite.” Megan looked up at Rita. Was Chico her husband? A family member or friend? “He is my son. Was , my son. My only child, Ezequiel. Everyone called him Chico. He recently passed away.” “Oh, I’m...so sorry to hear that.” Megan had never lost a loved one before. Rita gave her a sad half-smile. Then she got up, grabbed something from the fridge, and came back. “This is him. Muy guapo , handsome, no?” Rita chuckled good-naturedly as she offered a photograph to Megan, who put down her empty mug and held the photo gently in her hands. In the photo, a group of thirteen happy children surrounded an unsmiling, serious-looking man. He had thick eyebrows, a thick nose, and a thick neck. His eyes were dark and beady. He had a wispy mustache and a dark beard that just covered his chin. She expected to see that he was good-looking, but it was obvious to anyone that he was not. Nevertheless, she politely agreed with Rita. Rita playfully patted Megan’s shoulder. “You’re such a nice girl. I’m just kidding. People were always picking fights with him because they thought he was looking at them the wrong way. But that was just how he looked. Here, let me get you some more hot chocolate.” Rita reached for Megan’s mug and went into the kitchen.

This time, Megan curiously watched her as she poured milk into a saucepan. She had never seen anyone make hot chocolate like that before. Initially, she had been wary of Rita but now she thought that someone who was being so hospitable to a stranger can only be a kind and trustworthy person. As she stirred the milk, Rita continued, “Chico didn’t have children of his own, but those kids...they were his life. He knew what it was like to grow up Mexican here, to have all the odds against you. Chico always said that he wanted to help educate kids like him, so at least they would have a chance for the life they wanted to live. So he became a teacher.”

Megan looked down again at the photo, at the thirteen children, and at Chico. She was still feeling uneasy. Did he look familiar? She glanced out the window again but the street was empty now. “How...how did you say your son passed away?” she asked, turning her head back to Rita. Rita paused. Then she turned around and Megan saw that she was teary. She sniffed and fanned her eyes with her hand. She gasped sharply, “ Oh mi dios! I’m sorry, I’m trying not to cry. Too much of that lately. Chico would be heartbroken to see me like this.” To Megan, it seemed like Rita was the one who was heartbroken. Rita poured the hot chocolate mixture into the mug that Megan was using earlier, brought it to her, and sat down again. “My Chico,” she said after a moment, “he was killed. It was the middle of the week. It took him a long time to grade his students’ homework and it got late. I told him to stay home but he insisted on coming to visit me because it was my birthday, you see. He didn’t want me to be alone. He had texted me when he got off the bus so he should’ve been here soon...I texted him, and called him, but no answer. So I went outside, and that’s when I found him.”

It took Megan a second to process what she had heard, and then she gasped. Found him ...found him what, dead? On her birthday? Rita continued, “He was crossing the street from the bus stop when a car hit him. Nobody saw what had happened. It was a hit and run. The police still haven’t found out who did it.” When she heard this, Megan felt a tug at her gut as if her heart had dropped into her stomach. Her underarms stung from the sudden gush of sweat and she began to feel a little dizzy. But she had to know one more detail. “When was this?” “About two weeks ago.” Rita didn’t notice that Megan had started shaking.

“Oh that reminds me, you should call the police now. I can lend you a phone,” she offered. “No! Um, actually, I think I’ll be heading home now.” Megan abruptly put down her mug and started to fumble with her things. “What? But it’s not safe to leave without calling the police if that man is still out there. No, you should stay here and call the police.” Rita insisted, confused why Megan was suddenly saying she wanted to leave when she was so afraid from being followed earlier. Megan rose swiftly, but unsteadily, and put on her coat. She wobbled towards the door as Rita stood up, looking upset and worried for her. “I’ll...probably call the police later.” Megan’s voice quivered. “Okay, you’re welcome here anytime. We’re friends now, so you can stay as long as you want to—” “That’s alright. Thank you so much for letting me stay here. You’ve been really kind but, I need to go home now.” Megan hesitated before asking, “Can I have your phone number just in case?” “Of course. Let me know if you need anything,” Rita said and they exchanged phone numbers. “Okay, well, thank you again. Have a good night.” Rita held open the door and Megan stepped out. She couldn’t stop her from leaving if she was that determined, but she was still concerned about the threat that had led the young woman to her. “What if that man who was following you is still there?” “No, he’s not there anymore.” Megan said, almost in a whisper, and then she left. ______________________ When Rita woke up the next morning, she noticed a voicemail from Megan, recorded just an hour ago. She was about to listen to it when she was surprised by a call from the police, so she left it for later. It was enough to know that the young woman got home safely.

She picked up her phone, “Hello, this is Rita Sanchez.” [Megan’s voicemail] Rita? It’s Megan. From last night. Thank you for being so kind to me...I didn’t know how to tell you this...I’m really sorry. I’ve done something terrible and I’ve been the worst kind of person since. My guilt follows me wherever I go and I think it led me to you. When I heard you talk about your son’s death, that’s when I realized...Two weeks ago, I had a bad day at work and went drinking afterward. By the time I realized I was too drunk, I was already driving home and I thought I could make it, I guess. I didn’t see him. I was driving near that bus stop when I felt a jolt from the car hitting something. I barely looked, just reversed the car, and drove away. The police can confirm that the evidence matches up. There’s no excuse for what I’ve done, but at least you know now. I’m sorry.


They say my mother gave birth to me too early. By the time the Midwife had arrived, I had already been brought into the world. In my small village of Bhavishnu, it is unheard of to give birth before the Midwife arrives. Mothers are expected to hold on until she arrives, no matter how long it is. You see, the Midwife is a very strange creature; vengeful and easily angered. If she feels any form of disrespect, she is said to obsess over revenge until she finds the perfect solution. Disrespect comes in many forms, from mild to severe. However, to the Midwife, nothing is more discourteous than refusing her the job she was assigned. When I enter town, the people don’t hesitate to stare at me and whisper as I search the shops for groceries and supplies, but I don’t blame them. The purple scars running diagonally across my eyes aren’t easy to overlook. “Cursed Child,” they whisper. Though, not quiet enough to evade my ears. In some ways, I am angry. I am bitter at society for believing in superstitions that could never be possible. Other times, it is easy to see why they act the way they do. My scars still appear fresh, despite having healed 17 years ago. They are still an angry color, raised high on my skin. Miraculously, I am still able to see, which only adds to the superstition. I am the village reject, the outcast. I’ve heard the story of how I acquired the scars about a million times and I know the details by heart, but I don’t remember it happening. However, the villagers’ vivid description of the incident doesn’t disappoint. After my birth, the Midwife went into isolation for forty-two days. There was no punishment cruel enough for me, the demon who had clawed his way into the world too soon. My mother abandoned me sometime after my birth, not wanting to suffer for my disobedient actions. After the forty-second day, the Midwife found me in a warm cottage towards the edge of town. A merciful couple had taken me in, fed me, and clothed me. During that forty-second night, the Midwife entered my cottage and killed the couple watching over me. She didn’t want anyone to stop her when she punished me. She had to succeed or she’d die a disrespected woman. She found me in my room, sound asleep. I’m told she uttered unspeakable words over me, causing three gashes to simultaneously appear on my newly-formed face. After wounding me, she continued her punishment. One that had been carefully planned for multiple weeks. The Midwife then proceeded to take drops of my blood into a vial and brandish a piece of parchment. The Midwife then drank the vial’s components as though she was a pen being filled with ink. Hurriedly, she wrote on the parchment using my blood which now flowed freely from her fingertips. The Midwife then left me alone in the cottage, but a young babe left for dead. I wouldn’t have survived if the mail carrier hadn’t heard my cry. The mail carrier entered the cottage, looking for the source of the wailing and found me in my room next to a piece of parchment with smeared black lettering. The mail carrier picked up the parchment and read the words that forever sealed my fate. “Disobedient birth leads to punishment. Punishment leads to defiance. Defiance leads to societal scorn. Societal scorn leads to loneliness. Loneliness leads to paranoia. Paranoia leads to insanity. Insanity leads to aggression. Aggression leads to violence. Violence leads to death.” To the villagers, this paper was a prophecy. To me, it is insanity. People say I will soon experience the fifth stage; paranoia. I was disobedient and left my mother too soon, they say. I was punished by the Midwife, defiant in my survival. It is no secret the village hates me. I live a life of loneliness. No mother, no father, no siblings. They tell each other it is only a matter of time until my loneliness drives me to that fifth stage. Of course, all of these things are true of me, but I do not believe they foretell of my death. I have gone 17 years without conflict and I’m quite sure I can continue that. No one will even get close enough for me to inflict harm, so I know the ‘prophecy’ is a lie. It is no prophecy and it is most certainly not my future. Every day is a repeat of the previous one, a foreshadowing of the next, but my never-ending cycle of life is comforting somehow. Everything is how I know it will be. I wake up around 4 in the morning, the sun not yet risen and the air not yet warm. I am not someone who needs a lot of sleep, for my body won’t allow it. After waking, I shower off, trying hard not to look in the mirror at the scars that run across my face. They trigger hurt associated with my mother’s abandonment, confusion as to why I had to be born early, and most of all, anger for the villagers who could never understand what it’s like to be a throwaway. I don’t like feeling these emotions because they govern my actions. Anger makes me aggressive, hurt makes me easily frightened, and confusion makes me act foolish. When I feel emotions as strong as these, my mind disappears and my body takes control. I will not allow myself to give the villagers another reason to hate me or believe in that stupid ‘prophecy’. For these reasons, I try to never look at the thick, purple lines running across my upper face. After showering and getting dressed in whatever I can dig around my bare house and find (because I live sparingly and can hardly afford a shower), I go outside and look at the sky until I feel serene and can carry on with my day. After that, my day quiets down, even though the morning wasn’t very busy at all to begin with. I go inside and draw pictures of vast seas and bare deserts, trying to fill the time with the only thing I’m exceptional at. On a good day, I get to eat a few pieces of bread and a small number of wild roots from the back of my house. On a bad day, I go to sleep shivering and trying desperately to ignore the sharp pains in my stomach. Regardless, I won’t let my poverty discourage me. I have stacks of paper to satisfy my ever growing imagination, I have a bed that is much softer than the ground, and I don’t have to worry about neighbors whispering to their children about me. I am alone, but I am not lonely. Or so I’d like to think. Life is hard for me, no matter how much I like to pretend it is not. It’s only natural to crave companionship, only natural to wish for happiness and success, despite knowing you will never achieve it. And on the cold and hungry nights, despite my positive attitude, the doubts and negative thoughts still creep in. I am only human, after all. Some days my mind won’t allow me to draw and instead chooses to blame me for all of my hardships. It’s hard to get out of the cycle of self-deprecation, and some days my mind and the weight of the world won’t let me get out of bed. I want to sleep for an eternity, but my body won’t let me. I want to stop being. I don’t crave death, but it’s hard to live. If everything would just slow down, I think it would be easier. Unfortunately, I know time doesn’t slow down even when my mind does. Focusing on existing takes so much of my energy that I don’t have time to think about the Midwife or my title of the “town reject.” It all becomes far away in a corner of my mind which I know exists, but forget to use. Considering I am alone, I have no one to constantly remind me of the failure that is my life. Instead, my body constantly reminds me that I need to eat while my mind won’t give me the encouragement to do it. I know I have to change something in my life before I crumble into nothing, but I can’t remember what it is anymore. Sometime close to the start of winter, the harshest season for me, I hear a knock at my door and try to think about any importance today may have that would bring someone to me. My birthday is in the winter, but surely I would know if it had happened already. I don’t ever get knocks on my door, so it’s quite startling. Who could it be coming to see me and what do they hope to gain? I don’t have the energy to go to the door and to be frank, my strength has dissipated ever since I sunk further into my depression. I haven’t been to town in months and I know no one would willingly seek my company. I tell my mind to quiet down. “It doesn’t matter who’s knocking. They will go away eventually, just like everyone else. Just like my mother, just like my well-being.” I start to close my eyes, hoping to obtain at least an hour of sleep. I am close to the welcoming void when I hear another knock, this time more urgent and resounding. I start to get upset, mentally wishing the person away. I was about to gain the sleep I couldn’t last night, but I was interrupted. How bothersome. Sighing, I close my eyes again, still feeling the remnants of sleep. Heavy eyelids and slowed heart rate. I breathe deeply, trying to get back to the place I was so close too. My mind finally quiets and my subconscious takes over, painting vivid colors of red and yellow to the back of my eyelids. Knock Knock. I open my eyes, suddenly awake. I couldn’t remember what I was dreaming about, but I knew it was important. Looking around, I discovered the room around me was dark. I must’ve slept longer than I thought. I was still tired, so why was I awake? The answer came to me around thirty seconds later. Two knocks, with an increment of five seconds between each. Without warning, my heart clenched at the sound. There was someone out there and they had been knocking for what appeared to be several hours. This was not normal at all. Why were they still out there? Stomach turning at the thought of a stranger watching me sleep, I slowly raised my head and turned around toward my door. Focusing my attention on the front door, I tried to calculate how long it had been since the last round of knocks had occurred. I looked at the door closely, trying to figure out how long it had been, when I heard a loud succession of knocking. I considered how long I had until my eighteenth birthday, unsure as to why I was considering it. Somehow, a bit of the fog cleared in my mind and I thought of the Midwife. The Midwife, the ‘prophecy’! That was it! I’d blocked it from my memory, but the rest of my punishment would happen on my eighteenth birthday. The Midwife was not done with me and the mental trauma she inflicted on me as a child had caused me to forget this very essential part of my existence. I had never questioned my existence before, just simply accepted it. I tried to think, forcing myself to push past the remaining fog in my mind. Anger boiled inside of me as slowly I started to remember the events that had occurred when I was just weeks old. The Midwife was a vengeful woman, insistent on causing harm to everyone around her. My very existence angered her and before I could even talk, she turned my existence into the same misery she felt. The anger continued boiling inside of me, growing hotter and hotter like a chamber of magma. If I continued to think about this, I’d explode into a spray of fury and poisonous emotions. I felt the anger slowly rise from my stomach to my chest and finally to my throat, threatening to explode everywhere. I thought once more about the Midwife and screamed in rage. She’d left me with these scars, left me with this shattered mind and an aching heart. I thought again of the scars that painted my face and in a fit of savagery, I scratched at them over and over, insistent on getting them away from me. I wouldn’t let a cruel woman that I didn’t even bother hurt me any longer. “Keep at it, you’re just fulfilling the prophecy,” I heard a voice behind me rasp. I turned around, still angry and insistent on releasing all of that anger somehow. I looked at the figure standing before me and tried to decipher who they were. A passing face on the street, perhaps. They reminded me of an old acquaintance who I’d long forgotten. “Who are you?” I asked, possibly too aggressive for a random stranger. “You’re very aware of who I am…after all, I’m who inflicted those wounds on you.” The Midwife. So this is where my punishment would occur. I looked at her, rage and disgust masking my features. This was the Midwife whom no one had seen since the prophecy? She didn’t look powerful at all. How could such a frail woman be as strong as the villagers claimed? She looked pitiful and weak and that very weakness made me want to destroy her. I could probably kill her with a single blow to the head. I looked around the room, searching for something within reach. Nothing heavy enough. “Oh, child, how foolish you are. I can read your thoughts, you know. We are connected, you and I. My blood carries your blood.” That stopped me for a millisecond. I’d never looked at it like that before, just assuming all of my blood had left her when she’d written her ‘prophecy’. I chuckled, amused by the idea of a prophecy. There could be no prophecy because my life was normal. “Normal? You pretended to be normal. Society scorns you because you don’t see who you truly are. You are not good, you are not kind. You have followed almost every single step of the prophecy already. You were disobedient in your birth, you were punished by me, you defied death, you were scorned, and grew lonely. You believe this is where you departed from it? Prophecies can be interpreted in many ways, child. So far, you are correct in how the steps played out. I’ll give you that. However, you haven’t stopped here. You grew paranoid, devouring every ounce of food in your house, afraid that it would spoil before you could get more. You did not want to be wasteful. When you ran out of food, you refused to go to town because you were paranoid the people would harass you. So, you grew hungrier every day, living solely on the roots of your backyard. Hunger mixed with food you don’t know does not equal normalcy. You slowly grew insane, the hunger driving you mad and the roots speeding up the process. You see, those roots were not made for human consumption. Those roots are made for poisons. After insanity, you grew aggressive with no way to get all of your anger at me out. You deepened the scars I gave you as a way to hold onto the anger you held for me. A way to get out all of that pent up aggravation and aggression. Those scars would have been less than visible by now if it weren’t for you. Do you know what comes after aggression? Violence. You wonder often why people avoid you and why no one wishes to spend time with you? You pushed a little girl on the street who was staring at your face. You pushed her into the road where she could’ve died. Luckily she survived, but the town hated you even more after that. They considered ways to get rid of you, but were ultimately too afraid of what you would do to them. Next is death. That role hasn’t been fulfilled yet, but you won’t have to worry about that much longer.” The Midwife smiled at me, seemingly innocent, as though she hadn’t just spewed lies to make me seem completely and utterly insane. As though she hadn’t just threatened my life. I was sure that what she said was wrong, but I couldn’t stop the back of my mind from perking up as though I vaguely remembered doing these things. She lunged forward, grabbing at my throat and pressing the air from my lungs. I tried to fill my lungs back up, but that only resulted in more choking. No one would save me, nothing could help me. I kicked and slapped at her hands, desperately trying to get her off, but her grip only tightened. Slowly, my vision blurred and eventually started slipping into blackness. When it fully enveloped me, I didn’t fight it off. Everything went dark and it was surprisingly peaceful. “ Disobedient birth leads to punishment. Punishment leads to defiance. Defiance leads to societal scorn. Societal scorn leads to loneliness. Loneliness leads to paranoia. Paranoia leads to insanity. Insanity leads to aggression. Aggression leads to violence. Violence leads to death.“


 "Hey, hey you wake up." I heard a girl's voice but my eye's didn't want to compel, "Hey! Wake up!" The same voice said in a loud whisper. I slowly opened my eye's, the first thing I saw was bars and a dark room. Groggily I sat up and looked around I couldn't see much there was no lights that was clear. "Hey." I turn my head to look at where the voice was coming from. It was obvious a few seconds later I was in a cage or maybe a cell I could tell for sure not at first. The girl was on the other side of another set of bars to my right I crawled over to get a better look at her. "What's your name?" She asked me her english very broken but english all the same.

        "Sara, how did you know I spoke english?" I asked her confused it was so dark in the room I could barely make out her face.

        "Your hair it's red." She responded as she sat down against the bars. I remember putting my hand up to touch my hair than asked,         "Where are we?" She shrugged,         "Don't know."

        "Are there other kids?" She nodded,         "Yeah but they're asleep right now you'll meet them in the morning."

        "How many are here?"I asked copying how she sat.         "Depends on the day." I remember her shifting than asked, "Got a family?" I hesitated before answering thinking about how I was told by my cousin to never give our info to anyone, but I had nothing to lose,         "I have a brother, but I lost him a few months back." I confessed after the words came out tears were streaming down my face the pain I felt, the guilt, the defeat all hit me at once and I just weeped and weeped and weeped. After a well past-do cry the girl patted my shoulder and stated her name,         "I'm Cataleya, like the flower." I hiccuped and asked,     "Is there just girls or both?"     "Both." She said a little bit quieter.

    "Than have you seen a boy about 4'8 seven years old same red hair and a old yellow toy car in hand?"I turned around as I asked, but she never answered me she ended up saying,         "Get some sleep they wake us up early." She moved away from the bars and all I could see was the outline of her back. I don't remember falling asleep that night I just remember crying silently to myself.     Bright lights flashed on the next day waking everyone up. I rubbed my eye and observed my surroundings. I was in a big cage like thing, I was able to stand up in it and take three steps left from the middle and three steps right also from the middle it was the same for front and back. I looked over at the girl next to my right she was about in her late teen years with long black hair in a ponytail, she wore a dirty white shirt and jeans I noticed she never had shoes. She had a dark skin tone that had a sickly tint. I looked to my left there was a boy sitting in the corner knees to chest I couldn't see his face but I knew it was a boy because on his short hair and clothes. Finally I took in the rest of the room, it was a big and looked like a dog pound with how the cages were lined up in two rows, the one I was in, the one across a little girl was in front of me and two boys next to her, one teen and the other a little bit younger than that boy.     "That's Benni." Cataleya nodded to the little girl, "She's five came here with you last night." I look back at the little girl she was crying to herself silently standing at the "door" looking around. "That's Vicente." She looked over at the older boy, "He and I were brought here in the first week of the raids." The boy was sitting in down looking our way with a emotionless look. "The little boy doesn't have a name or at least I never learned it, he never talked."     "What is that boys name?" I motion to the boy that was to the left of me. She shrugged,     "Never go the chance to ask he is one of the quiet ones. There's a lot of those." I look back at the boy he looked back at me. Something about him would always different than the others. I walked over to him that day and asked him his name but he didn't speak so I asked him in spanish,     "¿Como te llaman?" When didn't say anything I told him my name, "Mi llamo Sara." He smirked a little and looked away.

        "Hey, Guera." The teen boy called to me calling me white girl it sounds like (weda) though.

        "¿Qué?" I looked at him how I thought my cousin would back in the states with a blank face.

        "How'd you learn spanish?"         "How'd you learn english?" I countered. He nods with a lopsided smile.

        "Need it for when white people like you show up."

        "Shut it Vicente." Cataleya says hearing the footsteps coming. He did but not without giving Cataleya a dirty look. I go sit down in the middle of the floor as a sound of heel clicked against the floor got closer. When she got into sight I saw a woman in a lab clock, her hair pushed back and wearing glasses. In her hand was a digital clipboard, it was made of glass and the handle was white on it was pictures and writing next to them. She stopped every few cages and held it up. She came to Benni's cage first then mine it was like she was confirming everyone after she was done with mine she continued down the endless idle.     "That's Josephina, she goes over everyone's states and confirms who's healthy or not." Cataleya explained.     "Why does it matter?" I asked. Her expression got dark as she spoke,     "You'll see soon enough."     I remember how the hours went by there was terror in the air filled with screams and agonizing sounds. People walking by with all types of things and every once in awhile a child or two every few hours but I don't remember seeing most of them coming back. When night fell they let us out one by one with a person holding a gun guiding us. When it was my turn the man didn't look at me just held his hand to the scanner and unlocked the door motioning me with the tip of the gun to start moving than gave me a little push and we walked down the idle to the a doorway and then turned right and walked down a curved hallway with many doors with a tiny window in them. I look back at the man behind me he wasn't Mexican either that much was obvious.     "Excuse me." I said in a small voice he looked down at me and grunted, "I was just wondering if my brother was here." I asked he didn't answer. "Please he is my only family I just want to know if he's here weather he's is alive or dead." I almost started crying at the thought of him being dead but with all the screaming and scars I've seen on people throughout that day it was possible.     "What is his name?"         "Sammy." He looked at me again.         "A last name." I shook my head. He sighed then motioned to keep moving. When we turned another corner there was another door that led to the dining room. The man left me at the door while I was to continue to the line of children to get food. I was behind the quiet boy that was next to my left. I was told to grab a tray and to make sure that I ate up. When I was given the food it was just rice and beans with two tortilla's. The people serving it was also children but they were the older ones roughly 16-18 years of age. When I was out of line I followed the boy looking out for a little red headed boy,     "¿Puedo sentarme contigo?" I asked if I could sit with him. I will never forget how he responded with half a smile and a chuckle as he said,     "Relax chica, I'm not from mexico either I am just mexican born in america." I nod and waited for him to tell me a yes or no I was getting antsy wishing he would answer so I could eat finally. When he looked up with a confused look. "Aren't you going to sit down? We don't get much time to eat." I ended with a 'oh' face and quickly sat down scoping the room again but came up empty again.     "I... I'm Sara." I said in a small voice after talking a bit of food. He nodded putting a spoonful of rice in his mouth,     "I remember, I'm Richard." I looked up and smiled a little,     "It's nice to meet you." He was going to say something but then a tray hit the table indicating that Vicente and Cataleya were here as well, Cataleya sat next to me on my left and Vicente across from her next to Richard.         "So finally speaking great name, age and where from."         "Richard, 15, California, America."     "How'd you get swept into all this compadre?" Vicenta asked next.

        "Deportation." He said around more food.

        "Y tu?" He looked at me as did they all. I swallowed the food I was eat and answered,     "There was no other choice." I took another bite of my food as they waited for more but I never gave it to them even to this day.         "How old are you Sara?" Vicente asked,         "14 almost, 15." I said looking around the room again to see if he was walking in or in line. "Have you seen a little red headed boy at all asked them?" Cataleya didn't answer and Vicente shook his head as did Richard. I sighed wanting to cry but pushed it down with a rip of a tortilla and shoved the piece in my mouth.

        "Terrible things are happening here isn't there?" I finally asked. They all nodded. "What are they doing to all those kids they took?" They didn't want to answer or more like they couldn't. I looked at them closely and for the first time I noticed the scars and scratches on their arms, chest line and the side of their necks.

        "If anyone hears about my brother even if he is... gone I would like to know." I say finishing my food. They all nod. We made small talk as they finished their food I learned about them before they got here but Richard didn't say much. When it was time to go back to our "areas" We were taken by tables I didn't see the guard that brought me here but I hope I get to see him and he has information about Sammy. We got locked in and after the rest of the kids were put away the lights went out. It was cold that night but there was a blanket was folded in the back left corner. I wrapped it around my body and leaned against the back wall.     I woke up to shouting than a girl's face appeared at the front of my cage. I jumped back she was breathing heavily, her eyes wide and hair crazy there was something about her skin that was off. She was about to say something but there was footsteps coming closer in a fast pace. Her eyes her face showed pure horror. Within seconds she was gone.     "Sara... Sara..." I hear Richard say my name. I got close to the bars.     "What?"     "What's going on?" He asked obviously woken up from the feet and not the screams like I was.     "A girl was escaping." I whispered.     "Really!" He whisper back moving closer to the bars so I could see him better. I nodded.     "Do you think she'll make it?" He shrugged.     "Sleep we don't know how tomorrow will be." I nod and leaned against the corner closer to him and he did the same.

    "Sara, despertarse." A guard was a my cage knocking on my cage loudly waking me up. I sat up and looked at the man who was my escort yesterday. He opened the door and told me to start walking. I stood up and walked out the cage and to the left. We walked down the hallway then turn left again after entering through some doors walking down the same hall from the day before but this time we passed the eating area. We reached a open door and the man shoved me in. Inside there was a table with straps and a counter with lot of different bottles and tools, the walls a pale old white and bright lights over head. The whole room gave me a shiver down my spin I took a step back right into the man who pushed me forward causing me to fall. I hear a voice behind me, a woman's voice telling him that was enough. I felt her hand gently wrap around my arm she helped me get up. She told me sorry for his roughness. Than ushered me to the table.

        "Just lay back and relax Sara it won't hurt, I promise." She hushed in a sweet voice but the look in her eyes said whole another story.       The pain was behind anything I have ever experienced. To this day I can still feel it the shocking, the needles, the knives. I screamed so loud I knew it could be heard from a mile away. The sick part was that they didn't stop they just stuck something in my mouth and continued to cut my arms, legs, stomach and back for god knows what. The pain lasted for eternity it seemed after a while I just stopped screaming but the tears never faded. Later that night I was sent back to my cage in a new shirt and jeans. I don't remember how I got back to the cage or how I was cleaned of all blood but the next morning I was clean.     "Sara... Sara." Cataleya whispered my name that morning I was already up but I wasn't in a talking mood. I was sat at the back of the cage my knees to my chest tear stained my cheeks and the bandages that covered everything else. "Sara, you'll be okay they won't do it again for another week or two." That didn't comfort me at all. My eyes widened as I look at her. Realizing what she said didn't ease my fear she said.     "It doesn't hurt that much after awhile and soon they will dial it down." I bared my head in my arms and cried again silently.     Cataleya was right they didn't come to my cage again that week unless it was for dinner time which was the only time we could eat but even than I couldn't really do. The only reason I did eat was because the man that escorted me every night told me they kill those that were unhealthy and I didn't want to die; I couldn't not until I found Sammy. He was the only reason I why I fought to survive.     "Does it really get better?" I asked them one night at dinner they didn't say anything they at first but Cataleya reassured me it does, but Richard shook his head and to be honest I believe him. The next time they took me to the white room I screamed and fought back but that just made them angry to the point where they had sedated me. I woke up to them shooting something in my back shoulders with a needle whatever was in the vial hurt so much as it went into my skin. I screamed and started to thrash around in pain but they had strapped me down. By the time I was back in my cage that night I couldn't move if I did it would just be pain, excruciating pain along my shoulders and back I wasn't even able to walk for three maybe four days I couldn't tell there were no windows and I wasn't able to go eat so it was brought to me. The day I showed signs I could move around again I was forced to go to dinner with everyone else which wasn't so bad since Cataleya and them did their best to comfort me I asked them what happens to them when they go back but they didn't want to talk about it and I understood why I could see it in their eye's the pain and horror that I feel. I think a month passed since I arrived and I was in the room twice. Cataleya went back three times she would always come back with silent tears as did the other two but it was like it never happened the next day.


One day as I sat and watched TV, I remembered an incident of a rather unusual friendship which many of you wouldn't have heard of perhaps. It was an experience I had 20 years ago when I was just 18. I used to stay in a rickety, dilapidated old building in Singapore when I heard a sudden noise like a thud and lots of footsteps. I ran across the room, opened the door, and looked at the staircase. I saw this young guy perhaps my age, thin, wearing spectacles, quite tall and well dressed holding something which looked like a bottle in his hand covered with cloth. He looked a bit out of place according to me considering people of low-income groups stayed in my building and this guy was quite well dressed to be in here. He looked at me and quickly ran to the next-door apartment where he had moved in. I waited and looked all around hoping more people were moving in, his parents, siblings, girlfriend, wife but nope there was nobody, he had moved in all alone. I picked up my bag and headed to college carrying on my normal routine. After few days I again bumped into this guy again and since he was after all my neighbor I thought why not make a conversation with him. "Hi there, I'm Ary and you are," I said stretching my hand across hoping to be polite and shake hands, but in return, he said " uh, hi I'm sorry but my hands" he lifted his hand where he was holding a couple of plastic bags which had clams, fish and crabs in there. "Excuse me but I am busy right now," is all he said and rushed back into his apartment. What a weird guy I wondered and quite a manner less fellow did not even tell me his name. That very evening as I sat outside my apartment listening to music he opened his door and said " I'm sorry, I was in a hurry in the afternoon, I am Ryan, I had to keep all those fish and crabs in the water they were alive after all. Why don't you come over someday." ." Yeah sure I will, but I'm curious to know one thing, you stay alone and all those fish and crabs were for you? " I asked surprisingly. " Oh no no, I'm a vegetarian, those were for Jini my pet". " Jini!!" I exclaimed, " you mean your pet cat " though I hadn't heard any meow for days now, " well. no not my cat my pet octopus". "Your pet what? did I hear that correctly, you said Octopus"?, "well yes, I have a pet Octopus, come in tomorrow and I shall show you around". But tomorrow was too late I had heard of people keep exotic pets but Octopus? I went straight into his apartment, and he was very welcoming. It was as if I had entered a different world altogether. Huge glass aquariums covered all his walls full of rocks inside them, and his bed was right in the center of the room with a small table and chair next to it. I could clearly make out he had no guests visiting him ever. "well, you see, when my parents got divorced I decided to move out and live separately so I came in here, and since I have rich parents," he said as if making a statement why he had such an exotic pet and expensive pet, " I asked them if I could keep a pet octopus, they had no reason to deny me that. And I know since it's strange to keep an octopus as a pet and people will make fun of me I chose this building where I could be secluded on my own with Jini", Ryan said. "You see that's Ryan, hiding behind the rocks, he eats live fish and crabs and that's why you saw me carrying all of that the other day," said Ryan while passing me some chips and a bottle of coke. " Jini loves to play games and solve puzzles, I put him in various shaped bottles and tries to find a way out of it, it's actually good fun to watch that", Ryan said while laughing. While I sat there listening to Ryan it seemed as if I was lost in a different world altogether, w=, he was living alone, yet so content had no human company as such, yet so happy. I thought to myself he's actually not as weird as he seemed the first time I saw him but we usually tend to judge people by looks, clothes, and definitely by the pets they keep, which is so wrong. "Can I be Jini's friend too ?" I asked. " well yes of course just that you will have to come every day to visit him and play games with him so he can get familiar with you", " sure, every evening ill be here playing games and puzzles". That day when I went back to my apartment I felt happy that I had made a new friend rather than two counting JIni in too and hoping I could play with him too. It was the most unexpected and unusual pet experience I had ever had and the experience stayed with me forever. Today, Ryan and I are the best of friends though we live in different countries now, we both are married and our spouses are great friends too. Jini would've been a great pet rather a friend too but we lost Jini while Ryan was shifting homes, Jini managed to escape from the container and we only hoped that she had found a nice place in the ocean between rocks along with other friends there. What I experienced 20 years ago is something I always narrate and tell to every young person I come across, never judge a book by a cover and definitely never judge a master by the kind of pet he keeps.


Katherine and Adam had known each other since childhood. Katherine’s family had moved into the house next door to Adam’s when he was nine and she was eight. They became fast friends, always playing together, in one house or the other. By the time they were in high school, they were considered an item. No one could get in between them, and everyone knew, that when the time was right they would get married. Adam knew it, and Katherine knew it too. Adam was looking forward to graduation. Katherine was an honors student, so although she was a year younger than him, she would be graduating as well. They planned on going to the same college. Adam was waiting for the day when he and Katherine both graduated from college. He knew that at that time he would propose.

Adam was daydreaming about his future when he got home from school. As he approached his house, he was surprised to see a moving truck in the driveway of Katherine’s home. Katherine was standing in the doorway and he ran over to her. “Katy, what’s going on?” “We’re moving, Adam, as you can see....” Katherine said pointing to the truck. “I see that. Why? What happened?” “I am not really sure. All of a sudden my parents told me we were moving. They won’t answer any of my questions and they told me I have to go with them.” “What about us? What about college?”

“There won’t be any us anymore and I’m not going to go to college. I was told I have to work. And, there you have it.” Adam just couldn’t accept what he had just heard. He started to run into the house in search of Katy’s parents. “Adam it won’t help. My mom and dad are determined that we leave and cut ties. I can’t say anymore.” “Let them tell me that!” Adam disappeared into the house. He was out two minutes later. Katherine’s parents refused to talk to him and told him to leave.

Katy had disappeared. Adam wanted to at least say goodbye. Suddenly her parents came out of the house with a few more boxes and slammed the door shut. It was over. They were leaving. “Can I at least say goodbye to Katy?” Adam called out to them. “Not a good idea, Adam. Don’t prolong the agony for you or for her. Just go home!” He watched as Katy’s parents got into their car. Then he saw her. Katy was sitting scrunched up in the back seat. She peered slightly out of the window. Adam waved. But Katy turned her head. As the car pulled away, Adam watched until the car was out of sight. His face was wet with tears. **** As Katy’s parents drove, she sat silently in the back seat. She was numb. She didn’t understand what had just happened. Yesterday everything was fine. Katy was looking forward to her upcoming graduation and standing beside Adam as they both received their diplomas. They were supposed to go to the local college together, and she knew that ultimately they would get married and have a family. Until last night, life was looking so bright. What happened? “Can you tell me now what’s going on?” Katy asked, her voice trembling. “We can’t, honey,” Mom said. “But trust us, this is for the best.” “I don’t understand. Why is this for the best. What happened? And why did I have to leave Adam without even saying goodbye?” She didn’t want to start crying. Katy knew that once she started, she would never stop. “You can’t say goodbye to anyone. I’ve changed all of our numbers. I took the time to go through your social media accounts and deleted all of them. No one can know where we are.” “But why?” “I can’t tell you now. Let’s get to where we have to be and I will explain everything to you then.” “Will I be able to talk to my friends and Adam at some point. I can’t spend the rest of my life without him.” “No, sweetheart. I am truly sorry for putting you through this. But we will all be safer if we disappear completely.” Katy could imagine how Adam must be feeling. He had to know that she wouldn’t just abandon him. She loved him. They were meant to be together forever. **** Katherine and Adam never spoke to each other again after that dreadful day. Ultimately Adam moved on and finished college. He never wanted to date anyone. Many of the girls on campus chased him. But he chose not to get caught. He missed Katy terribly and didn’t think he could ever look at any girl like he had looked at Katy, ever again. He became quiet and wihdrawn. He still had his friends, but he stayed away from the girls. Adam’s male friends would kid him often about not dating, but he didn’t care. He was lost without Katy and just wasn’t interested in moving on with someone else. Adam’s parents grew very concerned about their son and tried to talk to him, but to no avail. Adam went to class and came home. He studied and did well. Ultimately he graduated college with honors, without once having gone out on a date. Katy was always on his mind, and he knew she always would be. A few years later, Adam was prepping to take the Bar Exam. He was sitting in the law school library when someone approached his table. “Can I sit here,” a soft voice asked. Adam looked up from his book. He thought he was seeing a ghost.

“Katy?” “I’m sorry. My name is not Katy. You must be mistaking me for someone else. I’m Trish.”

“Sorry. You look like someone I once knew. My name is Adam.”

Adam stared at Trish and then realized, that while Trish had Katy’s coloring, long dark brown hair and blue eyes, she didn’t look like Katy at all. The eyes were a different shade of blue, and her smile was wider. No, she definitely was not Katy. “I’m studying for the Bar Exam so I really don’t want to talk right now,” Adam said a little abruptly. “Well, so am I. Maybe we can work on some of it together?” Trish had a warm smile and a gentle voice. “I don’t think so. I prefer to study on my own. Maybe you want to sit somewhere else.” “If I make you that uncomfortable then of course, I’ll leave. Sorry to have bothered you.” Trish started to walk away, when Adam said, “I am sorry. That was rude. If you want to sit here you can. I’m just a little out of sorts. I have been studying all day. And you startled me just a little.” “No problem. Katy must have been someone special.” “She was. Very special. Anyway, if you want to study together that would be fine.” There was something about Trish that touched Adam, he couldn’t put his finger on it. But this was the first time that Adam had actually had a conversation with a girl since Katy had gone. Adam and Trish became study partners, meeting everyday for coffee and then hitting the books. Trish wished it could be more, but she was smart enough to realize that Adam was not ready yet and so she didn’t push. Maybe one day. About a week later Trish tried to ask Adam about Katy, but he shut her down so quickly and refused to speak to her for days. Trish never broached the subject of Katy again. Both Trish and Adam graduated law school and took the Bar Exam two months later. They found work and their respective offices were a few blocks from each other. Trish and Adam continued to meet for coffee during the week, and then one day, Adam asked her to dinner. Trish was thrilled. Maybe that shell that Adam had around him was starting to crack. **** It’s three years later and Trish and Adam are married with two kids and two careers. Life was hectic but good. Adam was feeling content. While he loved Trish with all of his heart, he did not have the same feelings for her that he had for Katy. Maybe it was maturity, he reasoned to himself. Maybe, had Katy stayed and had they gotten married, his feelings would have been the same for her as they were for Trish now. No. He had had a passion for Katy that he never felt for Trish. But he loved her in a different way, and he loved his kids. Life moved along and Trish and Adam were married for almost forty years. The kids had gotten married and moved out. Adam and Trish were grandparents now, and life was good. Until it wasn’t. **** “Adam, I just came from the doctor. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I have cancer, and there is nothing to be done.” Trish was in tears. Adam was stunned. For the second time in his life, he was losing the one person that meant the most to him. They cried together. And then they decided to live life as much as they could. Time was precious and they were going to take advantage of the time they had left. In the end Trish was in so much pain. She was taking so much medication that she slept most of the time.

One morning, as Adam was sitting at her bedside, Trish opened her eyes and looked at the one man she had truly loved for almost forty years. Trish smiled weakly at Adam and spoke softly, “Honey, after I am gone, I want you to look for Katy. I know that you love me. But I also know that you’ve been mourning the loss of that relationship all of your life. Go look for her and find your lost love.” Adam had tears in his eyes as Trish spoke. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t think about Katy, only about the woman who had made his life so rich and full. Trish then closed her eyes for the last time. Finally she was at peace. And Adam wept. **** It was a year since Trish died. Adam wasn’t quite ready to go looking for Katy. He missed Trish terribly. One morning his phone rang. “Adam? It’s Katherine.” It was the voice that Adam never thought he would hear again. He froze. “Adam, are you there?” Katy asked. “Yes Katy, I’m here. I don’t know what to say...” “You don’t have to say anything. I know this must be a shock.” “Where have you been all these years? You must be married, have kids...” “No. I don’t. And my parents are gone. I’m alone now.” “I am so sorry. My wife died about a year ago. And I miss her terribly. But my kids and grandkids bring me a lot of comfort.” “Can we meet?” “Yes. I want to see you.” “I am not the same person I once was.” “None of us are. It’s been a long time.” They hung up and Adam sent Katy the name of a local coffee shop which had private booths so they could talk. The next day, Adam decided he would walk the twenty minutes to the coffee shop. He was so nervous and he thought walking would help. It didn’t. When he reached the shop and looked through the window, he saw Katy sitting in one of the booths. Her long dark hair had turned gray. He couldn’t really see her face fully so he had no idea what other changes had taken place. He would soon find out. He walked into the shop. The waitress asked if he needed to be seated and he pointed to Katy. She nodded and he walked over to the booth. Katy had turned her head and was looking out the window as he approached. When she felt him standing beside the booth she looked up. “Hello,” Adam said softly. Katy smiled. Except for the gray hair, Katy looked the same. She had aged, of course, but she still had her slim figure and that beautiful smile. And that was all Adam saw. “I see you are looking well after forty years!” Katy smiled. Adam patted his growing gut and smiled back. He had aged, but he had been happy. He slid into the booth and sat across from Katy. After all this time, all he could say was, “What happened?” As soon as Adam asked, the story spilled out. Katy had a brother that no one had ever seen. He lived in another state. He hung out with a very unsavory crowd. Katy’s parents had disowned him long before they moved to the suburbs. Things had been fine for a long time. Katy’s brother, Rick, had no idea where they had moved to and her parents were happy not to have any contact with him.

Before Katy’s high school graduation, Dad had gotten a call from Rick. He was looking for money to pay someone off. He assumed that his parents had money and they would give it to him. At this point he had gotten connected to the criminal element. He demanded that his parents send him the money or else. Dad had no idea how Rick had found them. But he knew that they were not safe as long as Rick knew where they lived. Rick was a drug addict who was not thinking clearly. Dad had called the police, who had in turn contacted the FBI. It seemed that Rick was involved with some very dangerous people. Dad had decided that it was time to move away, again. This was not the first time, So they packed and left. They changed location, names etc. Katy was forbidden from contacting her friends and was told not to use social media. Someone from the police department had called to help them relocate. They felt badly for the family. Well, they did relocate. But life continued to be difficult as they were always wondering if Rick or his “friends” would find them. Ultimately, Rick had died of an overdose.

Meanwhile, Katy had met someone and fallen in love. She hoped that he would bring her the happiness she so longed for. They got married. And then the trouble began. What Katy never knew was that her husband was an addict too. He had tried to get clean several times. He went to rehab, but nothing ever worked. After years of dealing with his addiction and his erratic behavior, Katy was at a point where she was ready to divorce him. Then, her husband also died of an overdose.

It wasn’t long after, her dad died of a heart attack. Katy’s mom had a hard time living without dad and one day just didn’t wake up. Katy decided to come back and find Adam.

**** Four weeks later... A gentle breeze was blowing, and the stars were twinkling in the inky night sky. Outside, on the terrace they sat. The table set for two with a candle brightly lit in between them. They had finally found each other, after forty years. The feelings between them, the same. It was as if time had never passed.

"Where do you think we will be forty years from now?" Katherine smiled. Her blue eyes as bright as they were forty years ago. Sadly there were lines etched around her eyes. Time had taken its toll. But to Adam, she was still as beautiful as the day he had met her. "I hope we will be together, no matter what happens." Adam sighed. He looked at his first love and couldn't, wouldn't imagine losing her again.


The sounds of silverware and small talk echoed inside the intimate restaurant. Jacoby looked down at the plate and back up towards Antoinette. “Do you want the last one?” She smiled and shook her head, so he popped the baked clam in his mouth. Antoinette leaned forward with a shine in her eyes. “Can I ask you something?” “Oh, that’s never a good thing, especially on a blind date!” They both laughed, and after it died off, he nodded. “Are you a superhero?” Jacoby leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Did Ben tell you that? Did he say that to you?” “No! Well, I mean kind of. He might have mentioned it to Cecilia, and she might have told me.” “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” “What do you mean?” Jacoby felt his cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and unwanted attention. “I mean, I’m not really a superhero.” “What does that mean?” “I uhh, I’m not sure what I mean.” Jacoby let out an awkward laugh. Antoinette eyed him while taking a sip of her wine. “Do you have superpowers?” There was some sarcasm mixed into her question. Jacoby squirmed in his seat for a couple of beats and leaned forward, almost coming out of his chair. “I shouldn’t do this, but…can you keep a secret?” “Of course!” Jacoby looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Yeah, I kind of do.” Antoinette waited for the punch line, and when none came, she sat straight up. “What? Are you serious?” “Yeah, I am.” Antoinette paused again, still waiting for the punch line. When she drank, she sounded like Marisa Tomei from “My Cousin Vinny,” and the accent was now on full display. “You’re sitting across this table and dead-ass telling me you have superpowers?” Jacoby remained unperturbed by her distrust. He was used to this, which was why he was silently cursing Ben. “Yup.” “Okay then, what are they?” Jacoby took a breath; at this point, he had to tell her or risk sabotaging the rest of the date. “Well, it all started one day when I was making waffles and — “ “Oh, you’re telling me a story?” Her question threw him off. “Well yeah, it’ll make more sense this way.” “All right, continue.” “I was making waffles, and I guess some batter spilled on the stove, and a grease fire started.” “Yeah?” “And I panicked and grabbed the Gatorade bottle I was drinking and dumped it on the stove, causing a huge explosion!” Jacoby pantomimed the explosion and included a sound effect. “Okay.” “And I guess the explosion, mixed with the Gatorade electrolytes and my body chemistry gave me my superpower.” Antoinette sat there, waiting for Jacoby to fill the pause or fill her in on the joke. “And that is…what?” “I have the power to throw or break any object, causing it to explode, but then it reappears good as new.” She stared at him, her frustration growing more and more apparent. “I don’t get it.” Jacoby picked up the wine glass in front of him. “Like I could throw this wine glass against the wall, and it would explode but then reappear on the table like nothing ever happened.” Silence hung like a portrait inside an art museum. Dissatisfied and confused, Antoinette’s internal censor took a smoke break. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” “What do you want me to say? It’s my gift, …and my curse.” “So, do you have a name?” “Yeah, it’s Captain Explosion.” Antoinette laughed and then put her hands up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was rude. I just didn’t expect this.” “That’s why I try to keep my identity a secret.” The resulting silence was filled with the two adults drinking from their glass. Antoinette put hers down to ask, “Do you go out at night and fight crime?” Jacoby made a face. She wasn’t getting it. “No, not really.” Antoinette stared at him for a couple of seconds, and he could feel the doubt pouring out of every pore. “Let me see it.” “Here?” “Yeah, do it.” Jacoby looked around. “Nah, I don’t want to.” Antoinette’s face turned a shade of red, and suddenly she was talking with her hands. “So you’re fucking lying to me? You’re a fucking liar?” “No!” Jacoby said, his eyes pleading as he continued. “I’m not lying to you; I just don’t want to.” “Well, you’re going to!” Antoinette stood up, walked over to a large Italian man two tables over, and shouted, “The guy I’m with over there said he banged your wife!” “He fucked Judy?” The convenient stereotype leaped to his feet, and before Jacoby could plead his case, both he and the chair were on the floor. Antoinette was already halfway to the door when she collided with a waiter, projecting pasta and her pride all over the floor. Tears were forming, but screaming felt better, and she let one out before making her exit. “Worst blind date ever!” Jacoby let the embarrassment wash over and pass before picking himself up. He sat back in his chair, still dazed when the owner of the restaurant came over. “Your girlfriend stormed out of here and broke some dishes. I gotta charge you.” He handed him the bill. “Fuck me!” Jacoby threw a wine glass against the wall, causing an explosion. Instantly the glass reappeared on the table. Jacoby handed him a credit card, and the owner did a double-take. “Hey, wait a second! Aren’t you, Captain Explosion?!” Jacoby perked up. Perhaps the night wasn’t a complete waste. “Yeah, that’s me.” “We don’t take Discover.


He took off his shoes, and strode out onto the beach. He loved the feeling of the soft sand crumbling beneath his soles, the waves gently caressing his toes. The salty spray of the sea. The wet sand glimmered in the distance invitingly. He wondered if it would be the same half a world away. Repulse bay. He lived just a bus ride away when he was a child. Innumerable summer days were spent here, playing in the sand, trying and failing to reach the floating platform far away from the shore, getting yelled at by mom for not wearing sunscreen... Now he was moving away, to the point where it would take a plane ride to revisit this memory from the other life he lived. Being a Thursday afternoon in the scorching summer sun, not many people decided to be at the beach. He mostly had the whole beach to himself. Maybe it spoke to the bias of his memories, but summer days became more and more blisteringly hot over the years. The air became so humid it was suffocating. It felt incompatible with life. He sympathized with the palm tree, its leaves drooping over the ocean, shaking in the breeze half-heartedly like a worker pretending to work and awaiting retirement. At least he could leave. The first time he was here, his mom brought a small bucket with her so he could use it to build a sandcastle. It was no work of art, really just five bucketfuls of sand that protruded out of the ground. He had to defend it against the older, meaner kids who kept trying to topple his castle and dethrone him. He fought tooth and nail to preserve it, throwing his outstretched hands onto three kids practicing their imaginary world cup scoring routine on the castle, while his mom fell asleep in the shade under a tree. But all he had to show for it were scratches, bruises, and the unmistakable memory of three craters in the otherwise undisturbed sand. It was a delusion he had, that if he could stop the kids destroying his work it could stand for years to come. But of course, when he returned the next day it was gone, disintegrating under the red sun and swept away by the waves. A borrowed place on borrowed time. He found a shaded patch and sat down, staring out towards the sea. In the distance, he could make out a couple of seagulls, circling a sailboat, looking for a safe place to land. It seems like the search for hospitable land is a tradition, happening since the first plankton slid down a few nanometers, and will go on until the end of time. He thought about the ship of Theseus. Is a boat really the same boat if all its parts were replaced? Or, for that matter, is a city? Out of sentimentality, he built another sandcastle. Without any tools, he gently folded up his sleeves, walked down to the water's edge and scooped some sand together, sprinkling in some water to give it shape. Two things that decidedly do not mix, the sand and the water, momentarily came together to form something so beautiful, so delicate. This sort of beauty was never going to last. His creation was a castle, complete with four towers and something that resembled a wall surrounding the main block. He sat and watched as the waves lapped away at the nearest tower against the crimson of the sunset, removing some bits of sand from his construction. Soon it will all be nothing. One by one, they all just faded away. As he bent down to pick up his bag, he noticed that the legs of his pants were wet, and specks of sand littered his legs. Against the black pants he was wearing, it seemed almost like stars in the night sky, one he could never see through the choking yellow street lamps of Kowloon. He gently patted it, and some fell off while others remained ever so tightly bonded to his pants. He remembered another time when he wore long pants to the beach as a child, and the sand clung onto his pants leg. When he noticed it, he went back into the sea to wash it off, and to his credit it was no longer there. But when he walked up the beach to rejoin his friends, new sand was flicked back up and his pants leg was dotted with sand once more. He ran down to water a few more times, but this kept happening, no matter how much he tried to minimize his movements. He tried to walk slowly so the sand would not bounce up onto his pants, he tried to run so there was less opportunity for the sand to jump onto him, he even tried to walk sideways for some reason. He could not explain it now, but he felt it was sure to work in his youth. As much as he tried to get rid of it, the sand always reappeared. For weeks afterwards, his mom kept finding bits of sand at home. Mom twisted his ear until it became red, and sent him to bed early. Of course, an hour-long lecture was inevitable. She would reschedule the end of humanity to tell him off. All over some sand that wouldn’t go away. And perhaps that is the way it is. You can try to erase everything, but some things just do not perish easily. You could scrub and scrub and it would still be there. Small parts of it will remain, and will continue to exist in the crevices you never thought about. And when he finally settled into his new home thousands of miles away, putting away the last cardboard box, he still found sand in his house. He picked some up with his finger, holding it up to the light to examine it. And when he remembered where the sand came from, he smiled. \ For more like this, please visit our sub r/RedTideStories.


The waves crashed against the sides of the canoe. Cosmo gripped the hull of the boat with everything he had to stay above the water. As his small ship rose and sank with the aggression of the midnight storm, the fisherman knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his stability. With every gust of wind and pelting of seawater, Cosmo was quickly losing strength. He’d been on the water for only 2 hours when the skies began to darken, and the temperature dropped rapidly. He’d been planning this fishing trip for months, and when the time finally came, he wasn’t going to let a “chance of rain” stop him from getting out and enjoying his holiday. This mistake was at the forefront of his mind as he clenched the wooden slats of his canoe with wet fingers. The energy of the sea seemed only to be increasing, and the strength in his fingers and arms to be declining. His biceps trembled; his fingers slid on the smooth timber. With one final explosive smash from the ocean, Cosmo’s small canoe was obliterated, wooden shrapnel sent in every direction. His fishing pole, gear, and lunch bag were shot off into darkness and the man was plunged deep below the surface. In the black of night and the midst of the storm, it was impossible to tell which direction was up. His head was spinning from the impact and he flailed underwater in sheer panic. After a few minutes of struggling, Cosmo saw the darkness closing in around him and he slowly ceased to fight. Laying on his back on dry land, Cosmo opened his eyes and coughed up a mouthful of warm seawater. He was disoriented and confused, but safe and dry. He knew he was out of the water, but as he examined the air above him with squinted eyes, he saw ocean. He glanced fish swimming far above his head; algae, coral, and deep-sea vegetation were visible in every direction. He pushed himself up with his elbows and coughed up more seawater. He was re-gathering his bearings and at the same time becoming more confused with the situation. Cosmo was on a beach, but at the same time deep underwater. His fingers wriggled through the dry sand, his lungs cycled the air around him, and his clothes fluttered in the wind. He rose to his feet and let the sudden rush of dizziness pass before walking towards what appeared to be a wall made of sand off in the distance. Starting off slow, his strength soon returned to him and he made his way towards the wall. As he approached, the structure seemed to grow larger. When he was within 100 feet, it was apparent that this was a massive construction, very different in size than his viewpoint in the sand had him believe. As Cosmo took the final steps towards the base of the wall, he had to crane his neck almost 90 degrees upward to see the top. He was in utter disbelief and frozen in place when the structure slowly began to vibrate. Too afraid to approach and to mesmerized to run, Cosmo planted his feet and waited for whatever was going to happen next. Within seconds, the massive barrier split with a vertical opening and the pieces slid through the sand to either side. The slot grew until it would allow Cosmo enough room to pass. Cosmo felt a strong urge, a pulling from inside his chest, to seek whatever was beyond the wall. He followed the path inside and fell into absolute astonishment. Once inside the massive barrier of sand, Cosmo laid his eyes on the largest, most intricate set of buildings he’d ever seen. Not the types of structures he’d seen on the surface of Earth, these constructions were made of perfectly packed sand, glistening obsidian, smooth rock, and colorful coral from the depths of the ocean. Every wall of every building was expertly crafted and beautifully constructed; some of the largest rising through the clouds. He was standing amidst an underwater utopia. The sea was above him; clouds were below that. He didn’t feel trapped, or claustrophobic. It was as if this was normal; everything felt correct and in order inside these walls. Bliss spread through his body as he walked towards the city of sand. There wasn’t a shred of doubt, anxiety, or worry about who lived in these dwellings. He felt euphoric at his discovery, unsure if he was dreaming, dead, or hallucinating. Everything felt real, everything felt right. In the center of the city stood the most intriguing building of them all. Most of the structures had hints of glossy obsidian, maybe a flash of colored coral. Most parts of the city were made of predominately sand – all of it breathtaking, however. What Cosmo was looking at now in the heart of the metropolis left him speechless, almost without tangible thought. He struggled to find anything from his life that he could compare to what he was looking at now. Dwarfing the other structures, made from pure black stone and speckled with shining glass, this part of the town was not like the rest. The amount of color exploding from this building was breathtaking. Cosmo was being drawn directly towards this attraction. He was aware of his feet shuffling him forward, his mind detached from his body. He realized he didn’t want to stop his forward progress. Instead, he did what he could to move quicker. As he came up to the front of the building, a single panel at the base eroded, and a doorway appeared. It was the perfect height for Cosmo, and he entered without hesitation. Inside the great monolith was a single chair, a throne, large enough to hold a human 10 times the size of Cosmo and adorned with every color imaginable. The colors didn’t clash; instead, they blended beautifully and seemed to create a rainbow that flowed throughout like art. Coral had been chiseled and sculpted to shape the throne and it appeared both smooth and comfortable. The shine from the obsidian walls reflected in the background, and as Cosmo tilted his head upward, he was unable to see a roof to this room. The stunning walls rose to infinity. As Cosmo leveled his head back towards the gigantic chair in front of him, he was struck with amazement as he realized it was no longer empty, as it had been before. Seated before him was the most impressive being he’d ever seen. Fitting the chair seamlessly, the being was much larger than Cosmo, but not frightening or intimidating. The man in the chair shared the qualities of a human, but on a much larger scale. He was built to perfection, embodying an almost supernatural flawlessness. Atop the head of this enormous man sat a golden crown. All 16 points of the crown had a small carved piece of coral, each a different color. The gold glistened and coral popped with vibrant shades. The man sat his throne with grace and power, but also with benevolence. The softness of the man’s face comforted Cosmo, and he approached, stretching his head upward to keep eye contact with this fascinating man. When he was at the foot of the throne, and only at the height of the man’s ankles, the sand below Cosmo rose swiftly. He was lifted like an elevator until he was at eye level with the king. “Hello Cosmo, welcome to Arenia, my underwater kingdom.” Cosmo felt it easy to find his words, the feeling of shock he experienced outside had been replaced with a relaxed feeling of contentedness. “Thank you, Great King. I’m not sure where I am or what has happened, but I’m awestruck by what I’ve seen. It’s beyond words. The beauty of this palace and the city surrounding it is past description.” The king gave a modest bow and continued to speak softly and kindly to his guest. “You were in an accident on the surface of the sea, Cosmo. The storm capsized your boat and sent you underwater. I am the God of the deep sea, protector of those taken by the ocean, restorer of aquatic life. Arenia is a unique city in that it can accommodate both those who breathe air, and those who are sustained in water. You were on your way to death before I came upon you and brought you here to my kingdom.” Cosmo was amazed by what he was hearing, but he knew it was true. He knew he wasn’t in a dream, and he knew he was experiencing something that very few have before. The God of the Deep Sea continued. “Cosmo, you have an option that I am going to present to you now. You are free to return to your homeland, to the surface of Earth and to the troubles plagued by that society. We are on the ocean floor, but I can return you to your home in a matter of seconds, if that is what you wish. On the contrary, you may select to stay here with us in Arenia. We have everything you need for a fulfilling life. The societal troubles of the surface have not made their way down here, nor shall they ever. You will find this life full of happiness and enrichment but will need to leave your surface possessions behind. In addition, if I return you to your native homeland, I will erase the memory of this kingdom from your mind. You will have no recollection of this happening and therefore will not spread the knowledge of Arenia. We protect the sea in silence. What is it that you wish to do?” Cosmo stood on his platform of sand, full of bliss but aware of the decision he must now make. The feeling inside his body and at the forefront of his mind was unmistakable. His worries, his plaguing thoughts, his anxieties – they were all gone. There seemed to be no problems down here, no negativity. He could start his life anew and live out his days in pure happiness. If he were to leave however, he would have no memory of this experience, no sliver of proof that this encounter ever occurred. The prospect of staying in Arenia was intriguing, but he made his decision quickly. “Thank you for the offer to stay here and enjoy the fruits of your metropolis, but I’m accustomed to my life and to those that I share it with. I’d like to return to the surface, even if that means that Arenia will be washed from my mind.” The feeling of bliss that had flooded his body was suddenly flushed out by disappointment. The God responded, “As you wish. I am going to return you to the morning of your fishing trip, but I am going to grant you the intuition to make a better choice regarding the weather forecast. The memory of this visit will be cleansed from your memory and the secret of Arenia will continue.” Cosmo expressed his sincere gratitude for the saving of his life before darkness enveloped him. He awoke several hours later in his bed. Feeling well rested, Cosmo got to his feet, stretched out his back, and immediately thought about the day’s fishing trip. A smile spread across his face as he put on his slippers and walked outside to grab the paper. Standing in his driveway, he opened straight to the weather section. The smile soon faded from his face. “Chance of Rain” read the forecast for today’s date. Unsure exactly why, he had a strong feeling that he’d better mind the paper and go fishing another day. Disappointed, he crumpled up the print and tossed it into the trash. He retreated into his home, dumped his slippers by the bedside, and quickly fell back asleep.


As the air grows colder, and the leafs fall unto the earth. So does my heart in all of it's passions grow colder, and fall into the abyss. It's sinful for a man to show such soft skin,but i retort. If you've ever loved such a woman, the way i love her, surely your skin will also grow soft. For such love to truly touch yea,your skin must also grow soft. Soft for her smile to pierce into your soul, and soft enough for her godly aesthetics to drive your mind crazy. But i still stand alone, in the gutter, by streets of rotterdam. Drinking my cheap wine, while the streams of whiskey dry unto my chest, and my eyes face unto the heavens. What i want more at this moment in my life, is for the one above to take me. So you ask, what putteth me into such distress. My good friend, it is love off-course, but not just any kind of love. Un-requited love , the love that drives a man into psychosis.


Disclaimer: Facts provided throughout this literary journal may or may not be true. Do not use to reference any relevant information regarding that of the beloved George Washington. Please enjoy! Saturday February 22, 1738 Garnets and looms do not cease to amaze me, yet, for reasons I cannot explain, my father’s cherry tree is where I write this. My sister Betty, my brothers and I have named him Robbie. The shade of Robbie’s leaves and ants along his rough bark delight me with the simple wonders that can never be explained. I had to contest physically with Samuel for the spot underneath the tree. He is only four, so we made a compromise quickly before he could muddy his trousers and make our Mother worry. He gets the tree in the mornings, and I will get it everyday after lunch. Augustine, who left home early and only visits on important days like my birthday, gets it never. My father gave me a hatchet today, my sixth birthday, and my Mother gave me this pad of paper and a pair of riding boots. The boots squeeze my toes too much and I don’t like how they feel, but the hatchet fits my hands perfectly and makes me feel powerful. A hatchet in my hands and some muscle in my fingers; nothing else can stop me now! Sunday February 23, 1738 Went to Sunday mass this morning where Father told the minister how much he cherished his cherry tree. When Samuel asked Father why he liked the tree so much, Father responded, “Samuel, my boy, it listens to me,” and patted him on the head harder than a naughty horse. I went to the cherry tree this afternoon after lunch, and with milk and bread crumbs still jostling their way into my stomach, I asked the tree if it could listen to me. And because I cannot tell a lie, I will tell you, it said nothing. Wednesday February 26, 1738 I plan on chopping some twigs tomorrow. I have my eyes set on the uneven branches of the cherry tree--they leave sun marks on Samuel’s rosy pale cheeks, and I would not think he wants to look like a wild tiger--so I will give him a full sun mark. He sleeps unknowingly underneath the sparse shadows of Robbie’s shadow right now. Thursday February 27, 1738 Raining. I don’t like rain. Drooping. Robbie is drooping. Mother told me to clean the floors now that Augustine has left. I happily obliged, giving the wet mop to Samuel and dry sponge to Betty while Mother took care of John in the nursery. Samuel said I should be leading troops one day, and Robbie, drooping from all the rain, looked happy when he said it. Sunday March 2, 1738 It is still raining outside, but we all had to go to mass today since Father is the churchwarden and wants us to make Virginia proud. I was forced to wear the boots after Samuel ratted me out on where I was hiding them. Then he ratted me out on where I was hiding myself after running around the house, screaming because I don’t like the boots, rain or Samuel. During the sermon, Mother had whispered to us that she wanted us to pray together under the cherry tree once we came home. She wanted us to pray that our Uncle Lewis found his way to the colonies and Mount Vernon after being prosecuted by the British. The British. Somebody really ought to stop them. Then we came out of the chapel and realized it was still raining. Mother then left the umbrellas in the frontyard and told us to gather in the kitchen while Father lit a candlelight. Betty pulled me aside after our prayer and told me, “We prayed inside the house, inside the kitchen, and inside our hearts, brother. Yet somehow I know that Uncle Lewis will not be coming. Why is that?” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what she meant. Maybe I’ll know the answer when I’m all grown up, but for now I simply told her, “Look at Robbie out the window. He might as well be dead right now, but when the rain goes and the winds end: he’ll be alive and standing in the Americas.” I am a year older than her, so my words tend to sound more mature than they are confused when I say them. She nodded and went to brush her teeth. Tuesday March 4, 1738 At last, no rain! No rain! No rain! Betty says she is “elated yet belated,” and I have barely an idea what she means, her vocabulary not being the strongest for a five-year-old. She stayed inside to jump rope in front of John’s crib, however, and Samuel and I played catch outside. This being said, I have no other new words to tell you. Samuel fell in a mud puddle this morning, so he rested beside the cherry tree, watching the clouds blanket in the sky and pointing to the ones that looked like bears or whales. He was going to leave the shade by noon, but I let him stay because I wasn’t sure if Mother would’ve liked to see him come inside with wet and muddy trousers. We shared an apple. I went inside to find a knife for cutting it, but when I came back, Samuel was holding my hatchet! “Hack it through the ground, Georgie!” he said, holding the hatchet dangerously over his head. I don’t like it when he calls me Georgie, but I also don't like it when he holds sharp things over his head, so I made sure to get that thing away from him as soon as I saw it. I told him no, but he didn’t listen, and I must admit part of me did want to use my hatchet. Sweat started to drip out of my forehead, and my fingers trembled. I shook my head no. “C’mon General Georgie!” He bounced up and down in his muddy and grass-stained pants. Oh, infantile Samuel. You may be my brother, but sometimes you can make me do the worst things. I took the hatchet and struck it through the ground, reaping up worms and grass roots with every strike. It felt good, I have to say. I have no anger or bad feelings towards anyone, not even Samuel, but it felt good. Wednesday March 5, 1738 Had to stay inside this morning while Samuel played with Robbie since Mother was upset I cut up holes through the ground yesterday. Betty let me come to her spot in the nursery so John and I could watch her jump rope. It was rather mundane, but she seemed to enjoy it, so I sat in Father’s armchair and watched. Mother came in later and said I looked just like Father when he had important work to do and let me out early because of it. Cut some twigs and made a bouquet for Mother out of their flowers. She said they were lovely, but told me to be careful around Father’s tree. After all, looking like Father when he is busy isn’t enough for me to be Father. Friday March 14, 1738 Samuel and I chop twigs and square the bushes everyday before lunch. I have stopped cutting holes through the ground, but I still hold my hatchet strong when I strike. We are running out of things to chop, and lying under Robbie is getting boring. Monday March 17, 1738 Forgot to write in you yesterday, but something important happened yesterday that I have to write down. My father, the honest and kind churchwarden, went missing. One of Father’s friends from the parish council came to our family farm to tell us the news. “I regret to inform you, dear friends and family, but Augustine Washington Sr. has gone missing last night.” The unfledged man took off his cap and made a genuflect kneel. “He was last seen at the vestry, ma’am, at nine o’ clock. We have sent off a search party of about thirty to forty horses.” “Who is we?” Mother cut him off but let him in as it was well into the evening and getting cold out. “The entire church but their wives and children.” He took off his woolen cap and sat down, dusting dirt and other stuff from his pants. She looked down at me and said to get John from the nursery for it would be a while. She then cooked a jar of warm milk while the man who looked more like the son of a minister instead of an actual church member yabbered on. I listened intensely, with purpose, but it was hard to distinguish what any of his words really meant. Betty started to take care of John on her own, and Samuel kept asking me what the man, eating our chocolate chip cookies, was saying. “I haven’t an idea where he went, missus,” he said through breaths of cookie crumbs. A bolt of lightning struck, and the rain started pouring across our windows at that time, so Mother tightened the latch between the pairs of windows and gave us reassuring kisses. “It is rather cold out… and the rain… young sir, would you like to stay the night with us?” she asked and another bolt of lighting struck the ground. The man made a joke that it sounded like a hatchet striking the ground. I winced. Mother gave me a playful look before showing him to one of our guest bedrooms. He left his shoes by the front door, though. Tuesday March 18, 1738 I cut the tree. I cut the cherry tree. I cut Robbie. Augustine, the one who is eighteen but thinks he is forty-three, has come by again to say his condolences. He had a whole speech written, too. He had gotten the news early and came this morning when the man, Benjamin Boone supposedly, was taking a bath in the outdoor bathroom. Benjamin came out of the bath, ready to leave and already folding the towel Mother had lent him when he cried, “Auggie!” Samuel tittered behind me while Augustine’s eyes widened. “Benjamin? Benjamin,” he said, not very sure if he had used the right name. “Benjamin, did they make you a messenger?” “They did,” Benjamin was ecstatic. “How’d you…” and the conversation went on from there. Benjamin’s hours of being a welcomed guest were long overdue, but Mother kept cooking for those two who would have left once nightfall fell, anyway. Betty and John resumed their daily schedule in the nursery with her beaded rope and his wooden crib, and Samuel went too because he didn’t want to fall in the mud again. I was the only one outside this morning, Augustine and Benjamin still complaining about the price of tea from inside the kitchen windows with the accompaniment of Mother. This time I was mad. This time I was mad, mad at Mother for giving chocolate chip cookies out to strangers, mad at Augustine who wouldn’t be here if Father was, mad at Betty for always saying confusing things, and mad at Samuel for not playing with me. I hit the tree.  I hit the tree with the hatchet I didn’t even know was in my hands, and I hit it hard. I hit the tree so hard my bones were vibrating and my skull was reverberating. And I hit, and I hit, and I hit. Robbie was no more by the end of all those hits. Wednesday March 19, 1738 This will be the last time I write in you for a long time. I have been grounded for two weeks. This morning, Father woke me up from where I slept in the nursery--however I got there. He explained what had happened to him and asked if we were okay. His horse had hurt its leg on the ride back home, but it was dark out so made camp there in the Virginia woods. Augustine and Benjamin both left for home while I was asleep. Betty told me Augustine had tried to wake me to say good-by but that Mother wouldn’t let him; I was too far away in Dreamland. Father had taken the back door to get inside, so there was no way he could have seen the little remains of Robbie. I knew he’d find out either way, even if I could possibly blame this one on the rain. The rain and a dubious strike of lightning or any other --- No, no. That isn’t what I did. I put my hatchet on Father’s credenza and asked if I could talk to him. Betty gave me one of one of those sisterly glares that could make anyone regret doing anything while I fidgeted with my fingers and popped every knuckle there was. Sat down on the stool that makes me look small and told Father what happened, no embellishments or anything. Because there was nothing that could embellish it. Am sitting in my room now where Father will take away my hatchet, journal and other belongings in a couple of hours, after I’ve told Betty, Samuel and Mother what happened. I know I’ve done the right thing, but it still feels weird. Wednesday April 2, 1738 Father has bought another tree; this time an apple tree. He planted it in the yard and said a quick prayer for it. I was watching from the window and had come outside to do the same when he placed a hand on my shoulder, looking beyond my blue eyes. “George,” he said, “If you let me down, I will forgive you. But if you let anyone else down, they will not. Please, son, do not let them down.” And somehow, some way, I know exactly who them is.