Shawty and Baby Mama Try to Kill Us By Seth Fox In in the glory days of my wild and reckless youth I redistributed discount construction equipment for the benefit of low-income immigrant workers. Which is to say, I stole power tools and sold them to the Mexicans. Often times I worked with an older cat named Mufasa. Like The Lion King, but not quite as regal. Mufasa had a baby mama who was less than thrilled with how he lived and with whom he spent his time. Mufasa was also in love with a crack whore I'll call Shawty. I can't remember her real name, but who cares? She was a crack whore. I don't like to think of her as a crack whore simply because she didn't look like a crack whore. Shawty looked quite healthy, I mean. She was however, technically a prostitute and she did spend a significant portion of her income-and anyone else’s income, for that matter-on crack, for which she smoked profusely and at any and all available points in time so if that doesn’t make one a crack whore I suppose nothing would. Mufasa was determined to win Shawty's heart with gentlemanly charm-and ample donations of crack-but refused to purchase her professional services outright with cash. Shawty did not particularly like Mufasa in the romantic sense but she loved crack. Hence their camaraderie. One bright summer morning after coffee and donuts I'm shooting speedballs under a bridge where I spent the previous night, when my breakfast is interrupted by a call from Mufasa saying it was time to go to work. I gave him directions to my bridge and exactly 12 minutes later he arrives with Shawty in tow. Shawty asks me if I have any crack and I say no. This is a lie. I have plenty of crack, of course. But never tell a crackhead you have crack. Besides, she wasn't sleeping with me and I wasn't in love with her. Plus, it was first thing in the morning so we were literally on our way to buy crack. She could wait ten goddamn minutes. It was not that serious. After we all cop and smoke some morning crack, Mufasa informed us that he had already promised his baby's mama-whom he was no longer “with,” he clarified-as part of some custody agreement/cocaine negotiation that he would allow her to ride shotgun and make some money with us today. At first, I was apprehensive, but came around after he assured me it wouldn’t affect my cut and bribed me with some free crack. Fuck it. Sign her up, let's go to work. We arrived at her apartment and Baby Mama-who is not a small woman-gets in the car and immediately asked if I have any crack. I say no. Mufasa gives her crack, I smoke crack, she smoke crack, we all smoke crack, Mufasa and Baby Mama in the front, me and Shawty in the back, crackity crack crack crack, Backstreet's back, alright. We arrived at a popular home improvement store and park off to the side so we can “gather recon” and “strategize” and “smoke crack.” After much debate over who has the most experience and who should take the lead we arrive at a plan. Which was exactly the same plan we always had: Shawty drives, Mufasa and I go in and grab as many drills and nail guns as possible, run out the door, jump in the car, Shawty hits the gas and Baby Mama- Sigh, -does nothing whatsoever. At this point it becomes relevant to say that I'm the only white person in the car. When Mufasa and I go in separate doors, loss prevention is immediately suspicious of him and corner the register. I am seemingly ignored. We load up everything we can carry and head back towards the bay doors. “Can we help you with that, sir?” A man in a red vest asks Mufasa. Mufasa keeps walking. Taking advantage of my anonymity, I slide on ahead and set off the alarm by going to the door with a big stack of merchandise. The alarm confuses the Vests, who turn to watch me exit the store and debate within their own minds whether or not they just got double-teamed by two separate and unrelated heists, or if the skinny white boy and older black dude are, in fact, accomplices. This happened every time. Their confusion caused hesitation, allowing us to run wild. Before they can act as a unit, Mufasa makes use of an impromptu battering ram of DeWalt boxes and tramples the distracted vest-wearing customer service drones, forcing his way out the door as well. The pair of us charge blinking into the daylight en route to the extraction point and notice, much to our dismay, that Shawty, Baby Mama and the car are gone. Alarms are blaring, customers are staring. Here come the vests. One is riding a forklift for some reason, which is a terrible decision in virtually any tactical scenario. But the Vests aren't tactically minded. They're mostly senior citizens. We hear the girls before we see them, screaming around the parking lot. They went to the wrong door. We charge toward them and the Vests give chase. I arrive first and dive headlong into the backseat. Mufasa close behind, begins throwing me nail guns. I load the nail guns as the Vets grab Mufasa. I also grab Mufasa. It’s me vs the Vests in a wacky tug-of-war over my partner in crime. Baby Mama screams and Shawty, in a moment of tactical clairvoyance, puts the car in reverse, stomps the gas and shatters Mufasa’s foot. Mufasa is not thrilled, but the Vests relinquish their hold on my comrade for fear of retaliation with furious lawsuits. Corporate America has trained them well, but victory goes to the scum-sucking crackhead larceny gang. Mufasa hurls the last box at our enemies punctuating our conquest and we flee in Phyrric Victory. We have our bounty, time to see the Mexicans. We took their riches and sped away on squealing tires. I felt like an American icon. An outlaw with a band of thieves. “Where the fuck was you?” Mufasa ask Shawty. “You said the other door!” Shawty says, incorrectly. "The fuck I did!” Mufasa explains. By now, the women in the car have united together in allegiance, presumably, to overthrow the patriarchy. Which was us now, I guess. Baby Mama informs Mufasa of the potential consequences of speaking to Shawty in such a manner, Mufasa suggests an alternate physical location for which she can place her criticisms. This doesn't help, but rather adds fuel to the fire of the feminist coup. At this point, Baby Mama seeks to plant the seeds of mistrust within the hearts of us men by implying my manhood is of superior quality because I was not overcome by the Vests like Mufasa was. A regular Sun Tzu, that Baby Mama. Mufasa looks at me confused and in noticeable agony over his shattered foot. To this, I got nothin'. Mufasa changes the subject. “My fuckin foot!” Should we go to the hospital? Of course not! We have a car full of stolen tools and we are literally fleeing a crime scene. Mufasa assures us that getting paid would make his foot feel good as new. Everyone else seems to agree, so off we go to meet our ‘migos. Tensions are running high amongst our merry band of thieves. Mufasa continues to cry out in agony and Baby Mama continues to insult his manhood. Shawty asks me if I have any crack. I say no. This is a lie. “I got some heroin, though.” Shawty stops the car. “You got heroin?” Asks Baby Mama. “Bitch, you don't do heroin.” Said Mufasa. Mufasa proceeded to explain to the women that he does not trust heroin addicts-except for me, of course, we’re homies-and that she should take no thought in what I just confessed. Baby Mama winks at me seductively and I am overcome with mortal terror. Mufasa secretly ask me for some heroin. You know, for his ailing foot. The pain it’s, unbearable. Can’t concentrate. So, I help a brother out and we continue our journey. Baby Mama decides she wants to drive and Shawty begins to question her solidarity, disrupting the male versus female dynamic. Shawty asks what is wrong with her driving and Baby Mama exhibits her Machiavellian authority by slapping Shawty up-side her head. Shawty retaliates and thus begins the first brawl at 75 miles an hour. Mufasa attempts to reason with the women but is nearly rendered unconscious from the heroin. I guess now's my time to take charge. “Yo, let's just get this money, okay?” The women stop fighting each other, focusing their wrath against me. Which was fine, because all they did was talk shit while I got high with Mufasa in the back seat. And so it was, all the way to the Mexican trailer park. Mufasa and the women stay in the car while I negotiate with the Mexicans. I sell the merchandise and keep a little extra for “emotional stress” but they don’t need to know that. Junkie is as junkie does, I guess. By now, everyone wants crack, so we re-up and stop by the QT for supplies. Mufasa man's the pump while I shoot up in the bathroom. The men get beer and they women get blue slushies. Baby Mama once again decides that she wants to drive and by now Shawty has crack so she doesn’t mind. Mufasa’s foot is still broken and I’m avoiding confrontation by smoking crack and hanging out in the back with Shawty's boobs. Baby Mama takes the wheel and drives the car directly into a phone pole. Rather than take responsibility for her vehicular inadequacies, Baby Mama makes it known that Mufasa should have never let her behind the wheel. What was he thinking? Clearly this demonstrates how he is not shit and is subsequently a terrible father. Don’t we all agree? We didn’t agree. We weren’t even paying attention, actually. I was at this point trying to negotiate with Shawty about how much crack I’d have to put in her pipe before she would let me put my pipe in her…uh…crack. Mufasa, despite his foot, switches seats and tears off down the highway, refusing to comment. He watches our negotiations through the rearview mirror. Baby Mama watches him watch our negotiations through the rearview mirror and thinks to herself, “Is he fuckin that ho, too?” Baby Mama rips off the rearview mirror and hits Mufasa with it. “Is you fuckin that ho?!” Ah, shit. I separate myself from the bosom of said ho because said ho ain't no ho, apparently. Mufasa is at a loss for words and the ho that ain't no ho removes her jewelry. At 85 miles an hour I’m convinced that Shawty and Baby Mama are trying to kill us. Shawty dives into the front seat and the women grapple like rabid marmosets at 90 miles an hour. A blue slushy explodes across the windshield and Mufasa passes back the rearview mirror from The fray. The car veers into the opposite lane. I notice a large truck barreling toward us through the blue ice and a certain peace comes over me. Here I am, smoking crack in the back of my homeboy's car watching two women fight over a man neither of them really wanted. The truck honks. “Yo, motherfucker! Do something!” Mufasa ordered. Shit. Right. I notice my rig and my dope and I have a plan. Mufasa jerks the wheel and the women jerk it back. Honk! Any junkie worth his salt can cook up in a moving car, but this was for the gold. Honk, honk! I pull out a tiny plastic bag and sprinkle some white powder in my spoon, then add water from a bottle. “Are you fucking getting high right now?!” Mufasa screamed. Slap. Bite. Scratch. Somebody’s weave lands in the seat beside me while the car swerves. “Trust me, I got this!” I said. In goes the cotton. Stir. HONK! HONK! “Fuck you, bitch!” “Fuck you, you stankin' ass ho!” I pull back the plunger. HOOOONK!!! “DO SOMETHING!” Mufasa yells. I shove the needle into Baby Mama’s massive shoulder and press the plunger. Mufasa was right, she did not do heroin. If your tolerance is low enough, you don’t technically need to find a vein to get off. She slumped to the side and lets go of the steering wheel. Mufasa jerks the car back into our lane as the truck rattles past beside us. We yet live. Shawty seems pleased and convinced Baby Mama would never call her a ho again. Baby Mama slurs something that rhymes with “snow” or “flow” and vomits all over Shawty's bouncy brown boobs. No more negotiations today, it seems. Back at the apartment Mufasa and I bump fists. “See you tomorrow?” “Hell yeah, brother be safe out there.” “You too. Here's your mirror.” Shawty and Baby Mama never worked with us again.


She knew what she was about to do was against the rules. In fact, she was about to break the single, most important rule instated for her to follow. Yet, she insisted. “Nobody will find out,” she told herself. She went on, believing the lie. Nobody had attempted to do what she was about to do, or if they had it had been kept secret. It was dangerous and irresponsible, but most of all, it could cost her her job. A job she had worked so hard to secure. Her hands trembled as she typed the message, each finger hesitating as it landed upon the keys with a familiar clack. The message she typed out was short, yet it was powerful, not in the sense of meaning but in the sense of defiance. She sent her message, a simple “Hello,” and with it she gave up everything she had worked so hard to uphold. He heard a familiar ding accompanied by a small, but intense, vibration from within his pocket. He reached in and fished out his sleek, elegantly crafted smart phone. He had received a message from an unknown number. A number that he could never recount seeing before. A number, unbeknownst to him, that was not in service to any individual. He opened his phone. As he read the message he was met with a small sense of confusion. The simple “Hello,” displayed itself upon his screen. It’s small gray bubble broke the silence of the otherwise white background. “Who is this?” he thought to himself. He considered disregarding it, writing it off as simply being sent to the wrong number. Yet for some unknown reason, the message entranced him. He dismissed the thoughts of ignoring the text and typed a reply. A reply just as simple, and just as short. As he typed on his small, digital keyboard, a small phrase appeared in the white space above. “Who is this?” and with the completion of the message he hovered his finger above the blue arrow and delivered his response, appearing in a little blue bubble, once again breaking the silence of his screen. The message immediately displayed itself upon her screen, and with it, came a sense of panic. He had responded. The reality of what she was doing began to set in. In an instant she wished to undo what she had done. To go back just five, short minutes, to go back to before she had violated the law of her work. Her wish was not granted. Instead she was left staring blankly at her bright, unblinking screen. She didn’t have an answer to the question she was being presented. Who was she? In a short instant she considered telling him the truth, yet she knew she couldn’t. All she could do was stare. The brightness of the screen engulfed her, she was suddenly lost in the artificial, unnatural light. She had not thought this through. Without contemplation she typed at her keyboard. She wanted to stop herself, but the thrill of what she was doing urged her on. She sent her next message, “A friend.” This was a lie of course, although she knew him, she was not a friend. A friendship couldn’t come from what she was doing to him. She was watching him, unknowingly and against his will. She was not a friend. A response came quickly, “Do I know you?” The answer of course was no, but could she tell him that? Her question was quickly answered for her as her computer was shut down. She herself was being monitored, a fact that she was unaware of. A tall man, slender in figure and heavy in presence entered her office space. He looked at her with a grim scowl, a scowl that dug deep into her soul. She was commanded to follow him, and she complied. He led her to the office of her employer, an office she had only entered once before for her initial interview. She was ushered in and the door was closed behind her. As she stepped into the office she was met with a menacing stare. A stare that shook her to her core and chilled her down to her bones. She took a seat without being instructed to do so, and calmly waited until her boss addressed her. “Do you know what you have done?” his deep, sullen voice, echoed through the small room that they shared. “Yes sir,” she was met with silence. She knew that she made a mistake, and she began to tremble in her seat. “Please sir, I can’t lose this job,” she spoke again. “You won’t,” there was a hint of disappointment in his voice, “not unless you do what you are about to be told.” She was simultaneously relieved yet frightened at his statement. She waited for further instruction. He reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a small handgun, placing it on the surface of his wooden workspace. Fear welled inside her, she contemplated running, anything to get away from the object that was just placed before her. “Tell me why,” he spoke. She then broke down and began to tell him everything. How she had fallen in love with the man the day she was assigned to him. She explained that after watching him for two years she could no longer bear being apart from him. She just wanted to meet him, she wanted to be able to fall in love with him away from her computer screen. She was hysterical, hot tears falling from her eyes, carving out rivers down her cheeks. His expression did not change. He looked at her with judging eyes and began to yet again fill the room with his cold voice. “You are to kill the subject that you have been assigned to.” These words were deafening, she was in that moment hit with the severe reality of her situation. Hit with the realization that mistakes like hers are why people disappear. She took the gun into her hands, feeling the weight of it. It weighed her down, and she felt as it was growing heavier with every second that passed. He gave her the address of the man she was to kill and had her removed from his office. He checked his phone again, he was overcome with curiosity and wished to know who the messages had came from. However, his day went on, and he quickly pushed his mysterious encounter to the back of his mind. He went on to mindlessly complete his daily tasks. Every day was the same, variation was rare and accepted as unlikely. This day was no different. It was as if he had no control over his life, as if everything he was to do was predetermined for him. It was as if he was an actor preparing for a role by living as the character, a character that he would meld with and soon forget who he was before. With this dull repetition, his day quickly turned to night, and he soon found himself meeting his large, lonely bed. She now trembled before his doorstep. She knew what she was about to do was illegal, but the law didn’t apply to her. In this instance she was above the laws set for those who simply exist in a world that she has a hand in controlling. She had no issue getting past the heavy, locked door. She was trained for situations like this, yet only now was the necessity of her training apparent. She shook as she made her way through an unfamiliar space. It was as if she stepped into another world, a world that she had no business entering. A world that she was about to destroy. She easily found her way into the bedroom of the man she had been assigned, and crept near his bedside. Upon seeing him laid out in slumber, she froze. She had long wished for this moment, to be able to see the man she loved in person. As she gazed over him a sense of panic set in. She had already come too far, and could no longer reject what she was told to do. She lifted the gun and pointed it towards his head, it’s weight now apparent more than ever, as if not only did it carry the weight of the materials in which it had been crafted, but also the weight of the sinister act she was about to commit. Her finger slowly wrapped itself around the cold trigger of the weapon she held, pointed at her target. A target was all he was now. He was no longer a human being that she had watched day after day, he was no longer a man that she had fallen in love with. He was a target, a target meant to be destroyed. As she reduced his humanity in her mind his eyes fluttered open, and his humanity returned for a short fleeting moment. A moment that seemed to last an eternity and in that eternity lie another in which their eyes met. An eternity in which she wished to live, staring into his eyes, into his soul. An eternity that was interrupted by the loud bang of a bullet being forced into his brain. Once again turning him into nothing more than a target. A target that had been eliminated.


That’s the thing about this city, it comes to life at night. Lights and vibrant colors dominate the city filled with tourists spending every minute with smiles and office workers drinking the stress of the day. But as daytime break the cheerfulness dulls, replace with rush hour and glum faces of people stuck in traffic and workers who were tired of doing jobs they never dream of doing. Many are stuck with it. Every person is busy to care that one person among them doesn’t belong to the crowd. A girl with pearly white skin, splash pink hair, and steel-gray eyes. She wore a black crop top, a black short skirt, and barefoot. Those alone should have attracted attention but they failed to notice her despite standing in the middle of scorching Philippine sunlight. Failed to see there’s no trace of shadow beneath her feet, or that she stood few centimeters above the ground. She also glides instead of walk. She smirked as she peered at the phone of a high school girl. The girl made a deal to meet after school with her secret boyfriend. “Be careful not to get caught. Maybe I should tattle on you? Follow you home and tell your mom?” she said with a wicked laugh, but the high school girl tucked away her phone and cross the street, weaving herself between the honking cars. She shrugged and glides to another person to spy. No one would care, no one sees her. She can invade anyone’s privacy and they would never find out because she’s invisible to the human eye, she who guides spirits of those who killed themselves instead of fighting to live. She can do whatever she wants without anyone caring, she had done so for millennia. She existed long before the first car, witness wars, celebrated with humans as Armstrong left the first human footprint on the moon. Watch television get bigger and thinner, phone screen get bigger and powerful. She saw it all, except, they never saw her. Her shoulder dropped a bit before she looked up to a building across the street and sigh. The sight of a crying man at the roof, tentatively stepping to the edge annoyed her. “Jump already,” she mumbled and snapped her finger. A parchment appeared in front of her and the picture of the man on the rooftop was on the paper, below was his name, Eduardo. Age, forty-six. His work, lawyer. Cause of Death, suicide. Reasons, losing the will to live after his family got murdered after refusing a bribe. Time of death, one-thirty in the afternoon. She looked back at the clock of carinderia behind her. Seven minutes before Eduardo’s death. She lowered her eyes and froze at the sight of the young man, not older than nineteen standing behind the display of cooked food. His coffee-brown eyes looked straight at her. “You can see me?” she asked passing through the small seating area, but before she can glide beside him, his suntanned skin paled and he passed out. “ Ay diyos ko po !” His female coworker shouted. “ Manang , Danilo collapse! Manang, your son!” The coworker sat beside him and shook his shoulder and put a finger over his nose. “Danilo, wake up! Manang, he’s not breathing!” A chubby woman in her forties rushed out from the back of the carinderia and join Danilo’s coworker. The mother looked as if she’s about to hyperventilate as she kept calling her son’s name and told his coworker to call a taxi. “Let’s bring him to the hospital.” She pressed a finger on her forehead. “Filipinos are too dramatic.” She hovered over them and frown at Danilo's soul rising soul slowly rising out of his body. She grabbed her parchment and used it to slap the soul back to its shell. “It’s not your time to die. Wake up, I need you physically conscious to know if you really can see me.” Danilo opened his eyes and gasped for air. His mother crushed him into a hug. “ Hijo! Please don’t scare me like that!” She opened her mouth to get Danilo’s attention. She wanted to know, needed to know if he can hear and see her, but the screams across the street made her turn. The parchment still floating beside her now blinking with words that say, the soul ready for collecting. She looked back at Danilo. He got back on his feet, glance around, and like everyone's gaze across the street. There was no sign of him seeing her. Danilo would react another way if he can indeed see her, but his unseeing eyes passed her and the parchment. She glided out of their carinderia and levitated above everyone. A bitter smile appeared on her lips as she floated over the traffic and stunned faces of the people around. Ever since she got this job, not a single person hear or see her, how could she expect a man from a modern time to notice her? She shook her head. What the hell did you expect? She mocked. She approached Eduardo’s spirit, looking lost as he wanders out of the crowd forming around his lifeless body. “Eduardo, I need you to come with me.” He looked at her, at her feet floating from the ground. “Are you the angel who will bring me to heaven?” She laughed. “Oh, I’m not.” “Are you the devil then? Did God deemed me unworthy to be in heaven with my family?” She grunt. “Look, you’re not going to heaven or hell. If you hadn’t kill yourself you might have gone to heaven, but since you did, you’re leaving with me.” Eduardo’s face fall. “Where are you taking me?” “We will go to a place where you’ll face a different judgment. Where you go next all depends on what kind soul you are, if you learned something in this life or needed to reincarnate to a similar life.” “Is it possible for me to request to be with my family?” Occasionally there is a soul who refused to go with her and she needs to resort to force and violence to make them, but souls like these are hard in their way. He wasn’t refusing but isn’t willing either. A headache to deal with. “Probably,” she replied. A lie. Souls from suicide are usually put through a painful trial, one of the mildest was getting reborn onto similar fate over and over until they live through the hardship and died a natural death, or by accident as long as they didn’t end their own life. The hardest place is close to hell, where the soul experiences joy and then is thrown into a wave of unspeakable despair. And there’s her, not dead nor alive. She looked at Eduardo. “If you don’t come with me, who knows what other beings might come for you,” she said and after a few more words, she sighed with relief when Eduardo took her hand and let her guide him away. *** Danilo stared up to the sky where the woman with splash pink hair and gray eyes flew with some foggy thing hanging in her hand. Ever since she appeared early in the morning when he opened the carinderia, he can’t help noticing her. The hair and the eyes were part of it, but she also got a supernatural vibe about her. Her eyes were cool and dull as she looked back and forth, then there are her feet as she moved inside people’s personal space. Her bare feet weren’t touching the ground, she doesn’t have a shadow and a strange piece of paper appeared at the snapped of her finger. He wanted to scream in fear at first, but then he heard her talk to everyone, but everyone ignores her, and each time they go she looked dejected. He pitied her, but the feeling only lasted for a few minutes. Only lasted until she turned to look at the clock and caught him looking at her. He covered his face and let out a laugh. He fainted. He can’t believe passing out from seeing her glide toward him. “Danilo, this is not a laughing matter!” his mother scolded. It’s dark outside now and his mother has been talking about the suicide all day. He can almost write about the dead’s lawyer story with his eyes close. “As pitiful as that man was, our business will suffer for sure. People will not eat in a place close to where someone killed themselves.” He rubbed his mother’s shoulder. “ ‘Nay , relax. If you don’t, your beautiful fat will attack your heart, and I’ll be an orphan.” She reached for his side and twist her fingers in a tight pinched, he yelped. “I’m strong as a horse, I won’t be dying soon.” Danilo laughed. “That’s good,” then seriously said, “The moment the news gets old, everyone will forget. You’ll see.” “ Sana nga, ” his mother wistfully said. *** After delivering Eduardo’s soul, she returned to the street where his body the drop. They cleaned the area. Her eyes traveled across to the street toward Danilo’s carinderia. The cooked meals were gone, the seating area tucked away to the side. She found him right away pulling a metal grille of the carinderia . She tilted her head, unable to understand why she felt so strongly about him, but instead of thinking so much about it, she floated up and stood beside him. She waited until Danilo pulled the key from the lock and say, “Hi,” Her heart raced as he turns to her and smiled. “Hello,” he said. “You can see me?” “Yes,” She glides backward, “How?” “I don’t know,” he dropped the keys to his shorts pocket, “I just did the moment I saw you when I opened the carinderia earlier.” She looked down, trying to think of what to say, for millennia she dreamed of speaking to someone, really speaking, and not only communicate with souls she needed to convince to follow her. A living person who will talk to her and make her feel noticed. Now, there’s one standing in front of her and all she could do is choke at her tears. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Danilo asked, the panicked on his face as he grabbed her and dried her tears with his hand made her cry even more. “It’s been so long since someone touches me!” His hand stopped moving. “What?” And you think Filipino are overdramatic , said a sarcastic voice inside her but she kept wailing while Danilo took her hand and walk. *** Not that he usually pulled a girl to follow him, but that night, Danilo can’t help but smile as the people looked at him like some lunatic. Seeing someone with the hand in the back like they’ll pulling something when they see nothing is the perfect recipe of being mistaken as someone with a loose screw. If only they could see and hear the girl floating behind him, everyone will run screaming. He should be scared too. He knows nothing about her, but he can’t bring feel any fear. Even when he collapse earlier, it wasn’t fear, but overwhelming surprise, and a strong sense of being pulled out of himself which caused him to lose consciousness. Her command, however, made him felt as if his soul was tossed back to his body. He pretended not to see her, thinking maybe she was a product of his imagination, but after touching her, he knows, she isn’t. He can’t even think of leaving her after seeing her cry of happiness simply because he can see and speak to her. “Here,” he said offering her a cold drink from the vending machine near the park where he brought her and let her cry it out. No one cares. No one hears other than him. She shook her head. “I’m not human, not anymore anyway, I don’t need human food or drink to stay alive.” “Okay.” He opened the lid and sat beside her on the bench. He looked at her small feet, clean feet. “Don’t you wear shoes?” “Don’t need it.” She floated up, crossed her legs, and softly land beside him. He whistled and she blushed. “What are you now?” “I’m not sure.” “Okay. You said not anymore, that means you use to be a human. How did you die?” No answer. “Where do you live?” Silent. He changed the question. “How old are you?” “A millennia.” He spat his drink. “What!” He coughs and dried his mouth. Chug down the rest of his drink. She turned to him with all seriousness. “I’m more than a thousand years old.” “You don’t look much older than me, younger even. Eighteen? Seventeen?” She sigh. “I’m one-thousand-one-hundred-twenty-seven years old. Satisfied?” No. Danilo thought but decided to give it a rest. “I’m Danilo.” “I know. I heard them call you.” “Right. Your name is?” “I can’t remember.” “Are you serious?” She nodded, her face blank. A short time later she took a deep breath and told him everything. The painful tale of a past she can’t remember, not even her name, only that she committed suicide and her punishment was waiting for the souls of those who committed suicide. Knowing most of them are victims of injustice and she can’t do anything but watch them die, and some even suffered a bit more before dying. “Today is the first day, I felt free, and tonight, I strangely feel content,” she said with a smile. A sweet and soft smile but dim and lonely like the moonlight shining on her, it created a halo at the edges of her hair. “If somehow this is just a dream, I’m happy to remember that once I was not invisible.” Danilo felt his heart ached, it’s as if she will fade away the moment the clouds shaded the moonlight. He reached out as she slowly levitates from the bench. “Tala,” he called. “What did you call me?” He anchored her down and caressed her cheek, “Tala, the goddess of the stars. That name suits you, and I’ll always see you, I can see you, Tala.” Thump. “Ow!” she cried. The people in the park turn before moving on. She was too busy rubbing her butt and stretching up to notice, but Danilo saw it. They turn. The people turn. “Strange, I can’t float. Something’s wrong I can’t summon—” She paused and no matter how many times Danilo called out she remained silent and then tears flooded her eyes. “Tala!” “I remember now.” Danilo let go of her shoulders. “Your name? She shook her head. “My past. I murdered them. I murdered my father, my stepmother, and my half-siblings. I killed them all in their sleep and tried to kill myself. But I was saved and given this punishment. My first task was to watch my mother get abuse and killed without knowing who she was, not even remembering as her soul beg me to go with her.” Dread spread through Danilo, not because of the crime she did, but for her. She lived so long and suffered without remembering, but that in itself is mercy. “Everything will be fine. You must have a reason for doing it, and you’re regretting it now.” *** She turned to Danilo in horror. “You don’t understand, I receive this punishment for my crime, for my jealousy and cowardness. And now, they’re lifting it off me and leaving me here as a human. No friends, no family, no one who cares. That name doesn’t suit me.” But she also refused to be called in her old name. Danilo cupped her cheek. “Tala, you have me, I care, I’ll be your friend and family, okay?” His bright smile pushed the darkness away from her human heart. She nods and took his extended hand as he stood up. “Let’s go home.” Home, she loved the sound of it. I’ll do my best to be useful , she inwardly promised him. After walking fifty-meter, however, she felt like a burden. Danilo saw her winching from the pain at the sole of her feet, not use to walking again, and offered his back for a piggy ride. She loved his scent, his warmth, and she isn’t sure she will be able to love him other than a man. She leaned her mouth close to his ears. “I don’t want to be your family, I want to build a family with you someday.” She felt him tensed, then in a hoarse voice he replied, “Yeah, me too.” A small giggle escaped her lips. She pressed herself on his back, hugging him, eyes heavy from unpeaceful rest through the millennia. *** Danilo groaned at the indecent thoughts running through his head. He wrapped his arms tighter on Tala’s legs and continue his way back home, carrying the woman who journeys through many human generations and be with him. Danilo looked up at the moonlit sky and whispered a silent thanks. That’s the thing about this city, no one notices except those who take time to look a bit closer about the mysterious things happening every day.


Sometimes, while he was watching his team work, Nikolai wondered what the world had been like before the Retreat; 9 to 5 jobs, long lunch breaks. He would wonder, while staring at the screen in his home that showed all of his employees dutifully typing away, how anyone could get anything done in 8 hours.

Right now his team was working in Real Time. In about 20 minutes an alarm would sound all around the office indicating it was time to go On Retreat. When that happened, each one of his employees would pull out the small device that everyone kept in their pockets at all times, open the Retreat app, and login.

Even though employees only worked in the office a couple of days a week (the other days they could work from anywhere) Nikolai had tried to make the space as inviting as possible. There were large plush couches for those who didn’t like to sit at desks. There were multiple coffee stations, as well as a few with drinks that contained something a bit stronger than caffeine for when you were working on an especially difficult project. There were also many brightly colored signs on the walls with helpful reminders like “Eat something! A hungry worker is an unproductive worker.” And “Fifteen for Fire!” The latter was referencing the requirement to take one 15 minute break for every 6 hours of work while On Retreat to ensure maximum productivity.

These reminders were important. Nicolai had learned that the first few months after the release of Retreat 1.0 had been messy. People would go On Retreat to work on a project for hours, then come back and continue working. Time passed differently when you were in the bubble that the Retreat app created. Hours would speed by, but in Real Time it was as if you had just sat down to work. CEOs were so excited about the increased productivity that they didn’t think to remind their employees to eat, or sleep. The results were not pretty. Nowadays there were limits, rules, reminders everywhere. Nikolai smiled as he heard the melodic chimes starting, right on schedule, and unmuted his microphone.

“Have a good Retreat!” he said.

******************************** Kai only had a few more months left of school, and for that she was grateful. She had known going into it that a degree in Programming was going to be a lot of work, but she had underestimated just how much. Even with the mandatory sleep and food breaks that were built into every day, she was exhausted all the time.

She knew her classmates felt the same; they would commiserate during their midday lunch breaks, share tips for minimizing back pain, and which brand of eyedrops were best to combat the dry scratchiness that came from staring at screens all day. But they knew it would all be worth it. Soon school would be a thing of the past and they would be Programmers, making a real difference in the world. After all it was students just like them that created the Retreat app, students just like them that wrote the code that allowed the United States to have the most productive workforce in the entire world. Kai stood up from her laptop, stretched her arms up over her head, and did twenty jumping jacks. She took a deep breath and long sip of her coffee. She knew there were stronger drinks, some of her classmates used them during midterms and finals, but Kai was nervous about stuff like that. She had heard tales of hallucinations, of students who didn’t sleep for days, wandering around campus like zombies. The teachers all said those stories were just urban legend, but Kai wasn’t so sure.

She was about to sit back down at her desk when the door to her dorm room flew open and TJ and Amma burst in. “Kai!” Her best friends both looked kind of manic, wild eyed and breathless. “We have to show you something! Like right now!” Kai looked up at her friends suspiciously.

“Ya’ll ok?” she asked. “You are both acting like you just took a sip from the wrong mug.”

Amma waved her hand impatiently.

“Girl you know I don’t touch that stuff. But seriously, come on .” She grabbed Kai’s hand and literally tried to drag her out of the door.

Kai looked over at TJ who was still standing in the doorway.

“TJ, what’s up? He grinned at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “We just have to show you,” he replied. “But Amma maybe you could let her put on shoes first?” He indicated Kai’s bare feet. Amma sighed. “Fine but hurry up !”

Kai followed her two friends down the hall and into one of the many computer labs that were spread out across the campus. She raised her eyebrows questioningly when Amma locked the door behind them. “What..” Amma placed a finger to her lips and led them towards a table in the far corner. Kai expected her to boot up the laptop that was there but Amma pulled a small piece of paper out of her pocket instead. Written in blue ink, were what seemed to be lines of code. Kai was impressed. Paper was hard to find on campus, since almost every assignment was done on some kind of computer device. She was about to ask Amma why she had hand written this one when TJ answered for her. “They haven’t figured out how to track what we write. Or what we think. Not yet anyway.” Kai understood then. Her friends had written a new program, but not one for any class.

“What does it do?”

Amma grinned.

“You know how they monitor us when we are on Retreat? You know, to make sure we are only using the extra time to study or do homework or whatever? Well we figured out how to hack it.” Kai looked over at TJ, who nodded. “How do you know it works?” she asked. Her two friends shared a quick glance before smiling back at her.

“We tried it,” TJ replied. “Yesterday, for a full hour, in Retreat time that is. We took a walk in the park.” Kai stared at him, her eyes wide. “And???” TJ shrugged.

“No one said a thing.”              ******************************** Kai had learned about the time before the Retreat app had been created, they all had. It was part of every middle and high school education. About how much less productive work used to be. About how much time humans used to waste on meaningless things before the coders figured out how to optimize everything; exactly how many hours of rest, leisure activities and exercise were actually necessary. People in this country used to be terribly lazy, prone to staring at mindless videos for hours on end.

Kai could not imagine having that much free time ever. When would anyone get their coursework done? Besides, it wasn’t as if she didn’t ever have fun. During their mandatory hour long midday break, she and her friends often played games, kicking a ball around for fun or playing with a real deck of cards or an old school chess board. Most people played games online of course, but you could still find these things if you knew who to ask. And at night, before bed, she would sometimes even watch a video or listen to music to help her unwind. It was necessary after so many hours of studying.

The idea that her two best friends were suggesting, however, was something different. “What are we going to do all day?” Both TJ and Amma smiled mysteriously.

“Whatever we want,” they replied.

Retreat time was specific to each person who activated the app, basically opening a bubble around them that sped everything up and made time in the real world appear to not move at all. In order to allow for working in groups, however, you could link up with people nearby and add them to your “bubble.” Kai pulled out her device, handed it Amma and watched her type in the new code.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? We are only a few months away from graduation.” Amma smiled. “Isn’t that exactly why we should do this? Before we become productive members of society for, well, basically forever. Don’t you want to have some fun first?” Their campus was not that far from the lake, so the three friends went there, armed with sandwiches and sodas. They sat by the shore and Kai popped the top open on her drink. TJ reached into his pocket and offered her a small silver flask.

Kai raised her eyebrows. “I thought you guys didn’t do that stuff”, she replied. TJ shook his head. “Its not a stimulant silly. Its alcohol. You know, for fun?” Kai had really only had alcohol at formal events; a glass of red wine at her cousins’s wedding, the occasional beer at a graduation party. No one ever drank in the middle of the day. Alcohol was known to dull your senses, to make you sleepy and unmotivated. Which, she supposed, was kind of the point. She poured some of the contents of TJ’s flask into her bottle of soda and watched as he and Amma did the same. They each took a large swig, then lay back on the grass and stared up into the bright blue sky. It was a beautiful, cloudless day, sunny and warm. Kai had just closed her eyes when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Im going in the lake”, Amma declared. “Wanna come?” Kai blinked at her. “I obviously don’t have a bathing suit here. I thought I was studying this afternoon, remember?” Amma shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

Kai looked around the deserted shoreline. Everyone else on Retreat right now was in a office somewhere or a coffeeshop designed for work. Amma was already removing her clothes. She glanced over at TJ who waved his hand dismissively. “Go ahead," he said. "I’ll stay here.” Kai considered it for a few more seconds before grinning and following her friend down to the water. The two girls stayed in the water for over half an hour, swimming back and forth and floating lazily on their backs, the midday sun on their faces. At one point Kai felt Amma reach out and take her hand and they stayed like that for awhile, holding hands with their eyes closed, slowly drifting in the lake’s tiny waves. When they got back TJ was eating the rest of his sandwich. Before he could have time to react, Amma plopped down right in his lap, wet skin and all. He flinched at the cold water but rather than pushing her away, he wrapped his long arms around her and drew her closer. Amma then reached her hand towards Kai and pulled her down next to them. They sat like that for awhile, three bodies touching each other, absorbing each other’s warmth. When Amma turned her face upwards, TJ’s lips met hers easily.

Over four hours of Retreat time passed in this way. They finished their sandwiches, sodas, the contents of TJ’s flask. They talked about their futures, fantasized about what life would be like when they graduated and became the top coders in their fields. The sun had traveled almost all the way across the sky when Amma finally said, “Do you guys ever wonder if all of this is worth it?” Both Kai and TJ just looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate. “I mean, this day, this lake, all of this. When are we ever going to have a day like this again? We have been in school basically our whole lives to get those dream jobs where we will then work non stop until we die. And we were always taught that that was the ultimate goal, the ultimate purpose in life. But what if it isn’t?” “Well you guys have the hack now”, Kai pointed out. “So maybe we can come back here. Like once a month. Even when we all are big tech superstars.” Both TJ and Amma nodded. They made a pact then, an agreement to take a break from the real world once a month and just be free, together. Then they went back. Kai had an exam to study for. TJ was finishing up his final project. Amma had a paper to write.

A few weeks after their Retreat to the lake, TJ tried to enter the hacked code into his device and it was immediately rejected. Apparently the higher ups had learned about the hack, and had changed something in the app. No one had ever said anything, they had just quietly fixed the problem.

TJ spent a few hours tinkering with the Retreat code but eventually he gave up. There were finals to take, projects to complete. Graduation was rapidly approaching. Besides, by then all three of them had been offered internships at high level tech companies. The real world was waiting. ***************************** When Nikolai’s team returned from being on Retreat, he checked in with everyone to make sure they had all eaten. He then told them to get some coffee, to take a little break. He watched his screen as they chatted with each other, joked, laughed. They all looked happy and Nikolai felt proud for providing a positive work environment. After all, happiness was key to productivity. A few weeks ago, some college students had apparently hacked the Retreat app, allowing them to disappear for hours without being tracked. Nikolai’s boss had been beside himself.

“They went to the lake!” He had cried. “They went swimming. Naked. They didn’t study at all. They didn't even bring a book!” Nikolai had wondered if the students were going to be punished, perhaps even kicked out of school. Programming college spots were extremely competitive; there were probably thousands who would be more than happy to take their place.

But his boss had shaken his head. “Are you kidding? We’ve already sent an update to the app,” he said. “Their code will no longer work, or anything like it. But we aren’t doing a thing to them, we aren’t telling a soul. Can you imagine if it got out that someone had hacked the system? We would never hear the end of it.” Nikolai of course agreed not to say anything to anyone. “So they are just getting away with it?”

His boss didn’t seem particularly concerned.

“So they spent a few hours hanging out by a lake. Who cares? Young people always think that they are going to change the world. Eventually everyone learns what we already know. He paused, a small smile passing over his face.

“We are in charge of the world’, he said. “We are the only ones who can really make change. And we already did that, many years ago. Nowadays, the smart people know to just play along.” As Nikolai watched, his team finished up their coffees and one by one retuned to their desks. It was only 2pm, Real Time. There were still plenty of hours left in the day.


Jerome never really liked his name. Jerry was too casual and Jerome just sounded too much like someone he wasn’t. That being said, he had no other name to go by so he went by it nonetheless. So it was that he heard his name over and over this Saturday morning when he woke. “Jerome. Jerome. Jerome!” He woke with a start. “Mmmmph. Huh? WHAT? What is it?” Your phone is blowing up, silly, she said. She. Oh yes. He almost forgot. He had company last night. Liz. They knew each other from another past they both shared but no longer lived. For years they never knew what became of each other but grabbing a drink at the right bar at the right time weaved their stories together once more. High heels. Short skirt. Red wine. And things go as they always go. Two likeminded people attracted to each other inoculate their brains with booze, and then move on to shady corners and wet slow kisses and then on to messy sheets and awkward mornings. What? Your phone. It’s been blowing up for half an hour at least. Oh. Jerome fumbled around his night stand for his glasses, found them with his fingers, put them on and started looking for his phone-but it was not where he usually put it. Your pants, she said while giggling. The phone is in your pants. That’s where the sounds are coming from. They are on the floor by the door-along with the rest of our clothes. She giggled some more. They had barely made it through the door before everything came off, he remembered now. She was laying on her stomach clutching the pillow. Her red hair laying across her cheek and green eye blinking at him when he awoke. Her back was bare and the sheet was laying across her rump. She was wearing nothing but the expressions on her face. I forgot how much fun we have together, she said. It’s been too long. He smirked and made a comment as he rose - that was your decision, if I remember right. You abandoned me. I didn’t abandon you. Hmph. You’re an ass. -she said as she pulled the sheet over her head. Jerome wiped his face with his hands, rubbed his temples and walked over to his clothes. The smell of sex was all over the room. A warm almost salty smell of bodies and stale alcohol. The clothes were indeed in two neat piles. He thought to himself these could be filed as his and hers regrets. His pants were inside out, one leg pulled almost all the way through and socks still in his pants legs. His shoes lay below. Her heels and skirt were directly in front of it. Nearly perfectly stacked. The shirts? Where were the shirts? He panned across the room. Nothing. Her bra was on the bed though. God she looked good in that bra. Everything about it complimented her breasts. Slight lift gave her a bolted on bombshell look with small but perky curves and delicate round perfection. He opened his door to the hallway of his apartment complex and there they were. The shirts were 10-15 feet down the hall laying against the wall. I guess we got started a little early-he thought. His feet padded quickly down the hall - hands grabbing the shirts and back to his apartment he went. He latched the door as he came back inside, threw the shirts on the chair and dove back into bed. Hey, our shirts were in the hall. HAHA. I guess we got a little hot and heavy before making it inside. Are you going to get that phone or not - she yelled into the pillow. oh. Yea. I forgot that’s why I got up. What’s the matter with you all of a sudden? Nothing. Okay, then. I’m getting a shower. Will you shut the phone off first? Or answer it? I’m trying to sleep here. Hey. Queen bipolar. You were laughing a bit ago-now you are all mad and pissy-what’s the problem? I didn’t abandon you. Liz, I came home. All your stuff was gone. I had an email a few days later that said you couldn’t do it, that you loved me but you had to go because you were afraid you’d hurt me and that was it. Not a note. A word. A slap on the ass. Nothing. You hurt me. That was 5 years ago. How did you NOT abandon me? It wasn’t like that! - she screamed. Will you answer the fucking phone, already?! Liz, my phone isn’t even ringing. What the fuck are you talking about? Oh God. Not again. Not again?? What do you mean. That’s why I’m in town. Sigh. I had to see my doctor. The phone. I hear the sounds of phones sometimes when they aren’t really ringing. It hasn’t happened for a long time though but it started again. I thought I was getting better. Ive been on medication for the voices and the ringing stopped with them. The voices? He slipped back into bed next to her, put his arm over her - they on their sides facing each other. What voices? She sighed. A long pause. That’s why I had to leave. Because of the voices? Well, no. Because of the ringing? No. Then why?! What are you trying to say? Because. Because why, Liz?! Because they weren’t being kind. Who wasn’t? the voices on the phone, Jerome! This makes no sense. These voices are in your head-is it your conscious talking to you or what? You aren’t like schizo are you? She closed her eyes and tears ran into the pillow. Wait, what? You aren’t schizo are you?! All my life, I thought schizophrenia was like that movie we watched called Sybil. Remember watching that when we were kids? But its not. It’s not at all. I hear telephones I answer them, Jerome, and I change. I dont choose it. What do you mean you change? I mean I change. I’m not myself. I make decisions I wouldn’t normally make and I become who I am not normally presenting to the world as me. Why didn’t you tell me this? Because no one knows. No one can know. I came into town because I needed to take care of some things with my doctor. I wanted to see you. To feel you. That much is true. I didn’t know it would be the last time. As she stood from the bed, the covers dropped revealing a naked shaking woman holding a gun. Jerome screamed, LIZ, NO! Oh honey, Ive not been Liz since the phone rang. BANG. The smell of gunfire was all that remained of the evening in Jeromes apartment when state detectives began combing through his things and questioning why there was a dead woman in his bed with only a pistol in one hand and a cellphone in the other. Jerome sat and stared at the detectives shaking his head. He could only whisper the words, “I should never have called her.


Cara Stones sat in school, waiting for her teacher to tell her the stupid resolution thingy. She sat, waiting. Here it came. Mrs. Walden opened her mouth; "Children! Today, you shall write of thy resolution!" she shouted. Cara plunged for her notebook. She started to write on it: Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She eats apples a million times a day. Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She always seems to have to go pee! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She eats like a pig. Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. I think she is a pig that pees out apples! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She needs some beads for her classroom because kids don't have no fun! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. Her turkey sandwiches are dumb! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She eats like a rhino and a pig! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth, she hates to do the jig! "Can I see yours, Mary-Allison?" Mrs. Walden was asking "Sure! Here. 'My new year's resolution is to be kind to my little brother and take care of my toys better!" Mary-Allison replied "That's a wonderful resolution, Mary-Allison!" Mrs. Walden replied. "Thanks!" Mary-Allison said back. Mrs. Walden moved up to Cara. "Cara! How are you getting along with your resolution?" she asked Cara "Um, okay. Not too well." Cara said back, hiding her notebook." Cara replied "Can I take a look?" Mrs. Walden asked; "Um, sure, wait a second." Cara took her pencil and hastily scratched out her "resolution". Too bad, it didn't do much good. "Cara?" Mrs. Walden edged on "Here," Cara said, handing her notebook over Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She eats apples a million times a day. Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She always seems to have to go pee! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She eats like a pig. Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. I think she is a pig that pees out apples! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She needs some beads for her classroom because kids don't have no fun! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. Her turkey sandwiches are dumb! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth. She eats like a rhino and a pig! Stupid Mrs. Walden with a big long loud mouth, she hates to do the jig! "How horrifying! Oh, my!" screamed Mrs. Walden, "detention, after school. The rest of the week. That is a horrible resolution!"


Oliveria finished unpacking her things and wondered what to do next. Who am I kidding? It's 2330 , she thought. She got into her pajamas and tucked herself into her bed.

Waiting for sleep, she wondered why she was so clueless as to what to do in her own home. Maybe because she was never at home long enough to consider it her home.

She had bought the house a little while after she graduated at a university nearby. After a week, she decided that she couldn't stay in the same town after all those awful years at the university. Almost immediately, she won one million dollars and a trip to Australia.

It was unreal. Her parents might have found out that she partook in a special lottery and they might have rearranged some things, but she chose to ignore the thought. Her parents never ceased to spoil her, but even if it did really happen, she would rather play dumb than have her mood spoiled.

When the beautiful journey in Australia ended, she decided to turn the tables around. She cancelled her flight back to England and booked a new one to Thailand. The list went on and on: from Thailand to Malaysia to the Philippines to China to Japan to Saudi Arabia to Germany to Scandinavia to Greenland... She only stopped when she realised that the money she had left was only enough for a flight back to England. Not that her parents wouldn't give her more, but sooner or later her journey had to end after all.

"Tomorrow," she said out loud to her thoughts, getting sleepy. Her eyelids fell like stage curtains over her eyes until all she could see was black.

-

The next morning, Oliveria woke up to the sound of her phone ringing. She grabbed it and looked at the time displayed on the lock screen.

“I-it’s 1100! Wait, that shouldn’t matter anymore,” she said to herself. “Should it?” She accepted the call and put the phone to her ear without looking at who it was. “Uh… hello?”

“Oliviaaaaa!!!” a voice rang from the other end. Immediately, Oliveria felt like going back to sleep. There was only one person who would always call her that.

“What, Sloane?” she said without even bothering to not sound tired. It wasn’t very nice of her to do that, but Sloane was that one girl in university. That one girl who would always use her friends to her advantage, that one girl who was dumb enough to wonder why everyone else hated her. She was, at the very least, annoying. She couldn’t even get her only friend’s name correct.

“Where have you been?! I couldn’t get to you at all! I tried to call you, I tried to break into your house, but the only things I could get from you were your Instagram stories! You’ve been on vacation, Olivia! And you’ve been ignoring me! How dare you do that! Now I’m tired and sick of everything I had to do all by myself these months! Including getting mad at you!”

First of all, grow up. Second of all, you never had to yell at me at all. Third, last but not least, you could have phrased that until you had fewer sentences to say and therefore save your energy to do something useful. But do you even have anything useful to do, though?

“Yeah, you know, I had to take a break,” Oliveria started. “All those university years got me tired.”

“Well, I was never tired of university , so how can you be?”

I don’t know, because all you did was create enemies for no absolute reason, and I had to clean up the mess you made, going here and there apologising to everyone and everything. “You wouldn’t understand.” “Hmph!”

Oliveria could just imagine Sloane’s pout.

“Well, sorry, but whatever! I need your help now!” At that point she launched into a speech of orders for Oliveria to do, but Oliveria could only think of one word she said.

“You’ll do all that for me, right? Because I’m your friend! Okay, thank you so much, see ya Olivia!”

“Wait, wait, Sloane! Don’t hang up yet!” “What? I haven’t got all the time in the world.” “You said… you said ‘sorry’.” “Yeah, so what? You’re the one who’s always nagging me to say sorry to people.” Oliveria chuckled to herself. “I kinda actually missed you.” “Ew, don’t make this weird.” “We’re friends, we have to be weird!”

She hung up and Oliveria laughed some more to herself. “Oh my god, she actually grew up.” With all the tasks Sloane had given her, she could only say goodbye to going back overseas. She never had a job to keep her rooted to the town she lived in. Her parents would never let her have a job anyway. The same went for Sloane.

She put on her coat and decided to walk to Sloane’s. It was a penthouse in a condominium in her neighborhood, which people called the ‘rich people neighborhood’. Seriously, they couldn’t have thought of a better name, could they?

Oliveria also wondered why she stayed friends with such a toxic person as Sloane all these years. It wasn’t just a lot of her now ex-friends who asked the same. Sloane used to have a lot of friends, Oliveria included, before all of them realised how poisonous Sloane was and ditched her, leaving her alone. Except Oliveria, of course.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have a choice. A lot of time she was asked to come with her friends to leave Sloane alone. There was nothing wrong with that. “An evil witch like her deserves to be alone,” her friends added. But even if it was true, the thought of being alone was enough to scare Oliveria, even if it wasn’t her who was going to be alone. So she stayed by Sloane’s side, while her now ex-friends misunderstood that she was just as evil.

Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with being friends with an evil person, as long as I don’t encourage her evil, Oliveria thought. It just means I’m extra nice, because I still care about her, even after all she’s done to me. So why do I still feel bad?

Before she could give it another thought, the elevator dinged, notifying her that she had arrived at Sloane’s penthouse. It stops. “It’s me, Oliveria,” she called out into the empty elevator. The doors opened directly to Sloane’s home. It also triggered something in Oliveria that made her completely change her vibe.

“Geez, Sloane, anyone could just enter this house anytime, where’s your security?” Oliveria scoffed, almost tossing her coat to the clothes hanger.

“Anyone in the elevator would have to speak to me so I could open the elevator doors and let them in,” Sloane replied, crossing her arms. “ I am the security. Isn’t it smart? Smarter than whatever you probably put up for your own abode.” “Damn, you never let a chance to make people hate you go free, don’t you?” “Oh, I believe you mean jealousy, Olivia.” “Unlike you, I’m a narcissistic masochist, so win-win. Plus, my name is Oliveria. And I don’t like to be reminded of my parents’ stupidity.” “Oh, whatever. Your parents gave you such a dumb name, I might as well correct it. Now help me with these. You’re an alumni, you might as well be kind enough to help one of your juniors.”

How can a name actually be wrong? God never said so , Oliveria thought as she shook her head, smiling.

After all the “school work” was done, Sloane flipped out her phone and started furiously typing, ignoring the curious looks from Oliveria and making her body turn elsewhere when her senior peeked over her shoulder.

“Oh, oh,” Oliveria sniggered (which, even though she tried her best to not seem so, still sounded like she was awkwardly speaking in another language). “What is this now? What are thy hiding?” “It’s none of your business.” “It is now, because I saw some of it.” “What kind of dumb retort was that?!” “I heard it from a dumb person. It was so dumb, I saw what you’re searching into Instagram.” “-!”

Sloane made a frantic turn to cover her phone with her body. She failed; her body was too slender and her shoulders weren’t broad enough.

“Why are thy searching for a ‘douchebag who is insulting to women’? I didn’t know you were a masochist too.” “Ugh, I wouldn’t be that desperate for attention! That’s like, pathetic!” “Ouch, Sloane.” “Well, you deserved it.” “So who’s this new guy?” “Like I said, none of your business. Your messed up logic does not make any sense in my home.” “Aw, man. I just wanna help.” “Yeah, how? Make my logic as twisted as yours?” “Like maybe by shrinking your search results down to a few people?” “You don’t even know who I’m talking about! He’s new!” “I’m deducing that you don’t know who you’re talking about either.”

This time, the infamous Sloane Pout Face had a shade of red as an addition. Is she embarrassed or mad? Oliveria wondered. Well, well, well, the things that happen when I’m gone, huh?

“Just what happened, Sloane?”

Sloane then proceeded to launch into yet another rant ( how does this girl even talk so much? Oliveria wondered), all while keeping her new pout face on the entire time (it made the old pout face seem like a mere BETA version). Apparently, a guy had humiliated her in front of the entire class when it was time for their team to present in front of the crowd.

“That uggo with all the freaky scars on his face just made everyone laugh at me! I didn’t even get to do anything, he just took over right after that! My marks this semester are damned because of him!” “So what did you do next?” “I stormed out and ran to the bathroom, of course!” That just increased the chance of your marks’ damnation. “Oh.” “I’m gonna find him on Instagram and spread rumours all about him!” “Yeah, you are.”

So it’s like an anime plot now, huh? Oliveria could feel a smirk threatening to escape her lips. So much fake kindness around you that you are attracted to the first thing that insults you. Oh, the cliche! Forget going overseas again, my story is over! It’s time for Sloane’s story to begin, isn’t it?

Oliveria stood up. “Where are you going?” Sloane asked. Might as well make it more interesting. “We have better chances finding him at the university campus, don’t you think?” “Oh, yes! I’m glad I thought of that! Now let’s go!”

Oliveria noticed her nostrils flaring and her knuckles turning slightly white. Oh, for this once, Oliveria! Don’t get mad at her!

The girls grabbed their coats and headed into the elevator. Whilst the elevator was going down, it stopped at the 5th floor and guess who stepped out into the elevator with them? Mr. Scarface! Ha ha, this beginning has too many potential plot twists already.

Oliveria smiled to herself. She was surprised that she was content with staying in England and assisting Sloane, given the fact that she was a thrill-seeker who always wanted to try something new. Nevertheless, she was at peace with stepping off the stage, away from the spotlight so Sloane could shine in her place.

“What are you smiling about, Olivia?” “Nothing.”


Don't you know she's gone? "Excuse me? I'm here to find a Trissa Keita?" The voice startled Isla Pérez out of her thoughts. She had been studying for her history test tomorrow- stupid America, why must you fight so much?!?- and wasn't paying attention to her surroundings. The person who had spoken to her was a middle-aged man with an uncomfortable look on his face. Isla wasn't sure why. They were in a library, after all. Who could dislike being there? "That depends. Who the heck are you and what do you want with Tris?" Isla questioned. The man looked even more uncomfortable now, shifting his eyes from side to side. "I'm her... uncle. Her father needs to speak with her." Isla frowned, tugging on the dyed pink strip in her sandy brown bangs. "Why did her father not come?" The man gulped. "He was busy. Please, can you just tell me where to find her?" His words brought back a memory. Something Tris had said to her when Isla asked about her family. ------------------------------------ "I'm going to visit my parents this weekend." Trissa looked up from her book. "Oh?" Isla nodded. "It's my brother's birthday." Tris smiled faintly. "Tell him I said happy birthday." "What are you doing over the weekend?" Isla asked her roommate. "Cause if you don't have plans, you can come with." Tris shook her head. "Nah. I won't interrupt your family get-together." Isla tilted her head, setting down her computer. "Will you visit your family?" Tris froze. "No. they'd be too busy to see me, even if they wanted to." Isla got up, plopping down on the couch next to the other girl. "Their loss." ------------------------------------ Isla snapped back to the present. The man was still looking at her. "I'll call her and see if she'll agree to meet you," Isla informed him. "No!" he insisted. "I need to meet her now!" Isla flinched back at his sudden volume change. "I'm really sorry, but I won't just have her meet some random person from the library." "I'm not random," he said, "I'm her uncle." Isla frowned. "Still. If she agrees, I will meet you back here at 4:00 pm tomorrow." The man relented. "Fine. I will see you then, Miss..." "Isla. I'll see you then." ------------------------------------ "Tris! I'm back from the library!" Isla called out to her girlfriend- It felt so nice to call Tris her girlfriend, even if she'd only been able to do it for a couple of weeks- so she would know Isla was back to their dorm if she hadn't checked her texts. Which she hadn't, apparently, considering her surprised "Oh!" "Are you baking again?" Isla asked, walking into the kitchen. Tris had been, based on the supplies scattered around the counters and the white flour sprinkled across Tris's dark skin. “Hey, Bookworm!” Tris said, raising her brown eyes to meet Isla’s green ones, “How was the library?”

Isla puckered her lips. “Fine, but something weird happened. There was a man there who insisted that he was your uncle and that your dad was looking for you-” A loud crash cut her off as Trissa dropped the mixing bowl she was holding. “W-Wha-What?” Tris’s voice came out shaky.

“Whoa!” Isla exclaimed, running over to her girlfriend and wrapping her arms around her. “I didn’t tell him where to find you. I know… I know you don’t have the best relationship with your parents. I told him we’d meet with him only if you wanted to.” Tris’s breath caught. “I’d… I don’t know. I want to make things right between me and my parents, but they aren’t going to accept me if they wouldn’t accept me then. But still, I want to try.” Isla nodded, rubbing circles on Tris’s back. “Ok. we’ll meet with him tomorrow, assuming he’s actually your uncle.” Tris closed her eyes, leaning into Isla’s embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Isla smiled as she pressed her face into Tris’s black hair. “Course, Love. Of course.” ------------------------------------ Trissa got out of class fifteen minutes before Isla got out of gymnastics. Which meant she had twenty minutes before she and Isla were supposed to go to the library to meet her father. Oh, joy. “Uhhh,” Tris whispered to herself and her dog she was taking on a walk as she went to Isla’s gymnastics studio. “Why do I have to do this?”

No one answered, which allowed Tris to try and think of what she was going to do when she and Isla went to meet her family. She checked her watch as the gymnastics studio into view. Twelve minutes.

“Do you think Isla would like a scone when she gets out?” Tris asked the dog, Waffles. Waffles, being a dog, didn’t answer other than barking and wagging his tail.

“Yeah, I think she would,” Tris decided. There was a scone place right around the corner.

Tris tugged on Waffles’s leash. “Let’s go, puppers. We need to hurry if we’re gonna get food.” ------------------------------------ Isla got out of gymnastics class to find Tris sitting with Waffles at a table in front of the studio, eating a muffin.

“Hey, Bookworm!” Tris called. “I got you a scone!” Isla smiled. “Hey, Butterfly. How long have you been here?” Tris shrugged, standing up and handing Isla the bag. “Not super long. Ten minutes, maybe?” Isla opened the bag, taking a bite of the scone. “Ready to go?” Tris gave her a weak smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” ------------------------------------ Tris nervously twisted the ring around her finger. Back, forth, back, forth.

“He should have been here by now.” Back, forth, back, forth. Isla glanced over. “It’s two minutes after four. Calm down. Read a book.” Tris shook her head. Back, forth. “Nope. I couldn’t focus on reading now, anyways.” Back, forth. Isla shrugged.

Back, forth, back, forth.

“What are you reading?” Back, forth. Isla flashed her the cover. “These Violent Delights. It’s a Romeo and Juliet retelling, but they’re all gangsters in Shanghai. And also there are monsters.” Tris smiled. Back, forth. “Sounds cool.” Back, forth.

Isla set down the book, grabbing her hands before she could twist the ring again. “Hey. It’ll be fine. Ok?” Tris sighed. “Ok.” Isla smiled. “Good. besides, I think I see the guy.” Tris turned around. And yeah, there was her uncle. Great.

He caught sight of her. “Trissa!” Tris bit her lip, squeezing Isla’s hand tighter. “Uncle John.” He walked over to them. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you for a while. Your father would like to see you again.” Tris stiffened. “Would he now,” she said, barely audible. Her uncle sighed impatiently. “Yes. Now come along, he and your mother are waiting for us.” “Excuse me, I don’t think we’ve met,” Isla interrupted. “I’m Isla, Trissa’s girlfriend. Pleased to meet you.” John frowned. “Yeah, kid, nice to meet you, but my niece and I need to get going, so you can run along with home, ok?” Isla’s smile shifted into a glare. “No, I don’t think I will run home. I’m staying with Tris.” “And besides,” Tris spoke up, “I’m not going with you.” “Your father-” “My father,” Tris interrupted, “didn’t care about me when I was a kid. My father is a terrible parent and a terrible person. I don’t want to see him, and I don’t want to see you. I thought maybe something would have changed, maybe you guys would care about me as who I am, not who I can be. But since you don’t, please. Leave me alone.” John stared at her in shock, and Isla whispered “Good job.” in her ear. Tris stood up suddenly. “Come on, Isla. Let’s pick up some pizza on our way home.” Isla nodded, shooting John another glare as she and Tris left. “Good job, Butterfly. You did amazing.” Tris smiled. “I know. And I’m not going to go back.” Isla grinned. “Good. Now, I believe I was promised pizza? We can even get it with pineapples, you weirdo.” “I’m not weird, pineapples are the best!” Isla sighed jokingly. “Why do I love you again?”


Write a story told exclusively through dialogue. "Sarah, your back!" he said "Well, it's been a long time," she replied "Sit here, I was just making tea," said Joe "So, how are ya?" "I'm fine, what about you, where have you been?" he asked. "Where have a been…uh." Joe turned around from the stove to face Sarah and gasped. "What happened to you?" he demanded "Nothing... its" "Your face, your hands! "he blurted "Shh…. keep it down; they're sleeping," Sarah said hastily "Did Warlock sent you somewhere?" Joe asked "I… it's a long story, and you probably don't wanna hear it." "Sarah!" "You know it's top-secret, "she said "What would you say if I turned up in your house, covered in blood and wounds?" he snapped. "Oh…fine," she said in a defeated voice. "Warlock sent Mina and me to recover a gemstone in the mountains of Vietnam." "I knew it was Warlock," Joe said under his breath. "It took us days to reach there, but we had to go through some vampires first." "They did this to you," Joe asked. "No, no, in fact, some of them were nice." "But we had to convince them that Warlock sent us, and we mean no harm; when they finally understood, they told us to watch out for the trolls." "Trolls? I thought those guys died ages ago." "That was the problem; we didn't know about the trolls." "I've heard that there are two paths, the short one has trolls, and the long one doesn't." "We had to take a short way because it had already been ten days. And unfortunately, we found the trolls in the cave we had to stay. We tried our best to escape because trolls have a terrible history with us humans."

"I'm guessing you escaped."

"Hardly," she fretted.

Joe looked at her with a confused expression.

"Mina gave the leader of the trolls a gift." "gift?" "Yeah, she said it would make a good impression." "What did you give? Twenty feet tall candies." Joe jeered "Ha! she gave them the amulet of the god of war." "Wow," said Joe softly. "Mina told them we would come tomorrow with another gift. But that's when it all went wrong." "How what happened?" Joe said quickly "Their leader and another bloke broke into a fight." "Blimey!" "Anyway, the leader got his neck snapped, and the amulet was broken. There was no use, so we decided to take a long way." "I'm guessing that was a mistake." "Yeah, it was a cloud forest." "Ah, short, and crooked." "It was barren in the winter, you know, rotting barks, dried leaves, and worst of all that, it was quiet. Every tiny sound seemed like a threat. We kept moving when out of nowhere, a high tide of quicksand came down on us. Mina got out of the way, but I got completely sucked." "So, I'm talking to your ghost?" said Joe "The thing is that when I got in, it wasn't quicksand at all!" Sarah chortled "What?"

"Yeah, it was water! With all the tiny fish and stuff. Mina was totally freaked out. And guess what I found the gemstone under there!" "Wow!" "But just when I was about to get back, a huge mermaid with tiger teeth and face like a corpse came right at me. Luckily Mina got me out in time, or my face would have ripped off."


I have known Noah for a long time. Since we were kids he already have that "I'm-An-Introvert-So-Scram!" waving flag on his head. We actaully met on a scarlet sunset by the swing. I was reading a book I found in the playground earlier when he suddenly approached me saying that he wanted the book back. I didn't gave it to him because I haven't finished reading it. He snickered at me and it turned to bickering, then into a soil fight that resulted of a wailing Noah, who looks like an idiot losing to a girl. I gave the book to him and he started to calm down, he hugged the book and left. I stood by the swing for another minute when Noah came back running towards me and gave me the book telling that I should read it. Which I quickly accepted and it turns out Noah would be the greatest impact who made me who I am today. "You know you really did outdone yourself this time." He exclaimed with an out going smug face look, "But Becky, why do you write too many mystery novels, can you do something soft or romantic, you are a girl for the angel's sake, be soft." He added as he comb my hair using his scarred hands. Noah's been doing archery and been overpracticing himself and it worries me. "Don't you think you're over offering your self to me. Use the damn comb. Don't hurt yourself." I told him but I got kisses on my neck as a reply. I gasped as he continued to drop kisses to my shoulders and whispered "Yes my sweet writer, my sweet sweet Rebecca." When we grow up, girls flocked around Noah but he stick with me , which I find irritating. I got bullied because of him and even made as an out cast by the whole class. They actually told me how I was a bitch for seducing him and leading Noah to the bad path. Those we're the bad things and there were actually no good things about backstabbing. "Rebecca, I'm sorry if I put you through this. I promised I won't let anyone hurt you again." He cried at the hospital. In his perspective I look helpless with a dextrose. Though I laughed it out when I remembered that I was pushed and fell from the stairs. He taught that I broke my wrist and stormed out of the room. He went back to the school and gave a piece of his mind at the broadcasting room. Everyone heard it and everyone knows who was it. After that, it became quiet. I am still treated as an outcast but atleast no one dares to hurt me or bully me, just the momentary gossips ans jeering. But it was quiet and I love it. Noah did outdone himself on protecting me and I felt lucky for having him. Though I don't know if Noah worries about me or he worries about how I can't write? Eitherway, I am still lucky. "Noah, what sex positions that works best in this?" I nonchalantly asked him at the cafeteria. He turned beet red and was telling me to keep my voice low. "I want to include it to the story, I just want to know if there are any positions convenient on this?" he snorted as he laugh as I was naively ask him. People adored Noah for being diligent and responsible, on the other hand, I was stuck on reading that I sometimes forgot about the existing real world. Being an orphan makes you immune to being treated as non-existent. It turn out to be ordinary to me but Noah made me feel that I am existing. Noah lost his parents on an airplane crash leaving him and his rich coldhearted granpa that basically turned Noah as an orphan with unlimited credentials. "I love you, Becky, stay here, we can be together, please stay," he said as he reach for my shirt and slid his hands underneath and cupped my skin. He kissed me gently then hungrily, like someone who wants to consume me inside. I respond with the same pace and letting my hand wander to his body. I gasped as our lips parted. He took off my shirt and gave me hot pecks on my collarbone. He leave marks all over my body, marking me, loving me, believing in me. "Is it bad if I say that I don't want to live with you? I want to be with you, Noah, Yes, I really do. But as of now I want to know ME, more of me. Is it bad if I focus on writing, for now? Is it bad to pursue solace from my self?" I asked continuously and he heaved a sigh and hug me covering me with his scent, "If it's your choice Becky, I will respect it." People thought Noah as an out-going guy because he was one of the cheerful and easy going adviser but he turns out to be the most introverted soft boy. He sometimes sneak or rejects parties, drink nights, even meet-ups. I even caught him sneaking out with a book everytime there was a family gathering. I really don't get how this guy's mind works but deliberately he just confidently do his thing.

I sometimes loomed if he would do that if we would stay in one roof. Would he try to escape away from me? Then I noticed that Noah loved the silence between us, he loved the idea of the tranquility that courses between us and that comforted me. In retrospect, he pushes me to be an occasional out-goer instead of writing all day long. Parties, contests, book signing or publishing, it was hectic honestly. Surprisingly tiring but doing it together with Noah made it little less a burden to me. I received awknowledgements and earned a name as an author, all thanks to the dreamy Noah who keeps on pushing me to be a writer. One time he got from his work and was yelling "P-A-R-T-Y!~" . I was delighted that he initiated "Party" but alas, after bath, he took the new book that I bought and sat comfortably at his bed and read the entire series all night. Yes! Party it is! That's just how he is.

"Beckyy, give me a snuggle, I miss you my sweet sweet Becky." he sang as he barge in my apartment after the field trip at the school he was teaching. I gave him a warm welcoming hug while he planted kisses to my head. I decided to write a love story as requested by him. I find writing romance easy because I based the personality of the character to him. I fixed a decision that after I finished this book, I can let myself live with him.

I got engage with writing. Too busy that I lose sleep. I rarely visit his place and when he does barge in my apartment, I neglected him that I didn't realized that the silence was suffocating him. I didn't mean to, I just got so absorbed at finishing the book that I sometimes forgot to eat. I kept on writing holding to the idea that I can live with him after this. We will be together. This is my surprised for him. A gift devotedly made just for him. The romance book he was asking for.

But I was wrong. I received a call one evening, telling me to go to a hospital. When I arrived, I didn't made it in time. He got on a car accident, died even before I arrived. Or, I think he died after I totally absorbed myself on writing and neglected him. I didn't know if I cried. But I went to his place and slept there. I woke up covered by his clothes. I barely remember what happen last night. His room was a mess. I guess, I berserk last night and made a pile of his clothes and created a bed out of it. It smelled like him. I missed him. I accidentally slipped over a tiny red box tucked on one of his shirt. I opened it and saw a ring with an attached note-- 'For My Sweet Becky. She offer me a book, I offer her a ring.' I didn't notice the tears were that warm as I whispered his name.

I didn't know that love can bring so much pain. I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye. After that day, I move to his place, the book I've been working, I don't think I can even look at it or read it but I can't bring myself to burn it, so I put it at the stack of books and left it. Unfinished.

I continued to write. It was the path Noah had given to me. And I write perfectly, I need to write it perfectly. I don't know if I became numb but I craved to write perfectly. Well I got lost from time to time. I made mishaps. But Noah wouldn't mind, right?