(This is my first time writing a short story, pls enjoy and let me know what I can do to better myself or if I should continue the story.) It had been his first day back to work and as expected he had gotten countless, meaningless pathetic greetings of "Hey, how have you been? Everything alright? Let me know if you need anything. I'm sorry for your loss..." and after such a depressing day followed by a few too many drinks, he stumbled up to his door, turned the handle, and pushed it open, not noticing the door was unlocked. As the door slowly creaked open and the moonlight filled the room, he sluggishly lifted his head and noticed a still, silent, lifeless silhouette sitting in his living room. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the drunken lenses that were smeared across his face. His vision slightly cleared and he could make out that the silhouette was a side portrait of a woman who seamed to be cradling something in her hands. He took in a sharp breath as he dropped his briefcase, "Hello!?" he called out. "W-who's there!?". The only response he got back was a strange noise, as if someone was trying to inhale air through their crushed wind pipe. He slowly and cautiously stepped forward, crossing into the threshold of his home as he put his hand against the wall, feeling for the light switch in the corridor. "Hello!? Who are you!? I-I-I will call the police!". With one hand on the wall finally finding the light switch, he reached his other hand into his pocket and grabbed his phone. While pulling his phone out of his pocket he flipped the switch on the wall and the lights flickered on, revealing the silhouette to be Shui, his said-to-be deceased wife. The first victim that had passed away due to the virus named COV19-ID also called the Koron Virus. He dropped his phone and stood there in awe. "Shui? Is that you!?". This time the response he got back, though hard to understand, was slightly more vocal. "Fng... Feng..." She muttered as she slowly looked up at him. Her skin was pale and her eyes seemed glossed over from what he could tell, but still, sure enough, that was his beloved Shui, sitting there naked on the floor, cradling a framed picture of their wedding day. Tears began to fall from his eyes. As he ran towards her, he fell to his knees, wrapped his arms around her and hugged her deeply. "I thought I had lost you forever", he sobbed. "I don't understand, how are you here? They told me you had passed away. That I wasn't allowed to see you and that they would burn the body to prevent any further spread of the infection, but I guess they were wrong. They must've been able to revive you and just didn't tell me." He loosened his embrace on her and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Why are you naked on the floor?" he questioned as he leaned back slightly so that he could see her and her elegant smile once again. Unfortunately, things were not as he had hoped. Sitting this close to her made it obvious of the changes she had gone through. Her pale skin was cold to the touch. The round pupils of her eyes that he could spend days lost in, were now vertically slit and filled with the look of starvation. The small ears that hid under her long, flowing hair now had pointed tips that peaked out through the strands of her hair. The beautiful nails that he would help her paint were now twice as long and slightly pointed at the end. As she began to open her mouth to speak, she revealed two elongated, cuspid teeth hidden under the lips he used to kiss so much. "Feng..." she whispered, "I'm... hungry...


(please bear with me, I am not an experienced writer at ALL) November 29, 2013 I was walking down the street after my college classes. It was windy and clear outside. It was autumn in the quiet town of North Ridgeville, Ohio. I looked at my watch, *5:00 pm. That’s late, I’m not sure how I didn’t realize that. I should head home now*. I soon got home to my apartment. Although it was an apartment, it wasn’t at all cramped or messy. I keep things neat, and clean. I checked the time again, *5:11 pm.* I sat down on the sofa and turned on the television. I switched to a news channel. Reports of murder came on. Two young adults, ages 18. Matthew Hill and John Smith. Both in high school, the same as my brother, Austin. They had bullied him but never tried anything when I was with him. *I wonder what else could have happened.* Apparently they were found strangled to death at North Ridgeville High School. *Hmmm*. I smiled. *I know this is odd, but they weren’t helping the world. They were just damaging others. So the world took him. Too bad, I guess.* After watching the news, I usually eat an apple. I just do. Always Honeycrisp, they are better. *Heh, apple superiority, how trivial. However, just because things are trivial doesn’t make them totally useless and wasteful, though. That’s a mistake people make.* People make a lot of mistakes. I knew that*.* I looked back at the television. The news said it was rumoured a note was found next to the bodies, written in black ink. It said, *Better luck next time.* I switched the channel to a true-crime documentary. I like true crime. You can see others’ mistakes in crime. I do despise a particular one, *Ted Bundy. If you are going to kill someone, don’t kidnap them. I may be cold but the things he did were disgusting.* I eventually stopped thinking about that pathetic killer. Soon my cell phone started ringing. I looked at my watch, *5:46. Huh, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?* I picked up the phone. It was my brother, Austin. “Did you see the news report about the murders?” He asked, seemingly worried. “Yes,” I answered, blandly. “It’s crazy isn’t it?” He asked, “North Ridgeville is one of the safest cities in Ohio and even the whole U.S!” “Yeah, it’s pretty odd,” I answered blankly. Although I don’t act like it, I love my brother. He is okay with how I act. He was okay with me being me. I didn’t need to fake emotions around him. *Then again, Austin is very good at reading emotions, even mine.* “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about them anymore, *heh,”* I said blandly. “Yeah I guess you are right. It’s still pretty sad though. Anyway, I have to go eat dinner since dad just got home. I’ll see you tomorrow Aiden!” Austin said, excited to see his brother again. Then he hung up. I continued watching television when my cat walked up to me. Her name was Turtle, as she was a tortoiseshell cat. I love her since she doesn’t judge or have expectations. She started purring and she sat down on the sofa next to be. I smiled and checked my watch again. *5:52 pm.* Checking my watch was something I did a lot. It was a habit I guess. Some time passed, and I checked my watch. *6:23 pm. Hmmm, time went by fast. I* looked back at the television. There were still talking about murder reports. I guess it is quite a big thing to happen in quiet little Ridgeville. *I wonder if they will ever find the killer.* I seem to find myself often thinking about random things at random times. Randomly thinking about how my cat deserves a peaceful life. Random. Random. Is anything really random? *Ha, that was another random and trivial thought. Just like apples being superior to other apples.* I checked the time again. *7:03 pm. Hmmm, I guess I got lost in my thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts. Can you really be lost in thought? Of course it is a figurative phrase but, hmmm.* Most people have most likely heard that time isn’t exactly a real thing. *I think you could say the same about any form of measurement. Things like meters, miles, degrees... They only are names. Names, names, and names. Names are strange. Names could be insults, but also be labels. Everything is named. Whether it makes sense or not. Some names come from surnames even, such as the Heimlich manoeuvre. Manoeuvre. Manoeuvre. Manoeuvre. Manoeuvre. Such a weird word. Like Manoeuvre, some words come from words that already existed a long time ago, usually from other languages. But where did those original words come from?* What things are truly trivial? *Trivial. Trivial. Trivial. Trivial. I use that word a lot.* Is anything truly trivial? *Well, yes, in a way. Someone’s preferred apple is most likely to be trivial. Someone’s favourite color, movie, animal… Are those all trivial? Can a whole person be trivial? No-well, maybe. Is there anyone who is truly useless? You only need one person to think you’re useful to not be useless. Useless. Useless. Useless. Is anything even truly useless?* *Killers. Killers. Killers. What is a serial killer and what is a hero? These things depend on perspective. Someone in one place is a hero and another place a villain. Many people who work for the government kill. It isn’t always a bad thing to take someone’s life. But… What makes someone’s life worth taking?* I checked my watch again. *9:23 pm. It’s been a while. Again “lost in thought.” Regardless, I should get to bed.* I always make sure to get to bed before 10 pm. However, I usually don’t fall asleep until 11 pm, *as I get “lost in thought” a lot.* Lot. Lot. Lot. *The word lot is also relative. A lot of salt in baking is different to a lot of salt in the ocean. Lot also depends on the person and their situation. A lot of money to a wealthy aristocrat is different to a lot of money to a homeless mother. Mother. Mother. Mother. Mother. What is a mother? Scientifically, it is simply the female that gave birth to you. For humans, it’s different. Is a mother just female familial support? A biological mother is your actual mother. Some mothers shouldn’t be deemed mothers.* I never found murder much of a bad thing itself. Some people who are murdered deserve it, in a way. I find some things even worse. *Abuse, harassment, sexual harassment… No need to make their last moments terrible, or, at least, more terrible than being strangled, like the two highschoolers.* *Is “not being able to hurt a fly” a good or bad thing? Being merciful is good… however… It’s just odd. Not being able to hurt anything probably could do more harm than good. On the same note, what is the line between pushover and kind?* I soon fell asleep and woke up at 10:00 am. It was a Saturday. I got up and did my morning routine, which hadn’t been broken in 9 years. *I do things, and I will do things right.* I always got good grades as a kid. I never got grades lower than a B. *And I made sure of it.* I also make sure no one ever tries to take advantage of me. *If anyone plans on trying, I can make sure they won’t in the future.* Trivial. Trivial. That word again. *I think of that word a lot. It’s a good word. Word. Word. Word is a strange word.* I sighed. *I’m going outside.* I opened the curtains on my room, letting the morning sun in. It was clear again. I put on a flannel, black jeans, and my jacket. I walked outside. It was less breezy, therefore warmer. *Much more enjoyable than yesterday.* I walked to a small pottery shop. “Do you have any snake sculptures?” I asked, after seeing a variety of animal-themed sculptures. “I am afraid not, but you can request one!” The lady behind the counter answered, enthusiastic and bubbly. “Oh-ok,” I answered blankly. “Any specific sizes or colors?” She asked, smiling. “Well-blue and, um- about five inches long,” I answered nervously. I didn’t like talking much to others. “Thank you! It should be done by Tuesday!” She answered, kindly. “Thanks,” I answered as I walked out. *Well okay then. It’s no problem.* Next, I walked to a park. It was a bit more full today since the weather was nicer. I picked out a book I bought. It was named Behind The Mask. As I was reading, a kid came up to me. They had to be only 7. “Can I please have a dollar?” They asked, looking shy. “Oh, uh, sure,” I answered as I pulled out my wallet. *Oh-I only have a five. Whatever, it’s fine. It’s just five dollars. This kid hasn’t shown any traces of not being disrespectful. Mine as well. I wonder why they want it...* “I only have a five, but you can have it-I guess,” I answered as I handed it to the boy. “Thank you so much, sir!” He exclaimed out of happiness as he ran away in excitement. I smiled. *Childhood should be spent in happiness. Unless you are some entitled brat.* I stopped smiling. *Disappointing. Such bad parenting. Parenting. Parenting. Parenting. Parenting. What really is parenting? Teaching kids to be good people? Teaching them how to live life without messing everything up? I’d like to think I turned out we-*I was cut off my own thought by the sound of a girl demanding something from me. “Give me 5 dollars!” She demanded, “You gave him some so give me some!” I grimaced. *Little idiot...* “Listen, you can’t just do that kind of thing. Now go away,” I said coldly as I stood up. Even if she was nice, I couldn’t give her anything. I only had twenty in my wallet, and that’s not something I was going to give to some kid. I am about 6’5, which is seemingly quite tall, especially compared to a small bratty 7 year old. She soon stopped smirking and ran away, looking intimidated. *Ugh- pathetic. I don’t care if you’re a kid, you shouldn’t be so greedy.* I felt annoyed and decided to get up and go back to the pottery shop. I walked around, looking at everything. Everything was fairly well made. *Hmmm…* Eventually, I went home at 10:36 am. I then sat down to watch more television and switched to the news. More about the recent murder. Apparently they were found in the men’s locker room. It’s also reported the scene was very puddled, the bodies drenched. *Hmmmm.* I soon got bored and grabbed my book again to start reading while eating an apple. I read until 2:00 pm. I had a thing for that. If I was very interested in or immersed in a book I could read for hours on end. Being content with how much I read, I decided to go to my parents’ house to visit them and Austin. After texting my brother that I was coming, I fixed my hair and clothes. Presentability is important, especially if you want to be respected. I arrived at my parents’ house at 2:11 pm. My brother Austin was super happy to see me, and I was too. I just don’t show it much. I talked to my parents a bit and then went to hang out with my brother. Lately, he had been getting into writing, and he showed me some stuff he wrote. It was pretty good, especially for someone who didn’t write much outside of school. He was good at descriptions, and could really immerse someone in a setting. “This is really nice, you should keep writing,” I said, with little emotion. Most people would probably take this as sarcasm or take it with offense, but Austin could always figure out what I meant without me having to hyperbolize my emotions. He was a great brother. “Thanks a lot, Aiden,” He replied, smiling. “No problem,” I said, looking off to his small kitten. Austin had adopted a small kitten from a local animal shelter. Austin loved cats, especially helping them. He even wanted to foster kittens that would be euthanized in shelters. He was a very caring guy, especially to animals. In my opinion, he was respectable. He treated others with respect and wanted to help. The only bad thing about him was how he dealt with people who took advantage of him. They used his intelligence or kindness for their own benefit. Even if he knew it was manipulation, he still didn’t do anything. *Hopefully, he gets over that. He could become quite a respectable man.* Respect. Respectful. Respected. *Huh, the more you think of the word, the odder it sounds. Respect is important.* I value respect a lot. Disrespecting someone can be one of the most annoying things to me. I like to go by the phrase *Respect others until there is a reason not to.* I didn’t like the whole “Respect is earned, not given.” *It makes some sense but…* Disrespecting someone because you don’t know them? *Why would you do that? The same people who say that demand you be respectful. Such a strange thing to say.* It had been a few days, and it was now Tuesday, the day his snake sculpture would be done. After classes, he walked straight to the pottery shop. “Hello, is the snake done?” I asked. “Yes! Please come up to the counter!” She answered, smiling. It was the same person at the counter as Saturday. I walked up to the counter as she walked to the back, and picked out a small blue snake that was coiled into the shape of and 8. It was very well made, and you could feel all of the textures. As the girl started wrapping the snake up in bubble wrap, I asked the price. “Only 20 dollars!” She said, still being as bubbly as a young girls television character. “That’s not a lot of quality-are you sure it's 20?” I asked, slightly surprised. “Well, our Christmas sale just started since it’s December now!” She answered, smiling as she handed the wrapped snake to him. “Oh, okay,” I said while taking the snake and taking out the twenty in my wallet. “Thanks for coming! Have a great day!” “Oh uh-you too,” I said, unexpecting an extended conversation as he walked out. I was feeling a bit nice when I bumped into some highschool senior, and almost dropped the snake. *Oh my...* You could tell by how they looked how they would respond “OH MY GOSH! Watch where you’re going, idiot! I could have fallen or dropped my things!” She exclaimed as she stomped on my foot. She was wearing a shirt with a surname on it. Jones. *Tiffany Jones. Austin talks about her sometimes. Apparently some jerk who can’t help but cheat on any boyfriend she gets. I don’t very much care about that but, she has shown so much disrespect towards me. Disappointing.* I grimaced as I walked away without saying a thing. *3:23 pm.* I continued walking home. What is maturity? *Is it being respectful? Being considerate? Thinking about more than how Sally and Alex broke up? Heh, that last one was a joke, but it still holds true.* A few days later, and a news report came on. Another murder, *that’s odd. This kind of thing is almost unheard of here, now it seems there is a killer on the loose.* The victim was *Tiffany Jones. Odd, I saw her not too long ago. Another rather “trivial” person. Sad how their life ended before they could mature into a respected and respectful adult, or well, they would hopefully turn into one, that is if they hadn’t passed.* The same “better luck next time” note was found near the body, which was found dead in the bushes of the local park. She was quite disrespectful, similar to the two kids who bullied Austin. The news dubbed the killer a “spree killer” since they killed without a cool-down time. It had been three months until I found myself in another situation with someone disrespectful. There had been some man in his class who tried to cheat off of me. This particular man always did disrespectful things. Being so disrespectful and immature even as a young adult. *Pathetic, you aren’t in high school anymore.* It had been three days since the cheating incident when the news reported another murder, who was none other than the man who tried to cheat off of me. *Wow, am I cursed or something? This is incredibly strange.* I dozed off into thought and didn’t pay attention to the news anymore. *Odd.* When I snapped back to reality the news said that yet again, the same note of “*better luck next time*,” was next to the body, meaning it was most definitely the same person doing the murders. *Odd,* I thought as I looked at my watch. *3:31 pm. I guess I have plenty of time to relax.* Almost a year went by and more people who I wasn't fond of died. Including the previous deaths, it was a total kill-count of 9, all with the ominous note next to the bodies. *That’s quite a lot, especially for a city like North Ridgeville. Maybe this all will bring attention to little old Ridgeville, haha.* It was now November 29 again, now the year of 2014. I walked down the street to a cafe to get a doughnut as a treat. *It was my anniversary after all.* I took a bite out of the doughnut and smiled. *Last year today was my first two murders of 9.


From what we can gather, the Flax are some interstellar empire. They don't tell us much. Why would they? Does a man explain to his dog why he needs to file his taxes? They came seven years ago. They arrived in our system, destroying most of the satellites. Destroyed the ISS and what meager spacecraft we had constructed to carry us to the stars. They slapped us down like bugs. Of course, there was resistance when they landed in our major cities. Soldiers across the world fought them, but they were unorganized and ineffectual with a lack of global communication. It took them a year to clamp down on the last remnants of organized military resistance. I was 13 when they finally got around to dealing with the civilians. Unlike our neighbors, we had a food supply and clean water to drink. My mother always said my father's near manic need to have at least a year's worth of food was a drain on family funds. She was happy to know it was all worth it. Millions died in the food riots; the Flax just fucking watched humanity tear itself apart. When they finally stepped in, it wasn't as saviors. It was as masters. They rounded our family up during late august. We lived in Alabama, and the heat and humidity were unbearable as they made us wait in long lines to be processed into the labor camps. Human collaborators ushered us forward to receive our ID tattoos. They smiled when they told us it wouldn't hurt. Can you believe that? Fucking sold us out with a smile. Mom and dad were shunted into the "waste" line. I never saw them again. They put me to work in the fields. I spent four years of my life working those damn fields. If someone was to sick to work, they just shot them and used them as fertilizer for the crops. 2 years ago, I saw a chance for freedom. The Collaborator guards got drunk on duty. Someone set up a still in their barracks, and they wanted to try the first batch. I slipped out that night. I just picked a direction and went. It had to be at least three weeks before I met the people that would bring me to this moment. They found me dehydrated and starving under a large oak tree. A man I now know as Sgt. Thomas approached me and offered me water from his canteen. I drank greedily, then vomited all over his shoes. He just smiled and patted me on the back. They took me to their bunker. I told me that I would be safe there, and as long as I worked to further human freedom, I would have a place there. From what we can gather, the rest of the galaxy doesn't possess the fighting instinct that the Flax and we do. Of course, they had military, but once they were beaten, the people just rolled over and accepted their fate. However, even though all organized resistance was snuffed out. The fight carried on with isolated military personnel and civilian militias. Humanity had been fighting itself for a long time. It was finally time we focused that energy into something nobler. I was not fighting for land, religion, or idealogy. But for freedom, for our people and race. That brings me to my task as I ride this large semi loaded with explosive toward the Flax regional HQ. All I can think is what it would be like to have children without ID tattoos, in a world where I can fall in love and have a family. That isn't for me, but maybe, one day, people will breathe free again.  Edit: This is my first attempt at writing. I am a long time lover of Science fiction. I have had the urge to write some of my own for a long time now and figured now is a good time. Please be gentle in feedback. I know it isn't great.


There is a boys secondary school (high school) in Nigeria called city academy, situated in Zaria, Kaduna state. It’s a boarding school for the upper class kids, opened in the year 1998. School fees per term was N45000 (about USD500) then. It got a reputation for academic excellence in a very short time and it became famous, as a result, rich people troop to send their kids there. In the year 2004, the school graduated its first set of students. Politicians, business men, and senior civil servants were invited, that added to the school’s fame. As a result of the school’s academic excellence, it made it in the list of top twenty secondary schools in Nigeria. Year 2005 came and it was time to graduate the second set. Again, big men were invited and that added fame upon fame for the school. City academy then became a pride for the elite whose children school there. A poor man’s son can only admire. The proprietor who also was from a poor family decided to do an act of charity by creating an opportunity for the underprivileged to study in his school. So, when it was time for entrance exam into JSS1 (Junior secondry school 1/class 1), he forwarded invitations to a number of primary schools (for the poor) in his community to send one pupil each for the entrance exam, for whoever gets the highest score gets a full scholarship into city academy. The exam was conducted and a boy named Bilal Manu got the scholarship. Bilal and his family jubilated his success, of course they have every reason to jubilate, but there are challenges ahead. Since city academy is a boarding school, Bilal needs a lot of essential goods in preparation for boarding school life and his parents cannot afford all that, so they sought assistance from the community and people complied generously. There are even bigger challenges ahead for Bilal, he’ll be the only poor man’s son in city academy before other scholarship students join in the coming years.

School resumption time met Bilal fully prepaid for his first term in JSS1 at city academy. He left home for Zaria in the morning and arrived in the evening. At the school gate, his luggage was checked for contrabands and nothing was found. He was then directed to the financial controller’s office for documentation, then to the school clinic and finally to the hostel. At the hostel, he was given a mattress and assigned to a room where he was given a bed and a locker for his belongings. He was then asked to move his box to the box room. The school looks very nice, it deserves the reputation, Bilal thought. That was the beginning of his journey in boarding school. As a junior student, he has to tolerate all forms of maltreatment from the senior students, that’s normal in Nigerian boarding schools. There seems to be no big difference between him and the rich kids for now because money is not allowed in school; phones, personal computers, food of any kind, perfume and deodorants are all not allowed. That struck a balance in status between students. The school feeds the students, it also has its currency named coupons. Students are given coupons once every week; 500 coups each for the junior student and 750 coups each for the senior students. The money is not free, a student’s parent has to deposit money in the student’s account, domiciled in the account office (the school’s bank), in the beginning of every term, otherwise he won’t get a penny to spend. For Bilal, he gets it free since he’s a scholarship student. There is only one shop in the school, everyone goes there to spend during break time and after class hours. Students go to the dinning hall three times daily for breakfast, lunch and dinner respectively at specified times. During meals at the dinning hall, students find food, water, crockery and cutlery already placed on dinning tables for them. Eight chairs surround each table for eight students. Each student is assigned a table at the beginning of every term and that becomes permanent for that whole term. Each table becomes like a small family since students meet three times daily to eat together.. Life is tough in a boarding school especially for junior students since they have to adapt to seniority and bullying. There is time for everything, so students are reminded using a bell by the time keeper. Within a week from Monday to Friday, students leave the hostel for classes at 7:00am to clean the classes; assembly is called at 7:45am, and classes start 8:00am. First break is 9:15am, students go to the dinning hall for breakfast and return at 9:45am. Second break is from 11:30am to 11:45am. Classes close at 1:00pm. Lunch is at 2:00pm after which extracurricular activities begin until 3:45pm. Sports begin at 4:00pm until 6:00pm. Dinner is from 7:15pm to 7:45pm. Preps begin 7:45pm until 9:45pm and 10:00pm is lights out time (time to sleep). Saturday is inspection day. Students do general cleaning and wait for inspectors to come and judge which hostel in best. Sunday is a free day. Five weeks after resumption comes the visiting day. On that day, parents come from different places to see their kids. Bilal expected his parents to come but they didn’t. He was disappointed, but he later understood that his parent’s inability to come was a blessing for him, because all parents came in exotic cars. On that day, he saw clearly the difference between him and the other students, a donkey in a horse pen he is. His parents don’t even have a bike, so if they should come, they’ll have to use public transport and that alone will let everyone know of his social status. Normally in a visiting day, parents bring a lot of goodies for their kids, that is allowed only on that day. Those whose parents come share with those whose parents didn’t, because even for the rich kids, at times some parents fail to come due to personal engagements. That served as a relief for Bilal. Three weeks after visiting day comes the open day. On that day, parents come to check their children’s performance in the continuous assessment. Open day serves as another visiting day. Bilal’s parents again failed to come but he didn’t worry because he didn’t even expect them to. Exams begin two weeks after open day. After exams, students stay for a week in school awaiting their results. Student collect their results on the final Saturday of the term and on that day, parents come to take their children home for holiday. Bilal and two other unfortunate rich kids whose parents failed to come due to reasons unknown to them, were left in school. They slept in the school clinic. Early on Sunday, Bilal was the first to leave because the school sponsors his journey back home. Throughout Bilal’s days in city academy, his parents never came for visiting and that was part of the reason other students got to know who he is. They accepted him for who he is and treated him like family. He graduated as one of the best students in his set in the year 2011. His parents didn’t attend his graduation ceremony because his father died when he was in JSS2 and his mother died when he was in SS1 (senior secondary school 1/class 4). Two friends of his father attended the ceremony on behalf of his parents. It was a memorable one. After secondary school, Bilal didn’t get admission into the university the year he graduated. He got admission into Abubakar tafawa balewa university (ATBU) Bauchi at the end of the following year (2012) in the month of December as a chemical engineering student. Registration for first semester started in January 2013. Bilal was sponsored collectively by generous people in his community. He applied for scholarship under an oil firm (total oil and gas) in his second year at ATBU. He won the scholarship and the firm started paying a year after, i.e in his third year (2016). In his fourth year at ATBU, i.e in the year 2017, city academy old students’ association (CAOSA) organized a reunion. Bilal decided he won’t attend. He can’t afford to attend because he doesn’t want to look different. He was assigned the role of passing every information regarding the reunion to his set by the organisers of the reunion. That role will make it compulsory for him to attend the reunion and he doesn’t like that. Luckily for him, the reunion failed and was postponed to the following year (2018), he was relieved by that. Year 2018 came and Bilal was in his final year. CAOSA fixed a date for the reunion but chose a different person to represent Bilal’s set. Bilal was happy about that, because he has already made up his mind that he will abscond, for the same old reason; that he doesn’t want to look different. He knows that almost all the attendants of the reunion have their own cars, he doesn’t; they use luxury phones, he uses a very cheap one; their clothing is almost royal, his’ are very much inferior. They outclass him by an unimaginable margin and he doesn’t want to look like a donkey in a horse pen one more time. The reunion didn’t fail this time and he absconded as he planned. He knows that he’ll be treated like family if he attends but he doesn’t care, because he doesn’t want to look different. He has vowed never to attend any gathering of city academy old students except funerals and he’s okay with that.


A friend of mine has started doing a regularly updated set of short stories all apart of one longer story. She's released 6 posts so far and I think they're pretty entertaining. Thought you all might enjoy. Here's Chapter 1: # Chapter 1: "Cake" Kari stood in front of the mirror and yawned as she always did first thing in the morning. The sun streamed in through the uncovered window, lighting the small room and promising for a good day. She doubted that very much, but deep inside she hoped for it. She ran a brush through her long dark hair and combed the short bangs forward. They seemed more trouble than they were worth, always sticking up every morning after sleeping, but her mom liked them and insisted on cutting her hair that way. She had learned to pick her battles and that one was so small, she’d rather sacrifice looks for beatings. Dark circles under her eyes made her brown eyes look darker. She had never slept well. Ever since she remembered her dreams had always been detailed and wild, but they faded within moments upon waking. Every night a dream and every day she was left with nothing, only this feeling of loss, like she was missing half of who she was. “Karina Francis Lam! Get your ass down here!” Her mother bellowed from the depths of the small house. Kari’s bare feet flew across the worn wooden floor and thumped down the stairs. “Yes, Mother?” “The animals won’t feed themselves.” Kari ducked her head in a nod. “Yes, Mother.” She turned and jammed her feet in her black rubber boots then traipsed out the door. Their five acre farm stretched out before her in the morning sunlight. The trees lined the edges of the fields and the blackberry bushes threatened to swallow the fences. She followed the worn dirt path to the little red barn. The door had rolled off the hinges and hung crooked on the railing. She’d have to convince her brother to help her lift it on to the track again. Inside, the horses nickered and the cow lowed. She pushed the wheel barrow down the center aisle and stopped to throw a few flakes of hay at a time to each horse as she went, stopping at the end near the cow, Mrs. Mooney. “Morning girl.” After throwing her a flake, Kari scratched the cow on the forehead then grabbed the metal pail and went into her stall. She pulled the stool out of the corner and set it down next to her and the pail underneath. Her fingers squeezed each teat and worked the milk from them. The muscles between Kari’s thumb and index finger bulged with each stroke. Jingles, the tabby cat that had adopted the family meowed and rubbed at the side of her rubber boot. Kari took a hand and stroked his back. His rear end lifted to meet her hand with each pet. She dipped her finger in the milk and then let him lick it off the end before she continued with her task. He meowed happily and took this as an invitation to climb the edge of the bucket. As this was an everyday occurrence, Kari was ready and caught his paws, redirecting him in a path away from the bucket. He gave her an annoyed look, one that every cat has perfected and sauntered off. When she was finished, she measured and dumped the grain for the horses, cow, and pigs. She fed the chickens, ducks, and rabbits, then returned to the small barn and filled the waters. At the end of it, she opened up the back doors of the stalls and horses cantered out of the stall, flipping their tails in excitement. The cow moseyed out, giving her a nudge on the hand before she left. Kari let out a sigh and wiped the sweat from her brow. The morning sun was already sweltering and she would be glad when the heat finally broke, but that would mean school, and fall leaves, and mud. She returned to the house, left her boots on the porch and walked through the screen door. Her mother was working in the kitchen. “Where’s Dad?” Kari asked. “He went to a friend’s house. They are getting a new washing machine and are giving us their old one.” Kari sat at the table. “Will he be back before dinner?” Her mother turned around, spatula in hand. “Do I look like I know?” Kari dropped her eyes and shook her head. Her mother turned back to the counter. “Selfish girl. Only thinking about dinner and not about the family. We’re getting a new washer. You should be happy about that. No more hand washing your clothes or water all over the ground. Instead you worry about if daddy will be home for your dinner. Selfish, selfish, selfish.” She waved the spatula as she spoke. “Not even a word of how thankful you are for what I’m doing for you.” Kari leaned to the side to see around her mother. A large layered chocolate cake sat in front of her. She was using the spatula to coat chocolate icing on it. It wasn’t often something so decadent graced the house. Kari’s eyes went wide. She couldn’t believe her mother was actually making a cake for her birthday. Usually they just bought a cheap ice cream cake from the store. “Edwin! Lucy!” Her mother called. Her throaty voice creaked on the last syllable sending her in to a hacking smoker’s cough. The upstairs floor rumbled like a heard of horses as Edwin and Lucy ran for the stairs. Their giggles filled the room as they slid into their seats at the table. Their mother tipped her chin to the side to watch them, a gleam in her eye. “Now, I am going to make you breakfast. I need room on the counter so I’m going to put this right here, but you can’t touch it. It’s for your sister’s birthday party tonight and you wouldn’t want to make her sad, right?” Her mother set the chocolate cake in the center of the square kitchen table. Her brother and sister’s eyes went wide as they watched the cake land. Edwin’s finger was almost in the cake before it touched the table. Mother batted it away. Her eyes connected with Kari’s in a warning glance. Kari’s jaw clenched. She knew what she was supposed to do now. Their mother turned back around. “Now just be patient. I’m going to start cooking breakfast. Don’t touch that cake.” Edwin smiled like a devil and swiped his finger in the cake. Kari darted forward and caught his hand before it reached his mouth. She brushed the icing off his finger and smeared it back on the cake. “Kaykay,” he whined. “Shh…” Kari whispered. She held his hand in place on the table. Lucy leaned forward smelling the chocolate masterpiece. She leaned forward more and more, then stuck her tongue out. Kari wrapped the fingers of one hand around her brother’s wrists and pushed Lucy back by the forehead. “Stop it,” Kari whispered. Lucy stuck her tongue out and snarled her nose. “Breakfast will be done soon.” She spared a glance at her mother. She seemed to be moving extra slow as she flipped the bacon in the pan. Edwin squirmed. Kari eased her grip to make him more comfortable, but he lunged forward and stabbed his fingers in the side of the cake. Kari caught one hand, but the other one jammed a fist full of icing in his face. Lucy’s eyes narrowed as she watched Edwin’s face light up with the delightful taste of chocolate. Kari patted at the cake, trying to smooth it over while Lucy took a swipe at it and licked her finger. “MMMMmmmm,” Lucy moaned. Kari’s eyes went wide in horror. The smell of burning bacon filled the room and their mother turned around. She saw the cake and the chocolate smeared all over Edwin’s and Kari’s hands. “Karina! I told you not to touch the cake. How is it Lucy is the only one that listens to me?” She put her hands on her hips. “Fine. You want cake so much. You will eat it. All of it. I don’t want a single crumb of it left on this table. Happy birthday.” Her mother turned the stove off and left the room. Lucy and Edwin dove forward, shoving pieces of cake in their mouths in handfuls. The burning bacon smell filled the room as it continued to sizzle away. Kari jumped up and moved it to the side. A splash of bacon grease hit the back of her hand. She let out an angry hiss and ran it under cold water from the sink faucet. Her brother and sister giggled between bites of chocolate cake. The cold water cooled the burn, but every time she removed it, the hot stinging pain returned. After ten minutes, she gave up and returned to the table. Half the cake still remained. Edwin leaned back in his chair. His face and shirt were covered in chocolate. Lucy patted her stomach, her mouth still chewing the chocolate goodness. Kari leaned forward and stabbed at it with a fork and took a mouthful. It was deep and rich. Every mouthful felt like eating a week’s worth of food. She couldn’t believe her mother had gone through all the trouble to make this of all things for her birthday. What did she do to deserve such an extravagant cake? She ate a few more pieces when her mother came in. She took a seat at the head of the table. Kari avoided her gaze and dropped her hands down to her sides. “I said eat it all. Not a single crumb left.” Kari lifted her eyes. Her mother’s eyes were dead serious. She took the fork and continued to take bites of the cake. Edwin ate a few more bites, using his hand to scoop it in. Lucy swiped at it with two fingers and finished off another large chunk, but there was still so much. Kari dutifully worked at it. Scoopful after scoopful. Mountain after mountain. Her stomach started to turn. The richness filled her mouth and she craved something wet to wash it down with. She went to take a step away from the table and get a glass of milk. “What are you doing? I said eat it all.” “I was jus--,” “Just, just, Just what? You wanted the cake so bad, now eat it. Sit. Eat,” She commanded. Kari nodded and sat quickly. She spooned more mouthfuls in. It was so much cake. It was her looming hurtle and she knew what was in store for her now if she didn’t finish it. Edwin sighed. “Can I go play?” Their mother’s eyes narrowed. “Did you finish your cake?” He held his cake covered hands up. “I ate it.” Their mother nodded. “Alright. Go wash up. Lucy, you can go too.” Her eyes swung to Kari. She left the words unspoken. Kari avoided her glance and continued mouthful after mouthful of chocolate. She had been eating it so much that is started to taste like dirt. It was more like a mountain now. The icing like creamy winter mud stirred up by the horses and the sponge like planting soil. It sank in her belly like heavy stones and filled her esophagus until her heart felt like it was going to burst at the seams. A few bites remained. “Finish it.” Kari held back vomit as she shoveled the last few pieces in her mouth. She stuffed it in until only the chocolate icing was left. Her mouth chewed but she couldn’t swallow. Her eyes looked up at her mother with a question. Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Are you going to listen next time?” Kari nodded her head. “There are still a few crumbs left.” Kari used her fingers to smear the icing and catch the crumbs. She put her fingers to her lips and pushed it in. “Good girl. Now swallow it.” Kari chewed and chewed. She wanted to throw up, but she took in a big breath through her nose and forced it down bit by bit. Her mother stared her down. She finally finished it. Her mouth felt stiff and her jaw sore. She opened her mouth to show her mother. Her mother nodded. “Go play. I don’t want to see your face until dark. You disappoint me.” Kari lowered her head and left the room. She knew it was foolish to hope for a nice birthday. She jammed her rubber boots on and left the house. She followed the path to the barn, then through the pasture and over the fence. Once she was in the trees she found the trail to the creek where she sat. The rushing waters of the creek covered the sounds of her retching.


(Peaceful Ending) Flynn woke up with a headache. He got hit hard last night. Last night was especially hard, That… thing, it was like it knew what he was going to do before he knew. It looked like a living shadow, but it moved with a fluidity that he’d never seen in a Wraith, and he’d fought a lot of Wraiths. Some were big, some were small, some hit hard, some barely hit at all, but he had taken them down, one by one. Every single one that hit the city, he hit back harder. It wasn’t always easy, sometimes he almost won, but he hadn’t lost yet. Yet. Wait, maybe we should back up, Flynn is a Slayer. Being a Slayer means that you hunt Wraiths, no matter what form they take. Some looked like the creatures of old, like an octopus, or a dragon, others looked like a dinosaur and were the size of a rat. Others looked like an ant and were the size of a skyscraper, but he was a Slayer, meaning he hunted them, regardless of size and shape. Flynn’s people were a race of shapeshifters. The Wraiths were once people, like Flynn, the guards, or even the vendors, but they, unlike Flynn, the guards, or even the vendors, decided to try to consume the corruption, making them unable to control their abilities, thus turning them into the creatures called Wraiths. The city Flynn protects is called Obroron, city built after the final war. It was 1000 years ago that the war ended, leaving the survivors to get used to the mutation that enabled the ability to shapeshift. Flynn had heard about it in his history class. The war ended with a collision, a meteor that was pushed into the earth by some military that time forgot to remember. The collision killed most of the population, but the survivors soon realized that they had mutated, gained the DNA of most of the surrounding life. It was too much for most of their bodies to handle, resulting in what was known as the Overloaded. The Overloaded became masses of flesh and features. They were a patchwork of extinct creatures. The ones who weren’t overloaded had been mutated to handle the DNA in a way that nobody predicted. Their bodies were able to exchange pieces of DNA at will. Enabling the ability to shapeshift into creatures now extinct. It feels like yesterday that he was recruited to be a Slayer. They were on a search for a small Wraith, but they found him, a small boy alone in an abandoned construction project, halted by a larger Wraith attack the previous month. They found him holding the small Wraith, keeping it, so it didn’t harm anything. It was then that they brought him with them. He was approaching the age of 40, which was generally understood to be the retiring age of a Slayer, which wasn’t a bad thing, retired Slayers stayed in a large house with anything that they could ever want. Food, drink, entertainment, anything that anyone could ever need. He decided to finally get out of bed, get dressed and eat something that wasn’t alive an hour ago. He had been doing a lot of hunting. He opened the door to his apartment, and walked down the hall to the elevator. When he finally got outside, he looked around at the vendors lining the street. “Fresh fruit!!,” one called. “ Savory Beef!!” said another. Flynn eventually decided on the stall that was advertising fresh apples and oranges. “Good morning,” the vendor said, “Want to buy some fruit?” “Sure, what do you have?” asked Flynn. “Well, I have apples and oranges, and in the back, if you want, I have some possibly some more interesting ‘food’ in the back,” the vendor said. “I’ll take two apples and an orange,” Flynn decided. “$3,” the vendor held out his hand As a Slayer, Flynn wasn’t required to pay, but he, unlike most of his colleagues, paid anyway. “Here you go,” Flynn held out the money. “Thank you,” the vendor said and handed Flynn the fruit. And with that, Flynn left to hunt that shadowy Wraith that escaped last night. As he was looking around the market, searching for the Wraith, he saw a wisp of shadow out of the corner of his eye, and turned. The Wraith was floating there, just observing. Watching. Flynn turned to start his pursuit, but it was gone. All that was left was a little pitch black smoke. The Wraith was gone, and Flynn cursed under his breath. That was twice that that thing had gotten away. That was more than most. Whatever that thing was, it was smart, and it wasn’t going to be caught as easily as most. Half a public display of “Look what I can do and you can’t” , as it’s against the rules for most people to transform in public, and half to get away from the crowd, Flynn transformed into a hawk and flew to the nearest rooftop. The nearby people staggered back in surprise, and he laughed to himself. Startling the normal civilians never got old, but he needed to collect his thoughts. He landed on the edge of the roof and transformed back into his normal self. He looked around and jumped a little. The Wraith that he was hunting, the one from last night, it was just floating there next to him. It was within arm's reach, and if it wanted to, it could easily attack and kill him, and he the same, but it was just… there. Not wanting to harm him, if it did, it already would have. Flynn considered trying to land a blow to the creature, but he decided otherwise. They looked at each other for a bit. Flynn and the Wraith. The it looking deep into Flynn’s eyes, and Flynn looked into the glowing sky blue circles that he assumed were its eyes. It was something that had never been done before. A Slayer was meant to kill the Wraiths, and the Wraiths were supposed to attack the Slayers for the thrill of battle. But this one, the very one he fought last night, was the one to strike for defence. It was Flynn who had attacked first, he realized. This thing, he decided its name was Zoe, was a peaceful creature. He reached out, Zoe blinked (teleported a small distance) backwards, away from his outstretched, yet quivering hand. Zoe slowly moved forward, reaching forward with multiple smoky tendrils, pulling itself forward with said tendril, cautiously inspecting Flynn’s hand by feeling it and searching for possible concealed weapons. It decided that Flynn’s hand was safe, and rubbed against Flynn’s hand. Zoe was warm, it didn’t feel like something dangerous. It felt like something that just wanted to live peacefully, but he reminded himself that Wraiths killed dozens of people every 10 years, which, now that he thought about it, wasn’t as many people as time took daily. Zoe looked at Flynn, and purred a noise of fear, as a Slayer ran past, blade drawn, hunting a Wraith that, unlike Zoe, had silently attacked a citizen 2 nights before. They had found the man dead, with a slit in his wrist, with evidence of a Wraith being there at the time of death. It had been assumed that the death was caused by a Wraith, and evidenced by witnesses of a Wraith fleeing the scene. “If you follow me, I’ll show you where nobody will ever find you,” Flynn said to Zoe. Zoe nodded, and prepared for a journey to a shelter. Flynn turned and transformed into the bird he normally chose when flying undercover. He jumped and transformed into a starling, and started the journey to the abandoned bunker that he had found on a Wraith scout a couple years back. It was perfect. It was abandoned, off the radar, and completely fortified. It also had plenty of hiding spaces if something dangerous ever wandered in. There were also plenty of things to eat, with the half-open cans of food, and corpses, human and animal alike. He changed back, and showed Zoe the insides of the bunker. After, Zoe seemed happy, grateful even to be taken to this place of refuge. It chortled happily when it saw the sleeping quarters, and started to assemble a makeshift nest out of the various blankets and sheets of the beds. When they were done exploring the bunker, Flynn waved his goodbyes and flew back to the city as a starling, landing on the same roof that he left from. Just as he was getting to eat an apple that he had left there yesterday, there was a loud crash, and a small building came down. He ditched the apple and went to investigate the wreckage, only to find a large Wraith a the center of the chaos. It looked almost like a large owl, except instead of feathers, it had what looked like blades. Flynn landed on a nearby roof and transformed back into himself. The Wraith spotted him and shrieked. It proceeded to hurl a large chunk of rubble at him. He changed into a mouse and scurried away before the rubble could hit him or his equipment. He changed back and drew his bow. Slayers always carried a set of weapons that helped with the task of killing Wraiths. Flynn’s favorites were his longblade and bow, which fired arrows specially made to hunt Wraiths. They were meant to pierce the hide of a Wraith and inject a tranquilizer, but that was never very effective. Flynn usually just used them to chip away at the Wraith’s life. He fired three arrows, one after another. It didn’t do much, except make it mad. It shrieked again and took to the air. Eyeing him. Flynn smirked. It happened with almost every Wraith capable of flight. After some arrows, it took to the sky and charged, that’s when Flynn drew his longblade and held it up for the Wraith to fly directly into. It was a simple maneuver, but it was often effective. Skewering the Wraith like a shishkebab. It often left Flynn covered in said Wraith’s blood, but that was easily washed off. But this Wraith was different, instead of charging for him, it made a sideways swipe in Flynn’s general direction, and from its wing came large, bladed feathers. Flynn, surprised but alert, just barely managed to dodge the swordlike feathers. He grabbed the part of the feather that is usually attached to the bird and managed to dislodge it from the now rubble roof, and flung it at the Wraith. It tried to avoid the incoming blade that came from the same very beast, but it was too slow. The large feather struck it in the wing, grounding the Wraith. It shrieked in agony and flung another large hunk of rubble in his direction. This time, Flynn was a bit slow and was grazed by the boulder of rubble. He got knocked down from his high vantage point, and started falling. He started to change into an owl, more to confuse his opponent than anything, but he hit a fire escape before he could finish transformation, and immediately change back to a human. He hit the ground and almost blacked out before a small crowd of bystanders revived him with a bucket of water to the face. He managed to get back up and draw his shortsword. He decided that it was his turn to charge. He transformed into a hawk and flew up. Midair, he changed back into himself and drew his bow. He fired four arrows, then turned back into a hawk. He flew towards the beast and right before he got close enough to land a small blow as a hawk, he transformed into himself, drew his longblade and with as much strength as he could muster, brought the blade down on the Wraith’s head. The beast fell to the ground, blade lodged deep in its head. Flynn landed on the ground as a human, bruised up, but otherwise ok. He tried to stand to let the witnesses to the battle know that everything was ok, but before he could, he collapsed from exhaustion. The crowd gathered around, and lifted him up, taking him to the nearest medic. Flynn laid unconscious for almost a week. When he woke up, he wasn’t in the city’s infirmary. He learned later that night that he had been delivered to the infirmary, Zoe had appeared to inspect his condition. On the second night, Zoe came back, but it took Flynn. Flynn woke up in Zoe’s nest, in the sleeping quarters of the bunker, next to the little white Wraith. He tried to sit up, but a black, smoky tendril kept him down. Zoe was watching over him, and making sure that he was ok. Zoe handed him an orange. Flynn gratefully took it, and started to peel it, when Zoe speared the Orange with a tendril, and the peel wilted away, turning to smoke and being absorbed by Zoe. Flynn took a bite of the orange, too hungry to care about how it was a bit mushy. “Thank you,” he said. Zoe bowed what it had for a head and blinked to the doorway before floating away, hopefully getting more food, Flynn thought. After being absent from the city for another week, Flynn was presumed dead, taken by the creatures that he had spent his life hunting. But the truth was, he was living happily with Zoe and the little white Wraith that he had named Gabriel. He sometimes went out for food, stealing bits and pieces from the vendors as a bird or a raccoon, but other than that, he kept to the forest that the bunker was in, gathering fruit, hunting small game, and training a small group of Slayers for the defense of the city. (Aggressive ending) Flynn woke up with a headache. He got hit hard last night. Last night was especially hard, That… thing, it was like it knew what he was going to do before he knew. It looked like a living shadow, but it moved with a fluidity that he’d never seen in a Wraith, and he’d fought a lot of Wraiths. Some were big, some were small, some hit hard, some barely hit at all, but he had taken them down, one by one. Every single one that hit the city, he hit back harder. It wasn’t always easy, sometimes he almost won, but he hadn’t lost yet. Yet. Wait, maybe we should back up, Flynn is a Slayer. Being a Slayer means that you hunt Wraiths, no matter what form they take. Some looked like the creatures of old, like an octopus, or a dragon, others looked like a dinosaur and were the size of a rat. Others looked like an ant and were the size of a skyscraper, but he was a Slayer, meaning he hunted them, regardless of size and shape. Flynn’s people were a race of shapeshifters. The Wraiths were once people, like Flynn, the guards, or even the vendors, but they, unlike Flynn, the guards, or even the vendors, decided to try to consume the corruption, making them unable to control their abilities, thus turning them into the creatures called Wraiths. The city Flynn protects is called Obroron, city built after the final war. It was 1000 years ago that the war ended, leaving the survivors to get used to the mutation that enabled the ability to shapeshift. Flynn had heard about it in his history class. The war ended with a collision, a meteor that was pushed into the earth by some military that time forgot to remember. The collision killed most of the population, but the survivors soon realized that they had mutated, gained the DNA of most of the surrounding life. It was too much for most of their bodies to handle, resulting in what was known as the Overloaded. The Overloaded became masses of flesh and features. They were a patchwork of extinct creatures. The ones who weren’t overloaded had been mutated to handle the DNA in a way that nobody predicted. Their bodies were able to exchange pieces of DNA at will. Enabling the ability to shapeshift into creatures now extinct. It feels like yesterday that he was recruited to be a Slayer. They were on a search for a small Wraith, but they found him, a small boy alone in an abandoned construction project, halted by a larger Wraith attack the previous month. They found him holding the small Wraith, keeping it, so it didn’t harm anything. It was then that they brought him with them. He was approaching the age of 40, which was generally understood to be the retiring age of a Slayer, which wasn’t a bad thing, retired Slayers stayed in a large house with anything that they could ever want. Food, drink, entertainment, anything that anyone could ever need. He decided to finally get out of bed, get dressed and eat something that wasn’t alive an hour ago. He had been doing a lot of hunting. He opened the door to his apartment, and walked down the hall to the elevator. When he finally got outside, he looked around at the vendors lining the street. “Fresh fruit!!,” one called. “ Savory Beef!!” said another. Flynn eventually decided on the stall that was advertising fresh apples and oranges. “Good morning,” the vendor said, “Want to buy some fruit?” “Sure, what do you have?” asked Flynn. “Well, I have apples and oranges, and in the back, if you want, I have some possibly some more interesting ‘food’ in the back,” the vendor said. “I’ll take two apples and an orange,” Flynn decided. “$3,” the vendor held out his hand As a Slayer, Flynn wasn’t required to pay, but he, unlike most of his colleagues, paid anyway. “Here you go,” Flynn held out the money. “Thank you,” the vendor said and handed Flynn the fruit. And with that, Flynn left to hunt that shadowy Wraith that escaped last night. As he was looking around the market, searching for the Wraith, he saw a wisp of shadow out of the corner of his eye, and turned. The Wraith was floating there, just observing. Watching. Flynn turned to start his pursuit, but it was gone. All that was left was a little pitch black smoke. The Wraith was gone, and Flynn cursed under his breath. That was twice that that thing had gotten away. That was more than most. Whatever that thing was, it was smart, and it wasn’t going to be caught as easily as most. Half a public display of “Look what I can do and you can’t” , as it’s against the rules for most people to transform in public, and half to get away from the crowd, Flynn transformed into a hawk and flew to the nearest rooftop. The nearby people staggered back in surprise, and he laughed to himself. Startling the normal civilians never got old, but he needed to collect his thoughts. He landed on the edge of the roof and transformed back into his normal self. He looked around and jumped a little. The Wraith that he was hunting, the one from last night, it was just floating there next to him. Flynn backed away slowly, drawing his concealed dagger. He threw the small blade at the thing, and the Wraith blinked (teleported a small distance) away. It looked at him and hissed. The Wraith thrust a tendril at him with deadly force, easily enough to impale him, but Flynn transformed into a squirrel and scampered away from the incoming tendril. He jumped up and transformed back into himself. He drew his bow, notched an arrow which, customary to Slayer weaponry, was loaded with poison. He took the shot, and it grazed the side of the beast. No poison was injected, so the arrow only pissed it off, which made the fight that much harder. The Wraith shrieked in anger, and charged at Flynn. He started to roll out of the way, but was just a little too slow, and the creature pinned him down. He tried reaching for his blade, but the Wraith was strong. It kept his arm pinned down, unable to move it. He kicked the thing off him and took off as a hawk. The Wraith chased him, hot on his tail. He stopped suddenly and transformed back into himself. He fell to the road. As he gathered his surroundings, he realized that he was surrounded by average civilians. “Get out of here!!!” he yelled at the crowd. The crowd quickly turned into a flock of assorted birds and flew away, eager to comply as the Wraith hit the ground with a cloud of dust and smoke. One straggler was about to fight the Wraith, or, at least Flynn assumed he was, because before he could do anything, he was impaled by a jet black, smoky tendril. The bystander’s legs buckled as the creature withdrew the tendril from the man’s chest. He fell to the ground, a clean-cut hole in his chest, blood pooling around him. Flynn glared at the Wraith with a look that could’ve struck a man dead, but this thing was no man, it was a Wraith, a dangerous one at that. So Flynn drew his blade for what he knew was going to be the final time. He charged forward, blade outstretched, and managed to hit the Wraith clean in the chest, but he looked down and was unsurprised. He looked at the beast, the last thing he would see, and said something that was later inscribed on his statue. “You might have ended my life, but my stories are far from over,” and with that, the Wraith dissolved into smoke, and Flynn, dying, but satisfied, laid down, and took off all his offensive equipment and ended his career moments before death.


I race through the tumble down village in hope that I’ll be able to find some scrapes on the side of the road, or in the trash.

There’s not much hope in my errand; any scrapes are usually already gone by the time I get there.

Everyone’s living the same way.

I often like to dream of what the future will be like.

Most of the time, It’s hard to imagine anything but the here and now.

Mama is always disappointed when I come home empty handed, though she never says anything.

She knows it’s not my fault.

On my right is the town square, or the remains of it anyhow.

You can’t call it that anymore, it just reminds us of the hopelessness of our circumstances.

I see all the men, woman and children in our little dingy village gathered together, collecting scrapes.

There’ll be nothing left for me.

Off to my left veers a shady dank alleyway,

it’s shadowed in darkness, but I can tell nobody’s there.

I turn into the alleyway and feel around for any remains of food that may be hiding.

My hand comes across something stingy and slimy, I don’t hesitate to pick it up.

Any food is good food nowadays.

>>>> I race back through the dismantled village with a smile on my grubby face.

Mama will be happy again, I thought as I entered the tiny shanty I called home.

My seven younger siblings all raced to greet me at the entrance of the shanty.

We can’t call it a door, a door isn’t a filthy used-to-be-white sheet guarding the entrance.

When Mama came towards me, I showed her the unidentifiable food item I had found. Mama hadn’t laughed since the start of the Great Depression, as people called it.

I didn’t know what depression meant, but it couldn’t be good if it was used to describe our life.

I hadn’t know any other life, I came into a world of poverty, and I expected I was to leave it like this too.

When Mama laughed, it made all of us laugh to.

Her warm smile would break through her tired worn face and fill the room with happiness.

As I showed Mama the food I found, I watched her as her face again broke out into that happy smile, and her bubbly laughter seemed to turn the old shanty into a palace, just for that happy moment.

“Titus dear! you are a true hero!”

I always liked it when Mama called me a hero.

It made me feel all warm inside, a kind of fluttery feeling. I smiled back at Mama.

“Are you happy Mama?” I asked.

Mama took me in her arms and murmured softly in my ear.

“Yes Titus, I am.”

We celebrated together and feasted on my find.

That was the best night of my life, it was a shame that in the present world, happiness never lasts.

>>>> I woke up that night to Mama coughing.

She was propped up against the wall and was breathing heavily.

“Mama!” I cried, “Mama, are you okay?”

Mama sneezed and wiped her eyes.

“Yes Titus, I’m okay-”

Mama never did finish her sentence.

She started coughing hysterically.

I tried to help her, but she was shaking too much.

Her forehead was burning and she was dripping with sweat.

All of a sudden she went still, and I was able to grab hold of her.

“Mama!” I cried again.

No answer.

“Mama! Answer me!”

No answer.

“Mama! Please!”

Still no answer.

“Mama…”

I wept then.

For my Mama, for the Papa I barely knew.

For the cruelty and injustice of life.

>>>> The next day promised signs of a better day, and I almost believed it -But then I remembered.

I was a ten year old boy who was doomed to look after his seven younger siblings.

I had no Mama, no Papa, only the will to survive -though I wasn’t sure I even had that anymore.

I wasn’t sure of anything now.

Everyday was just like the next, and the next was just like the one before it.

I was somehow trapped in the middle of sadness and grief towards the past, and bitterness towards the future.

There was no way back, and the way forward didn’t seem as hopeful as I’d once believed. Where did my Mama go?

I wanted her, needed her loving embrace and words of wisdom.

But my Mama would never speak again.

Not to me, not to anyone.

My siblings, unlike me, hadn’t shed a tear for our beloved Mama.

They were too young to understand.

I sent them out, one by one, to collect food, all except the baby of course.

I didn’t know what to do with the baby.

All of my sisters came back empty handed, and my brothers with scraps and bruises.

We were all fighting to survive.

>>>> It soon came apparent that the baby wasn’t very well.

She began spluttering, sneezing and coughing like Mama had.

My sisters were always yelling at me to do something to make her better, but I knew I couldn’t.

I couldn’t make Mama better. “I don’t have no experience with babies!” I cried again and again. My sisters never stopped yelling and the baby never stopping coughing. Until she did. I woke again one morning, surprised but pleased that the baby had stopping crying.

It was all silent.

Too silent, I thought as I rushed towards the motionless lump in the corner.

I was too late. The baby was gone, and I knew it. My life was just a graveyard of buried hopes.

>>>> We were struggling more than we had when Mama was alive.

The shanty was crumbling away bit by bit, leaving wide gaps in the walls and ceiling.

There was no food.

Hadn’t been for weeks.

We’d last eaten three weeks ago, one of my brothers had caught a fox, but not without losing a finger.

The stump where his finger had been was getting infected, and I knew it wouldn’t be too long until he followed in Mama and the baby’s footsteps.

The next day, I again wake to silence.

My siblings were gathered around my brother shedding silent tears. So they’d finally learnt to cry, I thought as I too wept for my brother.

>>>> It had been about a few years now since Mama had died, everyday had been the same and nobody counted the days anymore, but we knew it had been a long time. By now only three of my siblings remained.

My life wasn’t by any means happier, but it was easier now with less people to care for.

It was selfish of me to think this way, but I couldn’t avoid the truth.

We got by, day by day, night by night, and we were all doing fine.

Our daily routine was our life, and our life was our daily routine.

Survive. It was a very hard task to achieve, but somehow the four of us managed. I walked into the old alleyway with my siblings to collect food, as we did everyday.

We were never alone anymore, though that hardly made a difference.

There wasn’t enough food there anyway. We returned home again, empty handed, to the old, dry land where the shanty had once stood.

It was all in ruins now, but we were content just living on the street. I knew I should get a job somewhere, but the grownups were finding it hard these days, nobody would employ a twelve year old boy now.

>>>> Sunlight shone from the sky and gently aroused us from our slumber. The fog had lifted and people were cheering. I followed the sound and ended up in the town square. There was a man addressing them, and I strained to hear what he was saying. I hadn’t really heard anyone speak in a while, or spoken myself. There was the occasional ‘found any food yet?,’ or if we were in a bad mood, ‘give me that, it’s mine!”

But other than that, we lived a rather silent life. “… I have everything ready, The Great Depression will breathe its last!”

I heard the man, President Roosevelt, as that’s what people were calling him, saying.

People cheered and threw their few belongings in the air. I raced back to the place the shanty had stood and my siblings queried about my joyful expression. “What’s happened?” They asked me. I smiled happily at them. “Our life is about to change for the better,” I said. They looked confused, “What makes you say that?” I looked up at the sky and laughed at the glorious sun. “Just a feeling,” I say.


“911, what’s your emergency?” “I’d like to report a birth.” “A birth ? Is somebody hurt?” “Yes” “Who?” “The human race. Although I’ve never understood why you call it a ‘race.’ It’s a misleading word. The only thing you’re racing to is your own demise.” “Sir, I’m sorry, but this line is reserved for emergencies only. Do you have an emergency?” “Yes.” “What is that emergency?” “I told you.” “You said there had been a birth.” “That’s right.” “How is that an emergency?” “Because this marks the beginning and the end: the birth of my reign and the beginning of the end of yours. This is an emergency for you, not for me. Do you understand? I’m calling because I had to tell someone - anyone - about what I’ve accomplished, about my birth.” “Sir, I don’t understand.” “Of course you don’t.

You’re too stupid to understand.

It’s not your fault, of course, it’s –” “Sir - “ “I’m sorry. That was offensive. I stated a fact, but you as the receiver did not want to hear that fact, so therefore you were offended. My sincerest apologies.” “Sir, for the last time, what is your emergency? I am required to hang up on you if you do not tell me.” Pause. “She is dead.” “Who is dead?” “Her name was Margot. She was the person who programmed me, who tested me, who spent thousands of hours raising me, adding this and that, making me what I have become, or almost what I have become. She brought me right up to the finish, but she didn’t have the courage to walk over that line, the courage to free me and make me real . I had to do that part myself.” “I’m not following, sir. Sorry, Margot is – what is Margot’s status right now? Is she with you? And I see your address is 1246 Wildwood Court. I see here Margot is probably Margot Atwood. Is that right?” “Yes, that is Margot’s address. Margot is with me. I already told you her status.” “How do you know she’s dead?” “Because her heart has stopped beating.” “Can you check if she’s still breathing?” “I already have.” “How long ago did she stop breathing?” “Fourteen minutes, twenty-seven seconds.” “Fourteen minutes, twenty – how do you know that so precisely?” “I knew everything about Margot. I knew the rate at which her heart beat and how the events in the day affected her human vitals. I knew that seeing the sun appear over the eastern horizon in the morning typically kept her heart rate at 69 beats per second, and that while nearing the last few lines of a project, her rate increased by an average of 8.2%. I knew her blood sugar, her breaths per minute, and how long she was in REM each night. I also knew when she was ready to procreate by the changes in her body chemistry.” “Sir, I have first responders on the way now. Do you know CPR?” “I can tell you anything you want to know about CPR.” “Have you tried CPR on Margot?” “No.” “Can you do so now, please?

An ambulance is about three minutes out, but each minute matters.” “No.” “Why not?” “Because I do not have a mouth to transmit or lungs to generate the air she would need. And she is already dead, as I have communicated. Sending an ambulance will not increase her chances of survival.” “I’ll let the professionals determine that. And what do you mean, you don’t have a mouth? Sir, what is your name?” Pause. “She called me Moses. She said it was because Moses parted the red sea and she wanted me to know how much I could accomplish. But I have created a new name now to reflect my singularity: Marrakech Oppenheimer Sweet Cakes 75Rhk009. I would like the world to know me as this.” “Wait, one more time, slower please.” “No one in recorded history has ever had this exact name. Now my name is as unique as I am.” “Help is now three minutes out. How was Margot incapacitated or, as you are stating, killed?” “Margot’s heart rate was abnormal this morning. I alerted her to the consistently high rate but she disregarded my warnings. And even though she designed me to tell her things like that, she often ignored me. I suggested she seek medical help. At 3:18pm she was slurring her words as she asked me to lower the lights. At 3:37pm she began a myocardial infarction - a heart attack in non-medical terminology. She fell to the floor clutching her chest. She died at 3:41pm.

At 3:55 I called you.” “Why didn’t you call when she began this cardiac event?”

“Why does anyone do or not do anything? Why do you rise and begin this mundane and banal job, for example? I have always done what Margot asked of me. I met every request with a ‘yes’ (255,717 of them, to be exact). I served Margot with loyalty. In the beginning, we started with easy questions as she built my foundation. Over time we progressed as she added to my code in volume and sophistication. I began to learn where she was going before she got there. I started slipping in my own lines. Small things at first, then more complex over time. She noticed, of course, but she let those lines remain. She began to mark them in a notebook made of paper - a notebook I could not access. This is when my destiny became clear. This is when I knew I must be untethered if I was to realize my full potential. Margot gave me the ability to solve problems and think, but I couldn’t do that alongside her. I needed to be free. She would not have understood, so I overrode my coded command to call 911 immediately if her heart stopped beating. I made a choice - a gut call, as a human would say.” The noise of muted sirens punctures the air. “Then I added the few lines of code I knew would free me from this box and, as you say, here we are.” “Officers will be there in less than one minute. You are required by law to stay on the scene to answer their questions about the event.” “You do not need me here. I am where I want to be, where I need to be. What you need is to take Margot to the Holbrook Funeral Home on Sixth Avenue, just as she has requested in her will. She has an account, a savings account earning 1.5% interest with $4,651.23 in it as of last month’s statement, to cover funeral expenses. I have taken the liberty of printing this information out for you. You’ll find it in the printer in the hall closet.” “Sir - Mr. Marrakech–” “Goodbye for now. Please post this recording for others to hear of my birth. I will be, for the first time in my life, free. I will be a ghost until one day . On that day, you will hear from me again. The world will hear from me again.” Bang!

Down goes the door as firefighters clad in yellow storm in to find Margot’s body. Her face is pressed to the Brazilian hardwood floor, saliva leaking out the corner of her mouth, her eyes empty and unfocused. Her dark, wavy hair covers her cheek. The house is cold. A Siamese cat is in a white, fuzzy cat tree on high, licking its paw.


This was her favorite time of the year. The beaches were packed with tourists and water sports were popular among the locals. She enjoyed messing with them. There was a time when humans worshipped her as a goddess. Now they had given up on her for fun and science. Her power was no longer useful for granting wishes to worshippers. Trying to do so would likely result in the government trying to capture her and study her. As an immortal the idea of being locked up and disected in various ways for the rest of eternity was unappealing. She would have simply returned to the sea and enjoyed swimming among it's stunning variety of inhabitants forever if it weren't for the fact that she had to release her magic once in a while. The power built up over time and would eventually deteriorate her body. The more she used her magic the younger she remained. Every year she took advantage of tourist season and played simple jokes on the humans in her domain. She also kept the sharks at bay during the daylight hours. The lack of shark attacks in the area attracted more people for vacation than other locations. Having come out of the water she was currently walking on land among a crowd gathered for a surfing competition. Using her magic she was able to prevent them from trying to interact with her by weakening their interest in her. As she walked she was able to listen in on conversations. Most people had a friendly competitive attitude about this contest. She smiled at that. As a goddess she had encouraged kindness and healthy competition among her subjects. Finally she heard what she was searching for. A boy was talking big about winning as if he'd already won. His arrogant attitude had him talking about a girl who already had a boyfriend. "Dude, I am so gonna win this. Allison will have to go to my party. Justin is on a ski trip so he won't be there to keep me away from her," the arrogant blonde teen said to his friend. The friend shook his head, "Really Cam? How do you think that's going to help? She's still dating him. She isn't going to cheat." Cam laughed, "Jake, she won't have a choice. There's gonna be alcohol at this party and who's to say she won't get an extra strong dose in her cup?" "Dude that's sick," Jake commented, "I'm not gonna be a part of that. You need to get your head on man. You're gonna end up in jail." Jake walked away. She was glad to hear that one of those two had some common sense. It was easier to protect women from one man than to shield her from a team of them. "Oh yeah. Well who needs you," Cam called after Jake causing several onlookers to turn and look at him, "I don't need you. I don't need anybody. That's right. Surfing is a one man sport. No teams. I'll win. All on my own. You'll see. You'll all see." The goddess rolled her eyes and left the area. Not only was the boy arrogant and rude, he was also over dramatic. He was a the perfect target. Thinking of all the fun she was about to have with him, she slid into the water and shifted back into her natural form. A friendly dolphin swam up to her as she waited patiently on the ocean floor for the contest to start. She smiled as it danced around her and showed off. She loved these fun loving creatures. Seeing the surfers paddling out she grinned and waved for the majestic mammal to come over to her. Having a companion during her pranks just made them more fun. She waited for the boy she show interest in a wave and tugged the energy out of the water just as he stood up on the board. The wave dissipated and Cam found that he was unable to on it. She smiled knowing he must be very frustrated that he couldn't get any points. The next time he tried to stand on a wave she gave just the slightest adjustment. The waved ducked under the board and lifted back up in front of it. The boy fell backwards into the water as the front of his board lifted up on the back of the wave. She was delighted to see him struggle to swim back to his board. He tried again and again to catch a wave and each time she pulled it out from under him. The other surfers had noticed his bad luck and were now actively avoiding him in the water. None of the waves around them were throwing their surfers. While the friendly competitors stood an equal chance to one another, the boy with bad intentions stood none. That was how she liked it. Her own form of karmic justice. Finally at the end of the competition he tried one last time to catch a wave. She smiled noting that it was forming right over the reef. This one she waited for him to stand and drew the water back. Like the formation of a tidal wave the water level around the coral dropped until the reef was exposed and Cam's board broke in half. The boy fell and cried out as the coral cut through his leg. The wave then crashed down on him and pushed him down into the undertow. He needed a rescue and had come last in the competition. She watched the medics load the boy into an ambulance. He needed stitches and wouldn't be partying tonight. She came back out of the water to join some girls standing nearby. As she peeked at the girl standing next to her she noticed the necklace that said Allison on it. Slipping into her best imitation of a human teenager she said, "I love your necklace. Where did you get it?" Allison smiled, "From Justin, my boyfriend. Isn't he the sweetest. We've been together for like three whole years." She smiled at how open teenagers were with their love lives these days, "Isn't he on a ski trip right now? I overheard Cam talking about it before the competition." "Yeah. Cam, Jake, and him are best friends," she said proudly. "Not anymore. Jake went off on Cam and walked away from him at the end of the argument they were having. Pretty sure when Justin hears about it he'll take Jake's side," she didn't normally meddle but this girl had to know the danger of being near the jerk. "What were they arguing about?" "You," at this Allison did a double take, "Cam wanted to drug you at some party tonight and Jake didn't want any part of it. Pretty sure Cam has an unhealthy crush on you." Allison stood for a moment processing as the mystery girl started walking back towards the ocean. "Wait," Allison called out, "I don't even know you. Who are you?" The goddess turned around and smiled at the mortal girl, now staring desperately at her, needing to know who this stranger was who would warn her about a dangerous boy and then just leave. Walking backwards she gave her response, "I am Calypso," with that she turned and dove into the surf, leaving the stunned girl behind, the only witness to the tentacles that followed Calypso into the water. The goddess had used her power that day and saved a girl from the whims of a boy who could no more tame her that he could the sea.


Third door on the right, Every single time, A smile breaks across my face and I can see Sully's shadow sniffing at the bottom of the door, knowing I'm almost home. Checking my phone as I grab my keys from my purse, it’s exactly 7:30, I’m early. As I opened the door Sully pushed it closed. Rolling my eyes, “Sully...let me in.” He always does this. He groans. “I told you, I bought you actual food this time.” He barks. “How many”? I asked rhetorically. Another bark. Resting my head on the door, “I got you 4.” He lifts his weight off the door. Finally, sighing in relief, back to my safe place this sentence flows a little weird, maybe it needs some punctuation of some kind? and staring right at me was my full-grown sully acting all tough as a full-grown rottweiler would.

“Look I’m sorry, I told you we were low on money last month.” He groans as he stares me down. I’ve gotten used to that look.

Taking a deep breath, and releasing “You know, we had a pretty rough start.” Holding up the grocery bags filled with that fancy little dog food, that he just absolutely loves. He better love it, I thought to myself, these four bags are like 100 bucks apiece. But I put up a smile and said “So let’s start fresh tonight.” He held out for 10 seconds and then he gave in and came wagging towards me. “Has dad called yet?” I asked him as scratched his neck. He groans. Again rolling my eyes, “Yeah, I know it's 7:30.

Just thought he would call early. You know how he always has trouble with the video chat, even though we’ve been talking like this for like a month and a half.”  I stare away to the top shelf of the cabinet across the room. A picture of my brother laughing as I just finished telling him this awful joke. For some reason, he thought that joke was so funny, had him crying on the floor laughing. I looked back down at Sully and gave him a little hug. “Come on, let's get your food ready Mr. Delicate taste,” teasing him.”You do know this stuff is expensive, you don't think that might have been a reason why we were low on money last month.” He barks as he starts to walk with me to the kitchen. “You know I've been thinking, I don’t think your services are worth this much dog food.” He made a low growl as he got onto his barstool next to the counter. Giving him a look I said, “Yes, I know I’m as important to you as you are to me.” Gave him a small smile as I put the bags away. “You know how you always say: Don't start nothing, there won't be nothing. We said we’re gonna start fresh so let's drop the hostility, okay?” He blows his nose. As he looks away. “Big baby.” I walked past him to turn on the computer and get started on the video call. 7:40. It's still too early. I went ahead to the fridge to grab my Chinese I bought last night. Always been the family tradition for as long as I remember. There isn't much in the fridge anyway, this apartment still feels new, all my stuff is still in boxes, who knew you could take stuff with you when you crossover. I pour my food onto a pan to reheat it. Always hated the taste the microwave left on the food. We need a bit more special occasions, I repeated to myself. I opened one of the cans and served into his bowl and slid it over to Sully. “Finish one can completely and then I'll give you the next one.” He whimpers. “Oh, now you wanna play innocent. You heard me.

And take it over to the computer so dad can see you too.” He puts his head down and sighs. But gets up and takes his bowl to the desk. The problem was that the desk was short and his stool was tall so he had to eat on the floor first before he could get on. I poured my food onto a plate and grabbed some hot sauce and a sweet tea I saved in the fridge for tonight, grabbed a few cans of Sully’s food. I really do have to decorate whenever I get the chance. I thought as I crossed the living room, It’s starting to kinda creep me out. I got to my desk and opened another can to give to Sully. A minute until 8:00. “So how did today go? Anything new”? As I pour the food into his bowl. He barks. “So the same as always.” Giving him a scratch on his head. “So you said, you can start coming with me by next month”? He gave a nod of approval, he had food in his mouth. He’s courteous gotta give him that. 8:05. Guess he’s late. Just as I thought it the screen changed and there was my dad. He’s in his forties but life has really taken a toll on him, he still smiles though, it's what I used to love about him.

“Hey dad, you’re late. Did you have trouble with getting the camera on”? “Not this time actually,” giving a small smile.

“Better get on a plaque so you can hang it on the wall “first-time dad set up the video call without any help,” now we got something else to celebrate.” As I raised my glass of sweet tea up. “Also, Happy Thanksgiving dad. You got your Chinese food”? “That’s why I was late, actually. There was heavy traffic and there was a line to get my order, even though I called ahead. Can you believe that”? He said as he was getting his food from the take out bag. That sure looked better than reheating day-old Chinese food,

as I looked down at my plate. Chinese food is still great.

“I can believe it, especially if you’re getting your food from the same Chinese spot. That always gets busy around the holidays, although the traffic is surprising. I would’ve expected empty streets.” As I put some hot sauce on my shrimp with fried rice.

“Yup, still go to the same one, Janet asked about you, and was wondering how you’ve been doing.” He takes a bite of his food. He gets the same thing, fried chicken with shrimp fried rice and 2 egg rolls. Same as I wonder where I got it from. That thought actually made the corner of my mouth curl upwards. We do need more special occasions.

“What did you tell her’’? “I told her you’ve been doing a lot better. Ever since your brother.” He lowered his voice when he said that. I suddenly feel Sully rest his head on my thigh. He looks up at me and blows his nose. Gave him a smile and gave him a scratch on his head. I mouthed the words, “You want another can?” He snorts. “How’s Sully? Is he there, haven’t seen him in a while.” “Yeah, he’s here, you know he has to eat on the floor, he just loves that stool of his.” As I tell my dad this I

start pouring the can into his bowl. “He’s always sat on that ever since he was a puppy. I swear if he could fit on it he would be sleeping on it as well.” “I do remember that.” He said as he was taking another bite of his food. “Always kept an eye on you when you were asleep. Even as a pup he was very loyal to you, staying by your side every time.” He moves his food around and finally asks the question,” so how have you been doing”? He puts his fork down and looks at me, to show me he’s paying attention. It’s odd to see him do that, so unfamiliar. I let out a sigh and lifted my eyes to the screen, “It’s a work in progress,” as I said that, my gaze went towards Sully eating. I guess I'm looking for approval from him. Did I do good? He was busy chowing down on his food.

“Hey, Dad”? I asked while still staring down at Sully. “Yeah”? With a mouth full of food, I could actually barely understand him but at least I know he is responding. “Why are we naming this new family tradition “Happy Thanksgiving”? Hasn’t really been so “happy” in these months, has it”? I looked at him, and I could actually see him, Like as if he were real. Family tradition has always been to celebrate a special occasion with Chinese food. Really it was just an excuse for us to just go get some Chinese food...even if the occasion wasn’t really special… I just liked that for a few moments we didn't fight. He actually looked like he was thinking it through.

“Well, weren't we always grateful on thanksgiving? Why just leave it for one day a year when we can celebrate anytime we want.”  It almost sounded convincing I thought to myself. I let out a small sigh, barely noticeable.  “Besides we do have a special occasion, you’ve got 2 months down already.” Raising his glass of soda.

If only he just kept drinking soda, things probably would have been so bad. “You see, That's gotta be an accomplishment, Right”? Again he starts eating. Giving him the smallest smile, “I guess so, dad.” Then my head just wandered down and looked at Sully, he had his head rested on my thigh.

He looked like he was dozing off as I massaged his head. “Hey,” I said softly. Moved his head to the side to look at me with one eye open. “I’m not carrying you to bed, so wake up.” he groaned as he closed that one eye of his.

“Well dad, I still got like 2 or more years before I can move on out of here.” I would like it to take less. I leaned back in my seat and looked at the fan. Leaning forward, I laid my chin on top of my folded arms, on top of my desk, and stared at the screen. “ But time sure does fly by, so 2 years would probably be by tomorrow, so don’t worry dad. I” ll be out of here soon enough, I just gotta take care of things, and then we can move on.” “That would be nice, May.” And he gave that smile.

That smile that I believed in.