Monica left the party in a hurry, her face red with the tears of shame. She looked back towards the big house where the party had been, hoping to find a a friendly face somewhere, but all she saw were the same people looked back at her. Some were the 30ish red heads holding flute glasses of champagne and various well to do husbands and boyfriends looking back through the windows and porches. It was almost as if they had formed a cordon around the house, making clear that she had been banished like Adam and Eve had been from the Garden of Eden. The rain started pelting on the top of her blue Ford Fairmont, which looked out of place in parking lot full of Porsches and Mercedes. Monica fumbled with her keys and got in the car. closed the door and sobbed as the rain came down even harder, cascading down the windshield blurring the light from the lamp posts. "Why,? Why?" She started the car and pulled out of the parking space and left the manor property and out into the night. Her doctor had told her that after her experiences, she should try to socialize more and try to resume some sense of normalcy. "Sometimes," he had said to her. "It's just as important to build new memories as it is to recover old ones." "Well doc, it's not easy socializing with anyone when you have a 6 year gap in your life. I mean, what will I say when people ask me what I have been doing for all this time. ' The little psychiatrist looked at Monica over her yellow legal pad for a moment. "Consider this an exercise for you. You see, the memories of those past 6 years are still there in your mind and yes, sometimes after a traumatic event, a lot of memories will get repressed. A lot of people say that the memories are simply buried beneath the surface; I would rather use the analogy of a dam that's blocking the river flow. Dams have to withstand a lot of pressure to keep the river from overflowing. That's why there's regular maintenance on them Sometimes, little cracks develop over time and some of the water comes through." "So you're saying that if I go ahead do some regular activities, I might gain some memory back?" She sighed. "it's possible. You never know." Now, several weeks later, there was nothing normal at all. She had gone to the party fully expecting to see her coworker, Madeline there. Madeline was always the social butterfly, flirting with the men and showing off her long red locks of hair playing with while teasing them. Monica was shy and had very mouse brown hair that drift lazily down her shoulders and very often wore broad, wire rim spectacles and was considered by most to be a sort of spinster.  Madeline seemed to feel sorry for Monica and had invited her to this party; however, when she had arrived at the party, no one at the party seemed to know who Madeline was and denied any knowledge having invited either Madeline or Monica to the party. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, there was the incident in the main hall. Something happened.. .... but Monica drew a complete blank. All that she remembered was going into the main hall. There was a the winding staircase near the far wall that lead to the upper floors and in the center of the marble tiled floor was the oval shaped table filled with hors d'oeuvres and the ice sculpture in the middle. After that, there was nothing.. a blank space where another memory should be. The next thing she remembered was being face down on the marble tiled floor with her without any clothes on at all with a few bruises on her body. Some of the men at the party had leered at her and whistled but these were quickly ushered out of the room. The women had shaken their heads at her and none of them offered to lift a finger to assist her as she got up slowly. The only exception was the house maid who had found her clothes in the 2nd floor bathroom and the rest of her belongings. No one told her anything about what had happened. She kept on driving down the road and onto the interstate to find the hotel that she had used. Madeline had set up for previously and told her that she would meet her there before the party. Madeline never showed but she did call her. Surely she should be there by now. She arrived at the motel on the north side of town about an hour later and opened the door to the room. The wallpaper in it was peeling and the lamp was still on as was the heat and the room was not empty. Her psychiatrist was there waiting for her. "Where's Madeline?" Monica demanded. " What are you doing here? Madeline was supposed to be here." "It's okay, Monica. There's nothing to worry about Madeline is safe" "Safe?! I just went to a party like you said and I ended up face down on the floor, buck naked and everyone staring at me. Safe doesn't even fit. Now where is Madeline?" The Psychiatrist pulled a lighter from her pocket and lit a cigarette... then the sound of the television turning on... then nothing.... One day later, the news channel was playing in a room. "Breaking news. There was a mysterious death that occurred at a the mansion of the Petersons. Zach Peterson was found dead in his bedroom the morning after he had hosted a party. Witness say that they did notice anything unusual about Zach during the party and that he had danced through the night and was in a good mood. The cause of death is currently under investigation. " The psychiatrist looked at the woman in the hospital bed, holding the chart in her arms. "You did a good job" a man said. "absolutely brilliant. " He shook balding head in amazement. "A perfect killer with a perfect alibi as a girl found buck naked at a party. I don't know how you did it." The small woman gave a slight smirk. It's amazing what you can do with the human mind. In some ways, it's like a computer. You just partition off a section of it and fill it with what you need, then lock it off until it's needed. In this case, it turned a shy, awkward woman into a highly skilled killer. "Madeline.. Madeline......" the woman murmured. "Who is Madeline?," the balding man enquired. "That's her name", the psychiatrist replied. "The killer we created in the empty space of her mind"


The coals smolder among the morning dew on the grass. John and Euchivik lay on pelts strewn across the cold ground while the birds begin their songs. John stokes the remaining embers before placing a pot of water to boil. He admires Euchvik as her chest rises and falls. As John adds herbs to the pot, Euchvik makes her way out of the tent over to John and smacks the back of his head. She takes the herbs out of the boiling water before adding just one back. John watches as she adds the other herbs back in one at a time until the steep is done. They sit in silence briefly while sipping on the tea as an albino deer croses their path grazing just a few feet from them. After their drinks are finished, Euchvik tells John to help her pack up quickly so they can follow the deer. After the equipment is packed, Euchvik tracks the deer into the woods. Both of them notice the light begin to fade with each step. The tree trucks become wider and closer together. Euchvik stops in her tracks suddenly while John awaits her instructions. Carefully, the two of them slow their pace while continuing forward. Euchvik switches from being hyper aware of her surroundings to suddenly awestruck. She takes a stick from the ground and strikes the nearest tree. The entire forest lights up a vibrant magenta exuding from the source of the strike. Euchvik continues forward stopping every step watching as her feet light up as she smiles with glee. John has to jog just to keep up with her, yet still on guard. As John catches up to her, he observes the look on her face. She seems to be listening intently, although he can sense no danger in the immediate surroundings. John follows Euchvik a few more paces before the come to a stream of flowing water inside what looks like an aqueduct untouched by nature. The water is clear from the top with the sides and bottom the same bright magenta as before. Both of them look up from the stream to find an enormous structure with water flowing from the top at all sides and even more aqueducts leading to the center. They step over the stream together taking in the surroundings for a moment before Euchvik sits near one of the corners of the aqueducts. John keeps moving toward the center touching the columns with his fingers. There are no bumps or imperfections. No signs of decay or other life are present at the moment. The only sound is the water rushing past slowly. John turns to the middle startled for a moment. A woman stands in the center observing him. Not only are her clothes translucent, the women herself is see through. She becons him closer as John feels himself fighting a trance. His feet begin moving as the woman's arms open up to embrace him. Euchvik grabs his collar pulling him past herself and onto the ground as he returns his mind back to reality. He first looks to Euchvik before his eyes drift past her to the sheer drop just behind her. She grabs a leaf from her pocket and drops it into the water and watches it cycle around, dropping into the void like space.


The corpse laid about ten feet away from Remy, and he intended to keep it that way for as long as possible. The line of people waiting to greet him and his mother with their potentially genuine condolences were stretched outside of the door and lingered down the hallway. He noticed how most of the people were pleasantly chatting while exchanging smiles and muffled giggles just before approaching the altar and then suddenly donned their impressive looks of despair. They would bend down to his eye-level, making it feel like they were trying to probe his mind with their sympathies, when telling him how sorry they were for his loss. Remy’s mother was better at taking the brunt of the crowd, allowing his gaze to silently linger until he felt someone emerge beside him. “I feel like most of these people all bought new outfits just to show off at this wake,” June grumbled from behind him, making Remy almost crack a smile which encouraged June. “I’m only guessing that the crowd is this big because the church is expecting a sizable donation from Herb.” Remy winced. He hadn’t heard his grandfather’s name in over one week and somehow had already tried to forget the sound of it. Remy turned to look up at June who crouched over him with a warm smile and bountiful wrinkles. Her hair was pinned on top of her head and sprayed into place until it held like concrete. There was a smidge of lipstick on her front teeth, and she wore her usual blue afternoon dress. She beheld Remy warmly. “It’ll be over soon kiddo. Once these phonies clear away then you and your mom can go home.” Home…Home where Remy had always dreaded. Always created excuses to avoid. His home had become far too quiet after Grandpa Herb’s passing, too still for him to withstand it without biting his nails or humming to fill the void. He hated how the stillness made his mother just as on edge. An elbow caught him in his thin ribs, making him jolt and turn around to see his mother looking down at him with distraught features from grieving. Her bloodshot eyes and quivering lips made Remy feel rotten as she pointed to the stranger in front of the boy. “He’s trying to speak with you,” his mother told him before resuming shaking hands and welcoming others expressing condolences. Remy slowly looked up at the gangly old suit that stood before him with a man trapped inside of it. Only three hairs remained on top of his head, the rest of the hair was replaced with liver spots to detract from his tremulous hands reaching out to Remy. “Young man, I’m sure you’ll turn out as strong and as kind as your grandpappy,” he hoarsely greeted, not knowing how sick his words made Remy feel. As the hand reached and tried to clamp onto Remy’s shoulder, he instinctively flinched while raising his hands to his face with anticipation for a wallop that never came. He froze and waited. Slowly, Remy glanced between his fingers to see the old man confused and staring at him with his shaky hand paused in midair. “Let’s go,” June murmured from behind him. Remy abandoned his mother and the line of all-too-important grievers to scamper out of the great room, down the hall, opening multiple random doors until finding an empty meeting room with a single table and chairs. There were bibles and pamphlets scattered across the room that detailed support groups for those experiencing loss. June attempted to pick up one to fan the hyperventilating Remy. “That was Charles- Herb’s old high school buddy. They played ball together, I think,” June informed with one hand on her hip. “I don’t think he had spoken to Herb in about twenty years.” Remy didn’t feel any relief as he plopped into a chair that was far too big for him. He still couldn’t fathom Grandpa Herb passing. He had always been lively. Too lively. Far too much energy and spite for someone who had survived two heart attacks and one stroke. Despite being given so many chances at life, Grandpa Herb never did seem all that grateful for it. Remy’s knees bounced up and down as he tried to breathe through his nose. He could feel the pleather chair beneath his keister, the air conditioning above blowing the hair from his face, and the polyester fibers of his suit biting at his skin. He could hear the chatter and soft piano playing outside. He could see the beige patterned carpet below with mint walls adorning the room, along with June standing there watching him. He could taste a tinge of blood on his tongue as he bit down on it to keep his teeth from chattering. “You’re lookin’ thin,” June remarked, distracting Remy from trying to ground himself. “There’s a horde of older ladies out there that would love to feed you.” She wasn’t wrong. At least it didn’t include addressing people who wanted to say how sorry they were for losing Grandpa Herb. He nodded and stood, trying to sneakily duck out of his hiding spot before bee-lining for the kitchen, like a derby horse straight out of the gates, all the while trying to avoid eye contact with his mother. He couldn’t understand why she was crying so much. She had even started crying when making coffee in the morning. It wasn’t as though Grandpa Herb had been any kinder to her than he had been to Remy. He was the only one who knew to look for the small scar behind her ear that his mother kept concealed by wearing her hair down. June followed hastily behind Remy to the kitchen, scanning their surroundings to alert Remy if needed. They luckily both made it to the kitchen unscathed from any grievers so that Remy could wrench for one, two, three ham sandwiches and a chocolate chip cookie. He didn’t bother eating them there, but instead stuffed them into his coat pockets for later just in case of…Remy paused at the thought…He didn’t need to stash his food. The only reason he would have was laying fifty feet away in a wooden casket. He peered down at the sandwiches in his hands before bothering to take one bite, but out of habit, returned them safely to his pockets. When Remy drew his attention away from his food, he found June wasn’t there. He was once again surrounded by other busying bodies. The crowd could have easily swallowed him. They brushed past him in their own quest to fill their grieving bellies, heckling and jeering yet still so close to a corpse. Remy thought he’d be able to emerge intact until he heard someone calling his name behind him. He slowly turned to see a pair of lips masked in lipstick and a sequin black dress that hit the floor with a woman squeezed inside of it. She smiled and bent down to him followed by a cloud of her perfume that made Remy’s eyes water. “You’re Charlotte’s boy, ain’t’cha?” she asked. Remy nodded. The lady tilted her head to the side and clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk, sure is terrible what your poor family has been through and not long after the death of your sweet Mamaw. Well,” she said while pointing at Remy, making him want to recoil. “I know your grandpa was a wonderful man of God and must be overjoyed with your Mamaw now in heaven. Don’t you think?” Remy mindlessly nodded while reaching to chew on his nailbeds. The lady’s smile widened as she reached into her purse and pulled out a cookie. “Have another on me,” she offered. Remy glanced behind her at the bountiful table of free cookies but reached out to receive her supposed gesture of kindness. She held tight onto the cookie. “And my thoughts and prayers are with you,” she said before releasing the cookie and finally freeing Remy from her miasma of perfume and half-hearted sympathy. Remy had to get out of there. He quickly paced out of the kitchen to veer into an adjacent hallway where he finally found June speaking with some stranger. They were quietly nodding and mumbling while Remy could feel his patience dwindling with the daylight. Remy marched up to her with a scowl and his hands thrown out to the sides, before gesturing to the stranger next to her. June scoffed and waved him off before turning to her new friend. “Remy, this is Louis. He was just next door and got a bit lost.” Louis had wide eyes and a potbelly with about two double chins that were exacerbated when looking down at Remy. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t meant to steal your friend.” “Oh, you did no such thing. You can hang out with me if you want until you feel like trying to find your family,” June comforted while sending knowing looks to Remy. Remi’s shoulders fell in exasperation before nodding in agreement, making Louis once flat affect gain a little glint of hope. At first, Remy didn’t mind when June befriended strangers, but it was starting to feel as if she were actively seeking them out rather than looking out for him. At least Louis seemed harmless enough. Remy just hoped that he didn’t follow them home. The boy coped with the annoyance by cramming a cookie into his mouth, letting it absorb all the moisture on his tongue before he dryly swallowed. He almost choked when he heard the screeching. Everyone jolted as the hollers boomed and penetrated the walls of the funeral home, making Remy cringe as he recognized the sound of his mother at her wits end. “I can’t look at him anymore!” her broken voice found his ears just as June rapidly emerged next to Remy. “Go take care of her,” she ordered, and Remy did so, almost automatically like an endless and cold routine for him. Having tried to avoid the altar beforehand, Remy actively sought it out and dodged around curious grievers as he dove between legs and around pews before finding his mother on her knees with the palms of her hands pressed into her eyes. Mascara was dripping down her cheeks as wails erupted from her gaping mouth. She was surrounded by curious and concerned strangers who all tried to reach for her, but Remy found her first. He knew to reach and cradle her head in his arms before softly stroking her yellow hair. He intentionally swept her hair over her ears so that no one saw her secret scars. Remy hummed lightly and could feel his mother relaxing against him.  Her breathing shuddered but gradually evened in Remy’s grasp. Mascara was still making roadmaps across her cheeks when she looked up to her son and grasped his shoulders. She saw his forced, gentle smile and squeezed him. “My brave boy, don’t you take a day off?” she asked like it was supposed to be a joke. Neither of them laughed. Instead, a mighty hand was placed on Remy and his mother. They both glanced up to see one of the younger grievers whom Remy had seen at school a few times. His gym teacher? He couldn’t remember, but he recalled feeling thankful as the man helped his mother to her feet and ushered her to a nearby pew “Let’s take a break, Charlotte," he murmured to her, almost enshrouding and shielding her with his massive shoulders from other nosy grievers. He looked down at Remy. “You’ve done well, young man. I can sit with her if you’d like me to,” he offered, which was refreshing. He nodded in response, with the gym teacher stating, “Say no more,” as if they had some pact between them, from one man to another. And it was strange to Remy...but good. It was as if the larger man had an understanding as he sat next to his mother who voluntarily lost all her composure in the man’s arms. Her cries were the familiar foundation of Remy’s bitter memories. He slowly turned away from her and looked at the casket before him. It was a plain brown box. There were hardly any flowers that adorned it, and even the supposed shine on the wood looked dull in the overhead lights. Grandpa Herb still probably would have thought it too extravagant. His mother couldn’t stand looing at Grandpa Herb, and Remy had outright tried to avoid it. But…could he do it so his mother didn’t have to? “If you want,” June’s voice lulled beside of him. “I’ll stand there next to you.” Remy glimpsed to June, seeing her sweet disposition clouded with Remy’s mirrored discomfort, before looking back to the casket and taking a large step forward. He held his breath and clenched his hands into white knuckled fists as he approached Grandpa Herb laying motionless in his box. As Remy dared closer, he saw the corpse’s hands folded over his chest with his jaw protruding from his face. His skin almost looked waxy and shined more than the wooden casket, like an uncanny mannequin. Remy shivered. Grandpa Herb’s shoulders were sharp even when being buried in a suit with shoulder pads, and despite being completely motionless, Remy fully expected to see the waxy lips curl into a snarl. For once, Remy didn’t want to chew his nailbeds. He didn’t tap his foot nor chatter his teeth while gazing down at the corpse. It looked fake. Somehow the real Grandpa Herb was going to pop out any second and curse Remy for being so meek. The boy even dared to lean over the casket to get a closer look, seeing how the eyes were glued shut and fingers stiffly weaved together. Grandpa Herb was still. Still as death, and somehow that made Remy release a long sigh he didn’t know he was still holding onto. The muscles in Remy’s face almost burned with the want to smile. The thunderous nights were over for Remy and his mother. They could find their own peace, their own happiness, in a life without Grandpa Herb. Remy thought he knew how to find that kind of happiness. He had known it when his Mamaw was alive and was the shield that every child deserved. Maybe he could recreate that someday if he tried. Looking next to him, Remy saw June’s eyes transfixed on Grandpa Herb as she reached to place a steady hand on Remy’s shoulder. He felt nothing. Her head shook and sucked in her wrinkled lips when saying, “Damn that man. Damn him and everything he ever did.” Remy reached to place his hand over hers, only experiencing a cool gust of air rather than the warm touch he remembered. “Will I see him?” he croaked. “Like I see you, Mamaw?” “No, baby,” she hushed. “No, I would never let him appear to you. I promise.” Remy smiled. His hand fell while he turned away from the casket. He knew Mamaw June was behind him, always following him, always watching, and he felt as he neared an unfamiliar peace that she too would soon find hers.


Hey Redditors. Iv'e decided to share my story. Iv'e always been fascinated by breaching security, exploring things or secrets that weren't available to other people. Both in computers and physical matters. This is my story so please enjoy it. I don't know if this really belongs on short stories, since it's not a fictional story, but I thought you guys might find it interesting. **TL;DR** Some friends and i discovered unknown secret tunnels under our high school. Over weeks we discovered and mapped out a big part of the tunnel system. I'm now 18 and only have memories and pictures to look back at. Last school year (2011/2012) I was an exchange student in USA, Wisconsin. (I'm from Denmark). Btw best year iv'e ever had, with lifelong friendships made. I returned home to Denmark 7 months ago, and started school. This happened exactly one year ago. It all started with a friend of mine (senior at the time) came to me and said he had something crazy to tell me. It was kind of a rush hour so i didn't have time to stop and listen. Later that day we met in lunch break and he told me that he had been in the schools maintenaince room and had seen a dark square (3x3 ft) in the wall down a staircase. He that it was some kind of underground tunnel system under the school. I thought he was stupid and didn't think much about it. Now in the school i attended for a year and the daily routine consisted of normal classes and a 9th hour/homeroom in the end of the day, where it was possible to study or do your homework. The class was from 3:00 to about 3:40. I forgot all about his little tunnel story and almost two weeks went by till we came by the subject again. I was sitting peacefully in 9th hour and doing my homework when i saw someone knocked on the door. I looked up and there was my friend, lets call him Christian. Christian had excitement in his eyes and he did a throw with his hand plus a nod with his head to signal, that I should come out. I asked the teacher if i could go to the bathroom quick. (At this school you could get in trouble if you walked in the hallway without a pass for the restroom or wherever you were going) He wrote me a pass and I walked silently but determined out. Christian basically bombed me with the information that he had been "in the tunnels". I thought he was being crazy again and laughed at him, but he kept explaining the whole thing precisely and trustworthy and I started believing him more and more. My eye slid down to his knees and palms and I was soon to discover a enormous amount of dust and dirt on them. The tip of his shoes had some on them as well as he had been crawling somewhere. A few days later I couldn't help my curiosity. I had to see if this was true. In 9th hour I got a pass to go to the restroom and knowing I had limited time i rushed down the long hallways with a friend to the mechanical maintenance room. I quickly entered, put on a flashlight on my phone and started searching the big dark room for unknown enterings or exits. Two minutes after my friend had to leave of fear from getting caught by one of the janitors that could walk in any second and get our butts in trouble. I took me 15 minutes, but finally, down a staircase, down a ladder, into what seemed like a small pool around 7 ft deep, in the corner was a little square entering. I could barely spot it with my phone light. I crawled down and had a quick peek inside. After this i was eager to crawl in and look, but i had already been gone for 20 minutes, and i knew that would only cover for a long toilet visit, and I went back to the classroom. At this point I was hooked. No matter what I did, or when I did it, for the next 24 hours, this was permanently on my mind. I was curious and excited to figure this thing out. The next day I couldn't wait for 9th hour. The day went by so slow and it seemed like forever till the class started. Thinking that the teacher wouldn't write me a pass if i asked to go to the restroom right after a 6 minutes break, I waited. at 3:20 i got my pass, rushed to the maintenance room, ran down the stairs, down the ladder in to the pool and went in the tunnel. I had asked Christian to meet me there at 3:20. He showed up and told me that he actually didn't go in that hole, but in another path about 6 ft long that went into the basement in the other side of the room. I checked it out and it wasn't even a path, more just like a whole into the basement. We went over to the path i discovered and peeked in. It was a 3x3 ft hole going in as far as we could see. I jumped in first and Christian after and we started crawling on hands and knees in the dark. We were soon to discover turns in the tunnel everywhere. Everytime we took a right or left turn there were turns both ways, and the path would always end up in to seperate ways. Shortly after, due to physical requirements, excitement and a crapload of dust and dirt in the air, it got really hard to breath in there, and we went out. Up in the normal school light we were sweaty, and covered with an orangy dust powder. We had to see more. But we needed to plan it out. We couldn't just go to the restroom every day and coming back looking like we attended World War II. Teachers would get suspicious, and the risk of getting caught was too high. Therefore we went back to class and made a shopping list of what we needed. Same day we took a trip to Walmart and got the necessary things. Flashlights, kneepads, gloves, painting masks for dust, camera, change of clothing, blueprints and pencils. I managed to steal a whole block of passes so we could fake signatures and write passes to study hall, library or other teachers classrooms to cover up our actions. Also we needed a different time to enter, and a different way to get out. We came up with bringing a mirror to look around the edges when we exited the room. In the school there was a red blueprint painting hanging in the wall. I took a snapshot of it and after 15 minutes with my enormously bad photoshop skills i made it black and white and printed some copies out. We were now ready to note every single little turn we explored under there. We also got two other friends involved, and we created a hidden closed Facebook group for us. Friday night there was a basketball game at the school. What a perfect opportunity. School was open and no one in the hallways. We packed bags from home. Once the game was on, we four friends snuck into the maintenance room, and into the tunnel. We equipped all of our gear and began our journey. We had a lead guy at front, a flashlight guy, a map writer and a camera guy at the end. We had also purchased 1000 ft of line that we tied somewhere in the maintenance room. and took with us in. It functioned as a kind of safety so we always could find our way out. After almost 2 hours in there. We went out. We had discovered endless turns and paths and about 700 ft of tunnel was mapped down. The following fridays we planned to go down there again. We knew the routine, once the game started we snuck in the tunnel and started our mapping. We took a whole new section of the school every time. We could hear and calculate due to the game when we were under the gym, the cafeteria, classrooms and and all the other rooms. I'm a big guy 6'4", and i had quite some trouble crawling around down there. One of the times i was freaking out because I was running (as good as possible down there) and I got breathless because of the dust. After that I never did anything physical exhausting while in the tunnels. We went down there about four times and the last time was the most interesting. It was only me and Christian, and we decided to explore the left side of the school. On our way down the tunnels we saw writing on the walls. It looked like someone made arrows down there. There was also a few cigarette butts and some cans of some kind. We continued and saw a yellow pipe running across the path. We spend about 5 minutes discussing what it was, but it seemed like the answer came to us. All of a sudden two girly voices got exceptionally clear. We looked at the blueprints and our position fit perfectly under the girls restroom. The voices were clear and we were sure we were just a few feet under the restroom. Even the footsteps were clear through the floor. We sat there for about 10 minutes enjoying our achievement, but then decided to keep going. (We weren't able to see anything) We continued into a big wide space. The feeling of standing up for the first time in three hours was amazing. It was exactly under the staircase. There was a metal plate in the wall, and we recognized it from the hallways. We had found another entering. Unfortunately it was locked. We also looked up in a hole with a bunch some pipes and wires and discovered a bag of funions shoved up in there. How the heck did these come up there? We took a few pictures and took the 25 minute journey crawling all the way out. We jumped through the little hole to the basement and exit through there. No one saw us. Monday morning we went above ground of where we were on the friday. We looked down the thermostat of a radiator and concluded that the bag of funions were down there, most likely shoved down from above. The basketball season ended a few days after there. Even though we talked a lot about going back, we didn't To this day i still regret not finished the mapping down there. Later on we explored some abandoned buildings and train wagons, but nothing gave me the same adrenalin kick as these tunnels. We talked about them to my friends father who knew a janitor on the school. He told us that these were quite common tunnels in every high school design. They were made to access all the heat, and water pipes running to all the classrooms. After some research we found people all over America that had discovered these tunnels too. I guess in the end they weren't that secret and exciting, but I got my rush from them. We told a few people about it and showed them the pictures, but it's kind of forgotten to this day. Only my memories and pictures keeps this alive. Here are the whole picture album. Unfortunately I didn't take enough photos, this is all I have. Iv'e decided to hide our identity since I haven't asked or have got their permission to post their faces. I am the guy with the blue gloves. I put a lot of work and a few hours into this post and I'm new on Reddit, so if you read the whole story please take your time to share your response, your thoughts or similar stories with me :-) Please excuse me for grammar mistakes etc. -Johspwns.


‘Private Jimmy, join your comrades in the sand!’ Said, Sergeant Davidson. ‘Yes, sir,’ I said, my right arm boomeranged to my head, my fingers extended on my forehead. Beads of sweat trickled down my fingers, they felt like my only companions. The liquid horizon crested and receded like waves of heat, distorted by the scorching air. ‘Focus on the mission, defend the water,’ I told myself, sprinting to the heaps of rock on the battlefield. An unwelcome blanket of heat wrapped around my body, and what felt like a noose of fire snaked around my neck, vaporising any air left in my red, hot lungs. This wasn’t the kind of embrace I wanted. The sand was getting closer. Sparks of light glinted off the earthy, golden pearls, and danced like fairies of light. I focused on their beauty to distract myself from the monster that was waiting for me. ‘Maybe I should be grateful,’ I thought, ‘I’ll have the opportunity to make some new friends.’ It’s getting closer.

The hot, grey rocks were two ladders tall by the looks of it. ‘Get down!’ A nameless soldier pulled me down behind a rocky barricade, making me but one drop among the sea of anonymous soldiers. ‘Hi, what’s your name?’ I asked, ‘There’s no time for that, soldier,’ his voice was panicked and forceful. ‘Take this,’ he shoved a heavy, green gun into my chest, the thud of the impact scrunched my face, making it even more difficult to breathe.

Breaking News: Global Evacuations Underway as Deadly Heatwave Intensifies.

‘Hey, you, climb over and take a look for us,’ one green man said to me. ‘No, you do it,’ his friend replied. Maybe he’ll like me if I do it.

My legs slowly pushed off the floor, and I clutched the rungs of the ladder, pulled myself up. I needed to see for myself. Time slowed down as my eyes peer above our defence. A garden of thorny roses scraped against the inside of my stomach. Coldness washed over me, and my shaking legs lost their grip. The blistering sand caught my face on the landing, ‘Are you okay? What did you see?’ Endless faces stared me down, their eyes interrogated me, curious for answers. I knew they were all as scared as I was, but I couldn’t let them know that.

Waves of apocalyptic fire rippled from the mass of burning gas, setting the air alight. Hues of deep orange stretched across the horizon, oppressing everything in its wake. Flares of yellow lashed from its body like whips, slicing through the air. We knew it was miles away, but its presence was undeniable, even from here.

The soldiers’ wide eyes locked onto mine, shock possessed their faces. I continued explaining what I saw, trying to be clear but my words were confused. They were all looking at me.

‘We have to fight that thing?’ There was worry in his voice. ‘I’m not doing it,’ another said. Panic spread along the fighting lines like wildfire, and they were looking not at me but at each other. But I didn’t mind, I was only thinking of my father.

I let myself collapse and pressed my back against the hot rocks. Sitting there, the world fell silent for a moment, and I pulled out an old photograph: frayed at the edges, and dirty and creased, but seeing myself with my father, smiling, there was beauty underneath that damage, memories of a lifetime long gone. The smell of fresh bread in the morning and the feel of his warm laughter took over my body. I gravitated towards its warmth like it was the first time I had ever felt the sun on my face.

‘Okay girls, on your feet!’ His voice was commanding and compelled my body to stand, I hide the photograph. Sargeant Davidson stood in front of us and stared us down with brilliant blue eyes, clear and focused, underneath furrowed brows. ‘Behind this barricade is an unrelenting enemy, and it wants to steal your water!’ His eyes fixed onto mine and he strode towards me, ‘Do you know what that means, Private Jimmy?’ He asked. ‘No, sir,’ I replied, trying to keep my composure. ‘It means no more water balloon fights with daddy, are you gonna let that happen?’ ‘No sergeant,’ I made sure my voice was loud and clear, so he didn’t ask me to repeat myself. ‘Good,’ he said, ‘so, get on those ladders, and climb over that barricade…’ Boots hit the rungs and thunder roared through the landscape, green men with guns in hand facing death, ‘… and shoot the sun.’

A sea of men washed onto the scorching sand and rushed towards the sun like a tsunami, their focus sharp and cold, or at least it appeared that way. ‘Fire!’ One man commanded. An ocean of bullets exploded forth and arched through the sky with dreadful speed. ‘Keep going!’

‘What are you still doing here, Private Jimmy?’ said Sargeant Davidson, each word dripped with fury, ‘climb that ladder now!’ Pointing at the barricade, his red anger competing with the redness from exhaustion for dominance over his face.

‘But I wanted to stay with you, Dad,’ I said.

Footsteps flew up the stairs and my creaky, white door swung wide open, ‘Jimmy! I told you we have to leave, get ready,’ said Martha, she brought her fingertips to her nose, rubbing away her frustration. ‘God, you’ve gotten sand everywhere,’ there’s a hint of fear in her voice, but I can see she’s mostly annoyed. ‘Clean your toys away,’ a line of small, plastic army men stood facing a crumpled orange piece of paper, and behind them: a row of pebbles and behind those: a red plastic cup of water. The sandpit hosting the battlefield was square with a wooden red boundary.

‘Can I play for five more minutes?’ I asked. ‘No,’ said Martha, ‘this is serious, we need to go.’

A sharp knock echoed through the house; Martha’s eyes darted behind her. ‘Who’s that?’ I asked. ‘Come on,’ she pulled at my arm.

She opened the door and a tall man dressed in camouflage forced his way into the house. ‘Martha, I’m glad you’re okay,’ his arms wrapped around her tightly and worry plagued his face. ‘I tried calling but the power’s out all across the country,’ he said. ‘I know,’ said Martha, ‘I put the backup generator on, but Stewart-’ she took a moment to process the situation, ‘I thought you weren’t back for another year?’

My smile was unrelenting and bright, ‘Daddy,’ I said, and ran to him, hugging his waist. He kneeled, my face in his hands, ‘I missed you, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘I missed you, too, Dad,’ I said, ‘or should I say Sergeant Davidson,’ and I gave him a salute. He giggled.

‘Can we play today?’ I asked. ‘Of course we can Jimmy. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much’, he said, his voice now softer, ‘but my army buddies are outside, and they said you can sit in the driver’s seat of the Jeep,’ his thumb brushed over my cheek, and he looked up, throwing a concerned look at Martha. ‘Okay,’ I said, excited.

He stood, ‘Go get the emergency suitcases, darling, we can’t stay here anymore.’ ‘I still don’t understand,’ Martha said, ‘is what they said on the news really that bad? They said to evacuate.’ ‘Yeah,’ sorrow washed over his face, ‘they’re flying us to Greenland, but we need to leave now.’

I stood on the hard steps outside the front door and watched plumbs of black smoke in the distance float into the sky, and fights between neighbours’ spill into the streets. The world was burning, and people were scared, but at least I didn’t feel lonely anymore. I’m with Dad now.


Who Needs Romance When You Have True Love Surrounding You? Tree Town was not awoken by the lovely chirping of birds; instead a cacophony of ringtones and an additional, terrifying sound roused the town resident's from their peaceful slumber.

“What the heck! Auntie Jane, am I seeing police...HERE,” shouted a dumbstruck Emma! Frozen in place, Emma glanced at her twin sister Charlotte. Did Charlotte feel as disturbed as she did over seeing a police car in person? Although they lived on Lush Island, an extremely isolated beach within walking distance of microscopic Tree Town, the teenage twins were not naïve. Written and visual media often featured both fictional and nonfiction depictions of police and crime.

Indeed, Charlotte was also disturbed by the police; their car flew past the group with enough speed the car's wind knocked her down. Struggling to stand up, Charlotte sat on the sidewalk infuriated. “Yes Emma, a police car passed us. Be glad you were walking on the other side or you would have hit the ground! I know police are allowed to break the speed limit, however, I am certain running over people is against the rules! Honestly, WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL!” Exhausted, shouting at the empty street, imagining she was disciplining the police, comforted her until she temporarily lost her voice.

Emma sat beside her sister, both observing their Auntie's reaction. Remembering she was the adult, Jane could not express her concerns. Simply seeing a police car should not bother her, she grew up in Bright City, where crime happened in nearby towns. Police cars were not a new phenomenon. Jane briefly left the teenagers sitting on the sidewalk. Curiosity regarding where the car might have gone overtook her common sense about watching over her godchildren.

RING, RING, RING; Following the skid marks for a few minutes changed her feelings of mildly startled/curious into concerned. She did not need to follow the entirety of the route because there was only one place the police could stop. RING, RING, RING “Enough! Stupid telemarketers,” Jane muttered, finally hearing and answering her phone. Intent on hanging up moments later, Andrea's name was listed. The 'missed calls' list showed she called several times before giving up.

“Andrea, what's wrong? I saw you called me several times, I'm sorry I did not answer sooner! I couldn't hear my phone. Be careful, I know this sounds odd, but the police sped past us, nearly running over Charlotte! Both girls are overall safe, don't worry.” Upon hearing Andrea's reply, Jane dropped her purse, many of the contents falling out. Typically an individual who is generally logical and calm, the panic in Andrea's voice actually frightened Jane more than Andrea's words.

“Lord help me PLEASE! We don't need them ACTUALLY HERE! Long story short; Carl tried to abandon me, while I'm trying to keep him here! I must have hit 911 instead of you or one of the girls. We both shouted when they answered, telling them my call was an accident, don't worry about coming! Apparently, the authorities believe otherwise. If you are interested, I will explain further after the chaos has died down...”

Her face pressed into the window, Andrea could not believe her eyes. Seeing their cars pull in and the sounds of the sirens blaring was frightening. Answering the door would cause further anxiety. As they knocked on the door, Andrea exclaimed, “Jane, they're here! Oh dear... They will probably want an explanation and briefly confirm no physical violence has occurred. I'm uncertain if you should bring the girls home or wait until later? Call you later.” Andrea answered the door, allowing the officers into the house. Carl was for all intents and purposes unaware and patiently waiting, watching his (soon to be former wife) behave like a lunatic in front of the police.

The click of the phone ending the call symbolized the end of over a decade in love. Both were shocked by the police arrival; upon briefly investigating the couple and home, no signs of violence could be found. Thankfully, they did not charge the couple fees for wasting their time/resources. Relieved when the officers departed, the couple continued an argument which was doing nothing except wasting time. Carl was not going to stay, Andrea would not be easily swayed into accepting his unexpected departure.

As an android, Andrea learned over decades the challenges of expressing emotions when combining visual and verbal elements. Although not regarded by her parents as a machine, essentially the wiring, gears, computer programs etc. which much of her body contained made her a machine. She could change her appearance at will and contained enhancements which made her almost perfect. However, hiding the scientific proof of the possibility of such a creation was required. Revealing her true nature might cause unsavory members of the scientific community to abduct and experiment on her. Even her closest friends and relatives were unaware of the truth.

Andrea had no organic heart, yet she was not without the ability to feel. On this day she had no trouble 'blending in' with human society. As many humans often do during a crisis, she wore her 'heart' on her sleeve. For the first time in her life, she felt sensations of hopelessness and burning which might literally short-circuit her brain. Unlike the grief she felt upon her parent's deaths or the sense of terror when one of her daughter's was hospitalized, almost left for dead, her current condition might have been life-ending. As tears dripped down her face she nearly flooded the living room. The ocean's depths were but small puddles in comparison. Intellectually, she knew about ending a relationship. How humans managed to survive the trauma, often multiple times, of such ordeals when she, (frankly, a superior artificial being), was finally brought to her knees was one of most confusing thoughts racing through her mind.

On the ground directly in front of Carl, Andrea actually kissed his feet. Shoving her aside, growing weary of her 'nonsensical' gibberish he yelled, “GET OFF ME! I don't know how many times I must repeat myself before you finally understand! Our relationship is over! If you're so smart it should be quite obvious why I must go.” His only visible emotion was of annoyance. 'Why won't she let me leave? What's the big deal,' were his primary thoughts. Continuing his blasé words, he did not even look into Andrea's eyes as he spoke.

“I didn't want to do what I am doing,” Carl signed, “I love you so much, but I just can't take life here any longer.” His attempts at expressing sorrow were so pathetic he clearly was not trying. All he was trying to do was leave. “Why? I never saw any problems in our marriage? You never told me anything was wrong? Why not address the matter before running out the door, ABANDONING ME and more importantly, YOUR CHILDREN! All I want is the best for us and our family! I'm open and honest with you, why can't you be open and honest with me? I'm willing to change if you stay!” How she managed speaking clearly while sobbing was shocking. Fetching a pen and paper from the shelf, Andrea shortly realized she moved too quickly for a human. Even machines are imperfect; stress and lack of sleep caused a lack of concentration and will power. Writing with perfectly neat handwriting, tears spotted the paper. Wet spots aside, Andrea handed Carl a short, poorly written 'contract' with her name signed.

She nudged Carl's shoulder, interrupting his thoughts; he read the paper with as much interest as a person reading the dictionary.  “I Andrea (Houghman) Smith, will change my behaviors in_____ amount of time. If problems persist, the relationship can be ended.” The blank was negotiated between them for two weeks. Pulling teeth would have been easier. His suggestion of meeting to have an honest, heartfelt conversation in one year was too long of a wait. He scrawled his name illegibly on the water damaged paper only for him, at last, be permitted to leave the property and his life for at least two weeks. Hopefully longer he thought.

Watching him drive away, Andrea realized he took almost none of his belongings with him. Only his lab coat, a few items of clothing and part of his computer were taken. Why take only the monitor and CPU, yet not the keyboard or mouse (which worked quite well)? Why take his other electronics, yet leave their chargers behind? Andrea had more questions instead of answers. As intellectually gifted as she was designed, none of her academic knowledge or previous experiences could explain the bizarre morning/afternoon.

“What an idiot,” Jane commented, noticing the same detail. Jane generally believed life was a 'glass filled half full instead of half empty,' yet her optimistic point of view vanished as she heard the whole story. “Well he won't be back for two weeks and all I can say is how sorry I am for you and your children.” Not filled with joy, Jane was pleased he would be elsewhere for two weeks. She never liked him. However, if she wanted Andrea's friendship, she needed to act sympathetic. Anticipating an extremely long and detailed story from Andrea, Jane sat beside Andrea bracing herself.

Provided with no other instructions, Jane arrived to Lush Island alone. Considering Charlotte's near death experience with the police car, Jane dropped them off at the local doctor's office. Upon being dismissed, they were instructed to wait there. Charlotte likely sprained or broke her ankle. The teens could walk home from Tree Town to Lush Island in 15-30 minutes without getting lost under normal circumstances. However, if they got lost that day, all they would need was the skid marks buried deep in the ground for a path home.

'Free at last, FREE AT LAST! Good riddance to the freak,' Carl sang, joy escaping his lips as he rolled up the windows and locked the doors of his empty car. Jane was right regarding Carl's lack of intelligence. He could not even plan a proper escape from his living Hell. He planned ahead enough to change his address, listing his residence at a friend's house. Weeks after the documents were processed he received no mail at the Lush Island home. Perhaps the complex process of changing his address made him forget the rest of his important 'home departure plans.' His best friend was a saint. Martin missed a day of work, although his income was minimal, because he was under the impression he would help Carl move his belongings on the day he left. He thought 'best friends generally help each other right?' Certainly Andrea knew because his items would be packed, albeit rather disorganized. Arguing wasted time which could have been saved if Carl just left a note while she and the rest of the house was asleep.

Siding with your best friend is required, yet Martin felt Andrea had a point. He was almost as shocked as Andrea was regarding Carl's actions. Covering up his anger until he could roll up his windows, once on the road, Martin cursed both of them out for wasting his time and money. Perhaps he should sue them for lost wages. Witnessing this disaster changed his mind; being single is better. Couples have too much drama.

Best friends should not keep secrets from each other, yet his true reason for leaving was beyond comprehension. Instead of sympathy, he would be given a tinfoil dunce cap, probably joining other 'crazy people' in an asylum for warped minds if he told the truth. 'How could he be so blind for over a decade? He should have realized sooner and avoided marrying her,' he thought. Apparently the program of study for a PhD of Genetic Engineering did not include 'Recognize Androids' classes. He was taught scientific theories and hypothetical designs for androids, yet they were nothing like Andrea. Reflecting upon his past confused him. She felt 'real'; casually holding her hand or the 'intimate moments' were as soothing as any human interactions. Her slightly bizarre emotional expressions, he assumed, were the result of a minor birth defect. Andrea was the most beautiful and intelligent woman he ever met. They shared many common interests and he eventually proposed. Never would he believe androids existed, nor consider the possibility Andrea was an artificial creation. Everyone assumed they were a perfect couple and would last forever. Learning the truth instantly made him panic; he wanted a human not a machine. He was living her lie and could not handle the stress any longer. He crumbled into grains of sand at the thought of staying. Being strong enough to protect his wife and daughters by keeping her secret never crossed his mind. Nor would he find the courage to tell Andrea the truth. She had no idea he knew. Andrea could not literally change herself. Although there were challenges being an android, if magically given the option, she would decline becoming a human. Through no fault of her own, she lost her true love. Nothing good lasts forever Andrea learned from this heartbreak. As sympathetic Jane was, thankfully, their other best friend, Mia, was unafraid of speaking the truth. Via a video call from New York City, an outraged Mia screamed, “GOOD RIDDANCE! The man is such a coward for hurting you and your family! I know you want words of sympathy, however, hearing the truth often prevents any further damage. You've seen what lying can do! His habits of constant lying over even minute issues, until an explosion of problems results sets an extremely disgusting example for your daughters! He was bringing you all down with him. Impressionable teens need strong role models; he was weak! You need a man, not a boy!" Realizing Andrea needed more support and less insults, Mia changed the subject, stating, “I have an understudy... I could probably convince the director to let me leave for a few days... I would invite you, Jane and the girls up to NYC, however, Romeo and Juliet is not the Broadway show you should see at this time.” “No, you shouldn't loose your job because of my problems, I hope you and the cast all 'break-a-leg' Juliet. I can't wait for you to come home, I'm sure the girls want to hear all about the life of a Broadway actress.”

Ending the video call with Mia was one of the hardest tasks Andrea completed. Mia could always be relied upon if you wanted an honest opinion. She and Jane both agreed with each other regarding Andrea's (soon to be former) husband yet Andrea was incapable of grasping the concept. Everything reminded her of him regardless of the situation. Was everything negative her fault? Finally, how would she explain the recent development to her daughters? Emma and Charlotte were teenagers and had friends who's parents were divorced; intellectually the concept would be understandable. Could they accept such changes in their lives?

So many questions regarding the ending of the relationship filled Andrea's thoughts. One point she could not question was the strength of her daughters. All the commotion distracted Andrea and Jane. The world was turning upside down when the normally careful adults forgot about Emma and Charlotte. Was Carl's influence effecting them? The twins did not need two horrible parents! The doctor's office assessed Charlotte's ankle and other injuries free of charge because the police cause the injuries. He would bill them; an extremely bold move. Hopefully, he would not get arrested for his complaints. Eventually the doctor's office closed and the girls asked to leave. Receiving no answers from their mother or Jane, they took over an hour to reach home. Emma supported Charlotte as she limped. They were determined to return home versus spending all night on the streets.

Entering the house, the twins crept behind the sofa, the creaking of the floorboards unnoticed by Jane and their mother while they eavesdropped. They missed the beginning, however, the main points were quite clear... their father abandoned the family without warning, broke her mother's heart, Jane was afraid of leaving Andrea alone and her mother's inevitably long explanation of the day's events distracted them. Behind the sofa they would hear more of reality; her mother's absurd actions would be censored when speaking with them. They would also be discouraged from speaking ill of their father, regardless of his actions.

Having heard enough of the conversation, the girls decided they ought to surrender and let their mother know they knew the majority of the disgusting truth. Normally, the girls would have been infuriated with their mother and Jane, however, given the situation, they put aside their anger. Their mother needed love and compassion instead of conflict. No longer did they admire their father. Emma, as per usual, was the first to speak. “Surprised we survived being abandoned at the doctor's office? Charlotte and I supported each other and reached home alive. As your family, we will always love and support you mother. You will make the journey away from him, finishing alive and thriving. We, unlike father, will express our honesty and reveal we've been sitting here for about an hour and heard the majority of the story.” Charlotte added, “There is no point in censoring any information regarding his inexcusable behavior. Be glad I don't know which of the numerous curse words to describe father. I'll save time and simply say he is the largest combination of each degrading term Satan is a kind soul compared with father!” They stopped venting, and hugged their mother and Jane so much their organs nearly burst from their bodies. With daughters and best friends who loved her, she would endure the long processes of recovering from her first heartbreak. How she would resolve her dilemmas she did not know...Not Just Yet.


was founded on the unpretentious principle that the short story cannot be allowed to go extinct. There has to be a new way to reinvent the craft, the art, and keep it fresh in the heart of the reader... The IntShoWriMo Blog will feature at least three writing prompts each day to reduce the stress on the brain while searching for 30 short story prompts during the 4-week exercise. You get to choose what kind of story you write with this shot at variety. IntShoWriMo which stands for International Shorts Writing Month is a short story writing adventure where participants actually, sit down (or stand, your choice) to create never-before-written 30 short stories in 30 days. You are officially invited.


Chapter 1 The not so great Jimmy “I will live on!” Were the final words I spoke before my vison disappeared and there was nothing not even the color black, then suddenly I woke up and found my surroundings were strange to say the least. Numbers 1-180 were colorful and laid out in a pattern across the walls obviously being some sort of unfamiliar magic I was not accustomed to. There was an area in a room around maybe thirty feet away with shapes that were also colorful. Gods black hands! I could see again clearly as if I were in my youth again! I must have not kept my dialogue to myself because a giant of a woman came up to me. “Jimmy? Is everything okay? Do you need to use the little boy’s room?” Who the hell does this beast think I am? I am no Jimmy I am the great Edward capable of bringing the dead back to life, I am the one who makes the holiest of priests turn from there god and get on their knees to kiss the floor I stand on. I am he who commands the shadows, the dead and everything else that is dark. No one calls me by another’s name and gets away with it. I reached for my magic, O there would be a great- “What in the seven hells! It’s gone!!!!” I said in a squeaky voice not recognizing it to be my own. “Jimmy!” The startled giant said. “Language!” “Where did my power go wench! Tell me and your death will be quick and painless!” The giant did not seem to be in fear of my unusually squeaky voice and instead the look of surprise, shock, anger, confusion and many more shades of emotions went on her face and she was silent for a long moment. She starred at me for an uncomfortable amount of time and picked me up as if I was an infant and carried me off to who knows where. I kicked and thrashed and then I went limp when I realized my hands they no longer were darkened by age, they were tiny and no longer bared the many scars from years of battle and I realized that I was a child once more. I was set down in an area with a fence of some sort that was not made of crude metal but instead was vibrant in color and seemed to be made with a material I had no knowledge of. This was not good I thought, I needed to get my books and see if I could figure my situation out. “Jimmy? Where did you learn that naughty language?” I quickly reacted knowing that she was oblivious to the fact that I was the great wizard that brought down empires, I had to blend in with the sheep be a wolf in sheep’s clothing if you will. “Ms. I’m sorry I said such harsh atrocities to you, I give my deepest apologies.” I bowed my head sickened to think I was groveling to this inferior- “Jimmy your pronouncing your English so well! When did you learn all those big words?” She said in an excitable voice mixed with praise. “I’m so proud of you big man.” Proud? No one has ever been proud of me. A warm partially sickening partially unknown feeling went through my body making me feel something I’d never felt before. “May I borrow one of your books from your library Ms., It doesn’t have to be about sorcery it can be about the land or maybe-” She handed me a thin book still to big for my tiny hands and it had drawings of animals from the forests that looked to friendly to be real and had the common man’s tongue written on it. “All the forests creatures with you and I” I read out loud confused by the riddle. Apparently, I spoke out loud again because this excited the what I am beginning to suspect adult woman and brought more praise out from her mouth making me want to vomit mixed with that weird sensation again. Why was I a child again? At the end of the day I learned a lot about my new environment, the adult woman that lectured me on what was known as bad words was called Ms. Hoffman I also learned that apparently I have parents once more, which surprised me considering my Father had been dead for almost fifty years and no amount of necromancy could bring back a guy that had his soul ripped apart by a never ending void. A loud fast clanging noise which was dubbed the school bell immediately made all the other children react by forming a line at the door. So, they did have magic after all, and it seemed to be one of the darker forms meant for manipulating the weaker minds in doing things for another’s gain. I pondered what the reasoning could be to make children line up and then it clicked they must be preparing for war by training there susceptible minds at an early age. Someone tapped me on the shoulder interrupting my thought process, I whirled around to find it was the teacher looking down smiling at me. It was weird she didn’t smile in a condescending way it seemed almost genuine. “Jimmy? Are you going to line up with the rest of your classmates for recess?” I didn’t want her to know that the spell she had put on the rest wasn’t working on me, the last thing I needed was to battle another’s mental power while my magic was basically non-existent. “Ummm yes I will join my classmates in your recess.” I stood in line nervous knowing I did not know how there drills worked, I didn’t even have enough magic left to do a simple vail to keep me hidden. My heart pounded and I followed in the back of the line watching as another adult lead us to my possible demise. Okay so I was expecting some sword mastery drills or hand to hand combat or maybe even some team exercises in taking down enemy camps with non-magical combat technics. Instead I was lead outside where all the children burst into laughter and screaming and ran as fast as they could to objects that I did not have to foggiest clue on what they were. “Jimmy? Aren’t you going to play with your friends?” I looked around and saw several enormous castle-like structures in the distance all looking similar in color. “Mavra, Jackeal or one of my many other foes must rule now.” “Oooo are those your arch nemesis Jimmy?” The teacher asked kneeling down with a grin and a twinkle in her eye. She must be one of my enemies top recruiters or maybe even one of their top soldiers although I could not sense any magic pulsing from her body, it was possible she had trained herself in the perfection of hiding her powers, if that was the case I was up against a truly worthy adversary. After adjusting to the scenery outdoors and going back inside to cut out shapes and glue them to outlines and labeling them, my body felt strange it took me a few moments to place what this feeling was and I realized it was tiredness from the apparent long day my body had endured. I hadn’t had to go to sleep in twenty maybe thirty years. There’s a certain point of a wizard’s life that we no longer need to sleep. It feels annoying to have to go to sleep again, in a way sleep it was its own sort of spell that nature put on the weak. I closed my eyes and laid my head on my desk passing out letting my body recover. I was awoken by one of my classmates saying something along the lines of it not being nap time yet and I shook the child’s hand away from my shoulder a sleepily told him or her to leave me be. This apparently didn’t work and encouraged the little brat to double down its annoying tactics calling me childish names and got my blood boiling. “Would you kindly fuck off you little shit.” Silence went through the room all eyes were on me or in my general direction. “He said a potty word.” A little boy uttered to his classmates. I was about to say something quick witted when my hand was grabbed by a much bigger hand and I was firmly yanked out of my seat and lead by Ms. Hoffman to the colorful gate again and put in it. When she spoke, she had a seriousness to her voice that was probably supposed to frighten me. “I’m calling your Father this instant young man and we will be talking about your use of bad words.” My heart dropped down to the pit of my stomach, my Father when I was young was not someone to take lightly when he was angered. The last time I angered my Father I received a beating and whipping that I would never forget. I didn’t want to be put back in the dungeon. Tears welled up in my eyes and I began to sob knowing I was going to get punished severely. After Ms. Hoffman called my Father in the most bizarre way with no circle, blood or candles my Father showed up and walked into the room. He was not my Father. My Father was thin and frail, short with little hair and was pale white like a living corpse that had been recently resurrected. This man was the total opposite. He was chubby, with a thick black beard and he towered over Ms. Hoffman like a mountain would to even the tallest of trees. His presence had no darkness and even standing here now knowing very well that this man could end me if he wished I knew he wouldn’t by the energy he was giving off. “Son come over here please.” Please? When was the last time I heard the word please in a sentence that was not someone begging for their lives? I walked over to the giant man feeling relief that I would not be dying today, and I looked up at the man’s face. I was met with a disappointed look like someone looking at a dumb dog that had shit on their favorite rug. His enormous hand engulfed mine and I could feel the roughness of his hand like they belonged to a carpenter or a blacksmith and not the hands of a wizard. He said something to Ms. Hoffman about how he was going to take me home early and the rest of the conversation was lost to me while I let the questions in my mind swirl around endlessly. The man took me away from the place that Ms. Hoffman was stationed at and my jaw dropped when I saw the thing he was taking me to. The closest thing I could think of that even partially resembled the thing in front of me was a carriage, except this had no horse and it was shiny like a silver coin in the light and it was just so magnificent. “What is this?” I asked pointing to the horseless carriage. The man claiming to be my Father looked down at me with a confused expression. “What this?” He touched the carriage with his index finger. “It’s our car.” He said looking at me as if he just found out I had fucked the neighbor’s goat. “I thought I already taught you what this was?” “Uh yah I’m sorry I must have just forgot what it was called.” He starred at me some more. “Son are you feeling alright?” “Yes, Father I feel just fine.” Hearing a bizarre sound, I looked up at the sky and saw a bird like structurer flying higher than the highest mountains, streaming something white like smoke behind it. One thing was clear now, now more than ever, I was no longer in my home world. I was either put under a spell and my mind was now drifting in this bizarre world of wonders or the other scenario that I had died in my previous life and one of the many gods had reincarnated me into this world. One thing was for sure, dream world or reincarnated life it did not matter the only goal I had was getting back to my world and killing my enemies once and for all. I’ve fought high priests that had the wrath of there God behind them, I’ve fought rogue warlocks that made the very air crackle and pop with electricity from there sheer will power and I once even tamed the great four headed hydra that devoured entire villages near the ocean in a night. All of that in mind and I still had my heart leap into my throat when I went from waiting for the horses to arrive to moving faster than I have ever went in my life. Fucking teleportation for the first time is less frightening then being in this beast. It took all my will power not to scream, no you know what scratch that I don’t think I could have screamed even if I wanted to, but hey I learned something fancy and new. I found out that seatbelts are required because it is the law. Gods must have sent me to one of the seven hells because I hated this with all my black heart. We finally got to our destination and I got out of the car with a nervous tick that made my eye look like I was trying to wink at whatever was in front of me. My trauma from the ride soon melted from my mind when I looked at the enormous castle that stood in front of my very feet. Gods. I thought to myself my family must be as important and rich as my last family. My new Dad held my hand and walked to the entrance of the castle and I was disappointed by the small size of the door, then I realized that maybe this world had no need for enormous doors like I was use to. We made are way up the creaky old stairs, and I saw dozens of wooden doors each with a number on them. We got to a door that had the number 017. My excitement went out the door and I felt less sure that this was a castle and had suspicions that we were instead in an Inn. The door opened and the room turned out to be more cramped then I previously feared. “O my god I’m in a commoner’s family.” I whispered to myself not caring if anyone heard me. I wallowed in self pity before I was interrupted by a pleasant feminine voice calling out my new name from a not so distant part of the room. A woman no older than her early 30’s came into view with the with the most beautiful shade of red hair that I had ever seen, with a black dress, rosy pink blush on her cheeks and smelled like she just got done baking a custard of some kind. Maybe Apple flavor? “There’s my little man!” She said in that pleasant tone again and swept me up like a doll off the floor and kissed me all over my face and proclaimed me to be so sweet that she could eat me up. I didn’t know how to feel about that but sensing she had no ill will towards me I chalked it up to be a metaphor that I was not accustomed to. She put me back down gently on the floor and embraced and gave my new Father a powerful seductive kiss that seemed to put the poor man into a trance. Lucky bastard got a hotter wife than I could have ever dreamed of, but on the bright side she seemed like the type of Mother that I’d dreamed of when I was a young boy starving in the fields of Tarahost. If I had to live in a commoner family until I made my way back to my world than this was not such a bad start to my temporary new life.


#Welcome to Roundtable Thursday! Writing is so much fun, but it can also be very challenging. Luckily, there are so many other writers out there going through the exact same things! We all have unique skills and areas in which we excel, as well as places we’d like to improve. So I’d like to present a brand new weekly feature. This will be a weekly thread to discuss all things writing! And… to get to know your fellow writers a bit! Each week I will provide a topic and/or a few questions to spark discussion. Feel free to chime into the discussion in the comments, talk about your experiences, ask related questions, etc. You do not have to answer all the questions, but try to stay on-topic! *** #This Week’s Roundtable Discussion Now that 2023 is right around the corner it’s time to start thinking about your writing goals for the new year! Is there a new genre you want to dive head first into? Or do you have bigger goals such as writing a book or having your work published? Whatever writing goals you have for 2023 we’d love to hear about them! #Reminders - **Use the comments below to answer the questions and reply to others’ comments.** - **Please be civil in all your responses and discussion.** There are writers of all levels and skills here and we’re all in different places of our writing journey. Uncivil comments/discussion in any form will not be tolerated. - **Please try to stay on-topic.** If you have suggestions for future questions and topics, you can add them to the stickied comment or send them to me via DM or modmail! *** ###Subreddit News and Happenings - Come practice your micro skills on or experiment with long-form writing on - You can also post serials directly to the sub! Check out for more information.


There once was a mouse. A little yellow mouse. There once was a man. A red man. Angry, but a silent man. The yellow mouse dreamed of sailing The Big Sea. He wanted to sail to the end of the Sea and touch the setting Sun. The red man wanted to scream. But whenever he opened his mouth, nothing would come out. The yellow mouse was a glass half full kind of mouse. Life treated him all right, and he treated life the same way. Not a lot of ups, but not a lot of downs either for this little mouse. The red man had a big head, which kept getting bigger and bigger. He wanted to paint but didn’t know how to. He tried learning it, but it made his head swale up. The yellow mouse saw a fairy once. She told him the secret to life. The red man saw a doctor. The doctor ran tests and told the red man about a new experimental treatment for head reduction. The red man applied for the treatment. The yellow mouse worked at a restaurant, near his house, for as long as he could remember. He was good at the job, and he got great tips. The red man couldn’t keep a job. Every job made his head bigger, and his skin redder. The yellow mouse was a single dad. His wife left him some time after giving birth to their twin boys. He loved them very much, and they loved him very much as well. The red man had two ex-wives and no children. Relationships made his head inflate like a birthday balloon. The yellow mouse had a friend, who was a doctor. The doctor was also a Big Sea enthusiast, and they would talk about it for hours on end. The red man started the therapy. The doctor would hook up tubes, going from the red man’s head to a machine. The machine would then transform thoughts into shapes, patterns, and colors on the monitor. For the first couple of sessions, there was only random big black lines and awful color. The yellow mouse was saving for a boat all his life. Even though being a single dad, and getting his kids through school and college, every month he would put money into the savings account. The red man’s head kept getting smaller as the treatment went on. After a while, the lines made shapes, and color started to fit those shapes. The yellow mouse had four more years until retirement. By then, he would have saved enough money to buy the boat and sail The Big Sea until he touched the setting Sun. The red man didn’t feel like screaming anymore. He marveled at the objects being painted by the machine. He sometimes even cried. His head shrunk to an almost normal-sized one and even his redness started to go away. The yellow mouse became yellower as the years went by. But, in a short amount of time, he rapidly became very yellow, almost orange. So, he called his friend, the doctor. The doctor ran tests and got the results. Sadly, there was no cure for the yellow mouse’s disease. The now regular-sized head and a fair-skinned man was done with the therapy. He thanked the doctor and went directly to the art shop. He bought himself a painting kit, and after coming home, immediately started to paint. The now pale-orange mouse kept getting weaker. After a while, he couldn’t do his job anymore. He stayed at home, watching television and sleeping a lot. And he dreamed about The Big Sea and the Sun. The ex-red man saw a fairy. She told him the secret to life, but he already knew that. When he finished the painting, he went and gifted it to the doctor. The mouse was now bedridden. All the money he saved up went to the medical bills. His sons would take turns taking care of their old man. Sometimes, their wives and kids would come and help as well. Seeing all of them made the mouse happy. One evening, there was a knock on the door. It was the doctor. He went upstairs to see the mouse. The mouse noticed that his friend, the doctor, had a strange look on his face. The doctor was holding a painting. The doctor talked with the mouse for a while, and then, tore the wrapper and showed the painting to the mouse. The mouse cried, and the doctor cried too. The room was filled with all possible emotions. It was the most beautiful painting of The Big Sea the mouse had ever seen. There was a boat at the end of the Sea, and there was a small, black mouse, stretching his arms and legs, touching the setting Sun. The mouse finally stopped crying and smiled, as his soul reached the Sun.


      “Thank you, Vanessa,” said Clyde Brackenbaum from the anchor chair, hollow brown eyes filled with two white dots coming from the studio lights behind the camera. He did that turn all anchors do; that gentle spin when you duck your head to the side just a touch and bring up the left arm, letting the right palm slide across the polished wooden table with grace. There was nothing gracious about this man at a first glance, but what he lacked in beauty, he made up for in charisma.            “Now, this just in, we’re receiving a breaking news report from Santa Fe, New Mexico,” said Clyde, cheesy white teeth freshly flossed under his lips greased lip balm. “Brace yourselves, America. Our continent is finally splitting apart. Here’s Grace Welch with the report.”            The camera cut from the relaxed image of Clyde to the uncomfortable picture of Grace with her hair frizzy from the wind. Her seat in the helicopter gave the camera a splendid view of both her and the county thousands of feet below them. She smiled and cleared her throat before speaking.            “Thanks, Clyde,” said Grace into her headset, with a paper-thin voice that was hard enough to hear without the feedback of the pounding helicopter blades. “We’re floating a good height above Santa Fe right now, watching the Divide happen right before our eyes. You can see below us, the drift is now almost complete, the actual earth splitting our nation into two pieces.”            The nation was certainly splitting. The camera view switched from that of Grace’s cameraman to the one attached to the bottom of the helicopter. Sure enough, there it was; the Divide, as it was being called. Cleft down the middle of the good-ol’-US-of-A was a deep gash in the earth, like those long incisions surgeons make for open-heart surgery. Water from the Pacific was already seeping through the middle, flooding the channel as the continent continued to split gently like pulling each end of a piece of warm taffy.            “Having already broken apart from Mexico, as well as dividing New Mexico into two pieces, The Divide heads up to Colorado, destroying what used to be the Rio Grande Rift, then takes a sharp right, coming up through the top left corner of Nebraska, severing South Dakota in two and shaving the very most corner of Minnesota with it. The Divide will end up in Winnepeg, splitting Manitoba’s largest city almost in half. In only a couple of hours, the entirety of the US will become two separate continents, but still united under one branch of government.”            “How is it over there, Grace?” Clyde asked offscreen. You didn’t have to see him to know that he was smiling.            “Oh, it is sweltering here, Clyde,” said Grace, flapping the front of her blouse. She blinked furiously as beads of sweat rolled from her forehead. “The temperature is definitely in the one-hundred range here and it’s only March. Sources tell us that this summer will be the hottest we’ve seen yet. But the air up here isn’t as bad as it is below.”            “Well, we all will pray for rain when you come back!” said Clyde. Grace laughed without sincerity, disgusted by the pit stains seeping through her shirt.            “Thanks. The Divide still proceeds to split at an impressive rate. Only time will tell when it’s over. More updates to come. Back to you, Clyde.”            “Thank you for the update, Grace,” said Clyde, the camera returning to his spray-tanned cheeks. “As the crisis of continental drift arose two years ago, the Federal Relocation and Housing Association was founded, now successfully relocating over seven hundred million families. Our gratitude goes out to the men and women who have reached out to those in need with their helping hands. Now, let’s hear from Dave Manbera about the big game this season and how the Divide might affect your Super Bowl party. Dave?” ___________________________________________            The Divide split the United States of America in 2042. It’d be useless saying that anyone saw it coming because who really did before it was too late? It seems like the world took a turn for the worst when 2020 rolled around. Sure, it was a rough year for everyone, but the moment we started saying “2021 will be better than this year”, shit started to hit the fan. It’s hard to say where it all started, but there were certainly a lot of factors in what lead to the Divide. Everyone has their own narrow opinion as to what caused it.

Racial injustice brought the Divide upon us! Sure, this could be argued. After the George Floyd incident back in 2020, after the protests and the riots, and after the election, the fighting didn’t stop. More innocent black people were slaughtered by cops and white supremacists, leading to more violence, renewing the cycle once more. It all culminated in a large three-day riot that came to be known as Black Wednesday, not only because of the fight against the injustice brought to our dark-skinned brethren but because the air was heavy with lead emitted from the guns fired that day. There was so much lead that the sky started turning gray as if a storm had rolled in threatening to rain bullets. It stuck to our skin, in our eyes, and into our clothes. Cop and anarchist fired at each other like the Constitution didn’t exist. A body count of almost six thousand was tallied after the small war came to its dramatic conclusion. Nonetheless, the people won and white supremacy started to recede as the phrase “We Bled Lead” became a symbol of black empowerment to remind us of the victory. No one who fought that day is a saint, but that’s definitely one of the only times we can say violence -kind of- solved the problem. So, racial injustice led to the riots, riots lead to battle, the battle led to bullets, which led to lead, which polluted our air. So, sure. Racial injustice brought the Divide upon us.

The President brought the Divide upon us! The President could also be argued for causing the Divide. After a long argument with his cabinet about expanding the country due to overpopulation, our nation’s leader decided it was high time to destroy our entire ecosystem, pillaging our forests and farmlands for industrial benefit. Housing projects replaced long green plains studded with trees, new cities being erected in valleys and mountain ranges. You’d be surprised at how well some of these cities actually turned out, but the cost was too great. The waste ended up everywhere, overflowing into the ocean and what remained of the natural landscapes. Street corners and city outskirts overflowed with dumpster loads of trash and plastics. By our president’s decree, every city was given permission to erect massive dumps almost as large as the cities they belonged to, allowing us to throw our trash there and forget about it. Forget, we did not. The emissions and backup from the rotting piles became existential, radiating into our air and polluting the waters and lands surrounding them. Agriculture became scarce, farm animals almost extinct by 2035. Food scientists cranked out a few food alternatives, some of which succeeded there for a while, but like always, it was never enough for the people or it didn’t last. Most of the time, it was both. So yes, you could say that the President’s issuing of further urbanization ruined our nation’s landscapes with deforestation and the abundance of garbage coming from the dumps continuing to pollute the surrounding environments, ultimately speeding up global warming to where continental drift needed its own speed limit, definitely could have advanced the progression of the Divide.

The wrath of God brought the Divide upon us! This could also be true, yes. Perhaps, if there is a God -not that there’s doubt- he found our behavior and treatment of one another appalling and decided to give us a good old-fashioned lesson by splitting up our nation; quite literally. That’ll show them he’d think as he snapped his fingers and watched the continent break apart inch by inch. Maybe he was tired of seeing us beat around the bush and finally decided a split in the nation could eventually kill us off, issuing in a new phase of humanity that possibly held more promise. So, sure, the wrath of God certainly could have brought upon the Divide.            In truth, it’s a culmination of everything. The hatred, the lead, the urbanization, and probably even God. All of this going on and the Earth said Fuck it. That’s enough. Though it doesn’t seem like much, the division of our nation certainly changed things. By the time 2040 rolled around, it was already too late to do anything about it. The Divide was coming and scientists didn’t know how to stop it. There is no stopping it; it’s the Earth. Mother Nature doesn’t give a fuck about the human race and will throw anything at us to be at peace again, peace being a world without us. So, doing what humans do, we fell into a panic, worried that it would bring upon “the end of the world”. It certainly felt like it with all of the unrest. That’s when the FRHA rolled in.            The Federal Relocation and Housing Association was founded in early 2040, putting all the nation’s attention to the Divide and their plan to work around it. Their idea was to relocate all families that sat on either side of the Divide, knowing where it would arrive through seismic surveys, sonar readings, all that shit. Finding that it branched from the Rio Grande Rift was a huge advantage for us, but there was still the issue of time. Two years, the prediction that was eventually correct, was the amount of time we had before the country split. That’s a considerably small window, but surprisingly quick to the punch, the FRHA helped build even more cities and towns for those situated on the Divide to relocate to. There’s never been a bigger example of collaboration between all sorts of Americans in the entirety of world history like that of the build-up to the Divide. People flooded into Sante Fe, Denver, Lincoln, Pierre, Bismark, and St. Paul, the capitols of the states that’d later be referred to as “the Divided”. With a lot of manpower came lots of new buildings and new capitals as the old cities were left behind. The Divided states were either left abandoned or reinvented themselves; North and South Dakota, what remained of them on the western side, just became Dakota, the remaining piece on the eastern side absorbing into Minnesota. Nebraska had some choice words about that but ultimately lost the bidding war over the land.            The Divide came and went rather smooth, actually. The ground shook and everyone around the world watched from their televisions or laptops as the remnants of abandoned cities and highways sank deep into the newest passage for the Pacific Ocean. It actually happened: the nation “indivisible, with liberty and justice for all” had finally divided. The people of the US, even those who had to relocate, didn’t throw too much of a tantrum, the drama eventually dying down for a while there. It wasn’t until questions about proper governmental systems surfaced when people started to panic again.            Being that our nation was split into two factions due to pollution by our hands, the people started to question whether keeping our current governmental system was the right call. It seemed like the head honcho in the White House was calling the shots and they certainly weren’t the right ones; look where they got us so far. So, seeing the need for a fresh set of eyes, and with a little rewrite on some of our favorite American documents, our nation somehow saw fit that having two presidents, one for each side but still reigning under the banner of “The United States of America”, was a good choice for our country’s future. The western half and eastern half of the nation were named appropriately and the new age of America was born.            Naturally, human beings have this instinctive urge to take and keep, like the little kid on the playground who doesn’t want to share the swing or hogs the monkey bars, especially the one that won’t let his best friend play with his favorite toy. Our two leaders, who started off so cooperative you’d think they were in love with each other, started bickering about fair shares and resources. The damage to the environment didn’t go away after the Divide happened. From Eastern America came hurricanes, and lots of them. Being pushed further east, the waters raged back at the land, engulfing damn near all of Florida and its neighboring states. In Western America, the opposite was happening, the droughts coming strong and relentless. Water was scarce from California to even Washington. The demand for drinkable water was one of several points being argued over when the presidents would convene, along with food supply, land rights, administrative choices, and cheap shots at their appearances.            Unhappy with their share of land and limited resources, Western America, in secret -trust me when I say barely anyone knows how it was pulled off- found a way to sail to Eastern America, sign a treaty with four states on the coast, and get them to help steal seven massive ships harboring millions of cases of water imported from other countries. Needless to say, Eastern America was not enthusiastic about this when they found out. It was then when the two continents declared themselves their own country, Western America dubbing themselves the “United Coast” and Eastern America rebranding their name to the “American Circle”.            Also, you know what happens when the lonely kid takes away the bratty kid’s toy, right? It becomes a tantrum-fueled war. The Continental War of 2051, it was called. A whole war fought over stolen cases of water. Hell, if you were thirsty enough, you’d fight someone for a bottle of Dasani, too.            The war brought certain unpleasantries. Alaska and Hawaii seceded from the United States, declaring themselves free nations. Unhappy with this, the United Coast decided to target them along with the American Circle. Folks who felt they were on the wrong side of the war, or just didn’t want to get caught in the crosshairs, tried leaving their respective country, only to find that their presidents closed their borders, demanding everyone who could fight to do so.            It didn’t take long for the actual fighting to commence. Missiles and tanks and ships and planes, oh my! Ground forces were deployed before anything else, most vessels meeting at sea and sinking one another before actually making it to land. Those few weeks were heavy with the stench of copper, sulfate, and lead. All the while, the summer had never been hotter, not a cloud in sight overhead. No rain, no snow. Just the sun and the burns that came with it. Those who didn’t die from the actual war died of exhaustion, roasting in the sunlight as the battle waged on. Starvation and dehydration complimented malnutrition and pollution sickness, half the forces for the American Circle collapsing within the first week. Seems the water heist proved helpful after all.            But all things must come to an end. The United Coast won the battle after a heavy bombing on the eastern coast of the American Circle. As far as we know, their president died in those great, orange mushroom clouds. The chaos seemed to blossom with the fallout and the nation fell to shambles, remaining that way to this day. All that’s left is a forgotten land half arid and half-swallowed by the ocean. The United Coast didn’t turn out any better, those few who survived the war trying to keep afloat with what limited resources they had left. Ultimately, they suffered the same fate as the American Circle, dying alone and without reinforcement from other countries.            Those other countries didn’t want the land once the American nations killed each other. Deeming it “cursed” or “foul with the scent of blood”, the rest of the world just chose to simply ignore it, leaving the continents to rot with their environmental fallout. Still, the rest of the world suffers from the United States’ pollution, the garbage still soiling the water and the emissions still lingering somewhere in the atmosphere. They face their own environmental problems, but they still do their best to prevent replicating the fate of the United States. Some scientists have discovered through more seismic readings a few more minor cracks underneath the earth, daring to split Russia and finish the crack already planted in Africa. They’ve nothing much to worry about though… so long as they remain undivided.