The sound of metal colliding with metal was the only thing that ripped through the silence. It was the noise of the iron fists of a dark giant, that kept impacting the heavy main gate of Irik’han. The dwarven fortress had been under siege for days, pushed back beyond their heavy walls. The situation was dire. Few warriors were left and outside the walls was a whole army of darklings, waiting to tear apart the last resort the dwarves still had. “The gate can´t stand it forever, Dawrim.”, spoke Thumgar, the dwarves primus pilus. Dawrim, dwarven emperor by Paffnuzius will, nodded. “Yes. They´ll break through eventually. This might be the last day of the dwarves. But in Paffnuzius name, we will make it an end to remember.” The centurion nodded and sighed. “I just hope the men will show the same attitude. The first centuria will go down fighting, but there are many young dwarves among the others, inexperienced and scared.” “They will fight Thumgar. They are dwarves, after all.” After Dawrim spoke those words, silence settled again between the two. Many dwarves eyes still stared at the gate, expecting it to burst any second. It wasnt brittle yet, would surely take at least one more hour. Still, time was becoming immesurable in the current situation. The primus pilus and the emperor were not close to the gate. They were above it. In a lookout made of a stone that was see through from one way, while seeming solid from the other. Dawrim´s eyes roamed the scene, looking at the thousands of darklings, at the hills in the distance and the setting sun, coating everything into it´s red light. The clouds on the sky were dark, rain was coming, it would start soon.   **T**he darklings outside stared at the barren stone of the walls. A collosal wall, only interrupted by the large metal gate. In front of it, their dark giant. A huge humanoid creature, three and a half men tall. It´s bald, round head had no nose, just slits for eyes and a large mouth, two tusks poking out of it. The giant had the grey skin, that all darklings sported. It was very similar to them in general, only lacking the large, pointy ears and nostrils. However, its big hands were covered in metal, creating dangerous weapons, devestating whatever they were swung at. The other darklings were of various kinds. There were darkling swarmers, about half as tall as man and usually not armored. Armed with dirks, daggers or short swords, they were not skilled fighters, but their ruthlessness, disregard for their own life and amount were what made them dangerous. Their grey, rag-covered statures were thin, only skin and bones. Fewer, yet still quite the amount, were the darkling brawlers. They were mansized hunks of muscle, flesh and aggression. They were usually found wearing cuirass and greaves in the red of the darklings standards. Their fearsome faces are covered by a sallet of the same color, on which higher rank brawlers have a visor. They use large cleaving swords, oftenly wavy or spikey in their form. They are crude weapons, less meant for cutting than for hacking. The wounds they reap are oftenly deadly, if not directly, then through the incredibly cruel injuries their shape leaves. Then, there were the darkling crushers. They are fewer, a hundreth of the amount brawlers. Larger than those, these creatures could stand up to two men tall. Covered in complete armor with a frogmouth helmet, they are fearsome beings. Weilding hammers and axes that men could barely lift and wreaking havoc to those that they meet. Lastly, the darkling beasts. They are monsters on all fours. They could be compared to boars, their skin grey, their tusks large. They have muscular bodies, their skin is thick. The beasts usually are not armored and sport a mohawk of hair on their heads, running down their back to the tail. They are the hardest to kill and can devesate whole rows of soldiers, relentlessly charging through. Their number is few in every darkling army, as they are rare in the darklings home and hard to tame.   **Bang. Bang.** Again and agian, the dark giants fists slammed against the door. It would not last much longer. The time was running thin and those within the walls knew well. The women and children were hidden in the caverns, while every last man that could fight was armored and armed, waiting for the inevitable. The expression differed. Some grim, some scared. Some had made their peace with it, some were eager to make history happen. But in none of their eyes was the hope of victory. It would be but the desperate fight of a cornered animal, lashing out at its hunters. Dawrim looked down, at the couple of hundred men gathered and with a grim expression, he stomped on the ground, disrupting the nigh silence that had reigned. “Sons of Paffnuzius! I must not sugarcoat our situation. Out there stands an army, tenfold our strength. We are trapped, cornered in the walls we sought to protect us. This is the last battle we will ever fight.” His voice boomed through the halls, the dwarves looking at him with the same expressions that had previously watched the doors. “But by Paffnuzius, we will not go down easily. We are dwarves! Our ancestors watch us with tention, they expect us to match their glory! If this is dwarfkinds end, we will make it one to be remembered! Even in centuries, all over the world, they will remember our names, whisper them in awe as they tell the tale of this great battle! Of our unbending resistance!” The emperor was halfway through his speech, the expressions changing more and more to ones of determination. Some started to shout in agreement at his statements. But then, he was interupted by a peculiar sound. One that did not fit the scenery whatsoever. It sounded like the howl of the wolf. First one, then another and another. “Impossible…”, Dawrim muttered and rushed towards the lookout, his eyes bolting towards the hills.   **O**n the hill, first, a single creature was seen. It was a horse and a rider on it, clad in black armor. A spear in hand, a shield in the other, the person raised their weapon and shouted. “**Ithilest, advance!**”, a voice boomed over the plains. Shortly after, the stomping of feet could be heard. On the hills, first on, then two, lastly three more silhouettes appeared, each holding a horn, the ends shaped like a wolfs head. Once more, the howl of wolves was heard, now becoming clear it was the horns that produced them. Almost perfectly timed, the clouds burst. Rain started pouring in masses, thunder booming as lightning struck the sky. And then, they came. Black armored knights in platoons started to cross the hills and gather atop, carrying a wolf banner with them. It was hundreds in sight and who knew how many behind the hills still. They came to a halt with still distance to the darklings siege and army, gathering, grouping, waiting.   **M**ovement came to the darklings rows. Their commander, a crusher wearing no helmet, his skin having a yellowish hue to it, waved. His voice was loud enough to be heard by all the darklings, even the dwarves in their fortress could understand what he said. “**Split up! Keep this filth of the giant and get rid of the shortlings once the gate falls. Dont let them break your rows or i´ll feed you to the beasts!**” With a shift, quickly defense rows were build, using whatever polearms were aviavble to make a rushing attackers life hell. The darklings didnt advance, it was in their best interest to stall the battle. It was clear, their main objective was to breach the dwarven fortress, no matter the cost. The knights still stood, until the dark rider raised their spear once more. “**For glory and death!**”, the voice boomed once more, lightning striking the sky at the same time. And the knights repeated the shout, starting their pace foward, steadily advancing, their rows flawless and closed. The stomping of their heavily armored feet on the ground was almost drowing out the sound of the dark giant hitting the damaged gate. The wolven commander spoke again, shouting but the word “**Ithlain**!” But the order was clear. From behind the hills, less armored men started to swarm forward. Their front row carrying what looked like metal plates. Quickly, they were placed onto the ground and a mechanism in them was activated, making them stand by themselves as metal shield wall. Behind it, archers started to gather, protected against counterfire from the lower positioned enemies. The knights advance continued through all of this, slowly but surely making their way towards the darklings defense.   “**W**hy would the Ithilien wolves help us Dawrim?”, Thumgar asked, concern clear in his voice. “They aren´t exactly known for their generosity…” The primus pilus watched his friend and emperor pace up and down the lookout. “I dont know Thumgar, i really dont. It won´t be out of kind spirit, surely, they must have an ulterior motive. But as long as it means our kind lives to see another day, it´s an improvement.” Quickly, the dwarf made it back to his men. “If the gate falls, hold your lines! Do not let them pass you, they cannot reach the women and children under any circumstances! Stall them for as long as you can, become the heroes our ancestors want us to be!” The emperor had hope in his voice, mixed with the usual determination. THat sparked the flame of hope in his men, as chanting started to rise in their rows. Old, dwarven battle songs, speaking of death, honor and history. Dawrim however quickly returned to the lookout. He had to see how the fight went. He wanted to see the wolves fight. It wasnt often, that one could watch the Ithilest fight without paying with their own life.   **A**s the knights slow approach was soon to meet the lines of the darklings, the archers were set up, starting to pull back their strings and aiming for the mass of foes. However, the commander stopped them quickly, shouting out “**Aim for the giant! Bring it down!**” Quickly, the angle was adjusted, aiming for the faraway gate of the fortress and the beast that bashed it in. Once more, the dark sky was lit up with thunder, as the knights started to charge the last part of their way. Armed with swords and shields, they soon crashed into the line of darklings and the battle ensued. The archers shot the first wave of arrows, many hitting their target, as the giant grumbled in pain. Still, he did not slow down, kept beating the gate, over and over as the archers drew their next arrows. The rows of the darkling swarmers were quickly broken, their umarmored, small frames unable to withstand the powerful charge of the knights. Their advance however soon slowed, as they met the second row, brawlers standing there, ready to fight off their enemies. The sound of battle, weapons hitting armor and shields, screams of pain and death, warcries, soon filled the area. When the second volley of arrows hit the giant, he groaned once more, his pace slowing, but not stopping. But it became apparent that another volley would do the trick and most likely end this creature for good. The battle stalled out, the knights and brawlers seemingly at level. On both sides, lives were taken and lost equally, no side able to push further than the other pushed back. It stayed like that, the sides hacking and slashing at each other, killing as many as they could to gain the lead. The sound of bows going off filled the air a third time, a sharp howl heard from the giant. It stumbled, landing one last punch, before collapsing against the gate… And with that gave it the final blow. Both, monster and gate fell broken. Silence overcame the battlefield, as every party involved stared at the gate for a moment, the sudden shift in events stunning them all.   **T**he dwarves inside the fortress of course saw none of what was happening outside, except for those few entrusted ones that stood on the lookout with the emperor. For a moment, when the giant struggled, Dawrim had hope. If the beast fell without breaching the gate, the dwarves were safe. No matter the damage, the darklings had no means to get past that heavy iron. This hope was seen by a spark in his eyes and a sharp breath taken beneath the well maintained blonde beard, when the dark giant was in his death struggles. But it soon faded, as the gate fell with its assaulter. The noises was indescribably loud as the huge mass of metal and flesh crashed onto the door. Luckily, the dwarves stood far enough off not to be crushed, expecting the gate to collapse in such a way from the attacks earlier. The emperor and his primus pilus rushed towards the balcony that led to the lower areas, so that they could see their men, stunned, uncertain how to react. “Fend them off! Do not let them pass!”, Paffnuzius chosen bellowed, followed by a simple warcry. “Death!” The dwarves repeated after him, bracing for the soon approaching force of the darklings. The first line of defense would be the first centuria, which exceeded at defending choke points, much to the dwarves luck. The first row were shieldbearers, holding large, scutum-like shields and spears. They formed a wall, their stand steady and strong. They didn´t have to wait for long, as soon, swarmers burst through the open gate and did what their name suggested. They swarmed in, meeting a defensive line. They pushed against them, trying their hardest to penetrate the strong dwarven row. From behind, more swarmers came by the second, each wave pressing the last against the shields stronger. Dwarven spears found their victims again and again, but what broke the swarmers neck more than that were their own kind crushing them between shield and the next wave. Still, with the rising amount of force onto the shields, the dwarves would not be able to hold long, getting pushed back slightly already. That was, when the second row of the centuria sprung into action. With powerful leaps, lightly armored dwarves jumped oiver of their shieldwall, weilding two axes each. They landed within the mass of swarmers, crushing those that had taken the spot they now did. Quickly, they started to massacre through the helpless darklings. The tide of swarmers soon thinned out, but the metallic stomping of armored feet on stone was heard as brawlers appeared. And tall from within their lines stood two crushers, weilding heavy hammers. The axe-swinging dwarves quickly fought their way back behind allied lines, as it was a lot harder to kill these foes.   **O**utside the fortress, the battle soon picked up again, going back to its stall. It did however not keep up for long. Ferocious howling was added as a new sound to the scenery and before long, suddenly, knights were seen flying through the air, tossed aside with great force. “*Beasts!*”, was the shouting between the knights. Two darkling beasts had torn up their rows, now turning around for another charge. On the hill, once more the wolf horns were heard. “**Ithilguen!**”, the voice of the black knight commander bellowed, before noise like thunder echoed from behind the hills. The commanders knights reared once, before it started to gallop. Then, shortly behind their leader, horses showed up. countless of them passed the hill, bolting towards the enemies lines and their messed up allies. The commander however soon split, heading directly for one of the beasts. While the archers on the hill aimed for the second, the horses dashed forward, directly towards the brawlers and swarmers fighting the knights. Spears were readied, the impact would tear apart anybody that had the misfortune of getting in the way. The knights loosened their formation and the horses skillfully, yet without losing speed maneuvered through, not hitting a single ally in their way. It was a well practiced, well executed maneuver. When the riders hit the enemy, it was the darklings turn to be sent flying from the sheer force. A large tear was made into the darklings rows, but once the horses stood, the crushers from further behind started to partake in the battle. Once more, it seemed to stall. While the archers were struggling to take down the beast, beside hitting, the commander still rode towards the second, heading directy for it. With a loud shout, the dark rider gained the creatures attention. With a snort, it adjusted its path, heading directly for the rider that approached it. The commander however kept galloping towards it, reading their spear. Shortly before they hit it, they arched backwards and threw it, the speeding projectile cutting through the air and finding its way into the beasts head. It fell over dead, but with the momentum still going, it rolled and slid over the floor. The horse was too fast to adjust and tripped over the corse, crashing forward, its rider falling off and onto the floor with a powerful impact. For a moment, there was no movement, before the rider arose shakily. Slowly staggering over to the horse, it was found to be dead, the neck broken through the fall. The rider took off the dark helmet and revealed their face to the cold rain. Beneath was a woman with golden hair and ivory skin. The lips red, partly from blood, as one of it had burst open from the fall. Her rest was not for long, however. “**Manling! Your life ends here! Without you, your men will falter!**” The leader of the darklings, the yellowskinned crusher, was standing ahead, the axe on his shoulder. The commander got into a defensive stance with her shield and drew a golden and black sword. As the only reply, she spit out some blood and started to slowly approach her foe.   **S**o far, the dwarves had been able to hold off their enemy quite well. While they had lost ground and men, the enemy force had suffered far greater loss and the ground gained by them was just nearly enough to almost cross the entryway of the fortress. It was a slow, draining battle and the fate seemed to turn on the bearded warriors more and more. They were growing tired, were thinning out. To seal their fate, the two crushers that had entered, but not yet partaken in the fight, were now approaching the line of the dwarves. That did not go unnoticed by the ones that had watched from above. “Thumgar! The crushers!”, Dawrim exclaimed towards his friend, who nodded. “I see them. They´ll tear through the men like an Aknarian Clawmouth through lifestock.”, the primus pilus replied. “It´s time, old friend. Today, we go down in history. One way or another.” The emperor was calm, collected. It calmed Thumgar. That was just how Dawrim had always been. And they had yet a battle to lose. If it was this one, so be it. “I´ll take one, you take the other. We can´t let them through to our men.”, the centurion stated. Thumgar drew his weapon, an ornate sword, that spotted an axe´s head on the tip of its edge. It was a large weapon, weilded with two hands by the strong dwarf. A deadly tool in the right hands. And Thumgar´s hands sure were the right ones. Then, he looked at the emperor. Dawrim too had his weapon ready, a large warhammer. With a nod, both took a few steps back. “To death.”, Thumgar said. “To history.”, his friend replied. THen, they ran towards the edge of the balcony and lept. Dawrim landed close to his target, quickly swinging his hammer around him to clear an area for himself. Then, he shouted at the crusher. “Hey, mudbrain! Come and face me, if you dare! Or is there no guts beneath that metal?” The crusher slowly turned, roaring. “**This one´s mine.**” A claim the other darklings knew better than to interfere with.   **T**he darkling slowly approached her, his axe now at the ready. The opponents slowly circled each other, before with a loud yell, the axe was swung, a powerful, vertical strike that would tear through armor and shield alike. Quickly, the commander used her shield not to block, but to push aside the arms of the darkling, making his strike whiff. With the other hand, she struck at the darklings face, delivering a punch to his face with her armored gauntlet. The darkling stumbled back and roared. Of course, that was nothing that would impair the vicious creature. Another quick swing, horizontally this time was soon cutting the air on the way towards the commander. She stepped back as quickly as she could with her armor, being in time to avoid the strike and slashing her sword at her opponent, delivering a cut to his left forearm. Another roar was heard, as he spun quickly and brought the flat side of his axe against her body. Unable to dodge or react quickly enough, she was struck and thrown through the air, landing on the floor a little further away. She did not get up immediatly. Everything was spinning, she was visibly dazed and the prior fall from the horse in addition to this impact had left their marks. Coughing up blood, she slowly rose, getting back into her stance to fight her opponent again. The darkling laughed. “I´ll enjoy taking every last bit of life from you. First you, then your men.” He once more swung his axe, the dizzy commander sloppily raising her shield. But the force was too big, the large weapon cleaved into the shield, into her arm, making her wince in pain, before bringing her shoulder forward and bashing the darkling away. The shield was rendered useless now and so was her arm, at least for the time being. With a grunt, she tossed she shield away, now left with only her blade in her hand.   **W**ith a loud, booming noise, the crushers hammer hit the floor. Dawrim had been able to dodge that strike, despite his thickset body he was surprisingly mobile, even with the blue and golden, ornamented armor of the emperor. In return, Paffnuzius chosen swung his own heavy weapon to meet the crushers side, leaving a serious dent in the large darklings armor. The monster of a darkling drew back its weapon and prepared to swing another time. In a long, horizontal attack, Dawrim was unable to go below or behind to avoid the attack. The swing hit quite a lot of darklings as well, cleaving a devestating line into their rows. The dwarven emperor thought quickly, pushing his hammer to the ground and propelling himself into the air high, flying over the crushers head, not without taking the momentum of the flight to deliver a serious blow to the helmet, leaving it dented as well. Landing behind the crusher, Dawrim quickly spun on the spot, quickly striking at the armored brutes knee from behind. It was forced to bent in, getting on its knees. Another swing to the crushers head finished the foe, as the armored corpse fell forward lifelessly, once more crushing a bunch of its own kin. With haste, Dawrim looked for his friend, having no trouble spotting the second crusher. The darkling stood twice as tall as the others and was therefore easily found. And not a second to late. Dawrim was just in time to see the crusher swing his hammer, sending a bunch of darklings flying. And, besides them, Thumgar, who had been hit by the swing. Sent off, the dwarf hit a wall, where then, his body collapsed to the floor movelessly. “NO!”, Dawrim shouted, disbelief and shock clear in his voice. The crusher then turned, laughing in a deep, dark tone, before approaching the emperor himself.   **A**nother powerful swing was taken at the commander. She was about to react to it, when the yellowskinned darkling suddenly stopped it, taking the momentum to instead use his weapons shaft to find her face. She had been too dazed to realize his feint. The forceful impact, once more to her head, send her to the floor, rolling for a moment, before laying on her back. She tried to get up, but failed. Her conciousness started to slip, as her eyes slowly started to close. “Mivareth…” A familiar voice seemed to call her. “Come, come with us. We´ll be together again…” She recognized where she was. It was the home of her childhood. The voice belonged to her mother, who stood there in her old, young beauty, extending a hand towards her daughter and seeming expecting, encouraging. “It´ll be like when you were young. Come, come with me…” The offer was tempting. Already about to grab her mothers hand, she remembered what had been happening. Where she actually was. And what it was her mother was offering. Death. “**No**!”, she shouted as her eyes flew open. Just in time to see the darkling raise his axe right above her head, about to take it off her shoulders. MIvareth rolled to the side, avoiding the axe that got stuck in the ground through the sheer force of the swing. Getting to her feet shakily, she made sure she still had her sword. Then, she laid her eyes on her foe once more, who had managed to rip free his weapon. “You are getting on my nerves. Die already.”, the darkling spat out. Charging at her, he swung his axe in a devastating attack, coming from the side. However, the knight had recollected herself a little and was not dazed enough to just take the hit anymore. Ducking low while dashing forward, she managed to dodge, while initiating a twirl. Seemingly spinning around him, she ended up behind her opponent, as he stumbled. Then, as he fell, his head fell off his shoulders, the decapitated corpse and its lost part falling to different sides. Mivareth was panting, her otherwise flawless skin had a laceration near her lip and she didnt even know nor want to think about what less obvious injuries she had suffered. She was still dizzy and throughly exhausted. Still, she remembered she was in battle, even if the enemy commander had fallen. Therefore, she took a look around.   **T**he crusher raised his hammer, still bathing in the victory over Thumgar. Dawrim was still in shock, struggling to grasp what had happened. But he had little time to grief, as the huge opponent was looking to kill another dwarf. Focussing on the task at hand, Dawrim couldnt exactly hold back the rage that was starting to fill him. Readying his hammer himself, he started to approach the crusher, breaking into a sprint. When the crusher raised his hammer to bring the weapon down straight on the dwarf, he kept running, closing the distance and getting between the crushers legs before the hammer would strike him. With the momentum still on his side, Dawrim started to spin, his hammer swinging around as he hit the legs of the armored darkling over and over,demolishing the armor and the flesh below. The darkling as a result broke to his knees before the emperor. With a vertical strike to the head, the angered dwarf removed any trace of a head that had ever been atop the armor, crushing it violently. When the darklings noticed their strongest allies having fallen, they were struck with fear. First few, then more and more started to run, leaving the fortress, trampeling those of them that fell behind to death. Dawrim was however not done with them. “Don´t let them escape! Charge!”, he shouted. His men were gripped with the same angry dedication, yelling “***Death!***”, before starting to charge out of the fortress, after the darklings.   **M**ivareth´s eyes were struggling to focus, she had taken quite the hits to the head. Still, she was able to make out that the sun was rising and the storm had stopped. The darklings were being pushed back by her knights, the second beast had fallen. Suddenly, from the other side of the area, she heard voices, shouting and noises of combat. Turning her head, she saw dwarves spilling out of the broken fortress gate. They were chasing darklings and slaughtering right through their lines. The darklings were fleeing, but the dwarves easily kept up with them. Due to that, the darklings were now stuck between two forces they had already been losing to. And without a commander to guide them, they had nothing to oppose the foe. They were just cut down like trees. In despair they tried to fight, but it was futile. It wouldn´t take long for the last of them to be slain. Content with what she was seeing, Mivareth did not engage in further battle. She sat down at the corpse of her horse, resting against it, stroking through its hair. Like that, she would wait for the fight to end. And hopefully regather some strength.   **D**awrim had not followed his men outside the fortress. Instead, he had rushed over to the body of Thumgar, laying by the wall. Driven by hope, he grabbed his friend, gently shaking him. “Thumgar. Thumgar wake up, we´re winning.”, he whispered. “Thumgar!” The lack of reaction drove tears to the emperors eyes. “You can´t do that! We´ve always been together, had each others back! Remember, when we were little? When we practiced to fight? When you taught me how to control the momentum?” The tears were running down his face by now, but Dawrim wasn´t ashamed. He could not have cared less, as the grief he felt for his lifelong friend was more than overwhelming. “You´re a hero Thumgar. You always were. And i promise, nobody will forget your name. It will be said with the greatest awe and respect, as the people tell the stories about you…” With that, he stood up. On the floor, he saw Thumgar´s weapon, the axeblade. taking it, he placed it into his friends hand, then resting both of the dead dwarves hands on his chest. When that had been done, Dawrim turned around. He would have a funeral for his friend, of course, but now wasn´t the time. As much as he was a friend, he was also the emperor, who had to care for the aftermath of this battle. Therefore, he wiped away his tears and slowly started to walk outside.


"I don't know how to explain my days recently. It's like there's something lacking and I don't know what it is. Should I write or not?" These were questions that only I could answer. My classmate called me to let me know that we would be having a high school reunion. I was not excited and interested in it because I didn't want to recall those memories where my classmates kept bullying me about everything, but I had my second thoughts whether I would go or not. I never enjoyed my high school days because of them. I was a loner and I seldom interacted with my classmates in the class. I just stayed under the huge trees reading Agatha Christie and Barbara Cartland's romance novels during my free time. I grew up in a poor family. My father was only plowing rice fields and climbing coconut trees for a living. I didn't have any money for my snack at the school so I borrowed my principal's romance novels and read it one after another under the Mahogany shades. That was my routine in every recess that I had. I never had any regret because I learned how to study hard so in the future no one could bully me anymore. I excelled in my English subject and those who bullied me were the ones who went beside me to ask me if I could correct our theme writing project. My friend Julia whispered this: "Whatta brazen-faced classmates!" "Just let them, perhaps they will realize after our graduation that I helped them a lot and they will eventually stop their bullying," I whispered her back. "I really doubt it! Look at their reactions after you corrected their essays. What the heck!" "Relax, time will teach them. Yeahh they will be called graduates but the question is that, are they worth it to be called as such?" "Hmmmppp! You are so weird. You've been bullied throughout these years and that's all you can say? You are a martyr, aren't you Terry!" "You know sometimes it's better to be silent, it can make them deaf." "What? Where do you get that logic?" She exclaimed while her eyebrows were curving in dismay. "It's not logic, it's my way of showing you how my silence could silence them too." "Gosh, I can't understand what you just said. That is ridiculous. They are taking advantage of your brilliance. Don't you know that people won't realize their faults unless you're gonna tell them?" "My deeds will make them realize in the long run." Till our graduation came and I was on top of the honor rolls. Julia told her classmates. "See, you keep on bullying her. So, where are you now guys? Does that make you all polish and brilliant?" My classmates were looking to each other.They couldn't find any words to answer what Julia said to them.

I was always called for my academic achievements on the stage. It seemed all the best awards were awarded to me. I was very happy, but at the same time sad because I knew then that I was an accomplice of my bully classmates about why they never had even one medal. Julia always reminded me, but I never listened because I knew exactly how it felt if in their college days came they had no stock knowledge to support their new phase of life.

One day, one of my classmate's Dad went to my house to ask forgiveness of what his son was doing to me. He put a paper at my back. He used scotch tape and put it on my uniform with bold words said: I HAVE NO MONEY TO BUY SNACK EVERYDAY. I was so forgivable, but deep inside I was really hurt. It made me more a loner. I became more introverted. I read and read at the same time I write.

"Why you can't answer me now? Are you going or not?" Mrs. Custodio asked me about you." Julia persuaded me on the phone still. "I have to think about it. You know exactly what I've been through." "That was your fault. You were traumatized, but you still wanted to feel like nothing happened. Like they didn't do anything to hurt you etc."

"I will call you again if I will surely go. I am so hesitant to attend because I really don't know them anymore. They are perhaps strangers to me." "What is that? Are you having amnesia?" "No of course. Where it should be held?"  "At the beach near your barrio." "Ahh okay, I will perhaps text you if I will go." I changed my mind instead of calling her. The day of the reunion came and I didn't tell my friend that I would go surprisingly. I booked my flight going back home before that day. I brought some copy of my poetry book that was published last year. I planned to give my English teacher who taught me a lot about grammar and all. Who really polished me by joining any contests- whether be it's oration or declamation or writing contest in the division department. I arrived so early at the beach. I suddenly reminisced about everything that my cousins and I did there. Night swimming was our favorite thing to do under the full moonlight. A little later somebody called at my back. "Hey Terry, you really surprise me girl!" "Aha! So sorry that I didn't call or text you anymore. I want to surprise you as well." "Hi Julia what's up!" Someone called my friend at our back too, and when I turned my head I recognized those curly eyelashes of a guy who kept on putting something on my back. It was Richard. "Oh Richard, hmm you are here as well?" Julia asked her with a smile. "And why I shouldn't be here? It's our class reunion." "Please introduce me to your friend." Richard didn't recognize me at all. Perhaps of my sunglasses and my hair was dyed with Brazilian colored dye. I also wore a cap with a fitted high waist jeans and sleeveless white Guess blouse. A city girl looks to be exact. "Richard, this is my friend and our classmate Terry. Terry this is Richard." I removed my sunglasses and I could see his eyes were like a ball. So round. "Oh, hi Richard, how are you? Nice seeing you again. It's been years that we didn't see each other right?" He was like an ice cream under the sunshine-melting in front of me. "You're just kidding, aren't you?" "Why should I do that?" Julia interrupted. "But Julia, I didn't recognize Terry anymore." "Well, does she look gorgeous? You can't believe that she looks like a model right?" "Oh, c'mon Julia, this is not a perfect time for joking." He told her friend with like uncomfortable confrontation. I could see his flushing face perhaps of shame. I held Julia's hand and told her that the program would start and the games after their lunch. Our class adviser told me to make a short speech on the spot. It was like everything came back in my mind. A flashback that was not as good as the other students had experienced, but I tried not to cry instead I made my speech jolly and interesting for them and for me as well to hold my tears then. The games started and there was this newspaper dance on the beach. Richard asked my hand if I allowed him as my partner. My classmates clapping their hands. They were cheering us. I was not used to it because before they kept on bullying me. I stood up and followed Richard to our spot. All the songs that they played were love songs. It was an odd thing for me and I was with that man who used to shame me because I had no single centavo for my food during recess. We danced like nothing happened before, though I wanted to confront him for that, but I respected his father who went to my house and gave an apology for what his son did to me. The reunion that day I thought was already over when my English teacher told us that there would be having a disco party for that night. The orange clouds turned red in my eyes. I didn't know why it seemed something would happen that night. Julia told me that she would definitely come because her boyfriend was our prince charming. I even teased her that she hated him before and suddenly they became a couple.

The dance night came and all of my classmates were very excited. Some were already married, but brought their husbands or wives to that party. Julia whispered to me that Richard wanted to dance with me. I was so hesitant because I still didn't forget what he did to me though I was just so silent before. I took their bullying as my inspiration to become a successful writer and freelance model in some renowned products in the country. I agreed on what Julia said, but with a condition that only once and nothing more afterwards because of that reason. The party ended with goodbyes and good lucks. Julia went beside me and told me that Richard gave her a small piece of paper with words written on it. I opened the torch of my smartphone and read it.

CAN I COURT, YOU? Suddenly I could feel my cheeks were blushing. I couldn't explain why. My heartbeat also skipped a bit. When I went back to Makati City somebody called me with an unknown number, when I said hello a male voice answered and it was Richard explaining that he asked my number from Julia and he was in Makati too...


The first thing I noticed, was the cool breeze that engulfed my body suddenly. I could smell pine and taste the coolness of the air in my mouth. Then, the brightness of the large full moon in the sky shone on me. It shone on us all. We were here once more.

I took a deep breath, enjoying all the aromas and feelings of my surroundings. It has been a while since I stretched my legs. I squatted briefly to stretch my hamstrings and quads. “Ladies and Gents,” began a familiar voice, “Satan has sent us here once more, awaiting another human sacrifice,” This was Shin, the leader of our sect. I opened my eyes to see that the other members and I were all standing in a circle, surrounding a large cauldron as we stood in an open space in the wood, surrounded by pine trees in the dark. We had torches lit to see our path. Years ago, a social movement was created within a community in the Philippines. It began as a group of friends and family who shared the same beliefs and virtues of peace and gratitude , bringing everyone closer together.

Once this group had realized how successful they were becoming in teaching their ways, they began reaching out and recruiting members globally which, ultimately, was the downfall of this social institution.

They were named Lims. Lim Lowe was the original founder of this cult. His last name, Lim, means ‘forest’ or ‘woods’ . This cult spent most of their time embracing the beauty of nature, performing a lot of their rituals and ceremonies outside in the wood or even by the lake on certain nights. When Lowe decided to open the gates to recruit new members, an adversary of Lims sent in a demon child, undetected. Lims believed in the importance of Peace for all and gratitude in everyday life. But when Shin became part of this cult and took notice of the numbers, and realized the opportunity for growth, to become a powerful leader, he outvoted Lowe, kicking him from his own organization. Shin convinced the other members that Lowe was a descendant of the devil and sacrificed him at a fire in the wood that night. None of the members were expecting Shin to be one himself. That was the first full moon of sacrifice. Now, it has become a ritual. Every full moon about once a month, or every thirty days. These are the only days that I exist. On these full moon nights, we are to sacrifice a human and feed their blood to the Devil. Then, and only then, would we return to our compressed dark room that we stay in for thirty days. Seems like a pretty lousy deal to me.

There are still humans within our cult, but very few, and they are the ones who bring us our sacrifices while we are in isolation. The majority of the cult is composed of demons like myself.

I’d like to learn more than just the human language and how they speak. I want to learn their emotions and try to understand why they do certain things.

I would prefer to live amongst the human race and blend with their world, for this way of life is exhausting and quite cruel. Though this is something you could never admit to the face of Shin or his goons.

This Particular night, there was a human that lay face down in the middle of our circle, he was next to the cauldron. He was the next human sacrifice that we would be feeding the demon.

We chanted a loud prayer of sorts to the Devil and it went as so: “ We take pride in the sins we commit. Oh, dear Satan, we are grateful that you provide us with life this night. We are grateful that you create the large bright moon which ultimately helps in the process of sacrificing an innocent. We pray you to accept this sacrifice as a token of our gratitude and admiration for all you’ve brought for our lives and all sinners within The Lims.” We hear a groan from the human on the ground. “Didn’t anyone think to kill this man before we take all his blood? Come on people, we aren’t cruel!” Shin yelled. Everyone remained quiet except for the groaning man on the ground. “Now, the ceremony has been ruined because of one of you!” He accused the humans of our group. There were about ten of them that remained.

“Well, who was in charge of this one?” He demanded, frustrated. He was quite scary when upset, he was a direct descendant of the devil.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” Shin was pointing at another member who stood across from me in our circle. With all of our members there, our circle had a diameter of one hundred feet or so going both vertically and horizontally.

This human member was an old recruit. He was an older member than I was, but of course, I was of demon blood, and humans will always die before one of us. It’s in Shin’s nature to kill off the humans first. Shin grabbed the man by the hood of his cloak, and yanked him in the air, cutting off the oxygen for the old man. As the man struggled to free himself from the grasp, Shin merely tossed him in the cauldron effortlessly as if throwing a pair of socks into his laundry basket. All that could be heard now was the screaming of the old man as his flesh burnt, and those horrid fumes filled the air. It was unfortunate to watch him go. And sad to hear him wail in pain. “Listen up, the sacrifice is over!” Shin shouted to everyone but sounded very disappointed. “Let us enjoy our ceremonies before we return to darkness”. All the members cheered and split up to mingle with others, and Shin turned to another human in our group and said “Figure out something to do with this one, eh?” nodding to the innocent on the ground. The human member nodded, frightened and headed for the intended sacrifice right away. Shin walked away. I was curious. Of the man who lay face-down on the dirt. “Hey!” I shouted to the purple-cloaked mortal who bent over the sacrifice. He still lay there groaning. “I’ll deal with him,” I said. He made no arguments or any judgements, he simply stood up and backed away. I approached the one on the floor. I turned him over and noticed his face was all bruised and bloodied. He had been beaten pretty badly before being taken here, it seems.

But even with the black eye, broken nose and swollen lip, he still had so much life in his face. I longed for that.

He attempted to open his left eye, the one that wasn’t bruised or swollen, and looked at me in mine. He raised an arm shakily and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. He smiled partially, still dazed and woozy from his beating, then passed out instantaneously. I let his head drop and hit the ground with a THUD. I backed up quickly, feeling squeamish. Not so much sick as I felt, nervous? This was not a feeling I was taught, this was never a feeling I experienced before. I think I was feeling… Human. I carried the man away from my group and dropped him off near a human village. I believed he would be in good hands there.

It would be about a month before I would return, anyways. Though as I walked away from the village that night, I was feeling that same nervousness from before, coiling in my stomach rapidly. I found myself foolishly hoping the Human would be alright. During the next full moon, I had a sense of relief wash over me when I opened my eyes to see that the corps which lay on the dirt was not that of the man who I carried to the village. We sang our chant and sacrificed the human, and during our mingling time at the ceremony, I snuck to the village in hopes that I would spot that man.

It seemed unlikely that I would, but there he sat on a park bench in the middle of the night, staring in my direction. When he spotted me, he stood up slowly. “It’s you,” he remarked. I debated on replying to him or saying anything at all. “And who am I?” I asked him.

We were in shouting range and I was approaching him slowly. “You’re the angel who saved me,” He put it simply.

I stopped in my tracks. I almost laughed for a moment, but that was not something that came naturally to me, so it sounded like phlegm was stuck in my throat and I was trying to get it out. “I am quite the opposite of an angel,” I assured him. He came closer to me. He stepped into the moonlight and I was able to get a better view of his face. His eye was still bruised but not black or swollen as it had been a month ago, and he had minimal bandages covering what I think were stitches that had been recently removed. His face was so appealing to look at. It wasn’t pale or sickly, he was tan and I could hear his heartbeat and his pulse. He was so lively and I wanted it so badly. “I don’t believe that,” he began, coming so close I could smell his human scent. “You saved my life. You brought me here to find shelter from the enemies. I was wondering when I would see you again.” I was still in my purple cloak, my long brown hair curled and falling onto my shoulders. He stared me in the eyes and smiled. He held my hands and said, “Thank you”. I smiled unknowingly, and he remarked how beautiful I looked.

“What do they call you?” I asked, curiously. “My name is Tommy”. The handsome man replied. “And who are you?” he asked. “I am Marribelle,” I said. He leaned close and kissed me once on my lips, sending butterflies throughout. I think I was beginning to fall for a human. I had to return to my sect shortly after that but assured Tommy that I would return to see him in due time. The next full moon was the last one I experienced. The cool breeze was there but, different, it tingled, it stung, the aromas, the smells, it was a very strong awakening for someone who has been locked up for a month. This time I could smell smoke and felt the sensation of burning. I opened my eyes and shrieked in agony. I was tied to a post in the cauldron, my legs were in the boiling water, and flames from the fire were so large that they engulfed the cauldron and were burning me from all around. My hair was starting to sizzle.

I had trouble seeing through the smoke, but I could just make out all the other cult members standing around the cauldron. So it seemed as though I was the one being sacrificed. “Ah, so you’ve come to,” said Shin, walking with his arms behind his back. “Let me out, Shin!” I demanded, squirming desperately to free myself from this burning agony. “I’m afraid I received terrible news, one of our members has betrayed us by befriending a human,” He said. “Oh yeah? And who told you that? A human member of Lims? Come on, Shin, I’m of demon blood!” I argued, trying to prove that if having human members in the cult is okay, then why wouldn’t I be able to socialize with one outside of it? “That doesn’t matter to me now. Demon blood or not, if you betray me, you will get burnt like the rest of them,” He said. “So, what? I’m your sacrifice then?” I asked, trying to hold in my screams of pain. My legs were completely numb now. I didn’t want to look down because I knew my skin had melted away. I was on the verge of passing out. “No, of course not. You’re not human,” he pointed out. He was smiling maliciously. “I’ve chosen someone better for the job, someone I think you know quite, well,” he said and pointed to another cauldron that was next to mine and therefore difficult to see from my point of view.

I strained to turn my head to see what had been in it. I could tell it was a body, and it took me a moment to realize, but my view wasn’t obstructed enough for me to know that the shrivelled-up, crisp and burnt body was Tommy’s. I felt a stab of pain in my heart, even though no physical damage had been inflicted upon it. The light from the full moon went dark after that.


She held the hot cup in her hands, letting the warmth spread through her and ease the stiffness. She took small steps, watching the liquid hit the rim of the mug as she moved into the living room and sat in her armchair. Carefully, she brought the scalding hot drink up to her lips and took a first sip of Christmas cheer. It always brought her back to Christmases in her childhood. She eased into the calm of it and turned to look out the window.

There was a small dusting of white powder on the window frame and little dots of white covering the yard. The snow wasn’t strong enough to stick to the ground but it was still a beautiful sight. The woman stared for a good while at the dancing flickers of snowflakes as they moved past her vision. She could almost pretend it was happening just for her.

The slight buzz in her pocket woke her out of her reverie and she was brought back to the moment. Instantly her body stiffened, just a little and her heart sank a fraction in her chest. She pulled out her phone and looked at the message. It was from someone named David on one of the dating sites her sister had signed her up for. Her pain deepened and she felt like she might fold in on herself - crushed from the wait of it.

Sunday would mark two years since he’d been gone. Two years of lonely nights, solitary birthdays and empty holidays. Now as she looked back at the snowfall, marking the season as officially winter, it felt almost as if no time had passed at all. The wound was fresh and seemed to cut deeper with each lingering thought into the past.

The woman clicked on Davis’s message and viewed his profile. He was reasonably handsome, well educated with a good career. There was no reason to turn this down. She knew what her sister would say if she were there. But the woman was alone, looking at a lifeless screen, holding onto a dream she would never recover.

Instinctively, she dropped the phone. It fell to the ground with a thud on the floor. She turned her eyes up to the ceiling and tried to will the tears to back down from their attack positions. Slowly, the tears started to lose their power and faded back into the background. She took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. She didn’t want to focus on the absence she felt or the hollowness in her life. She didn’t want to think about anything but the falling snow outside. The woman picked up her mug once again and took a longer sip, burning the edges of her mouth.

Abruptly, she stood up, knowing the only thing that might ease some of her discomfort. She threw her auburn hair up in a tight bun and covered it with a pink beanie. She only wore this one when she went to visit him . She still remembered the Christmas when he bought it for her. At the time she thought it was silly to wear a pink hat with a puff ball on top but now it felt like one of the last remaining tethers to him.

She grabbed her gloves and her keys, leaving her phone discarded on the floor and headed out into the cold. The wind whipped around her as if trying to invite her into the winter dance. She ignored the calling of the snow and stepped into her car. The warm air started to blast full force as the engine came to life. Carefully, she pulled out of the slippery drive and down the street to her destination.

Christmas carols poured into the car, echoing the joy of the dancing weather. It was a symphony of jubilating nature. The feelings of it did warm her to see but only for a moment before she remembered why she was driving and what was missing.

When she pulled into the parking lot her car was alone. It was what she preferred in this particular setting. Other people would only make things more difficult for her. She put on her gloves and wrapped her scarf more tightly around her. The wind had become more wild in her drive, more determined to involve her. She resisted.

The woman followed the path that she had become much too familiar with the past two years until she reached the stop she was looking for. The stone stood there, unchanged and unmoved with the same letters carved through it. The flowers she had placed there, the last time she had visited were dying and wilting away. Little droplets of snow lingered on some of the petals.

She made no effort to stop the tears this time. She put up no resistance as the pain started to consume her. She knew this part was necessary if she were to feel any sort of relief. She could feel her knees starting to buckle under her and she let herself fall to the ground. She reached her hand up, pulling off her glove and traced the lines of his name in the stone.

“Did you know him well?” came a soft voice behind her. She didn’t bother to turn around but nodded.

“Yes, he was my husband,” she answered through her tears. There was a sharp inhale behind her and she turned around carefully.

“I didn’t know he was married,” the man muttered. The man before her had deep charcoal skin that shone like onyx against the falling snow. His fierce eyes were the crisp blue of a fire’s center.

“How did you know him?” she asked, standing up now to face the gorgeous man in front of her. The man shoved his hands hastily in his pockets and gave her a sheepish expression.

“I was his college roommate. We used to be very close, I only just heard….” his statement trailed off and the rest of his sentence hung in the air like a toxic fume. “I’m Matt,” he said finally, clearing the air. He held out a hand for her and something in her heart twisted. It felt almost as if this hand could be the start of something new, a change or an escape from the dark cave she had banished herself to. She hesitated for a moment.

Suddenly, the wind whipped around her, warmer than it had been, and pushed her forward. She almost fell into the man. She smiled to herself and felt that she already knew the answer. She reached out her hand and shook Matt’s, that was still outstretched. Her heart instantly felt lighter and his smile melted away so much of her pain. For the first time in two years she felt like it might actually be a merry Christmas.


Good morning Marc.

A familiar robotic voice gently awoke me from my peaceful sleep as I tried to pry my eyelids open.

It is time to shoot your advertisement for Taurodyne. The product is in the bathroom cabinet. Taurodyne was a toothpaste company that had purchased ads for intergalactic voyages. If life was ever discovered on one of the “Taur” missions, it would be a huge marketing boost for the company, but after the 20th mission failed, people just stopped caring. It was unlikely for anyone but hardcore viewers to recognize the name Marc Silva, much less buy toothpaste because of its ethos. I unclipped the harness holding me vertically against my padded bedroom wall and ran a quick scan with the vitals monitor set up to my left, the faint green light blinking in time with the thumping of my heart.

“Andromeda, how long have I been asleep?” I asked. Measurements indicate it has been seven hours.

“Ship assessment?” I queried as I rubbed my eyes wearily, now floating in the zero-g atmosphere.

Oxygen levels are stable, velocity remains constant, no anomalies are detected. Everything was normal.

I opened the hatch that gave way to the narrow hallway of my Edison-4. I floated down the hallway toward my bathroom. In the cabinet next to the rinseless soap and water pouches was my toothbrush, and next to it, a tube of Taurodyne toothpaste. I couldn’t even use the viscous liquid to brush my teeth in its current packaging; the liquid would just float away. Taurodyne marketers, however, maintained that the brand recognition that came with a tube was necessary. I located the camera on the left wall just above my prompter, oriented myself to face it, and displayed the red and blue logo labeled, “Taurodyne: the high-tech toothpaste.” “Roll it, Andromeda.”

Cameras are recording in three, two, one. “As an astronaut, I need long-lasting freshness to keep my helmet smelling great, even for long spacewalks. That’s why I choose Taurodyne.” I flashed a smile before dropping the facade.

Your recording is compressing and will be flashed to the nearest base. Orienting communication lasers… I took out one of my more space-friendly toothpaste packs. I hated these ads. I thought everyone on Earth could see through my ingenuine smile and yellowing teeth, even after they were whitened in post-production. I felt so exposed, so alone. Andromeda eased my yearning for interaction, but the blasted ads were a constant reminder that there was an Earth I had left behind. Message sending… Nonetheless, they were necessary. Ever since President Flint had cut funding for the space program, the budget had been strained. The program subsisted on nothing but our own ad revenue and philanthropic donations by eccentric trillionaires. Second-class, loaned rockets plagued the ASA - formerly NASA - while private and Chinese missions used their new, top-of-the-line ships. The message will take one month to travel and will be received at base PACS-867 on April 3, 2130.

“Thanks, Andromeda,” I responded absentmindedly.

Today was the culmination of my mission to find humans a new home. It was the final leg of the journey before I would be assigned to another lifeless sphere, devoid of interest and isolated in the perennial vastness; venturing in hope that there, somehow, humanity could continue its endless crusade of existence, a reckoning never resolved, only delayed. The population was growing by nearly two billion people a year, mandating the rapid colonization of the unknown; however, no suitable planet had been found yet. The “balloon problem,” as scientists referred to it, was explained to me by the man who popularized it: Mario Perez. Mario was well-dressed and -spoken for a man who spoke English as his fourth language. I met with him at his home nearly two years ago. Contrary to his gloomy work, Mario was a jovial man. Perhaps he felt safe in the knowledge that he would never survive to see his prediction come to fruition - he had stage four cancer at the time. I arrived at his warmly lit house filled with tchotchkes and knickknacks where he cracked jokes and told me about a painting that hung in his living room where we talked. It was Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory.”

“Is that real?” I asked, floored. “No, not at all,” he chuckled. “They offered it to me, but I figured, why hang it here where a couple of people can enjoy it when it can be at MoMA where it is seen by thousands?” He delivered the rhetorical question in such a way that I couldn’t help but laugh, though I wasn't quite sure what I was meant to be laughing at. It was the kind of joke to be enjoyed at barbecues, perhaps said by a paternal grill master during small talk. Our conversation topic was anything but small talk. After we settled in, him in a reclining chair and me on an itchy sofa, Mario began a routine that had, by then, reached billions of listeners.

“Assume you put a single piece of bacteria in a cup, and that organism doubles every minute. The process begins at midnight on Monday and will end when the glass is full in exactly twenty four hours. When will the glass be half full?”

I had seen his work, but him, sitting across from me in his La-Z-Boy (but not relaxed) staring unflinchingly at me gave it a whole new gravitas.

”11:59 pm on Tuesday night,” he said with finality. “The pocketwatch of humanity is ticking. Our time is running out, and we have just one precious minute left. What’s the solution? Say we colonize a hundred planets. Let’s represent the space they provide by expanding our limit to the entire room. That buys us only ten short minutes. It is only a matter of time, even if we colonize those hundred planets, until our timepiece once again reads 11:59.” That warning was the thing that drove everyone in the spacefaring business to work harder, go faster, and travel further than ever before. I assumed Mario was dead by now. His doctor’s prediction was far eclipsed by my mission length. As for Mario’s prediction, he prognosticated that barring an alternative to Earth, population control would have to be utilized by 2150, twenty years from now. Population control. That had been the question of the last few years. Whether it was righteous to struggle against an ever-increasing flood of humanity by accommodating the endless new bodies, or whether it was nobler to sterilize a portion of the population in the hopes of helping a section of the yet unborn to thrive in an Earth of plentiful resources. The UN and other international bodies were paralyzed by debate and the lack of a right answer to a confounding moral problem. It seemed that inaction would rule doomsday. I shook off my existential crisis, moving toward my modest living area, and more importantly, the breakfast pouches inside my plastic cabinet labeled food.

“What exciting alien species will I be encountering today?” I queried with no small hint of sarcasm.

You must repair atmospheric sensor 3b before I take low-atmospheric photos and data of planet Confutatis Spes. Once the data is collected and you are safely aboard, I will perform a boomerang maneuver to shoot you back toward PACS-867 where you will return the Edison-4 to the Chinese.

Everything as expected. “Sounds good, A. When am I disembarking?” T minus ten minutes until your EVA.

Everything seemed to be on schedule. I quickly slurped down my blueberry oatmeal and went to put on my suit in preparation for the spacewalk. I was done sitting around doing nothing but filming promos for shitty toothpaste. Today was a day of action, where I would become master of my own life.

“Andromeda, put on Space Oddity” I mused with a smirk slowly working its way to my lips. Space Oddity by David Bowie now playing. By this time, I had made my way to the suit staging area. I went through the checklist drilled into me at training. When I pulled the tether taut to test its strength, the lyrics began to rise high above the sci-fi sounds that played in the background of my favorite song as the song’s ship countdown began. The unique voice of David Bowie became ubiquitous. I looked out of the airlock toward the planet I would soon visit, both my ears and now eyes filling with beauty. I started mouthing the lyrics, slowly working up the confidence to sing in earnest, broken high notes joining the forlorn verse.

“Ground control to Major Tom: The time is near, there's not too long. Can you hear me, Major Tom?” The red-tinted sun at my back combined with the deep purple clouds that I could only assume were toxic iodine made the planet reminiscent of a sunset. As pretty as it was, a lot of work would be required to make this planet into a home. I stepped into the main body of the suit.

“Can you hear me, Major Tom? Can you hear me, Major Tom? Can you hear?” I donned my heavy helmet equipped with a life-support system and boasting a sun-protectant visor. The song shifted to the sound system contained within the helmet, but I kept belting. “Here am I sitting in a tin can Far above the moon Planet Earth is blue And there's nothing I can do” I slipped on my gloves, cleared my throat, and asked, “You there, Andromeda?”

Here as always. We have entered the upper atmosphere and are in a stable orbit. Your mission is a go.

“Then let’s do this thing.” The airlock opened and I pushed off toward sensor 3b. It was impossible to see through the purple clouds all around me so I navigated with the help of Andromeda as she activated different thrusters attached to the suit to correct my movements.

You will have to perform a jump out to the right engine module. Two o’clock.

“Copy that.” I jumped without hesitation, feeling a slight correction from the right side of my suit, and latched onto the metallic surface.

You must adjust the collection unit to 37 degrees to accommodate our low-orbit angle when collection is happening. I reached out, trying to feel the porous, cylindrical device. My clumsily controlled hand made contact and slowly started pushing it into position. “Just tell me when to stop.” Stop. Well done. Time to return to the main body. Eight o’clock. I pushed off once again and felt the familiar correction. “I thought I had that one,” I complained sarcastically. Andromeda didn’t respond. She was used to my humor. We had grown close over the past two years. Any interaction, even with a machine, was welcome in the void. Her competence and real-seeming empathy for my predicament gave me complete trust in her. Deprivation of human contact over the years had made me boring and socially inept. I thought Andromeda was the only one who understood me.

I reached the airlock and reentered the ship. The pressure equalized, and I took off my helmet.

We will be entering the lower atmosphere in thirty minutes where data collection will begin.

“Great. I’m gonna get a nap. Let me know when we’re boomeranging” I doffed the remainder of my suit and drifted back to my cramped quarters. I strapped myself into my sleeping bag and fell into a deep sleep. ******************* Marc. Marc, there is a slight problem. Marc, you must wake up. “What is it, Andromeda?” I asked crankily.

An anomaly has been detected in the oxygen levels of the ship.

“Are we leaking? How bad is it?”

I did a scan for leaks and found nothing. We are losing 3.4 times ten to the negative eight atmospheres of partial pressure per minute.

“Log the deficit. It’s probably a reading error. If the problem persists, wake me up in twenty minutes.” ******************* Marc.

The problem is persisting. “How so?” We are losing 1.4 times ten to the negative six atmospheres of partial pressure per minute.

That was anomalous. That the oxygen was leaking 100 times worse was flustering. “Show me the data on oxygen levels,” I implored. I looked left at my monitor and zoomed in.

“A, assign a line of exponential regression and give me an R squared value.” I looked intently at the exponential model, where terror awaited me. Oxygen would run out in fifty minutes at the current rate. The confidence metric read an even 100%.

“Oh, no.” My panicked voice began to crack as I recognized the severity of my situation.

I ripped off my bed straps and careened toward the airlock. What could be causing the leak? “Andromeda, I’m going to check the oxygen tank for leakage from outside of the ship.” I frantically jumped into the suit I had so joyously put on less than an hour ago. I reached down and strapped myself into place, but I was still missing something. I cried, “My gloves! Where are my gloves?”

On the table to your right next to the purple smudge. I hadn’t done a good job cleaning up, but there wasn’t time for that now. I snatched the gloves, pulled them on, and hooked the tether onto my waist loop. Finally, I opened the airlock.

Wasting no time, I made a beeline for the oxygen tanks. When I reached the panel, I unscrewed it with shaking hands and practically ripped it off. “Andromeda, scan the device for external oxygen.”

Scanning through suit sensors… no leak has been detected, although there is oxygen in the air outside the ship at high concentrations.

“We have no way to collect it,” I assessed militarily. “Besides, the iodine would make it unsafe for consumption.” The iodine content in the atmosphere is negligible. “Well then what is this purple stuff?” I asked. “What the fuck is this?” I yelled in shock and desperation. “If it’s not iodine what the hell is it?” It appears the substance is a rudimentary life form. I was silent for a few seconds as I processed the information. “No kidding.” This was humanity’s first contact with an alien species. I went limp for a second, my hands slipping from their holds, but I forced my clammy palms to latch on tight. Then I went as white as a sheet. “That’s the problem with the oxygen.” I realized. “There are aliens on my ship, and they’re multiplying.” I raced back to the airlock, took my suit off as fast as possible, and rushed to grab the disinfectant in the living area. I sped back to where I had seen the purple smudge before. It had noticeably grown in size. Panicked, I applied the antibacterial substance and began to scour the ship for more of the colored organism. Horrified, I found the purple film on counters, hallway walls, and a large amount in my bedroom. I must have tracked it in. I tried scraping some of it off with my fingernail, but it clung to my harness with incredible veracity. I hastily checked my first clumping to see if the disinfectant was capable of saving my life. To my dismay, if anything, the stain had gotten larger; reality set in. I crumpled and wept forlornly, “Andromeda? Am I doomed to die?” With current supplies, There is no way to stem the organism’s growth. “I need to send word of first contact to ASA.” If anything, my sense of duty propelled me upright. “How long do I have?” 10 minutes before mild asphyxiation begins, 15 before death.

“How long before we’re out of the clouds and I can send the message?” 13 minutes.

The air was already getting thin. What loyalty did I have to ASA? I could buy humanity time, but was it worth it? Did anything outweigh the agony I would feel? Maybe they’d name the planet after me, I mused. But what would I care? I’d be dead. Did it matter what I left behind? What about the obligation to my species? I resolved to send the message, my allegiance, not to ASA, but to humanity prevailing.

The damn bacteria. I laughed in the face of my quandary. Isn’t this what I wanted? To find alien life? But why must it compete with me for oxygen? I supposed existence itself gave any being the prerogative to fight for its survival, big or small. Existence is a competition and we’re just gladiators in the arena, battling trillions and trillions of others.

My breaths became ragged. I located a camera and faced it.

“Andromeda? Are you ready?” Ready as always. “Thanks, A. For everything.” It has been an honor, Marc. You’re live. “Hello ASA” I wheezed. “I have discovered life on the oxygen-rich planet Confutatis Spes.” Each word was preceded by a gasp now. “The organism has contaminated my ship and used up my oxygen.” I struggled to make a sound as I rasped a final “Good luck.” Sending… sent.

“A, put on … second half of … space oddity.” I didn’t have time to listen to the complete song.

With pleasure.

I floated down my now-colorful hallway to my living area where I found my kitchen knife. I ventured to the airlock where I looked out at the maroon planet below me, my insides slowly being consumed by suffocating fire. I had prolonged humanity’s survival, even if it was just for a precious minute or two on the grandfather clock of human existence. As for my own life, the clock had struck 12:00. I serenely drew my blade, feeling like a conquistador of old on a new frontier, Space Oddity serenading my final moments. Here am I floating in my tin can, Last glimpse of the world, Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing left to do. As the final line played, I plunged the knife into my stomach, my beautiful vista giving way to the blackness of the void I knew so well.


"When they open the door, I'll swing and you get that shit down in the living room as quickly as possible, got it?" Darren says. I nod weakly, adjusting the huge roll of polyethylene under my arm with my other hand, which is holding a monkey wrench. I can't believe I'm here, about to do this. For my own mother, no less! "Hey Jared, there's something I want you to help Darren with. Get in the car, he'll explain on the way." She tells me. A normal request, if a little vague. I expected something like "we're picking something heavy up," or "some things have to go to the dump." I've never been so wrong in my life. I get in the car with my mom's bodyguard. Not the regular kind, we're not rich by any means. We live in a campsite for crying out loud, eating what food my mom can steal from the food bank! I always wanted to say something about that, but I've learned you don't talk back to the most well known street level crack dealer in the city. That's how she paid Darren, with drugs. The drive is quiet for the first few minutes and I gaze lazily out at the lake. The silence is broken when Darren asks "remember Yvonne and her man, Cameron?" How could I forget? We lived with them for a while. They stole the paintball gun I won in a tournament to pawn for drug money and got rid of our dog when we went to a movie. I didn't really like them. "Yeah," I reply simply. "Well they owe your mom some money and are refusing to pay, so we're going to 'collect' it. Ever heard the phrase 'let the poly hit the floor'?" I hadn't, but between noticing the giant roll of plastic in the back seat and him handing me the wrench, I began to piece together what was going on. So here I stand, a terrified 16 year old trying to understand just what the hell is going on and hoping they're not home. When I see the knob begin turning, however, hope is quickly turned to horror. Darren doesn't wait for any words to be spoken as he kicks the door in, sending Yvonne to the ground. He quickly extends the nightstick he brought and hits her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. "Get that poly down, we're gonna make a little mess here!" He barks at me. I struggle to flatten the plastic, trying to focus more on making it perfect then what's going on around me. After a few seconds Darren is dragging Yvonne onto it as Cameron rushes into the room to see what's going on. He quickly understands the situation and runs towards the small kitchen off to the side where there's a knife block on the counter. "Stop him!" Darren yells at me, and without thinking I bolt towards him and strike him in the back with the wrench as he fumbles to get a knife. He winces, but doesn't stop. He pulls a large chef's knife out and in one motion turns and slashes at me. I've always had pretty good reflexes, but not good enough to evade completely as the blade runs across my chest. The cut isn't deep enough to be fatal however, and adrenaline blocks out the pain as I swing the wrench again, this time at his knee. He goes down, yelping in pain and dropping the knife. I kick it away and Darren pulls Cameron kicking onto the plastic. What happens next is mostly a blur, my mind choosing to blank it all out. I remember hearing Darren threatening them and a consistent thumping, like the beat of the most violent drum. After what seemed like forever, he tries to ask for my help getting them into the trunk of the car, but must notice my pale face and does it himself. He folds the bloodied plastic up and puts it in the backseat as I climb into the passenger seat. We start driving to "dispose" of our ex roommates. I guess we were going to the dump after all. "It's ok, the first time is always hard for everyone. It gets easier, trust me." He says, trying to ease my mind with the promise of more encounters like this. I don't reply and continue to stare out the window. This is the day I became a man, though not the kind I expected to be. Most of the details in this story are true, except the door was never opened so the murder never actually took place, thankfully. This was 9 years ago, and if the door had opened, I probably wouldn't be here today.


The warm humid winds before the storm once made me feel a feeling of happiness. The Storms of summer and spring always brought me joy as a child, they made life so fun and puddles that the storms caused I would play in for hours at a time, they had a special thing that just made me enjoy them. But now it all brings me dread. My dread is the one of pure fear, the fear of annihilation. My many memories I had with these storms, so many great beautiful memories, but alas this shall be my last storm. I am but an old withered man with my life coming to an end soon. My life was a great life, I had many good friends, Many good times, many laughs, many sad cries, My life was filled with joy and sorrow and I loved it and wouldn’t trade my life for anothers. No one to say goodbye to before this storm sweeps me away like a crashing wave on high tide. Like the fallen empires and kingdoms of the past. Life for me was a beautiful thing, even on the verge of death life is great and though I don’t want this dream of mind to end it shall be so as my time has come. All my children have passed, My wife is gone as well. My parents and grandparents are long gone. I have said my goodbyes to them in their last moments when their last storm came. All my friends gone and in their graves living happily in eternity. But look on the bright side of things, look to the eye of the storm. I will see them soon and we can meet again. All my grandchildren have left me for their jobs and kids of their own. I have sent them all letters to see me one last time before the storm hits. But only one has came, My favorite grandchild sits by my side on the porch watching as the clouds roll in and he sees my health degrade. He sits here holding my hand and I can see him holding back his tears as we feel the warm humid winds of the storm blowing into us harder and harder as we await the first droplet of water to fall from the sky. The warm humid winds before the storm always brought me great memories and at least I know that this time it will be the greatest of my memories, my last one. My grandson can no longer hold back his tears as he gives me one last hug. I hug him back in return and I assured him that things will be alright and to stay positive. I told him to tell the others to not cry at my funeral and that though I spent my last years alone with few visits, to not regret anything with me and to be happy for me and that one day they may be with me too with no other distractions in their wake. As I feel the first rain drop hit my face I knew my time was up. I said my last goodbyes to my grandchild put a smile on my face and closed my eyes. My time is up. I had a great life after all, why should I be sad? What is life without death? What is joy without sorrow? What is earth without trees? My time is up and once again I lived a long happy life and I’m glad I could spend my last moments with my grandchild in the warm humid winds before the storm. I’m Happy that I could hug someone one last time. I’m happy that I had someones hand to hold as I go. I’m happy I could feel the awakening of the storm with my grandson as my life comes to an end. This is the end and I am happy. This is life and it’s how I wanted it to be.


Their voices rolled on in my head like the recordings of my mom’s voice. I sat on the couch and made myself a glass of wine and watched the reel play. This one was *Summer 1982*. It was Mom holding me over a picnic blanket at some sunny lake. I was cherub-round with wispy blond hair that matched the woman laughing on the screen. “Percy Goldman, you turn away the camera right now,” she said. The camera angle shifted and I saw a spectacled man on the right of the blanket, smiling, his glasses glinting in the light. *Bastard*. The glass in my hand shattered. I looked down, my hand shaking, and grimaced at the red spot that was rapidly growing on the carpet between my socks. The bell chimed and snapped me out of my reverie. I got up, kicked the rug so that it covered the spot, and then hastily looked for a change of pants. Then I changed my mind and took off my skirt, pulling up my underwear so that my ass was more exposed. I ran to the front door and opened it. Grinning was James, and next to him his girlfriend Helen. “So Dollface,” he said. “How can I help ya?” Helen scoffed. “She’s been so waiting for this day. With that mug she’d have to beg or go to Mr. Harrison to get laid.” Mr. Harrison was the old janitor at our school. I forced myself to smile. “Please, come in.” James sauntered into the living room and plopped himself on the sofa. “So, wanna start dancing or what?” he said. “Sure, let me touch up a bit in the bathroom.” Helen rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” I walked into the bathroom and turned the light on. As I started wrapping a piece of cotton around my injured palm, I felt a cold sensation brush across me. She was here. “Are you sure?” she wrote across the mirror. The message vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Yes,” I wrote back, using some of my blood. “I love you honey.” In a second the mirror was clean again. I looked at my face, pale and white, my hair now fully brunette -- those Goldilock years were gone -- and finished bandaging my palm. I took off my shirt and peeked out of the bathroom so my breasts were showing. “Hey, I’m ready,” I said. I tried to sound flirtatious but it sounded weird and robotic. James didn’t seem to mind. He dashed to the bathroom, followed by Helen. I pressed play on the little radio I kept on the counter and some Britney Spears began to play. *Hit me baby one more time*. I started kissing Helen and undressing her. I could see James getting aroused and put out a hand to pull him closer. His weight pushed us backwards, and I was sandwiched between the people who had tortured me every day since I’d come to Washington High. *I must confess, that my loneliness--* “Mom, now,” I said. The lights went off. As they screamed, I could feel blood erupt onto my chest and thighs, and I came. \ More demons at r/ladyandthepen.


What is silence? Is it a soft monotonous drone, a subtle buzzing - a swarm of bees discussing things in whispers? ‘This seems like silence – but not complete - I can hear something. Is this what ‘nothing’ sounds like?’ and she closed her eyes. ‘Closing my eyes seems to make the emptiness, nothingness louder’ she mused. ‘I wonder if this is the sound you hear if you are deaf, like Grandma was? She liked the quiet at the moment – needed it. She didn’t miss all the voices that were once in her head, - loud, insistent cruel voices. ‘Instructions that lead to destruction’ is what Dr Lynch called them when he could eventually have a proper conversation with her -  just the two of them, no friends telling her what to say from inside her skull, not the devil, just two normal adults conversing. It had taken a lot of sessions, rivers of tears and forgiveness  to get where Sally was now. She came into the ward fighting, not wanting to stay, the voices telling her to get out, away from this place where they would hurt her. Wrestling and kicking, shouting, swearing, a tiny body with a lot of fight, silenced with a needle. PTSD it was labelled . “Seeing what she saw was horrific” they discussed around the table. It’s going to take a long time and even then…..” Sally’s physiatrist told them shaking his head. A seasoned shrink, seeing and hearing the worst of human suffering, but being able to help ease the pain and agony for so many of his patients. “She seems strong thought, underneath all that pain she’s suffering” he concluded. It had been a long time. They wouldn’t go away – lingering on and on, disappearing for a short time but always coming back, claiming their place in Sally’s mind. It was like a cancer being scraped away and then returning. Dr. Lynch thought about the ‘olden days’ when the preferred treatment for psychiatric patients was electric shock treatment – wrapping the patients in strait jackets, holding them down and doing that archaic thing to them, even children. He shuddered at the thought and knew that he couldn’t have done it. He was a warm and gentle person with a genuine passion for helping those in need. Towards the end of her treatment Sally would sit in the garden on a bench and marvel at the beauty that could be found in watching trees moving in the wind. Branches would shake their leaves slowly, the sound mesmerising, a bit like a soft and gentle baby rattle.  It was peaceful too watching other people walking slowly over the green carpet of grass, taking small steps, quietly talking, telling their loved ones that they were ‘getting better’ and smiling for the first time in months. A little girl visiting someone rang past Sally laughing; her hair tussled by the breeze, face dirty from an ice-cream someone had given to her, and she thought of her own little girl. She could think of Lila now without rage and despair. Dr. Lynch had taught her that it was ok to miss a loved one, to want to be near them, touch and smell their fine hair, soft skin, but know they weren’t coming back again – reassured that our memories would always keep them alive in our hearts. She stood up to go inside. The little blonde girl had settled on the velvety softness not far from Sally, but for now it was a little too close. She could almost reach out and touch her. It was going to take time to feel completely relaxed when little girls were around her. “Hello Sally” Dr. Lynch called from the steps in front of her and she waved to this lovely man, her friend to whom she would always be grateful. “I was just coming to see you. How are you feeling about leaving us tomorrow?” he asked looking into her eyes for the reassurance he needed to know that all was well. “I’m a little scared John but I also feel strong enough to go. I can’t stay here for ever I know that. I also know that if I ever need help again, I only have to ring you” she answered in a quiet voice. “And also just to talk Sally” he reassured her taking his leave, telling her he would be here in the morning to say goodbye. In her soft pastel mint green room she sat on the bed spread – a  swirling paisley green and blue cover. It matched the grey carpet. She felt restless and looking through her window she watched the little girl trying to do handstands telling the adults with her “No that wasn’t a good one, watch this one” and she recalled her little girl saying the same thing to her while trying to master the art of cartwheels. Taking a deep breath Sally said out loud “I am grateful for the love I got to share with Rosie for five years. She will always live in my heart and I in hers and our bond of true love can never be broken”, repeating it twice. After the second time her breathing had slowed down, her sweaty hands were starting to dry and she no longer felt like she had pins and needles on her head. “Ok what I need is some dinner” she said out loud and walked to the dining room. The next morning she left. Dr Lynch was there to hug her, tell her once again how well she had done, how he had so much confidence in how her life would go from now on, but that he would always be here for her. The imposing stone house and wide verandas with lush floral grounds had been her sanctity for quite a long time. As she got into the taxi Sally knew that she had left the negative voices, and the destructive behaviour behind and the building that had welcomed her warmly, would get rid of them permanently after she had gone. Sally had decided to spend some time at the family holiday home. It belonged to her cousins who were quite a bit older than her. The old house hadn’t been used in a long time. It was not far from the sea. Sometimes you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks if you listened carefully. She looked around at the sparsely furnished cottage, with books being the only thing of interest in the white walled house, apart from a black and white photo that hung from one of the walls, the frame a solid black wooden surround. She didn’t know who was in the phot but assumed it was her Aunty and Uncle. They were long gone and the cottage had been passed down to their children. He had dark hair and a handlebar moustache while she had her hair done up in a bun – her frilly high necked collar almost choking her as she smiled nervously. ‘They looked well suited, proper, so stiff and upright,’ she thought. She had unpacked as soon as she got there – a legacy from being brought up with a mother who was once in the army – so neat and tidy. “If you unpack as soon as you get anywhere, then it’s done and you have free time then” she used to say. Sally didn’t have much to unpack; she was only staying a few days but remembering her mother’s instructions of long ago, put it all very neatly in the chest of drawers. Sally pulled a book from the shelf – liking the sound of the title she began to read silently. The quietness of the room felt heavy somehow, as if a cover had been thrown over the house. The buzzing sound had been replaced by a slight ringing in her ears, silent ringing. ‘Can you have silent ringing?’ she asked herself desperately trying to describe what the noiseless room sounded like. She put her book down after turning the corner of the page – “that ruins the book” her Gran used to tell her. Uncrossing her legs she rested her head back against the chair and listened. The bee sound had changed to a hum, long and hollow. She was tired and closed her eyes ‘just forty winks in this peace and then I’ll go for a walk’ she trailed off as her lids shut. When Sally woke up it was a lot later than she thought it would be. ‘I must have needed that’ she contemplated, adjusting her eyes to the dim light. Her ears became attuned to a sound that she hadn’t heard since being in the house – it was of the waves crashing – the only noise shattering the tranquillity and calmness of her surroundings. She could picture the white foam spraying out after the angry waves had hit the solid rocks, droplets flying in the air and being carried away, landing gently on whatever sat beneath them. Her Aunt used to get annoyed at how dirty the windows of the beach house were, blaming the sea spray that flew into them, sticking and then gathering dust. The windows were like that now, very dirty, and probably hadn’t been cleaned for a long time. Sally had to put the light on in the house to find her way around. She sat down on the lumpy couch and put her socks and sneakers on, grabbed her rain jacket and locked the door behind her. ‘This is my first official outing anywhere since being in the hospital’ she thought sucking the air into her lungs and feeling the coolness of it hit her face, refreshing and invigorating. It almost felt as if the clean fresh air was washing away the unhappiness and sadness, just for this moment in time at least. The little torch she brought with her kept flicking off and on. ‘It’s probably been sitting in that drawer for months – I’ll be lucky it if makes the journey to the beach. It did stay on, albeit sending Morse code signals all the way through the sand dunes to the edge of the water. It wasn’t completely dark as behind her was a small carpark with a street lamp and remarkably this was working! The sound of the waves seemed to be so much louder at the house. Sally sat down on the damp sand and took off her socks and shoes, then stood at the water’s edge , the cold water washing over her feet and making them sink deeper into the soft wet sand. It felt good, cleansing, relaxing. There wasn’t much to see as she stared out towards the horizon, just one ship with a couple of lights on it, surrounded by a black inky void. A couple of hopeful seagulls flew around but seeing no food being eaten or bait being put onto hooks, flew off, gracefully into the dark. High above where grey and coppery clouds gathered a few stars peeped out alongside a slice of moon from behind them, and Sally picked out the star that gave her comfort.. She was sure it was the same one, the right distance from the moon, and the brightest one – just like her little girl had been. She couldn’t take her eyes off it – the tide was coming in quickly and the water getting further up her legs, almost reaching the middle of her calf now, but still she watched it, as if her eyes and the star were magnetic. Just as quickly as when it first appeared, the moon slid behind a thick billowy cloud taking the twinkling stars with it, and she was gone. Sally wrapped her coat tightly around herself as she was feeling cold now – her feet had been in the freezing water for at least forty minutes and her legs were slightly numb at the bottom. Pulling them out of what felt like quicksand, they made a plopping sound as they came out, and she walked towards the tough grasses at the bottom of the dunes to sit and put her shoes and socks back on. The torch had stopped working and away from the carpark lamp it was very dark, but she knew this route and wasn’t frightened in any way. There wasn’t another soul around, only one other cottage with lights on shining through the old lacy curtains. Apart from the ocean there was no other sound and she walked back to the cottage with just her thoughts, her own thoughts and nobody else’s. She took her jacket, sneakers and wet, sandy socks off. She was glad that she had left the light on in the cottage; sometimes she didn’t like walking into dark places.  A grey rusty looking heater stood in one corner and she put it on, remembering from long ago that it soon warmed the place up, and then went into the kitchen to look at the meagre supplies she had brought with her and what she could make with them. As she pondered, her mind was deliberating on something else….and with the positive attitude that she now felt, did what she knew her little girl would want her to do… Sally went into the lounge room and turned the radio on, quite loud and began dancing to the music. It was a rock and roll song that she first danced to as a teenager. Then she thought of her beautiful, lively five year old daughter and how they used to dance together, laughing and falling over, and knew that it was time to put the silence of grief and sadness  on hold and bring out the noise of life once again.