Welcome, new employee, to the Spatial Parcel and Communication Exchange Office, or S.P.A.C.E. Office, for short. Here at S.P.A.C.E. Office, we take pride in what we do. This isn’t just some post office from the pre-Space Age, where parcels only had to move across land and water of a single planet in order to reach its destination, but rather across alternate realities, cosmic layers, universes, and even realms. With technology advanced and relations between dimensions the best they’ve been in eons, our employees’ jobs of ensuring correspondence between planes of existence arrive at the correct place, as well as the correct time, is vital. The first topic we need to cover is employee relations, as this adjustment can be a little shocking for new employees at first. Regardless of what dimension your existence stems from, everyone here works together like one big family. So, I will ask now that if you have any pre-existing prejudices, you leave them at the portal when you arrive for your shift. Here at S.P.A.C.E. Office, we ask that everyone show respect for every xenotypes’ individual needs. We will review a few of the most prevalent examples here, but don’t worry, you will learn more along the way as you meet your coworkers and spend some time out on the job. The first race we will talk about are the Mutelaloth. Humanoid in structure, they lack any facial features or known organs that provide methods of communication. Please be rest assured that they can, in fact, see. Or perhaps not see but are able to perceive the world around them in a way that one might correlate to having sight. When you converse with the Mutelaloth, please be sure to only ask questions that can be answered with a nod or shake of their head. Asking open-ended questions can sometimes lead to an uncomfortable exchange and challenge working relations, which we of course would rather avoid. The next lifeform to discuss are the Gala’guthic’alar, or the Gala for short. We have found that these large individuals tend to be one of the hardest for new employees to build working relations with. Here at S.P.A.C.E. Office, we encourage camaraderie and teamwork. Unless you are working near a Gala. They are not hostile, so please do not panic. However, they are very independent workers, and can sometimes come across as aggressive if they find someone is in their way of completing their task. Having hundreds of tentacle-like appendages covering their sizable bodies, it can be easy to find oneself in their way and tangled in their limbs. We have had a few medical mishaps in the past but have developed a lasting working plan for these individuals. As long as you stay out of their way, there should be no problems. Lastly, you may find yourself quite often in the presence of a spectral being called a Poltigoth. These beings can be a little difficult to spot at times, and really you will only notice their presence at the edge of your peripherals. Our recommendation is that if you see slight movement that may initially cause you to panic, please remain calm. Poltigoths come from what humans once referred to as the “afterlife”, which was really just another plane of existence that they simply didn’t understand at the time. As you are human, you may have an instinctual fear upon sensing their presence. I can promise that with time and exposure, you will learn to adapt to these shades. If you have further questions about your soon-to-be coworkers, we have many in-person and virtual courses available where you can learn all about the culture, customs, and dimensions of the diverse employees that make up S.P.A.C.E. Office. Next, let us discuss departments and divisions. As new dimensions establish contact and species find their way to our staff, all relevant departments here at S.P.A.C.E. Office undergo an in-depth evaluation to ensure everyone is working in a department and division that they are most suited to and where they are able to put forth the most of their potential. That is not to say that departmental shifts are not possible. Everyone possesses unique talents, even within their own communities. If you feel that you are better suited to work in a different department or division of S.P.A.C.E. Office, there are many opportunities to transfer. Our goal here is to not only ensure that parcels and communications are successfully signed, sealed, and delivered, but that our employees are happy and taken care of. Employees won’t stay if they aren’t happy, and if there are no employees, there is no S.P.A.C.E. Office. Next, let us discuss liberty policies. As a S.P.A.C.E. Office employee, you are eligible to one of three different employment plans. First, our facility has the means to host living quarters and everyday essentials for nearly every life-form we employ. As a human, we have our Blue Planet Abode, modeled to represent a 21 st Century New York from the planet of Earth. We also have a few sub-abodes to accommodate the outer planets and systems. The working hours for those who choose to live on-site are a constant rotation of 6-Galactic Standard Hours (hereafter referred to simply as “hours”) of work, 18-hours of liberty, with 24-hours of extended liberty following five work rotations. During those 24 hours, you are welcome to travel and portal-cross as you please, as long as you have returned in time for your next shift. The second employment option we offer is a three-month rotating cycle. For a period of three-months, you will reside in the Blue Planet Abode and work a cycle of 10-hours, with 12-hours of liberty between. Again, you will have 24-hours of extended liberty after five work cycles. After your three months have been completed, you are free to return to your home dimension, or a dimension of your choosing, for a three-month rest period, before repeating this cycle. Our last option tends to be the most popular. Similar to the first option where you reside in the Blue Planet Abode and work 6-hour shifts. However, instead of residing in employee housing, you are responsible for securing your own housing in a dimension of your choosing and portal-crossing back to S.P.A.C.E. Office for your shift. Now that we have gone over the basics, it is time to head over to our Public Relations office to speak with an advisor and find the right department for you! Remember, here at S.P.A.C.E. Office, your happiness and well-being are very important to us. We value our employees and hope that you, in turn, will value the work you do here. If you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to reach out to our XR, or Xeno-Resources, department at any time. Welcome to S.P.A.C.E. Office, new employee, and we look forward to your many years within our family!


Back in 1982 a young man from a neighborhood community disappeared. None really cared because he had a reputation of getting into trouble, harassing and assaulting people. He also was known to assault police officers when arrested. So let's say when he disappeared not too many people in the area really cared. No one in his family even filed a missing persons report which was odd. I wanted to go to college but my family didn't have the money. I got money to go to college in exchange for helping out someone who really wasn't college material but wanted to have the experience. Anelia Ivanov was the name of my room mate. Very nice, quiet, shy type of woman. I found out that most of the people in the dorm that I live in were from a neighboring country that had cut ties with Bulgaria back in the 1960's.. The name of the country was Varna which was a province of Bulgaria. The majority of people who lived there were Bulgarian and the main religion was Eastern Orthodox. My father Andrey Petrov was from Varna, he came over in 1950, joined the US military, went to Korea for 3 years became a citizen. by 1954 he had gotten an honorable discharge, met my mom in Chicago. They married in 1955 and had 2 children. My sister was born in 1956 and I was born in 1962. In 1967 my father went out one day and never returned. My mother who was a Swedish Lutheran converted to the Eastern Orthodox faith after marrying our father. The church we attended from time to time was the Varna Eastern Orthodox Church. Nearly all of the people who were members of the church were Bulgarian. My sister looked like my blonde blued eye Swedish Lutheran mother and I looked like my dark haired brown eyed Bulgarian father. Part Swedish and part Bulgarian. My mother Christina named my sister Maud and I was named Svetlana. I was named after a much older sister of my father whom I've never met. She had died during World War II. My mom made sure we had exposure to festival and events in both communities. We moved to Florida in 1969. As I said earlier we sometimes went to the Lutheran Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church. My sister and I were baptized Eastern Orthodox. August 1980 Orlando area Varna Eastern Orthodox College When I moved into the dorm, I met Prince Antoni and his younger brother Prince Anzhelo. Both were very good-looking men. Their father King Andrian was the ruler of Varna. They knew that my father was from Varna. When I seemed surprised they told me because I was rooming with their sister, they did research on me. They told me they knew more about my family than I did and laughed about it like it was a joke. I didn't doubt this. Prince Anzhelo was a freshman just like I was his. His older brother Prince Antoni would be graduating from college in May. I thought it was odd that Anelia wasn't a princess but I soon found out why. She was their half-sister and her mother was their father's mistress. She and her mother actually lived in Daytona Beach, which was about 30 miles away. Her mother Louann Hawkel roots went deep in the South. I was somewhat surprised that the brothers tolerated her as usually in a case like this, they might be angry about it. I couldn't imagine most royals attending a college that their half-sister who was the result of an extra-martial affair attended. This royal family seemed to march to the beat of a different drum. It wasn't long before Prince Anzhelo and I started dating. Anelia had a boyfriend, a nerdy type guy. Her brother liked him. Daniel, the boyfriend was sort of scared of them. Of course they made it clear to him that they would have to deal with them if he hurt her or made her cry. Daniel was always helping Prince Anzhelo out as he liked to party more than he liked to study. His older brother was so serious about everything. Of course he was heir to the throne, so he had to be. I must say that he was impressed with me because I could speak Bulgarian, well the Varna Bulgarian which Bulgarian didn't consider to be the proper Bulgarian language. Basically it was the same, but with different slang, different meanings, kind of like the Queen's English and American English. I had learned how to speak Bulgarian at some classes at the church in Orlando. My mom insisted that Maud and I attend these classes. Maud could speak enough to get by. In May of 1982 Anelia was taking some pictures of the Varna Eastern Orthodox church when some guy parked in front of the church was involved in some type of criminal activity. He saw Anelia and started yelling at her. She got scared and ran. Got back to the dorm but forgot to lock the door. This guy got in the courtyard and started screaming. I called the police and they came and arrested the guy. Anelia was sobbing. I remember the knock on the door. I opened the door and Prince Antoni. He was furious. A female officer was in the room talking with us. About ten minutes had passed. "What happened?" "I was in front of the Varna church taking pictures and I saw some guy trying to sell marijuana and he thought I was taking pictures of him. He started yelling that he was going to kill me. I didn't look where i was going and almost got him by a car. I managed to get away but forgot to lock the door. he got into the courtyard.... "Where is this piece of garbage? Is he still here?" "He's been taken to the Orange County Jail, Prince Antoni." This seemed to calm the Prince down. Anzhelo told me his older brother sometimes had a short fuse and had a bad temper. I could see this. Prince Anzhelo rarely got mad about anything. This man bonded out of jail but came back to the apartment complex. Made good on his promise. This was a big mistake as Prince Antoni had his security people ready. He had done research on the guy. Someone at the jail had tipped him off when the guy would be getting out. Prior to the guy coming, they were in the courtyard talking in Bulgarian about what they were going to do. I pretended to be napping as before they started talking, Anzhelo came into my room and I pretended to be asleep. I heard him say that I was asleep. Anelia was in a fitness class. They talked for over an hour. I peered out the window. I saw Prince Antoni give his brother some money and told him to take me out for the evening. He told him to take me out to dinner immediately. It was a little early about 5:00 pm. Prince Antoni waved as we left. Also coming with us was Anelia and Daniel. We all went out to dinner, a movie and then I went back to Prince Anzhelo's place which was nice. The Prince told me that the guy had bonded out of jail and had threatened to harm Anelia. "She doesn't have to worry about him. He will never bother anyone again." I nodded. This made me uneasy as I knew they wouldn't be telling him nicely to leave Anelia alone. They wouldn't be paying him off or telling him to go away. They were going to settle the score with him. Most likely he would never been seen again. Prince Antoni had joked about his father making people disappear. It really wasn't funny but in order to be in his favor, you had to laugh like it was a joke. I knew it was no joke. He was dead serious and told Anelia so. She thought it was a joke. She couldn't imagine him doing something terrible to someone but I could. I really didn't want to know what they did to this guy. Prince Anzhelo was never involved with this although I'm sure he knew what happened. I played dumb and acted indifferent but it bothered me a little. "Dont' worry about this guy, Svetlana. He isn't going to hurt anyone again. Do you really think police are going to look for a guy who has assaulted them, threatened them or who is a thorn in their side? " "Probably not." I said. The police never came around and questioned no one. I was later told that the case had been closed. This is the type of power the King had. Very powerful. I found out that my father was alive and well living in Varna. There had been an uprising in 1967 and he had come back to Varna and had was loyal to the King who took power after taking over the Province. He broke away from Bulgaria and had access to nuclear weapons which caused the Russian to back off. Varna was recognized as a country in 1970. My mother couldn't understand when my dad left why the US military didn't want to give her military benefits. They wouldn't tell her and she wondered if Dad had left to go fight in Varna. The uprising of 1967 was a major concern for NATO. Finally after nearly a year my mother got the benefits. It was not surprising when Prince Antoni told me this shortly before he graduated. He knew everything and I mean everything about me, my family and everything else it seemed. The Bulgarian royal family didn't recognize them as being royals. Other royals didn't either. This family was about 15 times removed but there were distantly related to the Eastern European Royal households. The US sort of recognized them but were leary of Varna. I went to Varna in 1984 during spring break and I saw my father. Maud came with me. My mother chose not to but she knew about it. He was quite ill from smoking too much over the years. My mother was angry with him. We just wanted answers and he answered our questions. I must say that both Maud and I were surprised when he showed us pictures. Some from the church had filed him in with what we were doing all those years. I guess the real shocker was when he told us that the King made sure my mother got those benefits. My father was one of his security people and had saved his life on more than one occasion. I hate to say it but the King was a feared dictator. Whenever you have a dictator he's usually extreme left or right wing but this guy seemed to take ideology of each. Mixing of both. A example of this would be he believed that women should be traditional but also educated at the same time. His economics were similar to those in the US that were conservative but he believed that government could do this best. Allowed religion to practice but only on his terms or what he believed. The Russians and Bulgarians never admitted that they were afraid of him but they were a little. The US was leary of him (He wasn't a communism nor was he Hitler) but you didn't want to tick him off. Anyway, enough of that. My father died a couple of hours before we were to leave. We left a couple of days later. My father was given a state type funeral. We knew that people were watching us. The King talked about how wonderful he was. Loyal servant to the state of Varna. Shortly after graduation Prince Anzehelo and I went our separate paths. He had hinted this to me throughout our relationship. I never developed deep feelings towards him but was careful not to reveal this. I told him I wouldn't be his mistress and he understood. He would find someone. He married a woman who his father had picked out for him. A woman who was educated and suitable for bearing children. A virgin of course. The virgin part was more or less understood not actually written in stone. I was given a parting gift which was a new home in Orlando. Life went on. The man was never spoke of again.


Dusk was setting in, and everyone had gone home except for Johnny. It was the last place he wanted to be right now. Instead, he gazed at the stars that began to emerge in the indigo twilight for their debut now that the sun was taking its exit from the stage, leaving nothing but a burnished glow on the horizon. He clenched the chains of the swing as if it were a lifeline, tilting his head back further until he was looking directly up into the center of the universe, where the blue had deepened to black, and the stars all peered at him like a tiny billion eyes. They had come to watch the trainwreck that became his life. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps approaching, lightly trudging their way through the grassy lawn of Toro Park towards his place on the swing. He closed his eyes for a moment, somewhat agitated – he recognized those steps anywhere. It was amazing that someone with such a boisterous and obnoxious personality could carry themselves so lightly across the earth, as if they were raised among mice. He knew the truth though – it was the rats that raised them. Reopening his eyes but not taking them off the stars, he listened to the footsteps transition from grass to tanbark, crunching their way to take a place in the swing next to him. The whine of chains screeched against the weight of a body that bore itself on the seat, groaning its last resistance as they settled in. They sat so quietly that Johnny almost believed a ghost had been messing with him.

“You’re too quiet, Kayleigh.” He barked at his sister, finally unsettled by her silence. It was not within her nature to keep her mouth shut for more than five minutes. “What, you mean you want me to talk this time?” she retorted. Johnny huffed, more annoyed with her now that she had a valid point and glanced at her. Kayleigh’s head hung low, her amber hair acting as a wispy curtain that covered her face, and she seemed to be looking down at her hands clasped neatly in her lap. She was grinding her dirty sneakers into the tanbark, burrowing her foot into the ground as if it sought to hide from the truth of everything. Then, as if right on cue, Kayleigh blurted out the thoughts she seldom put through a filter or kept to herself. “I don’t think dad is coming back this time.” “Yeah? How so?”  Johnny was indifferent to this revelation, but decided to humor her for once, glancing back up at a sky obscured by the metal pipeline of the swing set. “It’s been two weeks since he left. Normally he’s gone for five days at most, and even then, he calls at least once. He would tell us if he won big at the slots, or if he crapped out and was coming home. No matter what, he would call. This time, it has been what? Nine days since we last heard from him…?” Kayleigh had launched into her anxious tailspin of recounting the last two weeks with a cadence like she was gossiping about the latest drama amongst her friends, as if Johnny needed the recap. He sighed as she continued her tirade, continuing to look up at the sky. There were more stars - more bright eyes - coming out to watch these children on the swing. “Not to mention in his last phone call dad said he found another girlfriend – what was her name again? Holly? Hannah? Whatever it is, he did that thing again where he swears that she’s the one and he’s gonna bring her home to be our new mom and its different this time …” Johnny knew the tale all too well; he and his sister lived it many times. Their father would bring home some bimbo he picked off the Vegas strip and demand they call her mom. Things would be hunky-dory for two weeks at most, until dad ran out of money and “mom” would up and disappear. Dad gets depressed, drinks himself into oblivion talking about “the good old days”, then decides he’s going to get back to the strip to make his fortune. “We’ll live like kings, kiddo, you’ll see.” He could hear his father’s voice echoing in his mind, the same thing he always told Johnny as he stepped out the front door for the umpteenth time. Like a rat on an exercise wheel, the man was running to the same place and going nowhere. “So, what if he’s found another girlfriend, doesn’t that mean he’s coming back soon – y’know when the cash piles up, Detective Monk?” Johnny asked his sister in a dismissive tone, kicking himself in a light swing, the chain grinding in protest of motion. Kayleigh stopped digging her foot and shot him a look; in the bleak lighting of nearby streetlights flickering to life, he could see that he hit a nerve. “No, Johnathon , that’s exactly my point…” She drew out his full name in retaliation and he clenched his jaw. He hated being named after the deadbeat that was supposed to be taking care of them. Before he could deliver a comeback Kayleigh looked away from him, hearing her draw a shaky breath. “What if he has found the one…that makes him never come back?” Her voice trembled in a way that made Johnny angry – at her, his dad, the stars, everything . “So?” He snapped, kicking himself into a full swing now “So what if that rat bastard never comes back?! It’s the best thing he ever did for us! No more empty promises, no more fake moms! We’ll be free of him!” Johnny thought many times about what he would do if his dad never returned home, anticipating how to make ends meet. He thought how he was old enough to get a worker’s permit and would have to quit school to get a job for both of them to get by. He didn’t feel bad about leaving high school; it sucked anyway, all his friends had moved or were getting ready for college, which was never his scene to begin with. Plus, he thought to himself, I can always go back in a few years after Kayleigh graduates to finish my degree. With each pump of his legs, the swing groaned its displeasure with each attempt to catapult him into the universe. Johnny looked at the stars, drawing closer and then farther away as he made himself a human pendulum. He felt envious of those stars. They mocked him with their consistent indifference and the distance they held from the world’s problems. So, on his next upswing, he shouted his truth to the heavens, the one that had been building up for two weeks when his so-called father walked out the door for the last time. “I’m glad he’s gone!” Johnny fell back to the Earth, his feet contacting the ground again. He roughly skid himself to a violent halt with chunks of dirt and wood spraying out beneath his heels. Panting heavily from his effort, he snarled victoriously towards the night sky before giving way to devastated sighs, tears leaking from his eyes. He resented that he had to think about this stuff at seventeen years old; rather than living up his last summer before senior year, he instead had to figure out how to put food on the table and keep the roof over his head. “I’m scared.” Kayleigh whispered to him, her voice shaking and uncertain. Johnny quickly wiped his eyes and turned to look at his younger sister. Despite the warmth of the night, she trembled in the dark, gripping her hands together so tight that her white knuckles glowed against the darkness. She was two months from her thirteenth birthday, and already the weight of the world was pushing heavy on her shoulders. Johnny decided that although they shared the same name, he did not have to share the same fate that befell his father. “Me too.” He responded to her softly, and then stood from his seat, letting the swing drift gently away from him. “Let’s go home – I’ll make us some bacon mac.” He bribed Kayleigh with her favorite meal, offering a hand to help her up. She hesitated momentarily before nodding and taking his hand to walk the half mile back home. The swings drifted gently in the empty air for a little while after they left before finding their stillness, suspended in abandoned silence. The stars, blinking and flickering, continued to watch the world as they always did, before disappearing within the bleary dawn of a new day.


Benji wasn’t like other dogs…oh, no…he wasn’t like other dogs. “Owner thought he was a mouse!” Benji, like a lot of dogs, had an owner. He’d dress ole Benji up like a mouse. “That dog killed my Chloe!” Dog got a bit…meeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn….Boy, I’ll tell ya. “That dog makes Hilter look like a pitbull!” That dog was a shame. Benji the dog was not right. The owner got weird and dressed him up like a mouse. There’s nothing right about a dog that thinks it’s a mouse. There he’d be out on the lawn of your house. Dressed in fur and cheese and looking like a mouse. “But how does that fuck a dog up?” That can fuck a dog up good. You know that dog out on 42nd? “That dog all full of fleas? That dog that just goes for the knees?” Yeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh. That dog. “Benji was one of them?” Benji is one of these. See, you mess with an identity and you get a dog that just ain’t right. Ole Benji he was a fright. He’d go across town and kill a spaniel or a shepard, it didn’t matter, coulda been a leopard. “You saying that dog’s a killer?” I’m saying Benji went Old Yeller. “There ain’t no serial killin’ dogs!” You seen Lassie, Daisy, Shep, or Bo? They’re all laying out in the meadow, so the answer is “No! We got stop that ole Benji!” Dog thinks it’s a mouse, it don’t know if it’s swinging Lassie or Mickey. “We gotta hunt that dog down!” Be my guest, he’s around town. Some say in your home. Maybe you want to think a bit before you leave yourself alone.


I have been wanting to see Hamilton for about a year. When it first came out, it was very expensive. Some of the travel groups that offered day trips in the area where I live had tickets, but they were very expensive. This time around, the tickets were pricey but not beyond my price range. It wasn't unheard of for people to fly into New York City and pay over $1,000 a ticket. This didn't include their hotel stay. I got a very good deal on tickets as a large group went to the Phillips Performing Arts Center in downtown Orlando, Florida. I've been there many times and knew my way around there. I know what parking garage to park at and where to go. There is a lot of traffic and this time I decided to go by bus with the travel group. We left in the afternoon and arrived at the Winter Park Village 45 minutes later where it was dinner on our own. I didn't really have a dinner as I attended a luncheon in Daytona Beach earlier, so I had my dinner. I went to Cheesecake factory and got some cheesecake. We were given an hour and a half for dinner and then back on the bus to downtown Orlando which was a short trip. It was a sold out crowd. There were a mixture of young and old and a very diverse group of people who attended the show. The story about Hamilton was historically accurate and a lot of things that they brought up in the show were things which were current - issues relating to immigration for example. Some of the individuals in the audience had been to Hamilton before and some a couple of aisles down were singing to the songs. The musical will be around for a long time. It was interesting to see how rap and hip hop music is spun into the story line. It's very unique and it was very good. I liked the play. A play like this would get more younger people interested in American History or at the very least talking about it. As I was thinking about it, I tried to imagine how someone would use disco or classic rock or other type of music in a play or musical relating to the founding fathers. If rap and hip hop can be used as music for history then any type of music could be used as a history lessons.. Songs like I will Survive (it would be we will survive song by Women of the American Revolution, Don't Bring me Down (classic rock song song by the British Army after being defeated) and songs like I'm on Top of the World, We are the Champions (after the victory over the British Army). Looks like we made it could be a song sung after Washington's troops crossed the Delaware, as they didn't know if they were going to make it but it was something they had to do. These are just a few songs that came to mind, although it did take me quite a while to think of these songs. The lyrics would have to be changed to fit what was going on of course. I would recommend seeing Hamilton if you can. I enjoyed watching it and you probably will as well.


I got this idea from a now deleted shower thought subreddit post. I’ve included the text for reference: >Santa Claus is actually real and we could all just be on the naughty list and he’s so done with humanity that he doesn’t even give out coal. Anyway, I hope you like it and feedback is always welcome! You don’t make this job easy, you know. Well, that’s not entirely true. You do make this job easier but for all the wrong reasons. You see, I’m a pretty meticulous guy. I keep lists and keep them accurate. I even check them twice. I like hard work, and I like doing it well. Lately, though, my heart just hasn’t been in it. Listen, I’m no arbiter of justice, just observant. I do my best to commend the deserving, and reward those who are good and decent. Likewise, I try to encourage the wayward by letting them know “I see you.” Used to, all it took was a little lump of coal. Even if you weren’t the best, no one deserves to go to sleep cold. Such a small thing, but it was enough. What used to be a manageable list of these mischievous folks has turned into an ever-growing scroll that takes up an entire room. I’d tell you what the room is called, but the last time I did that the list practically caught on fire with how quickly it was scribbling names and growing. Frosty’s corn cob pipe, not again! People, *please*. Anyway, the other list is a mere shadow of what it was and I’m continually hopeful it will make a comeback, but that may not be in the cards. Too many people try to get on this list for the recognition. They want people to throw them a party, name a building after them, or be otherwise congratulated. Honestly, just be good for goodness’ sake! The quiet, anonymous good with no expectation of anything in return is what this list is all about. I think a lot of people have forgotten that, but it’s never too late to start! The icing on the cake of all of this is I can’t even spend my time off how I want to! All my favorite beaches are closed, hotels won’t take presents as payment, and parking is nearly impossible to find. Have you ever tried to parallel park a reindeer-drawn cutter? It’s no cake walk. Rudolf isn’t any help either, we keep getting asked not to come back to places because he can’t stop flashing people. Hrmph, reindeer. Anyway, the sleigh will be light this year. I guess I can refinish the paint and lacquer, maybe replace the runners, and renovate the reindeer stables. I would say I could knock out the missus’ honey-do list, but I finished that back in July. Heck, most of the elves have an Etsy shop making one thing or another. They’re very punny. Most of their shop names are quite clever and a lot of them make me laugh, but I digress. Please, for your own sake, and my sanity, be better to each other. Be kind, be gracious, be good. And watch out for each other, because if the quarantines hold, I won’t be coming to town this year. Yours in Christmas joy, Nick P.S. Despite what you may hear in songs, it’s okay to cry. It’s been a rough year. Still though, no pouting.


I’m not sure how I got here nor when because I think I’ve always been here. I recall no beginning but I’m just now getting used to the brightness so maybe this is new. Everything seems to have a constant glow so that no shadow is ever cast. The hallway I notice myself walking in is made of small white bath tiles that clack and echo with each step I take. I come across two branching halls, both perpendicular to the first. Down the right hall I see nothing but the infinitely stretching bright tiles and from the left hall faint whispers of arguing can be heard. I choose the left hall and the voices grow louder as I continue. When the volume seems to approach its apex I reach the end of the hall where a room full of people shouting meets me. They all look too busy arguing over something to notice me enter so I spend time analyzing the room. The room is different from the halls in that it doesn’t contain a ceiling and the walls are much higher. The sky above is perfectly blue without a sun while still looking and feeling like noontime. Listening now to the people, they are arguing about religion or something of the sort. Someone calls out, “When will they arrive to save us?” and another, “We can’t wait forever.” A man walks out to the front of the room and everyone quiets down. He bleakly looks at the crowd of people before him and begins, “My people. Our wait has gone on for far too long and I feel I must say-” his eyes meet mine for a second and he wakes from his sorrowful slump. “My people, I must say that our God has arrived.” The audience follows his gaze back to me and they all uproariously cheer. They surrounded me as they had to the preacher who was now making his way to me through the crowd. Upon doing so he grabbed my hand and raised it high in the air. “They will free us from this hell of infinite corridors and hallways,” he exclaims loudly to the crowd. Unsure of what the preacher was talking about and not wanting to upset the audience, I decided to follow what they were saying. The preacher shouts, “As I had said so long ago, God would appear to us and set us free.” The crowd cheers. I’m not sure how I would manage that for them but the preacher continues. “My prophecy spoke of a soul who would arrive and then climb the slick walls with their bare hands and let down the clouds to lift us out.” The crowd's cheering reaches an unbearable holler as the realization of what I would have to attempt settles. I look behind me to the wall that looks to stand around twenty-five feet high. The cries from the people froze me still, facing the wall. I wouldn’t dare turn around and have to face the disappointment and anger of such a mob so I stick my palms to the wall and push downwards as if I expected any sort of a lift. My hands slide down the wall producing a light squeak that I’m sure the people heard. Their cheering quiets a little and I can feel their eyes piercing the back of my head. I step closer to the wall as if to get farther from them and raise my hands to try again, this time I point my fingernails into the mortar between the tiles to try and get some footing but as I push downwards again the tile chips one of my nails causing my finger to bleed. I don’t take notice of it though because the silence of the expecting crowd behind me is far worse than any pain I’d have to endure trying to please them. In my peripheral vision, the preacher is smiling ear to ear at me but his eyes carry an intense anger that I fear might just be a fraction of the anger of the room watching me ruin their prophecy. My face is now pushed against the wall stained red from the blood oozing out of my fingers. I punch at the wall to try and chip away room to grip but, as the room’s silence turns back into the angry shouting I had heard upon my first arrival, I start biting at the wall as well. My bloodied fingers and mouth both smash at the wall as a pathetic attempt to break it away. To my surprise, however, I began to rise higher. I whip my hand higher up into the wall causing chips of tile and mortar to fall into my hair. My face is stuck against the wall like the piercing eyes of the crowd had pinned me to it. I slowly pull myself another arm’s length up, my arms shaking the whole while. My feet feel like they are being pulled down by tons of weight so I kick my shoes off. I hear them hit the floor after only a second and the crowd roars louder. Their screaming is so loud it physically aches me; if there was anything I most needed now it would be a way to silence them. My fingernails have all been cut off and my fingers are bloodied and sliced up so I rip off a tile from the wall and stab it into the mortar. The tile managed to break through the concrete and stick but it also sliced my palm in the process. I lifted my foot up to the gap left by the removed tile and slowly lifted myself higher. The ledge doesn’t seem so far away now so I quickly rip the tile back out of the wall and jump up from my footing. My foot slips off the gap and my mangle of fingers is only inches away from the top. I swiftly lift the tile up and hook it over the top of the wall and quickly grab the peak. I hoist myself up all the way then just lie there. Through the ringing in my ears and the pulsing of my head, I can make out the cheering of the crowd beneath me. I stand up shaking and still grasping the broken tile and look down at my bloody trail on the wall and them jumping and hollering. I throw the tile back down and it shatters by my fallen shoes. “Now, lend down the clouds for us to get out of here!” shouts the preacher. I look up at the once-clear sky and see it full of clouds. Perhaps I am the God spoken of in their prophecy I think. How else could I have scaled that wall and the skies filled with clouds at my arrival? Of course, I’m God, what other explanation could there be. Their ovation sounds like an angel’s symphony just for me. I look back up to the clouds wisping gracefully in the sky and reach for them. On the tip of my toes, I strain to reach the heavens smiling a wide half-toothed smile. My hand is almost to the clouds but they move away as if repelled by my hand revealing the bright sun I’d once thought was gone. My vision was now blinded by the light but I kept trying in some vain attempt to reach the clouds. I leap with all my might to reach the skies but at the peak of my jump, as the clouds conceal the sun again, I realize the fate I’ve befallen. The crowd’s cheering I had thought I’d once heard was then revealed to be screams.


***SPIRIT*** The sharp winter air cut through the pervading silence of Hayabusa National Park, silencing Riku’s mind with a sudden jolt of intense chill. The extreme temperatures offered a brief respite from the torturous thoughts that plagued him. His body was now in survival mode, shivering intensely in a feeble attempt to warm itself. His thin skater hoodie and jeans, insufficient to provide the warmth it needed. The events of the day kept replaying in his mind: the shouting, the arguing, the crying and the horrible depression that followed. His only escape was the park. Midday seemed like it had just passed, but the flickering shadows of the beech and fir tree branches, dancing in the dim light of the park lamps announced the arrival of night. Riku sat at the bottom of the giant stone bleachers in the centre of the park, a massive oval shaped fish pond lay across from them, past the well trodden dirt path and across the bank of grass separating them. Surrounding the central pool was a multitude of winding paths, dim street lights and endless trees, a beautiful, calming place, the only place in fact where Riku could compose himself after the usual routine of family dysfunction. It had become a daily occurrence. At 17 years old he cut a gangly figure, just coming out of the awkward teenage growth spurt, the park light not revealing his freckled light brown skin tone, nor the piercing green eyes that no matter how you looked at them, seemed to reveal a wisdom beyond the years of any 17 year old. However, to the well seasoned observer, one could detect a hint of constant anxiety, the dark storm brewing evermore in his soul. ‘’When did this all start?’’ Riku thought to himself. Growing up without a father had left a void in his soul, an open wound that just would not heal. He saw pictures of his Dad, a dusty blond haired, shrewd faced man, pointy nose and deep creases in his forehead, revealing years of apparent stress. But pictures never helped anyone Riku thought, pictures never helped the constant alcohol that his older sister brought home, drowning in perpetual sorrow after another gruelling day at her cubicle job. When Riku’s mom had passed away shortly after he was born, his father left shortly after, leaving his then 15 year old sister in charge. She loved Riku; but over time darkness ensnared her heart in a cruel, inescapable net. Chaos and turmoil was the regular atmosphere at home. Being the younger Riku had to bear the full brunt of this, day in and day out, ever since it started at around 10 years old. Constant arguments and endless hurling insults. But through it all, deep down in what was left of his already shattered heart, Riku was helpless in feeling nothing but love for his sister, and his only wish was to help her, but with his already turbulent life he often felt overwhelmed, overshadowed and inadequate. As he sat on the giant stone steps, oddly comfortable for nothing but worn out concrete, he knew he couldn’t go back to this life one second more. ‘’What do I do? What can I do?’’ he anguished. The winter wind suddenly picked up, a mixture of brown and white as the remnants of Autumn leaves and snow intertwined. The wind got stronger and stronger, Riku was a bit alarmed now. Out of nowhere, a sound resembling the howling cry of lost souls penetrated the night. Riku suddenly fell into a trance, he felt as though the wind was talking to him. He could feel a presence in it, something much bigger than him, much greater than his mind could comprehend. Riku was never a religious or spiritual type of person but he certainly had no idea of what this feeling could possibly be. The wind grew stronger and stronger, hurricane force speeds could have been clocked for all he knew. ‘’This is it, I’m going to die’’ he thought. At first he kept his calm, as part of him wanted dearly to depart this earth, to leave all the turmoil behind. An image of his sister flashed in his mind, the soft brown eyes, delicate eyelashes and pink floral patterned summer dress that she wore during happier times came to the forefront of his mind. Panic ensued, “I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE HER YET’’ was the new, dominant thought, surging through him, but the wind did not stop. Picking up in force by the second, the howling became a deafening roar, a cacophony of confusion, sadness, leaves and snow surrounded him. Then, silence. Sand. Heat. Two things polar opposite to the sensations he experienced a moment before. Riku opened his eyes, and what he saw floored him. A massive flat, sprawling desert lay in front of him, a ray of sunlight shimmering and dancing in the red sand. The sand itself was soft, with a texture reminiscent to silt, not like beach sand. Riku was in the same position as he was on the stone bleachers, only now he knew two things. One: the profuse sweat dripping down his face and the grainy feel of sand under his pants meant he wasn’t dreaming, and two: he wasn’t in Japan anymore. Riku suddenly noticed he wasn’t directly in the sun’s brutal rays, for what seemed miles in front of him lay a massive shadow resembling a tree extending almost ominously, and Riku found himself directly in its shade. He turned around, and what greeted his eyes left him speechless, not that he was saying anything in the first place, but a fitting description nonetheless of the absolute awe-inspiring object in front of him. It was a massive Cryptomeria tree, 100 times bigger than **Jōmon Sugi** (**縄文杉)** the biggest cryptomeria or Yakusugi tree in Japan. It was at least 20000 metres high, with an extremely thick trunk, akin to multiple suits of armour stacked one on the other. It’s jutting branches climbed high into the brilliant blue sky, and from Riku’s position he could barely see the summit, so tall was this otherworldly tree. ‘’Stand!’’ a deep voice barked. Riku jumped up in surprise. He quickly turned around to see an old man, his flowing white hair and silver beard fluttering in the wind. The man’s face had no distinguishable features, except one thing, his eyes were completely white, devoid of any iris or pupils. “Who.. who are you?’’ Riku asked quaveringly. “I am all that has come to pass and will come to pass, I am night and I am day, I am the end and the beginning,’’ answered the old man. Still utterly bewildered by the whole situation, this ambiguous response was of no help to Riku. “Look old man, I’m in a bad mood, I don’t have time for silly riddles.’’ snapped Riku. The old man, wearing nothing but grey robes, produced what looked like a wooden training sword or ‘bokken’ and threw it in front of Riku. “Attack me.’’ he said. Riku stared at him. “This guy is mentally ill or something ‘’ he thought, ‘’what is he going on about, attack him?’’ Riku stood still, not daring to move. Before he could utter another word he found he was gasping for breath, as if an invisible hand was crushing his windpipe, increasing in strength with every passing second. ‘’ATTACK’’ the man thundered. Riku’s body acted instinctively, as if knowing the more he stood still the more he would gasp for breath. He picked up the sword and blindly charged at the man, hoping this terrible nightmare he had found himself in would somehow come to an end with this attack. The whole thought of it seemed ridiculous to him later on, but in the moment he couldn’t process what was happening. The man deftly sidestepped Riku, disarmed him with swift hands and slammed him back on the ground. Hot tears mixed with scorched red sand filled Riku’s eyes. Winded from the blow, desperately dehydrated from the sun and physically and emotionally drained; he felt hopeless once more, just like he felt in his own world, even here in this alien place, his emotions never changed. Suddenly a small puddle of water appeared in front of him. “Drink.’’ ordered the man. Riku didn’t need to think twice. Severely dehydrated, he guzzled the crystal clear water in the blink of an eye. Feeling refreshed and no longer like his windpipe was about to explode, he asked the man, softly this time, “Please sir, would you kindly tell me who you are?’’ Riku swore he saw a brief smile flash across the man’s expressionless face as he replied. ‘’I am the Spirit of the great tree you see over there. There is nothing in this world beside a barren desert, yet in the middle of it The Great Yakusugi tree was able to grow, do you know why?’’ asked the man. Riku shook his head, unable to comprehend fully what he was being told. ‘’I know who you are Riku Hashimoto. I have been with you since the day you were born. I am the one who brought you here, and it is me who will send you back. I watch over your world in spirit form, where no one is able to see, hear or touch me, but I see all, I hear all, and I feel all.’’ ‘’In your world there is constant hatred, anger, jealousy and all manner of sin that blinds humans to their true potential. People chase after uncertain futures, consumed by the fires of greed and lust for power. Superficiality has become the normal routine for many, as the truth of the world has long been lost and skewed over the ages. The teachings of the prophets of old have been forgotten, and every person has their own idea of what the world should be like, mixing it with their personal wants and needs, but lacking the humility to accept a greater understanding of the world around them.’’ ‘’There is however one saving grace, young Riku. It is Love. True love holds a power so great no mortal seeking physical gain and riches can comprehend it. It transcends all knowledge and human understanding, it is the key to the truth of the universe that you exist in.’’ ‘’This realm I have brought you to, is the realization of what is inside your soul.’’ All around you is barren wasteland, scorched by a relentless sun, representing years of pain and inner turmoil, which over time destroyed the once vibrant forests and trees that once grew when you were born. All that is left is this great Yakusugi tree. You thought you were going to die Riku, but just before you perceived your last moments, the love you held for your sister overtook you, despite your harsh upbringing and family life, you still clung to true love with no remorse till the end. This tree represents that love. An immovable force of life even in the most barren of deserts. Such is the power I speak of’’. ‘’Your selflessness even in your last moments moved me, so much so I decided to give you a second chance at life, Riku Hashimoto. It is not often in your world a human can make such a deep connection with the true power of the spirit.’’ ‘’From now on I will guide you in your life, no longer will your heart be troubled, you will see truth in everything you do, and will develop a perception of reality different from anything you’ve experienced before. I will call you here again Riku. There are countless worlds like these, each filled with their own mystery, sometimes joy, sometimes misery. You will be my apprentice in cleansing each world of hatred and despair, developing your spiritual power along the way.’’ Riku stood still, a sense of inexplicable calm enveloped him, as if something in him had changed permanently. He felt like an eternity had passed in that strange reality, and his eyes began to droop, the wind suddenly picked up again. The sand blew in all directions, a whirlwind of red filled the atmosphere, and the shadowy silhouette of the old man faded into the distance. Despite all this, Riku continued to drift off to sleep. When Riku woke up, he noticed he was lying down on the same stone bleacher from the previous night. ‘’What a crazy dream’’ he thought to himself. With a weary sigh, he got up. ‘’Time to go home and do this all again, the lament of poor old Riku Hashimoto continues’’ he thought. As he took his first step, Riku felt something uncomfortable in the neck of his weathered hoodie, something itchy, something grainy. With a tentative shake, Riku watched in awe as something red fell to the ground. It was the same blood red, silt-like sand from his ‘dream’. \ **©Richard Pargass Spirit Story 2020.** Edited by T.


Cherry had always an extraordinary imagination. No other homo sapiens could have a vision like him, his friends believed. He could have talked with his cat JoJo. It was like he could sense and comprehend, the enunciation and intimate convictions of all incarnate things. What a miracle child! A generous, introverted, clever, young man was born to a middle-class south Korean family and got a name, ‘Kim Choi-Joon’. The lengthy name had to adjust in the city of dream, and he momentarily rendered it cherry. Cherry’s father had the ambition to make him a judicious, skilled gentleman. So, he had accumulated wealth as more as he could and sent his child out of the home country to the dream country, New York City. Cherry always had fantasy dreams. He used to recollect them after waking up and make it into stories out of them. What smart sounds! He had constituted his fantasy sphere bigger than the universe that he adored to stay in it all the time. The fictional realm had everything that he had not in real life. Trees with multiple wheels, racing each other, big, scary dinosaurs establishing food in their kitchen for their families and chilling, living a normal life like human families. His world was overflowing with reconciliation. The visions became more authentic when he grew up. It primarily centred on the real-life of individuals who had a distressed life, in his fantasy world they would be liberated from those difficulties. But his life was not permitted to go through that fantasy world. Because he needed to live that life in real. And his life was differing from all of those things. Troubled. His timid psyche always stayed in the fantasy world. But he had the one largest problem he sought to release from. When somebody chatted to him, he could think of all the retorts he wanted to but when he talked, everything switched. His sentiments blocked him to say the proper words and he used to come to an end up with things to answer what he should on behalf of it. This is how he was in real life, clogged like an ant. Life never runs on your chosen track. That was for every people and for him too. His imaginations got heavy on him when he grew older, and decided to write this whole imaginary world, so anyone else could also enjoys that world. He decided to become a writer, but his father wanted him to be an engineer. What a tragedy! Like it said before life never runs on your chosen track. He arrived at New York and got admission to NYU. Although New York was his fantasy city as it was for every writer who chose to publish their books. Now he had to write everything and just to publish. But that was not straightforward.

A complete day at university and after finishing off it, he had to work part-time at café to comply with his expenses for living. Life was stuck in between the struggle of satisfying his parents dream. And his dreams were laying off somewhere in the dust. one day he roused up in the middle of the night with a dream. He did not emphasis on the dream because he had a nervousness on his head he considered. That day when his father phoned him to converse, he decisively revealed that he wanted to write a novel after his last year’s graduation complete. Although his father had known the behaviours of his writing. His father assumed that there would be no future for him in writing as it was not his era’s subject and he should focus on education because that would let him be a real man in their society. The writing was scrap, he believed. Poor imagination! Cherry was angry at a point and wanted to engage in battle for his freedom. But could not. at the time he sensed how his parents laboured to make his life better and the sentiments transpired again and made him halt to answer everything he wanted to. Those grubby emotions! Days chucked like and his impatience got higher on to write that daydream world, but he had no time for anything. When he travelled from the metro, he never got a seat because the other locals used to chill on it every time. When there was some little space, every time he could not call for them to have it. How introverted! He had no guts to talk with any strangers because it was the last thing he could not imagine. The answer to people. Every time he imagined having people’s reaction to being delighted or normal, but they would not, sometimes they had spoken with anger, egos and attitude. Which he was never ready to feel it. So, he ceased talking to people who he could not imagine responses. His friends at university used him for assignments and for money and he let them do it because he could not withstand them by revealing no matter what. The actual world was the merciless thing he could not control himself. Life was uneasy, uncontrolled and felt stopped. But he prayed every day in the hope of an inspiring sunray who could change his life. How believable! One day when he was working at café, a woman, perhaps a fairy from heaven entered the café. Her perfect beauty and long, nourished, strawberry smelled hair and her exotic manners of expression, everything attracted cherry’s eyes. He never realized it was happening to a real world. He slipped into his fantasy world. But it was happening in real life. He sensed it when the lady requested him for a milkshake. He had a mask on his face so, she could not see him. She was busy talking to her friends. She was an Asian too, perhaps a Korean or maybe a Japanese. Could be anyone. But beautiful. He did not speak to her as much. But he was busy imagine her in a fairy tale. When she left, cherry saw her till she disappeared. He felt something unusual first time ever that day, he wanted to talk to her, but he could not. how penniless!

He was in his own world, feeling of her, talking to her and hanging out. After concluding his shift, he reached home and snatched a pen and paper to write something on. He penned about her. He wrote a story about him and her that how they both get to know each other and fall in love. How loving! He realized that he would never meet her again in real life so, he authored every prospect he would like to be live in with her. He tallied the conflict as his real-life issue that he could not confess anything to people or speak. In the story, he wrote that he loved her so much but could not declare because she was married before and her marriage was on the edge of divorce. She asked him to help her in that vicious time. He did help him, but he wanted to hold her hand for the whole life, but he could not. how miserable! But he had the subsequent intensity strength that day. He laid every dread aside that day. He penned that his heart was speaking inside but he had to turn it from the outside. And he did. How fantastic! He finally hoarded all his courage and professed to the fairy from heaven and the love of his life. And she accepted it with a warm heart and kissed him. And the story closed with a happy ending. The man who could never speak and always chose that ‘if my heart could speak’, and finally he won the battle against all and said it. He gave the title to the story ‘if my heart could speak’. A desire that instead of himself, what if his heart could speak but he had to be a courageous man to speak on behalf of his feeling. And he did in his story. How heroic! He completed the story and felt the moment of joy he never had before. He promptly grabbed his laptop and wrote down everything. His story was well structured, filled with emotions and inspirational. He remembered the short story competition from the university. He sent his story to it. He never grasped that, unexpected his imaginations would want to be written on a piece of paper. This adjustment made him feel so inspired. He was happy to write for the first time. And It did not take a lot of time. He always wanted an extra, perfect time for his novel, but he realized the day that he could write damn speedy with wonderful deciding of words. Now he was ready to write everything he imagined without any delay. Finally, the happy days were coming back, and his prayer was heard in heaven. The next few days went so well. He attended university in the morning then the café shifts in the evening and he wrote his dreamy novel at night and then proceeded to sleep. After that time, he was happy as heaven and now he could speak to people instead of letting his heart speak on behalf of him. He never greeted the woman of his dreamy world again from that day. But After some more days, she emerged. How pleasant! That time when she entered the café, he fixated on her again with new inventiveness and believed as she knew him and had talked with her a lot because he did in his envision story. He eliminated his mask from the face with all brave and stuck his eyes in her eyes. For a second when she observed him, she was amazed by his aspects. And the way he stared her, she felt like she recognized him from years. She forgot the conversation with her friend as she was drowned in his eyes. She ordered the milkshake. She felt nervous as he was glaring her beauty with all his respected eyes. What a romantic view! The last time cherry could not disregard those moments. And now this time the girl could not forget the moments. Cherry desired to talk but again he felt that if my heart could speak. Oh! Come on cherry! The girl left the café but in the end, he glanced at the man’s eyes again. She was in love. her eyes could speak. How charming! Cherry could not sleep that night. Now his fancies were fluctuating into reality. The story really helped him altering his life to a positivity. After a few days, later cherry went to a party with friends. His all-university friends were congregated there. Now he was capable of the intersection with anyone because at least he could voice from his own now. He was not that longstanding cherry anymore. He saw that girl. She was so stunning yet in shadowy lights. Everyone was twirling. Cherry finally definite to the conversation to her. He alleged ‘how beautiful she is! I should talk to her. That day she was glaring me as she desired to talk. This time I am not going to expect that if my heart could speak because he is afraid. So, my buddy Mr. dumb heart, you let your self some rest and let me do some action. Ok, so I will start a smooth conversation and ask her to dance. That would be a great move. I hope she would accept it if she would like me too. And definitely, she would derive.’ He slashed the throng and went a bit nearby. But what he saw, made him stop there. She was chuckling with integrity with someone holding her back. They were dancing. She was so happy with that man. The man holding her so close to her body. It made cherry’s every imagination let go off. He trod back. He left the venue as soon as possible. How heartbreaking! When cherry was going back, she saw him. The girl saw him. How spectacular! The next day cherry was working at café regrettably. His imaginations took the dejected mode to reflect on the girl. He could think of the ingenious, but the miserable story, a boy meets a girl. Boy falls in love. Girl feels that too. The boy tries to talk to her, but she was taken. The boy feels hopeless and the story ends.’ How terrible! The girl entered the café at that time. She was alone. She came directly towards him. Cherry perceived her. He sensed again that innermost feeling. But he annoyed to keep himself busy. She ordered the milkshake again. He kept busy making it. No one tried to talk. Girl jammed her eyes in his, but he did not lookup. “Are you a student at NYU?” she finally said biting her lips. The boy stopped working. He thought ‘oh no, she is trying to talk. I do not want to. She is someone’s girlfriend. It would be very embarrassing if she would know that I starred her like that. I should not talk. But if not then it will be stupid, wait, I should. But should I ask her that he has a boyfriend?’ “yes, are you too?” he asked, whacking his appearance behind the mask. “um, yeah, humanities.” She answered, supposing some more from the boy. Her talked look intended. “yeah good.” He said but not more. He wanted to ask her about that day but desired the last time that if his heart could speak. “I saw you that day at the party at the university. You left early?” she asked. ‘oh no, she noticed me. That is why she knew where I study. And now if she knows everything about me, damn I would tell her nothing about myself. But what should I say about why I left the party because it was because of her?’ “yeah, I was feeling sick. So, I left.” He said really fast without observing at her, screening himself busy in work. “oh, ok.” She stopped. She needed to talk something but looked like she was thinking. ‘if my heart could speak’. “by the way congratulations. I liked it the most.” She spoke. “what? I mean what are you talking about?” he asked and stuck his eyes to her. He thought ‘what is she talking about? Did she think I’m someone else’s? maybe my mask, she did not recognize me.’ “oh! I mean your story. You won the competition. That was an amazing story about that boy and the girl, truly inspirational. It made me feel that I really should talk by myself instead of feeling that ‘if my heart could speak’.” She said. ‘what? Nooo... way, when did it happen? Wait, I won the competition never knew that. She read my story and hope she does not know that it was written about her, about us. No way what is going on?’ and suddenly his thoughts stopped. His heart stopped talking. Because he hunted to talk now. “thank you so much. I just abstract something like that and engraved it down.” He smirked, detaching his mask. The girl leered back to his face and glared his eyes. The atmosphere reformed into a fling. “well, I had sent one for the competition but maybe your one was natural and with great potentials.” She said to his eyes. “oh! Well, I had no idea this would happen, it was just written for some familiar one.” He said without intellectual anything. “who? Your girlfriend?” she asked. “oh! No, no, I don’t have a girlfriend, it was just inscribed for a fantasy friend.” He lied. “ok, great.” She said and took the milkshake from the counter where he replaced. “um, so, you wrote any kind of stories like that for any familiar one?” he asked without hesitating. “yeah, for an imaginary boyfriend, as I don’t have one in real life.” She grinned and observed at his eyes again. “ok.” He sneered and looked into her eyes. The eyes were matched, hints were switched. “well, you know you said that every time that if your heart could speak, but it really does. Your heart speaks through your eyes.” She said and left the counter. Cherry could not express anything, this time neither he nor his heart. Because both were stunned from, as both were approached by a girl and her heart. That day cherry finally converted the one who used to speak with everyone instead pleading ‘if my heart could speak’. He cultivated his communication with the girl of her imagination and now the real one. Both started to hang out. And became the lovers. As cherry’s imaginative story who won the competition and made him the good writer got him the girl and the respect towards his parents. After that, his parents were happy and desired him to choose the pathway he wanted. He wrote a novel and published it. It was inspired by his life that how not every time you should approach that, ‘if my heart could speak’ because it is afraid at some corners. So, you should speak of yourself because it does not help you every time. And at the end, he married the love of his life who was not an imagination now but real life.


Infinite. That word means more to you than you could have ever possibly known. How long has it been? Can you even remember? Years? Millennia? Eons? Does it even matter anymore? Time has long since lost meaning, hasn’t it? I thought so… Floating out in the abyss for as long as you have… It isn’t very conducive to retaining a stable sense of something so - Pointless. The same could be said for your mind, I’d gather. How long ago did it break? Ah, there I go bringing up time again. Sorry. I know it’s been difficult. To have everyone you’ve ever loved… Everything you’ve ever known... Taken from you. And leave you left with nothing but time. Enough time to forget. Though I know you didn’t want to. Of course not. That’s what you held on to so tightly for so long out here. Those memories. They were the only things that kept you sane. Well- As sane as you could possibly remain. I guess it did end the way it was predicted, huh? War. Violence. Is it just human nature? To destroy? To me, the truth seems evident. You saw the consequences. It’s gone now. Everything is… Gone. Except you. Just. You. Do you regret it? You don’t need to answer. I know. It’s a curse, isn’t it? Yes. Yes, it is. I wish I could be sorry for you. But, such is the nature of all things. To end. All it takes - Is time. As we speak, the last remaining stars in the universe are dying. Have you noticed? I’m sure you have. Those tiny lights in the endless void. Your last remaining solace. Burning out. Maybe consumed by black holes. Soon everything will be gone. And only they will remain. And you. The universe is a tomb. Wouldn’t you agree? You are floating amongst the dimly burning embers of a dead cosmos. Soon to be ashes. What will you do then? What can you do? Ask yourself that. You already know the answer. Nothing. How does it feel? Is that something you’re even capable of anymore? Not that it matters… Only a few stars left now. It won’t be long. Do you want me to stay with you? When it ends? I’ll take your silence as a yes. This is a rare opportunity. And you will be the only one to witness it. The heat death of the universe. I always hoped it’d go out with a bang… Not a… whimper. And then, there was one. Are you ready? Can you ever be? I guess we have no choice but to find out. Sooner, rather than later. It’s fading. This… This is it, huh? Si c'est le destin, laisse-le se réaliser. There it goes. It’s… over. I will truly miss it. Dearly. I know you will too. Y’know… Maybe missing so deeply is the price we pay for loving so much. Still floating out here? It’s been a long time in the dark, hasn’t it? Millions of years, believe it or not. Have you noticed the pull yet? No? Calm your mind and sense it. It’s been pulling you for a while now. Stop looking around. You’ll never be able to see it. They’re called black holes for a reason, y’know. Don’t panic. Rejoice. This could be your out! Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m tired, friend. Just surrender to the pull. How do I know that this will finally be the thing that ends it? Well… I don’t. I am just hopeful. And I cannot rest until my work is done. Immortality… You didn’t think that one through, did you? I know you didn’t. Nobody in your position would. At least I’m here with you now. For the ending to your story. Hopeful ending, yes, I know. Did you feel that? You just crossed the final border, my friend. The event horizon. A one way ticket. Down you go… Spacetime is incredibly warped down here. Do you feel the squeeze? The singularity approaches. And so, it begins. The beginning of your end. I will stay with you. I promise. As you stretch. And stretch. And stretch. And stretch. Compressed now, my friend. Into that one single point. Infinitely massive. Infinitely dense. Infinitely small. I… I can’t feel you anymore. Did it work? It- It must have. I can finally rest. And let the universe slumber. Goodbye, my friend. Rest well.


The door says they’re closed. Am I at the right place? You’re at the right place. Just open the door. I’m in the back. Paul opened the door a crack and peeked in. Warmth, the smell of baked bread, and a few small drifts of conversation seeped out. It was enough for him to open the door all the way. Most of the tables were empty, a few were unbussed. But the hostess was still at her post, staring down at her podium, her bright and busy phone screen reflected in her glasses. She looked up at him languidly. “Uh, I’m sorry. I’m not sure if I’m in the right place.” he said. “Paul?” she asked. “Um, yes. I–” “All the way to the back.” she interrupted. Then returned her face to her screen. She seemed very young, looked almost too young to even have a job. But the way she’d spoken to him. Not rude, exactly, or disgusted. But with disinterest. With a boredom that takes most people forty or fifty years to earn. He tried to make himself smaller as he walked past her. With his eyes to the very back wall, he made his way around the empty tables. He only saw one other table with someone seated. A woman who looked about 50 was absently gazing at the wine menu. Then, while he was watching, another younger woman backed out from under the table. Her short red dress left nothing to the imagination, if only there were anyone else around to take a peek. She sat down abruptly across from her partner, who leered at her with a smirk. She hastily wiped her mouth with a napkin, scanning the room as she did so. Paul locked eyes with her for a brief, embarrassing second, then they both looked away. Paul continued through the restaurant. In another moment he heard a voice. “Paul!” It was Evelynn. She was, indeed, at the very back. She stood up and waved, smiling. The lighting was all very dim, but he could still make out her silver, form-fitting dress. Like eveningwear in a beauty pageant, he thought, but not so self-conscious. She looked relaxed. Charming. Seeing her made him unclench his jaw and relax his shoulders. When he had just about closed the distance between them, she lunged forward and hugged him. He thought it felt like more of a trust-fall, the way he almost had to catch her. They both laughed. She kissed his cheek, then told him to please have a seat. She was still smiling. “You look amazing,” Paul said. He took a quick glance at his polo shirt and slacks, then added “I feel so underdressed.” “No, don’t be silly.” Evelynn said. She reached across the table and took his hand lightly in hers. She looked into his eyes with an intensity he didn’t recognize. After a few seconds he had to look away. “So I wasn’t wrong about them being closed,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the nearly empty dining room. “Oh. no. You’re right. They close at 11. But my friend is the chef. She lets me sneak in sometimes. Especially if I’m bringing a date.” She gave him a wink. She hadn’t let go of his hand. “So, is this a date?” he asked. “I thought so,” she said, still smiling. “You don’t? “No, I mean, I wanted it to be. I was excited when you texted. But I was surprised. I hadn’t heard from you for a while. I thought maybe things were just too awkward.” She gave his hand an encouraging squeeze. “Well, we can talk about all of that while we eat. Are you hungry?” He had been so nervous in the hours leading up to their dinner that he hadn’t actually stopped to consider that he’d be required to eat anything when he got there. But seeing Evelynn again, how sincerely happy she seemed to see him, had put him at ease. His stomach growled. “Sure.” he said, trying to sound relaxed, “I could take a look at a menu.” “Ah, sorry! One of the rules we have to follow as secret guests of the chef is that we eat whatever she brings us. Sometimes it's extra portions. Sometimes it’s a new dish she’s experimenting with. But it’s always…always amazing.” Evelynn said. She grinned an almost mischievous grin, and asked him if he had any debilitating food allergies. He said no. As if summoned by their conversation, the chef emerged from the steel double doors of the kitchen like a card shark bursting into an old western saloon. When her eyes had adjusted to the dim lighting of the dining room, she spotted the pair at their table and marched over. Paul thought she looked like a cartoon version of a chef. With a stained hand towel draped over her shoulder and a few locks of brown hair spilling from her exaggerated chef’s hat. She was all smiles as she approached the table. “Hey babe.” she said to Evelyn cooley. Evelyn stood up to give her a long hug and a kiss on the cheek. Paul stood and offered his hand. “I’m a hugger, Petey.” the chef said, slapping his hand away. She pulled him in for a quick but very tight squeeze. “It’s Paul,” said Paul, without making eye contact. “You guys ready for something new and exciting tonight?” the chef said, ignoring him. “It’s something new I’ve been playing with. I got it going in the back right now. It’s just about ready. Don’t fill up on bread, ok?” she said. She gave Paul a wink, then swooped back toward the kitchen, disappearing again behind the giant double doors. Paul scanned the table for bread. There was none. “What did she say her name was?” Paul asked once he was sure she was gone. “She didn’t.” Evelyn said. “It’s Katy.” “She reminds me of my Uncle Chuck.” he said. “How did you two meet?” “Oh, we go all the way back. We grew up on the same street. She’s pretty much my big sister. She’s in ninety percent of the photos from my childhood.” Evelyn stared nostalgically past Paul for a moment before taking his hand on the table again. “But enough about her. How have you been?” she asked. “I’m ok.” he said. His eyes were fixed on his hand in hers, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. He had to break out of his trance to continue. “ Mostly just working around my dad’s shop. I’ve run it a couple whole days this week, while he was out getting parts and meeting some people for the car show.” “Car show?” Evelyn said.. “Yeah, every year one of the local radio stations has a car show, and my dad likes to be really involved in it with networking and all that. It always brings in a lot of business.” “Which radio station?” “I’m not sure.” “Isn’t that something you should find out if you’re gonna help run the place?” she said. That question tensed him up a little, but her sincere smile disarmed him almost in the same instant. He didn’t remember her being so charming before. Maybe it was all this dim, romantic ambiance, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to someone so effortlessly beautiful. He was about to tell her so when a commotion from somewhere behind him broke the spell. The two women that Paul had passed on the way in were yelling at each other now, and in what sounded like two separate languages. The younger woman Paul had caught crawling out from under the table was yelling in Spanish as she pummeled the older woman with her purse. The older woman was shouting incoherently and laughing in what sounded like drunken English as she held up her arms against the blows. There was also a very small dog on the floor yipping frantically and making exaggerated lunges at the older woman before withdrawing. In a moment two waiters appeared from the shadows and restrained the younger woman, leading her off around the corner. Her dog followed. The older woman, still laughing, collapsed in her chair and lit a cigarette. She caught sight of Paul staring at her. She spread her legs and shouted hoarsely “See anything you like?” Paul whipped back around, red-faced. Evelyn laughed. “That lady’s always here when I come in. I don’t know what her deal is.” she said. “I think the other girl with the dog was going down on her under the table when I came in.” Paul said. Evelyn spit water into her hand upon hearing this, and tried her best to choke down the rest. “What??” she said. They both started to laugh. But the situation reminded Paul of why he’d been so anxious about this meeting. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.” he said. But that train of thought was interrupted by a metal cart crashing its way through the giant steel doors of the kitchen. Katy had brought the food. She wheeled up to their tableside, and placed a plate before each of them. Then she began: “Good evening! Tonight, I'd like to introduce you to one of my special new dishes, a true culinary delight hailing from the vibrant coasts of Vietnam: 'Vietnamese Stuffed Squid with Ground Pork,' a dish that encapsulates the essence of Southeast Asian cuisine with a touch of sophistication.” She winked at Paul again, then continued, as Evelyn took out her phone and began recording. “At the heart of this creation is fresh, tender young squid, meticulously cleaned, and prepared to become the vessel for our sumptuous stuffing. The stuffing, a harmonious blend of finely ground pork and succulent chopped shrimp, is the soul of this dish. It's enriched with delicate glass noodles and wood ear mushrooms, adding a unique texture and earthiness.” Laughter from Evelyn. Katy continued the next part in an exaggerated French accent. “We infuse ze pork mixture with a symphony of flavors – garlic, ginger, and a selection of fresh herbs, creating layers of aroma and taste. Zis mixture is carefully stuffed into each squid, ensuring every bite is a perfect balance of seafood and seasoned pork. “For ze final touch, we slice ze squid into elegant rings, revealing ze intricate layers of ze stuffing. It's a visual and gastronomic spectacle. Served alongside a bed of fluffy, steamed rice, zis dish is not just a meal; oh no no, it's a journey through texture, taste, and ze culinary artistry of Vietnam.” Evelyn put her phone away. The drunk woman across the room stood and applauded. Katy bowed with a flourish. “Cool, thanks, bye.” Evelyn said. Katy leaned in and kissed her cheek, then leaned over to Paul and said “Don’t be jealous sport, she’s not my type.” She jabbed him lightly with a knowing elbow, then retreated back into the kitchen once more. She left the cart by their table. On it were placed a candle and a bottle of wine. Paul had heard a few words he was not prepared for. Mainly tender, young and squid. He wasn’t sure about this at all. Evelyn, on the other hand, was already elbow deep in it. “Oh my god.” she said. “This is sooo good.” Well, she had invited him. He’d come all this way. There was no turning back now. He speared a stuffed squid ring with his fork, steeled himself, and ate it all in a bite. “Holy shit that’s good.” he said. And he meant it. It was amazing. They ate a moment in silence. A waiter emerged from the shadows and opened the bottle of wine, poured a glass for each of them, then receded back into the shadows once more. But after the silence got a little too oppressive, Paul once again felt the niggling urge to address the recent awkwardness between them. “Evelyn,” he began, “this is so nice. Really. Thank you so much for inviting me. But…” Evelyn reached out and took his hand. “I know what you’re going to say.” she said. “You want to talk about Halloween. That’s fine. We can talk about it now.” “Oh, good. I’m so glad. I’ve just been feeling like, if you knew my side of it, it wouldn’t be so bad.” She gave his hand another encouraging squeeze. “I’m listening.” she said. Paul looked down at the table as he began. “Ok. I’m trying to think of where to begin. I remember I was at Nate’s party. And I was super nervous because I knew you were gonna be there too. So I started drinking a little more than I normally would. And you know, the more I drank, the more excited I was to see you and tell you that I liked you and maybe ask you out. But as the night went on, you know, I never spotted you. I asked around if anyone had seen you, but nobody had. I know I texted you some pretty angry stuff, and I apologize for that. I just get angry when I drink, and I know that’s something I need to work on. So then, I went into Nate’s parents’ bathroom to puke, and when I came out, the lights were off, and there was a girl dressed as a banana on the bed. Only her…peels were down, and she only had a bra on her top. And I asked her, hey, are you ok?, and she just kinda laid there, and it was dark and her face was painted or something. So I got closer to her and asked her again if she was ok, and she smelled kinda fruity, it was nice, and she looked over at me, and I thought she was kinda smiling at me, and I was very drunk, so I kissed her. And she didn’t really kiss me back, but she didn’t stop me either, so…” “So you fucked me.” Evellyn said calmly, still holding his hand. “I didn’t know it was you, Evelyn, I swear! Not until almost the very end.” “The end.” she said. “When you came inside me.” Paul was crying now. And hyperventilating. “Did I?” he asked. “Oh man, I don’t know, I don’t remember. I didn’t have a condom or anything.” “I know,” she said. “But I swear Evelyn, I swear, I don’t have any diseases or anything. I’m clean. I promise.” “I know,” she said. Still as cool as a marble statue. The drunk woman punctuated his teary confession by screaming “Call me a cab, Enrique! I pissed all over your good chair. Add it to my tab!” Evelyn chuckled a little at the sudden outburst, but kept looking at Paul. Paul had pulled his hand back and sat with his head lowered in his hands, elbows resting on the table. The drunk woman shambled loudly around the corner, and was gone, leaving only a thin trail of smoke behind her. The couple sat in silence. Then Paul looked suddenly at Evelyn with a feeble terror in his face. “Did you, I mean…were you on birth control?” he said weakly. “I wasn’t.” she said. “I mean, you would’ve told me, if you’d gotten pregnant or something, right?” “Maybe that would’ve been the courteous thing to do. I guess I don’t really know, Paul. I hadn’t been raped before.” She spoke without a hint of malice, or even sarcasm. The word raped seemed to loosen Paul’s bowels like a kick to the stomach. In his panic, he could taste the adrenaline burning the back of his throat. He felt dizzy, like he might pass out. Was that what he’d done? Had he raped her? The thought disgusted him. He wasn’t a rapist. They’d been drinking. He was drunk. She misunderstood. It was a misunderstanding. He wasn’t some monster. He’d had feelings for her. They’d kissed. He hadn’t hit her or subdued her or covered her mouth or anything. Evelyn reached across the table and took both his hands in hers. “Look at me Paul,” she said firmly. She squeezed his hands. “Paul, you’re ok. I need you to breathe.” His eyes finally caught hers, and she held eye contact with him. “In and out, Paul,” she said. “Calm down. Good. Have a drink.” Paul took his wine glass and brought it to his lips with a trembling hand. He drained it. Evelyn reached for the bottle and refilled it. He drank it all down again. “To answer your question,” she said after a moment, “yes, I did get pregnant.” The wine was working on Paul now, so instead of vomiting from sheer panic all over himself, he simply slumped down in his chair. Evelyn’s composure told him she was telling the truth. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t understand.” he said. You don’t look pregnant.” “I’m not anymore, Paul. I took care of it.” “Oh Jesus.” he said, planting his face in his hands. “Are you ok? Did it hurt? Can I, I don’t know, can I pay you back? My parents have money. Oh, please,” he said, perhaps considering his parents for the first time, “Oh, please don’t tell them. I can pay you. Whatever you want. Just tell me. Please.” Evelyn squeezed his hand. “You don’t owe me any money. I didn’t pay for it.” “Who did?” he asked. “Nobody, Paul. Abortions are illegal in Texas, silly. There was nowhere I could go. I don’t have the resources to get halfway across the country. And I couldn’t ask my super religious parents to spot me this one time for me to get scooped out.” She spoke as though she were telling some amusing anecdote at a bar. The calm detachment that had comforted him before was now starting to unsettle him. “So one night Katy brought over a bottle of vodka, and we looked up videos on how to get rid of a pregnancy. And honestly, it really didn’t take us long to find them.” So,” Paul said, connecting the dots deliberatively, “you and Katy, you did it yourselves?” “Yes,” she said. “And you’re sure it worked? I mean, it came out? How did you get it out?” The giant steel doors opened flamboyantly. Katy appeared again, carrying a silver waiter’s tray. “One second, Paul. It looks like it’s time for dessert.” Evelyn said, watching Katy approach. Paul was dumbstruck. “Are you kidding?” he said, raising his voice. “I never kid about dessert.” Katy said with a wink. She laid the tray between them. “Evelyn, please! Just tell me. Are you sure it's taken care of? Did you see it come out?” Paul screamed. “Woah, calm down there, chief.” Katy said. “This is a nice establishment.” Evelyn looked at Paul in a way that, for the first time that evening, betrayed an emotion. But which emotion? Fear? Disgust? No. He wasn’t sure. Everything was happening all at once, and he was drunk from the wine. She spoke at last. “I know it came out, Paul, because I held it in my own two hands. And it looked exactly like I was terrified that it was going to look. It was tiny. And it was the heaviest thing I’ve ever held in my life.” Katy stood silently by her side, placing an arm firmly around her shoulder, still wearing her ridiculous chef’s hat. Paul sat in stunned silence. He couldn’t look at either of them. “You’re wondering,” Evelyn said at last, “what I did with it. Aren’t you?” “No, I mean, I’m…what?” Paul said. “You wanna know what she did with it?” Katy said. She lifted the lid from the silver tray. All three of them stared intently at it. There was no desert. Only a slip of paper. It was a bill. “A gentleman always reaches for the bill, Paul.” Katy said. Hand trembling, he reached for the slip of paper and scanned it. Two entries for the Vietnamese Squid w/Pork. But the second entry had some substitutions. \- 1/2 pork \- SUB foot \- SUB foot \- SUB hand \- SUB hand \- SUB head \- SUB embcl crd \- SUB heart \- SUB bld clot Paul read it. Then he read it again. His face went white. “This is a joke.” he said. Evelyn withdrew her hand. “Is it?” she asked. “You didn’t really. Who would do something fucked up like that?” He looked at Katy. He noticed the small splotches of blood on her apron for the first time. It could be pork blood, right? “I get it.” he said. “You’re mad at me, and you’re fucking with me to feel better.” Evelyn sat motionless, staring as cooly as ever. She said nothing. “This is insane. This is why you invited me here? Some revenge on the poor fat loser who can’t get any pussy unless it’s some dumb drunk bitch?” “Hey.” Katy interrupted. “Watch your mouth. I said this was a nice establishment.” “Just tell me the truth and I’ll go.” Paul said. For all his bluster, he hadn’t regained any color. Katy reached down and grabbed the bill, folded it neatly in half twice, and stuck it in Paul’s shirt pocket. “You can take care of that up front with Enrique, boss.” she said. “And make sure to give him this, and he’ll give you a discount.” Katy produced a small slip of paper from her apron pocket and slipped it in the pocket behind the check. Paul abruptly pulled it out to see what it was. It was a small polaroid photo of a bloody hand holding a red blob about four inches long. The room was dark, but squinting at it, Paul thought he could just make out a small pair of eyes. He threw it and the bill on the ground in disgust. “You’re both fucking crazy.” he shouted. At that moment, two waiters emerged from the shadows. Each placed a firm hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Right this way, sir.” said the one on the left. “I’m afraid we’re closed.” “No way. Not until they tell me the truth!” Paul shouted into the waiter’s face. The men each grabbed him by an arm and began to pull him away. Paul screamed and cursed and fought them until eventually they all receded into the shadows again. Evelyn and Katy watched until he was gone. The moment paul could no longer be heard, Evelyn sunk down into her chair and cried. “I know, babe.” Katy said. She knelt down beside the chair and drew Evelyn into an embrace. Evelyn wept loudly. Katy gently rubbed her back, like another would a sick child. Another waiter appeared by the tableside and moved to refill her glass of wine. Katy gently waved him away.