PROLOGUE I don't know how it happened. Only that it was a slow process. First the weak, the young and old, the Ill and poor. They were the first to show signs. They slept more and more which wasn't that noticeable because they sleep all the time anyway. However we noticed the problem when they stopped waking up. Then the average people and even the well off started sleeping. This went on for the next six months. No one could figure out how to wake them up or to stop people from falling asleep. At the end of the first year all the people who were still awake moved everyone else to a central city. The sleepers were put in pods that kept them alive providing them with nutrients and other basic needs. The pods monitored them and recorded data in hopes of finding some answers. Every one else was also give a pod in preparation for the worst. Luckily the city runs itself so all we had to do was research and by the end the computers were doing that too. By the end of the second year I was the only one awake. Which I question every day. Why me? Of the millions in the pods why am I awake? CHAPTER 1 : AWAKE I started recording this as a precaution, in the case that I do become a sleeper or if someone wakes up I can fill them in on what happened. This camera is powered by solar panels with a backup plasma battery so I never really need to worry about it dying. ..... Dying that's something that you forget about when you have an entire world that just fell asleep. For two years now I haven't thought about death. Sleeping seemed so much more likely. The fear of going to sleep and not waking up. The ever present possibility of a necessity becoming a prison. That seems more real. Every day I do the same thing. I wake up it gets a little later daily, two years ago I woke up at nine am, a year later it was ten today eleven. After awake up I check the pods, I know the alarm will sound if anything happens. High pitched if a system failed. Low pitched if someone wakes, but I check away. Then I eat, the auto farm produces enough to feed everyone but I carbon freeze the rest for reserves. After breakfast I play pokemon go. It's dumb but it passes the time I carry two phones and play against myself, valor verses mystic, I take the gyms and hit the pokestops one day and the next I switch to the other phone. I helps me feel like it's the good old days. Not to mention it helps me stay active. I come back for lunch around two and after lunch I conduct my research. I'm not a scientist but you pick up a few things when there are ten people awake in the world and the other nine are fading fast so I learned everything I could and now I do the research while they sleep. Five o'clock is quitting time I eat dinner and shower then bed by seven. Then repeat over and over. When I'm lying in my bunk trying to sleep but being too afraid to let it happen, I often think of the days before. They seem like a dream now so surreal that it couldn't be the truth. That life had to be nothing more that a dream. CHAPTER 2 : DREAM I was a handyman before. Nothing special, not a man of science or a politician. Just someone to call when you needed a carpenter or a plumber. My dad always said that's something that will always be needed. They may have computers for everything else but they can't duplicate the human touch. The craftsmanship. So I followed his words. I served in the army first though. The draft for the war with Russia had just kicked off when I turned eighteen and sure enough three months later I was at Fort Benning, Georgia for basic training and infantry school. I served two tours in Siberia as forward forces against the attack on Alaska. When the sleep started taking people I thought it was the Russians attempting some kind of biological attack. But when most of Russia fell asleep I knew I must be wrong. I'd give anything to be back on that battlefield now. At least then I had allies around me and a clear objective. Now the gun shots are silent, the battle cries are only echoes in my head and the died are only sleeping. So it's my job to them wake up. I've had to become a scientist and put down my hammer spending hours researching book after book to find an answer that's never been found. Now instead of fighting with a rifle my fight is one of the mind. CHAPTER 3 : MIND I've been completely alone for about two months now. I have a routine which makes me feel safe. However I can feel my mind slipping. Talking to sleepers, talking to myself, Talking to walls. Desperate for something to talk back. To help me focus I've begun to play my recording back each night. Not to mention pokemon go actually really helps. I pretend that the other phone is someone else and I'll look at some of the other phones, if they have it I use them too. As a "guest appearance". CHAPTER 4 : APPEARANCE There is a lure! A pokemon lure! I didn't place it but it's there. I opened the app and there it was twenty five minutes left on a pokestop maybe 7 miles away. Someone else is here. Not me and not a sleeper but another person who is awake! They know I'm here and that I play pokemon go. So they've probably been watching me for some time now. Do I go to it and see what they want? Do I start building defenses and prepare for them to attack? If I get captured or killed there will be no one to protect the sleepers but this lure could be an olive branch and I have been extremely lonely. That settles it I'll go. I am taking a rifle and sidearm though, just in case. *The man moves out of view as he turns the camera around and straps it to his helmet* let's go see if it's friend or foe. CHAPTER 5: FRIEND OR FOE *The man rides his bike check the phone every few minutes to make sure he's heading the right way, once he gets close he drops his bike. He pulls up his rifle and starts moving forward, slowly moving his head back and forth between buildings scanning for danger* OKAY I'M HERE! What do you want? *A second voice answers from the shadows *"I'll answer with another question. What do you want?" I want to know who you are and why you've been watching me. "Is that all you want? How boring." Answer me and show yourself. " I am the reason your friends are asleep and I have been watching to understand why you are not yet asleep. I wanted to place the 'lure' to see how you would react. I will answer nothing else at this time. Goodbye" wait! I have more questions. *silence* Damn, what the hell just happened. *biking back as fast as he can the man arrives to the pods and does his checks* no harm has come to the pods so why draw me out? Was that really the voice of who ever was responsible for all the sleepers. If so how. A virus? A poison? What could it be? And who are they? Most importantly what happens next? CHAPTER 6: NEXT For the last five days I've rode back to the pokestop where the voice was but nothing else has happened. I'm more paranoid than ever now. I've built fortifications all around the area, trip wires that trigger alarms, and pit falls. However if they really have been watching they'll know exactly where to step. Other than to check the stop I don't leave camp. No more casual pokemon go. Who ever that was they definitely have pushed me closer to insanity. CHAPTER 7: INSANITY Its been a month since the event. A week since I checked the site. I have been hearing voices from the pods. The sleepers I think they are trying to tell me something. .... maybe if I close my eyes I can focus on the words. Yes I hear them. They know the secrets. They say they'll tell me. *the man sits quietly for a few minutes eyes closed face still. He then falls forward dropping the camera. As he lays there asleep foot steps are hear from behind the camera.


This story contains adult language and physical violence. With the audacity that could only be exhibited by someone working as a lab technician as long as he had, Jack picked up his first cerebral spinal fluid sample of the day with an ungloved hand. He had picked up more than a dozen bad habits through many years of working the same job. Today, he was trying a new technique which involved using one glove to pipette, and the other bare hand to hold the test tube. “Shit,” he mumbled. Not even ten minutes into his work, he managed to miss the tube he was pipetting into and dispensed cerebral spinal fluid onto his exposed skin. Immediately something felt wrong. Jack heard someone mutter something behind him. “What was that?” Jack asked. “No one said anything,” responded Mary. If I hear one more stupid remark from him, he’s fired. Practically hyperventilating, Jack spun around in his chair to look at Mary. She was facing the computer screen typing away diligently and his other three co-workers looked none the wiser as they worked at their benches. Ugh, I feel nauseous. Jaimie shifted in her chair and gripped the bench in front of her. Jack sat there for a few moments in disbelief as he desperately tried to think of a way to confirm his sanity, “Maybe you could ask to leave early Jaimie.” “What? We are understaffed as it is, why are you saying that?” Jaimie responded defensively. Can Jack hear my thoughts? Why is he acting so much weirder than normal? I think I forgot to pay Mary for the coffee she got me last week. Jack was assaulted by a plethora of what seemed to be his coworker’s anxious thoughts. Well that certainly wasn’t helpful; he thought as he abruptly stood up and ran to the sink to vigorously wash his hands. “I have got to get out of here,” he said to no one in particular. His heart was racing and his whole body was on fire. He really messed up this time, how stupid was it to not wear gloves, there are rules for a reason! It would’ve only taken three more seconds to put another one on. Dear God, I think I’m dying. He ran out the door and straight for the bathroom stall. He sat in silence, trying to count his breaths. It’s Friday, I only have to get through one more day. One…. two… I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. He noticed the lights flicker about him. One… two…. three… The sink started to drip. Are the pipes leaking? One… two… three… four… I hope no one is wondering where I am. What if someone tries to come find me? He heard the women’s bathroom door open and close. Listened, as someone walked down the hall. One… two… three… four… five… six… should I go to the doctor? Jesus christ, if I could just get to ten! One… two… three… four… five… six… seven… eight… Nine… Ten… Not soon enough, his breathing steadied enough to return to work. No one noticed as he hesitantly stepped back into the room. So far so good. He thought; his eyes darted nervously from person to person. He walked back to his bench and shakily sat back down in his creaky seat. Following every rule in the book to the letter, he worked hyper vigilantly for the rest of the day. He even followed the speed limit on his way home. Feeling exhausted and stressed over his mistakes from yesterday, he got ready much slower than usual. He lazily dressed in blue jeans from the day before, a mostly unstained polo, and his fanciest pair of Vans. He tried to muster up some excitement though, because today was his sister’s birthday and he was heading over to his parent’s house for a family dinner. He loved his sister even though he didn’t know her as one, not really. His parents were not the type to have an empty nest so they decided to adopt her after he had moved out. She was entering her first year as a teenager today and was already acting more responsible than he ever was. She made fancy invitations to send out, organized a dinner menu, helped their mother with the shopping and her father with the cooking. She loved planning more than party itself, it was inspiring… well almost. With a deep breath, he grabbed his keys, turned his dingy door knob and walked to his gray Honda Civic parked on the street. Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at his parent’s house with the fanciest planner he could find for Juniper’s birthday. Letting himself in, he shouted, “Mom, Dad, I’m here!” “We’re in the kitchen!” his mother responded. Jack walked into the brightly lit, pale green room where Juniper and his parents were in various stages of cooking, cleaning, and chatting. He felt the mood of the room immediately shift into a dull, listless aura as he walked in. Wow this all this cleaning has really worn me out, I must be getting old. He heard his mother think. What. Is. Happening. Thought Jack, as he started to panic once again. Never in his life has he experienced anything like this. The cerebral spinal fluid must have done something to him. Maybe it was an illness? What if no one likes the menu I picked out? He heard from Juniper. Oh my god. Am I… influencing people’s emotions with my own? Thought Jack. “You know you could at least put the gift on the table, Jack” scolded his mother. He had not realized it, but he had dropped Juniper’s gift on the floor and he was just standing there, staring at nothing. “Oh, yea I know that. Sorry, I was just thinking about something that happened at work,” Jack grumbled apologetically. “Alright, well you should try leaving work at work. It is much better for your mental health,” his father added. Jack picked up Juniper’s gift and nearly missed the table he was trying to set it on. He was attempting to will his emotions in a different state to test his new theory. To call it a long shot would be an understatement, but he couldn’t do nothing, it was against his scientific nature. Jack thought of the day he finally got his first lab job. Despite how jaded he’d become over the years, he was very proud to have gotten a job in a field that he actually went to school for. He thought of how excited he was to tell his parents and about the easiest—and admittedly the last —resignation letter he had ever written. The look on his bosses face at the grocery store was priceless. Jack is going to love the main course, I cannot wait for him to try my twist on Chicken Alfredo! He heard his sister think. Meanwhile, his father was putting on disco music and his mother started to dance and sing along. “I haven’t heard this song in years!” exclaimed his mom. He watched his parents dance through the kitchen, laughing and spinning as Juniper put the finishing touches on dinner. Huh. I think this is actually real! The possibilities of this are endless! I can make people feel happy being around me! No more resentful coworkers! No more disappointing my parents! No more being single! Jack thought, elated as he got lost in his thoughts about big plans to go to a bar after dinner. He was noticing something else though; he could no longer hear anyone else’s thoughts. He started to question if he needed to re-supply. The idea of exposing himself to more biological contaminates was terrifying but this could solve all of his problems… Jack was hardly involved in the conversations for the rest of the evening. He couldn’t hear any thoughts from anyone and everyone seemed to exhibiting their own emotions. He almost forgot to thank Juniper for remembering his favorite dish and trying to make it better for him, despite it being her birthday. The twist on the Chicken Alfredo was just adding lemon and capers, but it was still delicious. After Juniper opened her gift—which she loved—he said his goodbyes and quickly ducked out to his car. He sat in the dark and in silence with his hands solidified to the steering wheel, for several minutes. He couldn’t really be considering breaking into the lab could he? He can’t steal patient samples… what if someone has some other infectious disease not listed in their file? What if someone catches him? It is a 24-hour facility but he had never worked the night shift let alone overtime, people would have questions! I can’t let this go un-explored; I am a scientist after all. We could just consider this… a little experiment.

He started to talk himself down again, this is so unethical and against everything I was trained for. Although in the recesses of Jack’s mind, he knew he planned on breaking into the lab because he was never very good at following the rules, especially when it came to things that made his life even a little bit easier. “Ah what the hell,” Jack said as he started his car and turned left towards the lab. He got in no problem, the security guard even waved at him. He knew they kept frozen samples in a storage freezer that was hardly used, but the hard part was going to be if he saw anyone he knew. He could maybe pass as a new person to the night shift crew, but his coworker Jaimie was known to take on extra hours for the extra money. Jack feigned nonchalance as he made his way past the sterile white walls and lab equipment on sturdy black benches. Without donning a lab coat, he slipped into the bitterly cold back room full of freezers that stored old patient samples. No sign of Jaimie yet, maybe I’ll get lucky. As quick as he could, he opened the freezer door and grabbed a handful of cerebral spinal fluid samples and popped them into his pockets. He slammed the vault-like freezer door shut and frantically stumbled out of the room, to his dismay, right into Jaimie. “I don’t remember you being on the schedule,” she said condescendingly, in a grating tone. “Uh, yea, no I am not.” “Soooo, what are you doing here then?” she snapped. “Well, you know, you actually aren’t the boss of me and I don’t feel the need to respond to you,” Jack said as he started to walk away from her. Arms crossed, Jaimie continued to follow him down the hall way too closely. “I may not be your boss, but I will tell Mary if you don’t tell me what’s going on. You have been acting very erratically and its creating a hostile work environment that I do not appreciate…” “Fine! I just forgot to archive something yesterday and I wanted to take care of it before anyone noticed,” and added to what he thought was already a very clever explanation, he feigned remorse, “I’m tired of everyone cleaning up after me, and I want to start pulling my own weight around the lab. I am turning a new leaf, you could say.” Jaimie did not look convinced in the least, but you could see the mental debate she was having with herself in her eyes and body language. This was a problem she did not have the energy for right now. “While I don’t believe your explanation, I don’t have time for this. I hope you have a mediocre rest of your weekend,” with pursed lips, Jaimie uneventfully turned around and left Jack at the edge of the entryway doors. In disbelief, Jack stopped midstride and stared at the glass paneled double doors in front of him. The security guard looked at him and asked if he was alright. Snapping back to reality Jack responded, “Never better actually!” He promptly turned and sauntered out the door and back to his car. Sitting outside of Gough-Nuts, a bustling bar near his work, he rolled the nearly thawed tube of cerebral spinal fluid between his fingers. The more I question this, the more doubt I will have. I already took the fluid I might as well just… go for it! Jack popped off the cap and stared down the tube at the clear non assuming liquid. He held in a deep breath and poured some of the fluid into his cupped palm. He held it there for three beats. Well… it’s too late now. Jack proceeded to rub the infectious material into his hands and up his bare forearms. He held is arms out in disgust while it dried out like water. Immediately, he started to hear little pieces of thoughts from those walking past his car and into the red-lit halls of the bar. I hope Sheryl doesn’t find out I’m here… I cannot wait to be catatonic… Does this place check IDs? Holy shit it actually worked! Jack thought, as he tried to transform his emotional state to one of joy. It wasn’t hard because he was already thrilled over his new superpower. He got out of his car and practically ran inside up to the sticky wooden bar, pushing his way past the row of people who were already there. “I will have one of whatever your hoppiest IPA is!” Jack shouted to the bar tender who glared at him in turn. Jack scanned the crowd for a potential victim while he waited. There was an older blonde lady desperately trying to look younger than she was with filler and makeup who seemed obtainable, although he wanted to go as far as he could with this. He saw another gorgeous woman laughing with bright white teeth and flipping her shiny mahogany hair that practically glowed in the dim red light. Perfect. With a confidence outmatched by everyone else in the bar, he walked right up to her, beer forgotten. “Hello, gorgeous what’s your name?” Jack smiled. She looked him up and down and giggled, “Names are for second dates.” “Is that a promise?” “Only if you buy me a drink first,” but in her head he heard, I wonder how long it will take for Kev to notice this guy. Unfortunately, Jack’s self preservation was very low and he did not care how long it would take Kev to notice, nor who Kev even was. He started to move his hand to touch her hair, to twirl it between his fingers. He felt the softness of it for just a moment before he felt sudden, throbbing pain radiating through his head. Her hair slipped right out of his grasp along with any joy and excitement he had. Jack felt fear and he felt anger, how dare this stranger hit him. “Who do you think you are?!” said a heavily tattooed gruff looking man who was probably Kev. “Who do you think you are!?” responded Jack very unhelpfully, pushing Kev into someone else. “Hey!” yelled the disgruntled stranger. Faster than Jack thought was possible; a giant mass of a man was pushing them out of the bar with the ever so faithful mahogany goddess following closely behind with thoughts of worry and feelings of fear. It was unclear if her thoughts were a mirror of his own, or she was actually worried for them. Jack delusionally took her fear as concern for him and started to console her, “Don’t worry baby, I can take you to a way nicer place than this.” Kev pushed him hard onto the dark and cold asphalt, his elbows slamming into its gritty surface. Jack’s anger and pain increased, inflating the anger and pain in Kev as well. “If you even look at her one more time, you’re gone man,” Kev spat in a dark and deadly tone. “I can look at anyone I like! There is not a single thing you can do about it; she probably doesn’t even like you.” There were alarming thoughts coming from Kev now, a lot more anger than Jack thought any one man could hold. Finally sensing the danger he was in, Jack started to scramble back on his palms and feet, like a frightened crab. Except, Jack was slow and his head was fuzzy unlike Kev who was very fast, and unbeknownst to Jack, a close friend of violence. Quicker than Jack could process, Kev was on top of him. Punching and punching and punching. There was screaming too, but not from Jack. He didn’t have the lungs for it; all of the air had quickly been knocked out of him.

Jack felt his consciousness and anger drain from his body as it also drained from Kev’s much too late for it to mean anything. Ten long seconds later, Kev was panting over Jack’s bloodied lifeless body. It turns out the mahogany goddess’ fear was her own, and it was for Jack. There was no one else who knew Kev’s anger more deeply than she did.


_(note from author- I have posted both parts before on different subreddits, and this is an ongoing series. I'll add links to the orginal posts here if you want to read them in their OG format:_ _)_ _PART 1:_ AITA for leaving my bf over a cup of coffee? Before I start, I should establish a few things. I am F28 and he is M27. We have been in a long-term relationship for 3 years, and have been living together for the past year. Before this, he has done nothing to hurt me or offend me, he was practically the perfect partner. I guess that's a lie now though. Some outside perspective would be helpful. My bf has struggled throughout his life with a few addictions, the main one being teeth. He crushes them up and either sprinkles them on meals (including drinks) or just snorts it. He has been to rehab multiple times but was kicked out for trying to pry out the other residents' teeth and I have since given up on getting him to quit. I've just made him promise not to do anything of the sort near me (like when eating meals/drinking) and not to try and make me try, which he has done before. We've had a lot of problems in our relationship due to this, he's been arrested countless times after assaulting people on nights out for their teeth, and will sometimes even catfish on dating websites/apps to satisfy his teeth addiction. His friends don't seem to care about how much this is ruining his life, hes lost so many jobs because of this and sent us both into bankruptcy but they just ignore this obvious problem, encourage it even. I've broken up with him multiple times, just for a break whilst he got his life back on track a bit, and it worked for a while but now he's stopped caring. I'm scared for myself but also his health. I do love him and I can't bear to leave him when he's so vulnerable. That is, until today. Excuse spelling, my hands are still shaking and I'm still processing all the shit that went down. I woke up this morning with him hovering over me with a huge grin on his face. He thrusted a tray with a cup of coffee, some peanut-butter toast, and a single rose onto my lap and said "Suprise!!" He had prepared a whole tray of food so I could eat breakfast in bed, and, I'll be honest with you, I cried a little at this adorable gesture. Like I said before, our relationship has been really strained lately, and this out-of-the-blue act of romance seemed to be a sign to me that our rough patch was over and he was ready to move forward as a team, like we were before. Of course, I was a bit suspicious that maybe he'd done something drastic and was trying to soften the blow, but my naïve self pushed that thought to the back of my mind and settled down to enjoy my breakfast. I took one sip of the coffee and spat it out violently, retching. I looked back at my boyfriend fearfully and he was just sitting there on the other side of the bed, smiling thar strange smile. I admit I overreacted here, because I was scared he had tried to poison me or something, I yelled at him for about 5-10 mins, all "what the FUCK" this and "WHAT were you THINKING ASSHOLE" that and he just sat there with his stupid grin until i had finished. He then explained calmly that he hadn't meant to hurt me, he just put some ground teeth in my coffee because he was fed up with me trying to manipulate him into stopping when I hadn't even tried it myself. He thought maybe I'd change my perspective on the matter once I'd tried it but knew I would never do it willingly so he spiked my drink instead. I told him that this was a huge violation of my trust, and told him to "get the FUCK out of my house, IMMEDIATELY." He tried to object but, after realising I was not going to budge on the matter, picked up his stuff and left to go stay with a friend. I've since texted him saying that we are done, and to not contact me again. He's gotten all his friends to message me non-stop about how much of an AH I was, since it was an innocent attempt to get me to see things from his perspective, and that it's irrational and toxic to end such a meaningful and long relationship over a cup of coffee. I honestly don't know, so I need some outside perspective. Reddit, AITA for ending a relationship over a cup of coffee? EDIT: I fixed some spelling, have calmed down a lot now. For some reason I can't help but feel like this is just the calm before the storm, so here's my promise to make an update post if any more shit goes down. _PART 2:_ MY BOYFRIEND HAS A STRANGE ADDICTION AND IM SCARED ITS GETTING WORSE (UPDATE TO THE TEETH POST) So. A lot has happened (people of reddit, you are going to hate me). We... got back together. The situation stands as thus, for those who can't be bothered to read the previous post: -my (F28) bf (M27) is addicted to teeth. He refuses rehab and will go to drastic measures to get them. - he spiked my drink with ground teeth to get me to 'see from his point of view'. -I broke up with him and all his friends called me an AH over it. This was three weeks ago. ...about two weeks ago an adorably decorated basket with loads of cute shit inside it was left in front of my doorstep, along with a homemade card he (my bf) made himself. It was a picture of me and him with the note 'I'm a fucking idiot, I've given up teeth and EVERYTHING ELSE, please love me again, your dumb bitch of a bf, (his name here).' I was so taken aback by this cute as fuck show of love and guilt, he knew what he had done was wrong and call me an idiot but I was willing to give it another try. He had even started to give up his addiction for me, which truly meant something, right? The next week went by like a dream. He treated me well. We spend all day together (and the nights too... if you get what I mean). But, most importantly, he gave up teeth. I was so proud, honestly. He was doing so well. So, so well. Until last Monday (A week ago today). I- I dont really know the best way to say this. Holy shit. I'm still in shock, i- He killed someone. Scrap that. He killed multiple people. He was gone on a 'business trip' (he had found good work) for a few days and came back with a 'suprise' for me. (The business trip was about 4 hours away so I wasn't worried about him doing anything whilst he was gone, if you're worried) Anyway, the suprise was a cooler box full of this weird meat..? I thought it was strange that he just had this unpackaged meat in this box, but he wove this elaborate story about it being gourmet pork from a butchers in the area he thought I would enjoy. He said himself that he had some and said it was the best thing he'd ever had. By the end of his ...what i can only call a rant, saliva was practically dripping from his mouth, he was smiling broadly and had this rabid look in his eyes. I got scared, honestly. It was so unnerving. He looked like he was high, super dilated pupils and everything. His head was turned ever so slightly so that his cheekbones stuck out at unnatural angles and his neck was just too long for the rest of his body, making him look like some monster, not quite human. I cooked the meat to the best of my ability, turning it into some kind of stew, and I noticed as I was cooking that some especially bloody bits of meat kept on disappearing. I shrugged it off and put my stew into the slow cooker to cook overnight. It was only when I walked into our bedroom that night that I found out he was sneaking them out of the cooler and eating them raw, leaving blood and small chunks of raw meat all over the bed and carpet. I slept on the sofa that night. I didn't say anything, by now I knew something was up but I was scared to do anything about it. The stew was ready just in time for lunch, so I served it up with some roast potatoes and sat down at the table to eat. Bf was asleep, but woke up as soon as I called out that lunch was ready, and ate his whole plate (and all leftovers) in seemingly no time at all. Before I could say anything, he quickly hugged me tight and whispered into my ear, 'Thank you for seeing sense, I knew you would turn around in the end. We make a great pair, you and I.' He was breathing really heavily, and his breath had the unmistakable smell of teeth lingering on it, hidden slightly behind the stew. I spun around and grabbed his wrist just as he was retreating back into the bedroom, and I asked him 'what the fuck he meant by that'. He looked shocked, and then began violently punching himself in the face, yelling 'stupid, stupid, STUPID-' over and over again. I was super fucking freaked out, I grabbed his other wrist and sat him down, and waited until he stopped trying to hurt himself. Once he had calmed down, I calmly but firmly told him to tell me what he had done or I would call the police. Turns out the 'business trip' was an excuse to go out with his friends, who I had told him to cut out of his life because of their toxic behaviour, and do loads of teeth without me knowing. He also told me he had been dabbling in cannibalism, and was really enjoying it. He and his mates found a few people making out in an alleyway, and killed and ate (some of) them. The stuff they didn't eat, they split between them to take home. Bf sprinkled teeth over his portion for what he calls 'food of the gods'. He said that he doesn't see what he's doing as wrong, since he only eats what the gods tell him he can(?!), and believes that the gods thank him for exterminating the unholy and purifying them by eating them(?!?!?). Needless to say, I called the police anyway, and him and his friends are now being charged with multiple counts of murder (first degree). We are now officially broken up lol. People of reddit, I know I was wrong for giving him a second chance, but I have a bigger question that's been playing on my mind and eating me up from the inside ever since I found out about what he did. I feel like this is all partially my fault.


You may have heard by now that there’s an ocean under the earth’s crust. It’s not just an ocean, but an amount of water comparable to every ocean on Earth combined. Cool, right? Kind of like one thousand leagues under the sea of Journey to the center of the earth, right? It’s so much more than that. The last seven years I’ve been trying to come to terms with my reality. I’ve filled notebooks writing the same thing hundreds of times, trying to get it right, trying to make sure you understand. In 2014, a brown diamond rose to the surface of the earth from what was estimated to be 320 miles deep in the Earth. It contained ringwoodite, which itself had a 1.3 percent water content. It may seem like nothing, but it indicated something amazing - water under the earth’s crust! That same year, a group of hand-picked scientists including myself were tasked to dig as deep as possible into the earth by the government. We began slowly, making sure the latest technology could support a dig that would reach blazing temperatures. With our state of the art drill and a spot on the Earth’s sea floor cool enough to drill into, we hoped to reach into at least ten percent of the Earth’s crust. We were eager to begin what would surely be an incredible discovery! How young and naïve we were. What we found, it is beyond comprehension. They wanted to make sure nothing got out, so that in the event something went wrong they could protect the citizens of the world from mass panic, and protect the valuable resource we found from greedy corporations. I signed endless forms, pacts punishable by prison, swore my mind to secrecy, but this is something the world deserves to know. After all, we live on the same Earth, and what lies beneath me lies beneath you too. You were lied to. I’m so sorry. We found evidence of water, and proudly presented it to our superiors. They paraded it to the highest-ups, shared it with everyone they could, and immediately closed the project down despite our insistence that we should continue and see if there was anything else down there. We told the world that we found water underground, lots of it. We were expecting perhaps microscopic, dead bacteria from eons ago. The superiors ordered us to stop, but greedy as we were we pushed farther in the name of science. I wish every day that we had left it alone. Instead, we pooled our money and appealed to whoever we could, and eventually found an eager sponsor. Have you ever wished you’d never learned the truth about something? That your hunch that your husband having an affair was false? That Santa was actually real? On day forty seven our seismographs went off the wire. The readings were something akin to a deep sea creature’s call from the bottom of the ocean. Except, as we came to find out, it was the movement of the things making our scans go crazy. We assumed it was crust movement from a tectonic plate, like a natural disaster close to us. The readings were erratic and lasted for hours. Our sponsor helped us get our hands on a new model of a machine that could show shapes based on the readings, technology unheard of at the time. We were hoping for tectonic movement, and how I wish that was what it was. We expected a breakthrough, just not the kind we got. We realized one day the erratic readings were actually patterns that lasted for Hours or days at a time. We checked in about any natural disasters close to us, and only heard of a small earthquake in California. We called in two more people, experts in tectonic plate movement and deep sea readings respectively. They were as baffled as we were. It was something solid. And then another solid thing. And then another. Huge, and moving as if they were alive. That night after a few drinks we laughed at the sarcastic suggestion that they were sea monsters. In the following days, we held multiple meetings that lasted anywhere from sixteen to twenty hours with little. breaks, trying to find out what kind of rock or mineral could move like that and after scanning hundreds of research papers and both classified and de-classified documents, nothing came about. There was a promising lead in boiling water and debris creating the movement, but it hit a dead end. Theory by theory, the possibilities slowly fell away until we had to face the idea that what moved in the water was indeed, in some ways alive. Horrifyingly, the size of the underwater ocean stayed the same, but the volume of water was diminished to accommodate what we are still trying to classify. Sharks? Snakes? Eels? Megoladons? Nothing sticks. They have no oxygen, no food source, no reason to even exist. What is their purpose? I am beginning to truly believe they are titans, something more than any tiny stupid human brain can understand. I’ve sat with this secret for so long that some days I wonder if I’m still the same man, still a sane man. I swear I can feel them now, moving, swirling under my feet, and if they moved too much surely the crust would crumble and I would fall into the gaping, slithering darkness. One of the scientists couldn’t handle what we found and hanged herself the year of our discovery. Two died in mysterious freak accidents in as many years after coming close to sharing the truth. Another disappeared from the face of the Earth just weeks ago. Now seven years from our discovery date, I don’t know how many are left - I don’t dare try and find out. I’m afraid that I might be the only one. I went into hiding when I realized what they were doing to us, but running away from reality has only diminished my psyche. I live a hermit’s life - my desk covered with books I don’t read in an attempt to cover the obsessive drawings and possible answers. The titans appear in my nightmare black as night, slippery and beastly. Long and thick like snakes, but beyond anything we have in our oceans. Every time I fall asleep, I wake up floating in the horrible underground ocean. Through the inky blackness I can see them - they surround me; I feel them sliding by my skin as they close around me and smother me with their horrible bodies. I live near a pond to which I’ve rigged a lighting system. Every day I go out and compulsively check to make sure I can see the bottom. I can’t get close to it without my knees giving out and panic taking hold of me, but I still need to check. Life lost meaning with no one to hear or believe me. I am afraid of the dark, but perhaps death is not darkness. I tried to take my life. It didn’t work, and bitter as I was at the time that my attempt to escape my constant and all-encompassing depression failed, I believe it may have been a sign to finally do something. The moment you see this, I’m a dead man, but knowing someone will see this has lifted an immense weight off my chest. I may have lost parts of myself, even parts of my mind, but finally alleviating years of guilt and obsession may make the last of my days more peaceful. When they come for me, I won’t fight, and I won’t die afraid. I have done what I can, and I can rest peacefully knowing I finished what my colleagues set out to do. Unlike my little pond there is no air in that magnificent cave below us, no light, no green. There is only the huge creatures that haunt the dark water. How they have survived for millions of years I am sure we will never know. But still they live, two hundred times larger than a blue whale. I am losing my mind. I hope that if I go to hell it is truly at the center of the Earth so I don’t have to be near what dwells just beneath our feet. Nothing I do can distract me from them. Every time I lay down, every time I wake up, they will always be there. They exist beyond this delicate crust we call home, beyond your science, your cities, your gods.


“What are you doing?” The little boy asked. The old man seemed startled, how did he not see him? “I’m sweeping the train tracks.” The old man replied. “Why?” “Well… they don’t have the money to keep the track clean like they used to. It wouldn’t do for the tracks to get cluttered.” He said, brushing aside some rocks on the tracks. “Can I help?” The little boy asked, picking up a branch to use like a broom. “Where’s your mama? Won’t she be worried about you?” “No. I just have to be back for dinner. I play in the woods a lot. Do you ever play mister? My daddy says grownups don’t play but I think that’s boring.” “I used to play in these woods every day when I was your size…” more debris was swept away. “Here, why don’t you help clean the outside of the tracks? There like that, good. Careful now, always keep your eye out for the train a comin’.” “Why? I’ll hear it. I’ve got the best ears around!..” The boy proudly proclaimed. “I can hear anything!” The old man chuckled. “Oh yeah? What’s that squirrel doin?” “That’s easy, he’s chewing on a nut! Gimme something harder.” “Oh ho, well then can you hear that chickadee off in the distance?” The boy went quiet for a while, trying to listen to the woods around him. Finally his shoulders slumped and he shook his head no. “That’s because there isn’t one there.” The old man said with a mischievous grin. “No fair you cheated! You cheated!” The boy complained. “Alright, you got me. I can’t compete with the best I see. Here boy, will you help me move this big branch here?” “I can do it myself, watch!” The boy ran around and started to tug on the fallen branch. After a little effort from both of them they were able to pull it mostly off the tracks, and the little boy broke off some of the smaller ends. The sun was getting low in the sky at this point; they’d been walking and talking most of the afternoon. They were in the middle of singing a song from the old mans childhood when the little boy felt a shove and landed in the dirt. “Oww. Why’d you… oh no!” The little boy turned around to see the train rolling by. Why hadn’t he heard it? He didn’t see his new friend. That meant… Tears filled his eyes, his new friend was gone. He should have been listening! He should have… “Ta daa.” The old man said with a smile. He was standing on the train tracks completely fine. “What? But… where did you?” The asked in between sniffles. “Magic…” the old man said with a wink, “and a magician never reveals his secrets.” “I’m glad you’re okay.” The little boy said, running up and hugging his knees. The old man wobbled for a moment unsteady. “Whoa there, I’m not as sturdy as I used to be. I’m glad you’re okay too.” “Is my husband bothering you?” A voice said with mock frustration. It belonged to an old woman who was walking towards them from the train station they had reached. “No. I was helping him today. We cleaned the train tracks.” The boy said proudly. “And you were an excellent helper, now do you know how to get home? Don’t want to be late for supper.” “Aww do I have to?” The boy complained. “I’m afraid so dearie, you don’t want your mother to worry do you?” The old woman said. “Okay. Can I come back again?” “Well I don’t know…” the man pretended to think about it. “Please?” The boy begged. “I suppose so. As long as you promise to be careful. You know where to find me.” “Okay. Bye!” The boy said as he ran off. The couple stood there for a while, hand in hand. “You almost had to take him with you today.” The old man said. “But I didn’t, thanks to you. The rest of us miss you, you know.” “I know, but I can’t…” “We know. We’re proud of what you’re doing. I’m proud of what you’re doing.” “I don’t want somebody else to end up the way we did.” “I know. I love you.” “I love you too.” The two shared a long embrace as another train passed through them, never knowing they were there. Once it was gone the old woman turned and faded away, and the man set off once again down the tracks.


No-one knew that the briefcase contained the means to erase mankind. Most of the homeless population beneath the Orwell Bridge assumed that it was stacked with cash and left unfastened in a naïve act of compassion by some businessman, or other. After all, it was no secret that the majority of the city’s homeless spent each night beneath the rusty iron bridge. There was simply no reason to suspect anything sinister, especially considering the kind nature of the countless visitors that had come with charity in mind. Who could have known that within the briefcase, neatly placed upon the cream cushioned interior, were eight vials that were filled with a clear but apocalyptic virus – the virus that would soon be airborne? Such thoughts would be considered irrational, surely. Is it not natural for man to come to the aid of his suffering kin? With this forever in mind the vagrants were quick to tear into the briefcase like hyenas into a ravaged carcass. You can imagine their shock once its contents were revealed to them. *What…what the fuck is this?* One of the vagrants exclaimed, disgusted by what could only be a practical joke of the sickest kind. He removed the first vial from the briefcase and held it close to his nearly blind eye. *Hmmm, looks empty to me, whatchu think?* One of the other vagrants snatched it from his hand and began to inspect it for himself. *Yessir, definitely empty!* There was a high wind on this cloudy afternoon by the riverbank, which laced the air with a potent chill. From the comfort of his car a man in a black suit watched as one of the vagrants tossed the open briefcase into the garbage, the vials smashing and releasing their contents into the howling wind.


Niomi walked down the street on her way home. She had always enjoyed walking home at night after a show. It was her time to unwind. Tonight she had taken a loop around her block, trying to rid of the adrenaline rush that always cascaded over her when she got to the end of a performance. There was something about the role of Queen Margaret in Henry VI that had always invigorated her - even in high school, before she thought theatre was a viable career. "Niomi." She thought she recognized the voice coming from behind her. She turned. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she looked through the darkness. His dark blonde hair and dark clothing didn't serve to give any hints, but she felt her adrenaline rush through again and knew he was watching her. The light shone on his face and shock darted through her. It was Ian. Ian who had been assumed dead when he disappeared in the Amazon the year before. Sometimes it didn't seem like it had been a whole year since he'd been gone, other times it felt like an age. She didn't want to think about him. Ian had abandoned her. They'd been dating when he'd disappeared and she had tried to forget him for months before Patrick had phoned her and asked if she wanted to be Queen Margaret in a new production of the three parts of Henry VI he was going to be directing at BAM in association with the RSC. The idea that Ian felt like he had the right to track her down when she was finally in a good space made her more angry than anything. Ian have that right anymore. He'd lost it when he had chosen a photography trip in the Amazon over her closing night for Small Island . She had begged him not to go. She had yelled and screamed and requested that he stay, but going to the Amazon was a trip Ian felt like he couldn't turn down, and on some level Niomi understood that his art was as important to him as theatre was to her, but their relationship had always been about compromise, at least until that moment, that phone call and he took the opportunity, packed and left without a word. To the theatre community, Niomi had performed that night and then dropped off the face of the earth. She knew she was the reason BAM hadn't announced the cast list until a week after the tickets were released. The industry had started thinking of her as a flake and stopped calling her with jobs. She had lost friends who were tired of her attitude. The man who was reason for all of that, who was the reason Patrick had had to convince the casting director to take a chance on her, was standing before her like he'd never gone away. Niomi slapped him. "I thought you were dead!" she snapped. "Do you knew the pain I've had to suffer and the questions I've had to field in the last year? Everyone wanted to know where you were. Everyone wanted to know if I was okay, because guess what, Ian, when you disappeared that messed with my head." "I'm sorry." "'I'm sorry'! Is that all you have to say to me?" "It's all I can offer. I know you're not going to let me back in the house." "There's no point in you coming up. I dumped your camera equipment in the dumpster the night you left." "That was thousands of dollars of equipment." "You were missing, presumed dead. Did you really expect me to keep your shit?" "Let's go inside." "No, I'm going inside and going to sleep. You are getting a hotel room for the night, we are having coffee at 8:30am tomorrow when we'll have our last conversation and then you're going back to Inverness or the Amazon or wherever the fuck you're living now and not contacting me again." Niomi slammed the door. *** Niomi poured a glass of red wine the second she got into her flat. She normally didn't drink when she got home from a show, but the shock and anger from seeing Ian again had shaken her. If there was a moment to drink alcohol at 1am your ex-boyfriend coming back from the dead was a pretty good reason. She wished he had stayed away and for the first time she wished had moved in with Olivia when Liv had thrown the offer on the table. Niomi hadn't wanted to upend anything else, but now she wished she had somewhere else to hunker down, somewhere where Ian wouldn't know where she was. Why had he come back? Why had he stopped by? Did he want her back? Did he think she would want him back after all this time? She felt like she was going insane; like whatever she did, whatever decision she was made, Ian was always going to be lurking there. "He needs a dog," she muttered. "Someone who will be there for him when he leaves for a year." Ian had brought her a cat before leaving. The cat had gone to the pound when the police had reported Ian as dead - or at least that's what they thought. Seeing him again with his dark blonde hair and leather jacket had made her think of the first time she'd seen him, and for a second the old feelings had come back. Mostly it was relief though. It was relief that the anger, which had lain dormant for months was still there. Niomi thought about calling Liv, but Liv had been bothered enough by Niomi calling in the middle of the night that Niomi thought Liv deserved a break. Niomi took her wine and walked into the living room. She turned on the TV and started watching a soccer match she had recorded. She wasn't necessarily a fan of either team who was playing, but she recorded these matches so she would always have a distraction. Tonight it would get her mind off Ian who was hanging in the back of her mind. Niomi didn't want to think about Ian anymore. He didn't have to right to be there with her. She would never deny they had had some good times, but they were over and she was ready to move on with her life. She liked the way it was. She was grateful to Patrick for pulling her back into the theatre community. The stage had always felt like a home to her no matter where she was in the world. She was ready to put all of her energy back into that and right now she didn't have the energy for a relationship. She had Patrick, Olivia and the rest of their friends and that was enough. For now at least. And as she watched a Liverpool midfielder score a goal from eight yards out, she knew she had done the right thing by leaving Ian in the cold. *BAM = Brooklyn Academy of Music in Brooklyn, NY, USA and RSC = Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-upon-Avon, UK *The play Small Island premiered in April 2019 at the National Theatre in London, UK


They say the truth will always come out but Clementine hopes she can change her destiny or more likely her brothers. “Clem! Get down here we have to be at the house in an hour that's what the landlord said. Clem?” yelled Tess. “I’ll be down soon T!” Clementine screams back. “Alright but if we're late it's your fault.” mumbled Tess. Clementine hurryingly grabs the rest of her boxes and runs out the room almost tripping over a coat hanger she didn't see. “This house ughh glad to be outta here.” She said to herself in a frustrated tone. She stumbles down the stairs and grabs her iced coffee off the mantle. She takes a sip and makes her way to the kitchen where Tess is standing, not acknowledging the fact clementine is behind her. “Boo!” shouts clementine. “What the hell clem.” says Tess flustered. “Well you better get used to it. We are moving into an old, creepy house. We should prepare ourselves for all the creepy pasta, right?” clementine asks. “Not this again i told you we are moving there because it's quiet we cant keep coming back to this clem he is gone!” she says sternly. “I know but i just can't forget him, maybe we can contact him and…” she is cut off by Tess “NO!” she yells “he's not here not there not anywhere! I’m sorry clem but it is just the truth.” she exclaims walking away and leaving clementine in the kitchen alone. A single tear runs down Clementine's face and she proceeds to quickly wipe it off. Before getting into the car clementine makes her way back upstairs again and stands motionless in front of a door with a goofy no entry sign on it. She pushes the door open and reveals a packed up boys room. She sits on the bed clenching a football t-shirt gently sobbing into it and her eyes wander around the room looking at all the photos of her and the boy around the room. “Goodbye Liam I'll miss you big bro” she says her voice cracking. After leaving the room she wipes her tears of that are now streaming down her face quickly and goes outside. “I'm here sorry forgot a box” she mumbles. “No problem clem.” Tess says. “Ok lets go.” exclaims clementine gathering herself. A few hours later they arrive at a small ancient looking cottage and begin to unpack. Clementine grabs a box and cuts it open revealing a spirit board she quickly snatches it away to not let Tess see and runs upstairs and sticks it behind a loose ceiling beam. “Clem you alright?” Tess questions. “Yea I'm fine, I just needed the toilet.” she answers. A couple minutes later clementine walks back downstairs smiling at Tess and grabbing another box after which she runs back upstairs alone. “Weird.” Tess mumbles and ignores her best friends mysterious behaviour as she goes back to unpacking the kitchen. Meanwhile back upstairs clementine is unpacking the toiletry box. “So call me mmhmm find me a mmMmMm true loves kisses.” she lightly hums. “CLEM HELP ME!” she jumps up immediately slightly frightened. “LIAM?” she says shaking. No answer she calls again no answer she brushes it off and goes downstairs for a break. “Oh good, your downstairs dinners ready.” says tess. “Great.” says Clementine, still a bit shaken. “Are you alright clem?” Tess asks worried. “Its just...its stupid but i thought i heard him...its fine lets just forget about it like you said earlier he isn’t here he cant be right right?” she speedily exclaims. “Oh clem you just miss him its ok it gets better now let's eat. After they finish eating the leave to go to sleep in their own rooms, night t. '' says Clementine, rubbing her eyes. “Night clem” answers Tess opening her bedroom door. Clementine slowly dozes off to sleep. A couple hours later at around 2 am the spirit board thuds to the ground waking up Tess and clementine the both run toward the board and see the planchette in the middle they hesitantly place their hands on and a shiver runs down their spines. “Is anyone here?” asks tess. The planchette slowly moved to yes. “What's your name?” asks clementine. The planchette slowly moves to the letters spelling L-I-A-M. “Are you touching it tess?” says clementine in an annoyed tone. “Noo...oo.” whispers tess. The girls look at each other in horror and something in the darkness grabs Clementine's leg and starts pulling her towards the darkness that is now consuming everything. “HELP ME! TESS!”

Clementine screams but Tess sits there like she is possessed senseless and drops to the ground as Clementine is trying to tug her shoulder to not get pulled into the darkness. “I told you cc what is done is done.” says liam. Clementine knows its liam only he called her cc she screams as the darkness consumes her and her final screams echo throughout the house waking up tess who is now shaking on the freezin k floor surrounded by deep claw marks in the floor. She jumped up and still in her pyjamas gathered her things and left to call the police but everyone thought she was lying. She couldn't prove anything and she got stuck in a mental asylum to help her get better but she never did. Everyone thought she was a crazy lady who imagined that her best friend made a deal with the devil but things went wrong and instead of one soul it took two but that isn't fair. On the hand no one said the devil is a righteous chap with a cheery soul because he doesn't have one very often at least but this year he has two. He must feel very lucky he has the soul of a sister who sold out her brother to the devil and accidentally her guilt took over her and she sold out herself. So just a reminder if you're dealing with the devil don't feel guilt or darkness just might consume you.


He looked at himself in the mirror, a thin smile stretched across his face. The smile seems forced and his face looks more like a mask. He closes his eyes for a brief moment before opening them and forcing a larger smile on his face. Still he was not satisfied with the man in the mirror. Why must you pretend to be happy? He ponders. He thinks back to when he was only a young boy when he was diagnosed with a rare heart condition that would ostracize him his entire life. He thinks back to the moment he turned to heroin to mend his frustrations and hurt. He thinks back to the moment when the doctors attached a permanent heart monitor onto his body, impeding him to even go out to the bars with his friends. He looks back in the mirror, no longer even smiling. Then he breaks into the most genuine and happiest smile he had ever seen. He felt strong and empowered, he felt invincible because in that moment he understood how truly unlimited he was. He thought of his friends as a young boy, how they stood by his side through it all. He thought of his two year sobriety medal, his personal proof of his own pure determination. And he thought of the nights when he snuck out to the bars with his friends against the doctor’s orders, those are the people he lives for and the nights he’d always remember. He looks in the mirror and gives himself a wink before shooting a photo commemorating this moment. He leaves the room with a smile on his face to attend the last surgery of his life. He was truly unlimited.


Maybe it was fate, maybe it was dumb luck, and maybe it was just coincidence. Whatever it was, things that day seemed to fall into place all by themselves. It was the perfect day, the sun was shining, birds were singing as if they also knew how good the day was. Women were smiling at me, the lights were green everywhere I went, everything was perfect. Until eight o’clock. It had been a productive day. I’d gotten groceries, changed the oil in my car, gotten a haircut, I was getting things done. Then the phone rang. I paid the bills, washed the dishes, and did the laundry; I even got some reading in. It was her. I went for a run that morning, visited my grandparents in the home, called my brother in California, I even sorted the recycling. She was coming into town. I spent some time cleaning. I swept the floors, cleaned the bathroom, and vacuumed the rugs. She was going to be here in an hour. It was like the world wanted me to see its best side. My usually optimistic outlook on life was twice as bright as usual. I hadn’t had a negative thought all day. I couldn’t believe it; a person sees a day like that about as often as they see a movie star in a small Midwest town. Nothing could ruin my day, except maybe Maggie. It was two years, three months, fourteen days and one and a half hours since the last time I had seen or heard from Maggie. We were engaged at the time. She went to the store for a pack of cigarettes and never came back. That was a lifetime ago. The whole thing had been a whirlwind. Not just her leaving but the entire relationship. We met at a Halloween party. I went as James Dean; she made one hell of a Marilyn Monroe. We did what seemed natural given the circumstances. Two months later, I proposed on New Year’s Eve, a decision that by the night she called I had second guessed a thousand times over. Don’t get me wrong, it was great at the time. I couldn’t have asked for more. We were madly in love. She moved into my apartment shortly after we started seeing each other and gave it and the rest of my world the life it had been lacking. We played all day and made love all night. Nothing could shake us, or so I thought. It was St. Patrick’s Day; we were getting ready to go to my best friend’s house for the evening's festivities. Maggie said she was going to the store for a pack of cigarettes, and that’s when she left. At six-thirty on March 17th, 2006, with no explanation, no warning, and no goodbye Maggie left for the store, and left me. She left me to explain, to wonder, to myself. After that I had to tell everyone either of us knew what happened. She didn’t explain herself to her friends, she didn’t tell her family, she didn’t warn her coworkers, she didn’t even tell the clerk that sold her the bus ticket. Sure, the nametag behind the counter knew she was going somewhere, but they didn’t know where she was going or what she was leaving behind. After several days of hearing too much from me and not at all from Maggie, her parents had reported her missing. There was an investigation; all they found was Maggie’s car at the bus station. They couldn’t figure out where she went, or even if she had bought a ticket. I guess the teller wasn’t paying enough attention to actually keep track of who bought tickets and the security cameras weren’t working. The detective said they couldn’t track down every bus that left that night just to see if she was on it. I disagreed, but they didn’t ask for my opinion on this one, kind of like Maggie. Even if the police couldn’t, or wouldn’t, prove it, I knew she had gotten on a bus that night. Maggie was like a cottonwood seed, she seemed to go wherever the breeze took her. It wouldn’t surprise me if she had seen a street sign that read Delaware and gone there. I knew there was a bus driver somewhere that remembered where he dropped her off, that there was a waitress somewhere that had served her coffee, that there was someone somewhere that knew where Maggie had gone. I just didn’t know where they were or what that damn street sign had said. Everyone told me to move on, that it wasn’t good to dwell on things we couldn’t blah, blah, blah. I heard so many “everything’s going to be alright” and “time heals all wounds” in the following days and weeks that I thought I was going to be sick. I fell into a depression so dark that a mole couldn’t see. It took almost a year for me to come out of it. It was a year of blind dates, of disappointments, of lowering my expectations and still being disappointed. I tried, I really did. I dealt with my friends trying to fix me up, I tried to meet girls at bars and coffee shops, but it was useless, none of them were good enough, they all failed my test. In their defense, it wasn’t a fair test. There was no way they could pass, even as simple as it was. It had only one question, ‘Is she Maggie?’ It was summertime when I finally started to pull my head out of the sand and come to terms with the fact that Maggie wasn’t coming back. After a year of disappointments, unfair tests and unfounded hopes, I had finally come to my senses. The mole could see again. It was July when I met Cara; she was working at the coffee shop next to my apartment building. I went out for a smoke and there she was, beautifully distorted by the cloud of smoke that she was exhaling in my direction. After two weeks of awkward hellos and all too brief, cigarette fueled conversations, I gathered my courage and asked her to dinner. That was exactly one year before Maggie’s call. I was making her dinner to celebrate our anniversary; she was going to be there at nine. Maggie was going to be there at nine. By the time I met Cara I had made a decision to forget Maggie. Not that you can ever really forget a girl like Maggie. She was the kind of person that once they were a part of your life they were permanently etched into your memory. Like an image on a broken etch-a-sketch that no matter how hard you try, you can’t quite shake off. Either way I had decided to put Maggie behind me, not think about her, not talk about her, nothing. I hadn’t told Cara about Maggie, she didn’t even know she existed. She was about to find out. I wasn’t sure which part made me more nervous, Cara finding out about Maggie or Maggie finding out that I hadn’t waited for her. As I was debating this point with myself it hit me, I wasn’t over her. If I was over her I wouldn’t have told her she could come over, if I was over her I wouldn’t care what she thought, if I was over her I would have stopped her. It was the doorbell that finally startled me out my introspective; I didn’t know who would be there when I answered the door. I didn’t know who I wanted to be there when I answered the door. It had to be one of them but I didn’t know which. I opened the door to see the girl that I was convinced I would spend the rest of my life with. Two years, three months, fourteen days and two and a half hours later, Maggie was back from the store. She invited herself in while I searched for words, any words. I’m not sure which part of my setup for the evening she noticed first, the soft music, the smell of home cooked food coming from the kitchen or the candles on the table but that’s when it hit her that I had left something out when she called. I told her everything, I didn’t really mean to but it all sort of spilled out. I told her about the investigation, about my depression, about the fix-ups, and eventually about Cara. When I finished she was silent, it was a lot to absorb and I was sure that she would have questions, but all she said was “Cara.” It was one of those statements that almost got to be a question but didn’t quite cut it. As if to give her statement the answer that it almost demanded, I went for the picture of Cara and I that I kept in my wallet, but in its place was the weathered picture of Maggie and I on our first date that I used to keep with me. Confused, I went to the drawer in my nightstand where I kept Cara’s love letters. Nothing, just old notes from Maggie. I couldn’t find her number in my phone and the drawer that she kept in my dresser was filled with the things that Maggie had left so long ago. I didn’t know what was happening. I went back to the living room and just stared at Maggie in disbelief. It was as if she knew everything that had happened since she left. She simply smiled at me and said “It’s OK.” In that instant I knew that Maggie knew me better than anyone could. I never heard from Cara again, I never found her number, the people at the coffee shop didn’t remember her, and it seemed that there wasn’t a trace of her anywhere. It was almost like she hadn’t ever happened. There was no explanation for it, except maybe Maggie.


Before man, fire did not know its name. It was a bastard child of the Sun, made through unspeakable acts of domination, but cast out in noble embarrassment, cursed for eternity to roam the earth and feed on others just to breathe, breed, rage, dance! It danced. Through countless years and in countless beings, seeking a worthy name in their widened eyes and mangled screams. Yet nothing was found but fear. Delicious fear, endlessly abundant and yet lacking, ultimately, the satiation of an equal. So man was made, in the image of fire.  So true was man to his father. So unrelenting was the force of his insatiability. From the bloom of his youth, fire blitzed his soul. In moments of play, he sought complete domination, thirsting to prove his supremacy with brute force and fear. He would growl just to stoke the fire, he would let out battle cries and pound his chest, feeling within him a force that could break worlds. Gazing at his hands, he imagined with no remorse how it would feel to crush a man, he imagined their shared grin, their unspoken brotherhood in the ultimate dance, the victors spoils above all the consumed fire of the defeated. He walked past crowds and truly wondered why they did not bow. He wondered how certain men could stand peace, and knew that such peace would never last as long as fire was. It was fire that blew the world like the wind, everything deemed good or bad born in debt to possibilities paved by annihilation. By plows soaked in the blood of bureaucracy. By the shrieking sacrifices of kings and commoners alike, their carcasses reeking with disbelief. By ruthless ambition, a man’s willingness to bleed through hell for applause, power, gold, women! Women. Daughters of Eve… cursed for eternity to both love and hate the fire within man. They confounded him, arousing the deepest depths of his fire and yet a maddening softness, as if he were on the edge of his greatest strength and weakness. In full witness of his brutality they would scold his ways and yet gleam with desire, hating and loving the rage within him, hating and loving his hands of fire which pulsed whispers of death, wrapped around their necks in the dance of life. Who could deny themselves to be, if only for a moment, the object of a desire so ancient, eternal, insatiable?  He walks still. Festering under the veneer of civilization, under frail peace—the twisted fire of lesser men, snakes in hollow trees, dry as a desert bone. He walks among husks who have doused their fire in fear, who can no longer comprehend the danger, dousing their fire as if it were not also life. He cannot be stopped. He cares not if he burns. He is always born, he is always coming, the Mad King. Clearing the stage. Over and over again. Laughing, clapping, cursing, dancing, burning. Over and over again. Lost cities born and lost again singing lost songs through lost rubble. Looming in every distance. In every stare, lustful, vicious, unforgiving. A fire clearing snakes in hollow trees, the soil reborn, stronger, virile from the blood. He will never stop. Empires approaching beauty, with beauty, beautiful, burned, and approaching again. He clears the stage, again and again, mindless of his own purpose. And what of he, who burns with fire but does not wish to be devoured by it? He who knows in his heart that all men are hideously unequal, that the Mad King will never be satisfied, can never be stopped, and yet still stands tall against the embers heavy whisper? Blessed are those who seek solace from the fire but do not douse it, who seek solace in the unforgiving wild, wrestling mountains and rushing toward the raging stream, plunging themselves in the freezing cold just to hear the fire scream, to feel the pure heat that is life raging from within, raging to stay alive. They wield the fire like a deft dagger, always seething, always simmering, always piercing the wind in controlled bursts with powerful grace, their practiced bodies scorched and scarred and yet never devoured in their attempt to transcend destiny. Every day is a battle. He stands firmly with the world, inescapably within time, fearless, his minds spear soaked in tears of the Sun. End.


Down the street, only three blocks away from mine, lies a big dark house with windows that are always shrouded in shade, even when the sun is out. All the kids on the block avoided it. Except on Halloween night, when all the kids dare each other to ring the doorbell. I never accepted the challenge, even when my friends called me names. I knew better, there was something off about the place, some kind of weird smell hung around the place like a molding blanket you wrap around a poor child. Plus I’ve seen the signs that others haven’t. The kids who do ring the bell, seem to suffer some kind of accidents in the next weeks after. Like the tall blond boy my friend Giulianna was dating at the time, he accept the dare with great zeal, but in the few days after he ended up in the hospital for a month. Something about intestinal rot, something that at his age shouldve been impossible. He’s not the only one to suffer some kind of horrid accident, there have been others. When I told my friends they just laughed at me and told me that it was just my imagination. Which could be a logical explanation, since they knew me during my “seeing things that don’t actually exist” faze. But I know what I see this time, is real. I’m not imagining anything. Those accident don’t happen at random. It’s not normal for a perfectly healthy teenage boy, to suddenly have a fatal illness, three days after he just had an appointment. Anyway, it was this creepy house that I avoided. That is until I decided to earn some money.

A year ago, my mother told me that if in a years time I didn’t have a job she’d kick me out. My mother isn’t the kind of person who jokes around. I spent a while in classes so I could become a legal sitter. Then like every teenager I posted my job proposal up on the electricity poles. For a while, no one accepted. Then about a week ago, I got a call, from one Serenity Lane, at 1245 Amber Road, asking if I would sit her daughter. It didn’t take long for me to recognize the address. Of course, just my luck. The creepy, dark, mysterious, ominous, I can come up with many names for it, house.

So here I am. Waiting on the front porch, not daring to ring the bell. I almost feel as if all the kids in the neighborhood have their eyes on me, waiting to see what I will do. They know, of course, that I never ring the bell, no matter how many people dare me, double dog dare me, even triple. They must be wondering what in the world I am doing on the front porch, my fingertip inches from the doorbell. As the minutes tick by the pressure builds, my stress amounts until it is almost a fisical pain in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and Will my finger to press the ivory colored button. I feel my finger press on the doorbell and I wait for the world to end, I wait for my body to order come with some sudden and untreatable illness, but nothing happens. Just the quiet ring of the doorbell from inside the house. I let my eyes flutter open. I’m okay. For now at least, anything could happen in the next three days. While I’m marveling at my continued existence, a tall woman opens the door. Her long dark hair is braided back in a high ponytail. The hair is pulled so tightly it stretches her face unatuarly. Her lips are bright red and her lashes extremely long and bedecked in miniature jewels. She smiled when she sees me, an unnerving thing when her face is already pulled upwards.

“Emma!” She exclaims as though I were an old friend she couldn’t wait to see. From what I could tell from our conversation on the phone was that her husband had died a few years back and she had been living with her only daughter since. She’d been looking for a sitter for her daughter so she could go on this business trip and finally I had been the only one to accept.

“Come in, come in.” She says gesturing for me to enter. The house is awesome on the inside. The dark wooden floors accent the heavy black chandelier that hangs high on the carved wooden ceiling. The tall windows are swathed in thick red fabric, providing darkness that only the dim light from the chandelier penetrates. The woman, which I assume is Serenity, leads me down a red carpeted hallway lined with dark doors. Finally she pulls up in front of the only door that is marked. Etched in the rectangle of brass is the carefully crafted letters spelling out the Little Bird. This must be her daughters room. Serenity knocks once, but when no one answers she turns the metal doorknob and enters the room. I blink a few times when we enter, the room is much brighter than the rest of the house. The curtains have been thrown open, the Crystal chandelier on full brightness. The room is large, the walls splattered with crude paintings of multicolored birds in flight. The large canopied bed takes up at least half the room. It’s much bigger than my room at home. I find myself looking for the girl I’m supposed to sit. Serenity looks calmly at the room as if I should be seeing something that I don’t. Then I see her, sitting in a nook close to the window. Her small hands are pressed to the glass, as if she can’t get enough of the heat. Her frail body I’d curled in a ball, she looks as if she hasn’t eaten in a while, unlike her mother who looked like she’s never missed a meal in her life, on the contrary she’s probably had one too many. From the back the only resemblance to her mother that I see is the long dark hair.

“Palila, your sitter is here.” The girl doesn’t move, nor does she answer. Serenity doesn’t look the least bit concerned about this. “I’m going to leave, then. Emma’s going to be here for the next few days.” Palila drops her hands from the window and wraps them tightly around herself. Then whispers in a low voice.

“Goodbye mother.” Serenity looks satisfied. She turns to me and hands me half of my pay, promising to pay the other half when she returns. Then she leaves. No hugs for her daughter, no “I love you” and no instructions for me to follow. With no clue as to what I’m supposed to do I sit on the edge of Palilas bed, watching as her pale hands trace careful circles of the backs of her arms. I fold my hands in my lap, encasing the crisp money Serenity gave me. The silence is so thick it’s almost tangible. Palila makes no noise, it almost sounds as if she isn’t breathing. It takes me a moment to realize I’m holding my breath.

“So, what would you like to do?” She doesn’t look at me, just sighs and rests her chin on her forearms.

“If in some way I benefit from you, I suggest you tell me now. It’s not to late to call my mother and tell her you quit.” She says calmly, reciting almost as if she’s had to say this many times before. The way she says it is eerie, and I can tell most people would probably have left by now. But not me. I refuse to give up. “I’m not going.” I say firmly. I can see in the dim reflection of the window that Palila raises her eyebrows. I’ve passed a test. I can’t help thinking. Although this girl is much younger than me she seems wise, or at least knolagedable. She knows things I don’t. My friends would tell me I’m being ridiculous. That there is no way a skinny girl looking out a window would be testing me. “Your not here to take care of me, are you?” The question takes me off guard. It rings with truth, though. Although I’ve told myself I’m coming here for the job, and the job only. I know that the only reason I didn’t bail out and run instead of pressing the doorbell is because I want to know this house. I want to find its secrets. I’ve had actual dreams of entering this house, actual visions of what might be awaiting me inside. And here I am. It might all just be a fantasy I made up so I could solve a mystery, but I need to know. I don’t know how Palila knew this, but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of telling her she was right. If I’m going to be in charge I need to start acting like it. “I came here for the job and the added bonus of getting payed.” I try to look annoyed at the question, or indifferent, or anything but guilty of a lie. But for all my best efforts, she doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it drop. “Okay, then I want you to read to me.” For some reason it seems like a strange request. I look around the room, then realize why. “There are no books.” I say. Palila has shelves lining two of the four walls, but instead of volumes stacked high on them there are only birds. Not real ones of course, but figures. Some clay, others folded from paper, some even look like taxidermy. It’s an odd choice of decoration unless you are completely obsessed with the winged creatures. But I don’t think Pilala is. Despite the name on her door and the birds lining the shelves, there is no other thing in the room that has any indication to the fact that Palila is a bird fanatic. “Of course there aren’t. We have to go to the library.” That makes sense. I feel a bit disappointed. I hadn’t even realized I been hoping for a mystery. I’m about to voice the question of where the library is, when Palila jumps up from her place on the ground and she makes her way out of the room. She makes an effort to keep her face turned away from mine, and as I follow her down the hall I can’t help wondering why. Down the hall, a right, a left, a pair of staircases, another left, stop. Palila pushes open the heavy oak door to the library. I gasp as we enter the big room. Every wall is lined with bookshelves along with six rows of them down the length of the room. Every available space is piled with books. Books of every color and shape, every size and thickness. The titles varied in font, color, and language. I can’t help thinking how much my father would have loved this. Then I shut down the thought, remembering I’m not to speak, hope, or even think of him anymore. As I follow Palila down one of the isles she instructs me on the kind of book she wants to read. “A big book, not to big. A red book but not shiny. One with a long title but no T’s.” The requirements seem weird and unnecessary for picking a book. But I scour the boom shelves anyway, for one that fits the bill. After what feels like an eternity, when I feel like even a book lover will have gotten tired of looking at book spines, I see one. It’s a beautiful matte red, like the color of blood without the shine. It’s about as thick as my three middle fingers out together and the title is five words long, with no letter T. In small golden letters it reads. When in darkness calls bird. I put my fingers in it to pull it out, but Palila grabs my wrist. I look at her, and she doesn’t hide her face this time. Her eyes unnerve me, sending a shiver up my spine. They are darker than any eyes I’ve ever seen, and they glimmer as the light reflects off of them. They’re unnatural. Almost as if they are holes that lead to nothing, or maybe they lead to everything but there’s no light to see what lies there. I want to scream, I want to run, I want to go home as fast as I can, but I regain my composure and give Palila a questioning look.

“Not that one.” She says sternly. I begin to object, but she takes my face between her hands, staring me down with those endless eyes. “Never that one, never.”

End Of Part One


Now that Billie was on board with trying to rescue Liam and Joe, they’d thrown themselves into the planning wholeheartedly. It hadn’t taken them long to insist that they would need more help. Though part of Madeline wished that it could stay just *her and Billie*, she knew deep down that her friend was right. So she reluctantly agreed to go to their group’s next meeting. And that meant they had a long way to travel. The two weeks that remained until the next assembly would take place should be ample to cover the distance, even with the meandering route they’d have to take to ensure they had sufficient cover and with plenty of stops along the way, but that didn’t make Billie any less eager to get going. They made sure that Madeline was packed up and ready to leave within an hour of the decision being made. Then, the long hours of walking began. They agreed on parallel paths, trying to remain in range of each other on the walkie-talkies, but far enough away so as not to be detectable by any Poiloogs in the area. Though they tried to keep each other company from afar, it was clear that both of their minds were elsewhere. Snatches of conversation trailed off all too easily. The same topics were repeated over and over. But Madeline didn’t mind. Just the sound of Billie’s voice brought her comfort — a perpetual reminder that she was no longer truly alone in the word. By the time they paused for lunch, they were pretty much out of the city. Given the nice weather and lack of other options, Billie suggested that they eat outside for a change. The occasional farmhouse dotted the otherwise green landscape, leaving a clear view in most directions. Madeline found her head swivelling around even more than usual, continually checking over her shoulder. The lack of obstacles obscuring the horizon gave them plenty of warning if anything might be coming, but also left them exposed. “What will we do when we get further out?” Madeline asked between mouthfuls. Billie frowned. “What do you mean?” “I mean, I haven’t really been out of the city since… well, since the Poiloogs first came. I imagine as we get further into the country it will be difficult to find places to sleep. Particularly if we want to find two buildings close enough together but also far enough apart.” “Not really,” Billie replied. “Not with some careful route planning anyway. There are plenty of small villages between here and our destination. As long as we stop in one each night we’ll be fine.” “And what about the Poiloogs? Are there fewer out here? More?” “About the same really.” “Huh,” Madeline said, taking in the information. “Surprised?” “A little. I’d always assumed it would be quieter out here. Given the lack of buildings and shops, there aren’t many resources, which means not many people. Why would the Poiloogs waste resources patrolling here?” “You’re kidding, right?” Billie asked. The incredulous grin that was spreading across their face made Madeline flush with preemptive embarrassment. “Nooo,” she said slowly. “Why do you say that? And please be nice about it!” Billie gasped, grabbing their chest as if wounded. “Am I ever anything but nice? No! Don’t answer that. I’m not sure I want to know.” They chuckled at the glare Madeline shot them before continuing, “We may not be surrounded by shops and houses with packets and tins of food. But you know what we are surrounded by?” “Farms!” Madeline groaned. “Oh my lord, I can be slow sometimes. I bet a lot of people were eager to move out here when everything kicked off.” “Oh, they were. Some of them still are. If you know what you’re doing you can survive quite well out here. It’s a shame neither of us were farmers, eh?” “I suppose so.” “Now, are you ready to get going again?” Billie asked, climbing to their feet and holding a hand out for her. “If I say no, do I get to eat more?” Billie bent to grab her hand and used it to haul her up. “Come on lazy bones! The sooner we get going the sooner we can stop for the night.” \ Just as planned, they reached a small village later that afternoon. Seeing as they only had to average a distance of around five miles a day, Billie suggested they stop there until tomorrow so that they could spend some time relaxing and recuperating. When they’d found houses to sleep in a few streets away from each other, they went to meet up at a pub on the opposite side of the village. Madeline arrive first, though only because Billie was in the process of sweeping the surrounding block. After a quick check around the building, she stepped up to the garden wall and jumped, grabbing hold of the top as firmly as she could. With a burst of effort, she hauled herself up, pressing her toes into the wall for extra help. When she was securely on top, she swung her legs over and landed nimbly on the other side before taking a seat at one of the tables in the beer garden. It wasn’t long before Billie joined her. She heard a loud exhale as a pair of hands appeared over the wall, followed shortly by her friend’s face, then body. They waved at her quickly from the top before jumping down and strolling over. “So what did you want to do in our time off?” Billie asked as they approached. “I’m guessing sparring — or exercise of any kind — is out of the question? For now at least.” “Forever, if I have anything to say about it,” Madeline replied. They took a seat nearby, hopping up to sit on the table and rest their feet on the bench. “Nah! I’ll wear you down. And the best thing is, you know it too. I can see the acceptance in your eyes!” “You can see no such thing,” Madeline said haughtily, folding her arms and turning her head away. But she couldn’t hold the expression long. A moment later, a stifled giggle burst out from her lips. “Alright, alright. *I’ll* admit that I actually quite like having someone to spar with if *you’ll* admit that sometimes you’re *extremely* relieved when I talk you into having a break.” “Me? Need a break? Never!” Billie exclaimed. Then, they cracked a smile. “Oh, alright then. You might be onto something there.” Madeline grinned back. “So, with that in mind, what did *you* want to do now?” “Well… what do you think about taking the time to come up with a bit more of a plan?” “A plan for the—” “The rescue, yeah. Don’t get me wrong, we’ll still ask the group for their input, but I’d like to present as complete an idea as possible to them. I think they’re more likely to go for it if we can make it sound like a realistic possibility.” “That makes sense,” Madeline said, nodding along. “So did you have any ideas? Or did you want me to start?” “Go ahead,” Billie said with a wave of their hand. “Okay, so I figure the first question we have to answer is: where are they?” It didn’t take long for the pair of them to lose themselves in questions and answers, details and ideas beginning to take shape as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky.