“It’s just to help me sleep better, so it can’t be that bad.” Cynthia said out loud as she was carefully pruning her tomato plants. She had been growing her own food for over a decade now, and her hands flowed like a well-choreographed dance as she trimmed. Still, her thoughts weren’t on her current task. She had a black box in her bedroom that she was dreading opening. For the last three years, Cynthia had been plagued by the same nightmare. She would fall asleep fine, but then wake in a sweat and a panic. Mark, Cynthia’s husband, went missing almost 4 years ago. When she fell asleep, she still heard his voice. Sometimes she would see his face too. He always looked calm but said the same thing every time. “Cynthia, find me.” Cynthia would wake up every time in a panic that she had never found Mark, and struggle to go back to sleep. She never got more than about 3-4 hours of sleep a night now. She tried every natural sleep aid she could figure out, but nothing helped. After a few months, she had sharp migraines that never got better. Cynthia and Mark lived a very natural lifestyle and usually could find what they needed to treat injuries or illnesses in their garden or the woods around their house. She made herself a tea out of willow bark, peppermint, and ginger that would numb the pain, but the pressure never went away. One day she was sitting and talking with her sister Julia, and Cynthia collapsed onto the floor and blacked out for a few minutes. By the time she woke up, Julia had called an ambulance and the EMT’s were talking to Cynthia. “What is your name, ma’am?” One of them asked slowly. “Cynthia,” she responded right away. “Do you know where you are?” he continued. “At my sister’s house,” she said with a defensive tone. “Can you tell me how many fingers I am holding up?” he asked. She leaned back as he thrust his hand towards her face. “Three,” she snapped back pushing his hand away as she sat up. “Don’t move ma’am, we need to make sure nothing is broken,” The EMT ordered. Cynthia shook her head. “I am fine, just tired,” she replied. “Cyn, you are not fine,” Julia retorted. Cynthis turned to see her sister sitting on the floor next to her. “Let them take you in to get checked at least.” “No!” Cynthia snapped back. “I won’t go to a doctor.” Cynthia had not been to a physician in years. She didn’t trust all the machines, tests, and other devices they used to diagnose and treat people. Cynthia and Mark worked hard to create a life that was in harmony with nature and found a big part of that for them was avoiding modern technology as much as possible. Cynthia still had a cell phone, but rarely had it on her. She did have a laptop and basic internet as well, but beyond that she lived a fairly tech-free life. “Cynthia, either you let them take you or you let me take you,” Julia demanded as the EMT’s examined Cynthia. Whether it was because of the stabbing migraine pain, or the anxiety of being surrounded by first responders who wouldn’t leave her only, Cynthia’s willpower crumbled. “Fine, you can take me,” she mumbled. “There are no obvious injuries, and it should be safe to move her. She needs to be checked by a physician as soon as possible.” Cynthia was irritated that one of the EMTs was talking to her sister like she wasn’t there. Julia nodded and then the EMT came and knelt in front of Cynthia. “You need to be seen by a doctor right away, ok?” The EMT was nodding his head as he spoke like it would convince Cynthia to agree with him. Cynthia turned her head back towards her sister and ignored him. The EMT leaned close to Cynthia and whispered, “If you go to Dr. Nabul, you will find him.” Cynthia jerked her head back and saw the EMT stand up and write on his clipboard. “What did you say?” she demanded. “That you need to be seen by a doctor right away.” he replied taken aback by her tone. “By which doctor?” she pried. “Whomever you choose, ma’am.” The other EMTs had packed their equipment and started to head towards the door. “But, what about Dr. Nabul?” She said sitting up more. “Um…if that’s who you want to see, then call his office and get an appointment.” The EMT tore a piece of paper off his clipboard and handed it to Julia. Cynthia stared at him as he left and as soon as the door was shut, she stood up and yanked the paper out of Julia’s hand. “Cyn! What has come over you?” Julia responded shocked. “He told me I would find Mark,” Cynthia replied hastily as she scanned the document for any mention of Dr. Nabul, finding him, or Mark. “Cyn!” Juli yelled and yanked the paper out of her hand tearing it. “We are going now, get in the car.” Cynthia started to wonder if she was hallucinating from the sleep deprivation and felt embarrassed acting so rash. “Ok, let’s go,” Cynthia said defeated. As they were driving, Julia did her best to reassure her sister that it would all be ok, but Cynthia was lost in her own thoughts about how real the EMT’s words had seemed. “Cyn, are you even listening to…” “Can I see your phone,” Cynthia asked interrupting her sister. Curiosity had finally won, and she decided she would look up Dr. Nabul. “Why do I even try?” Julia replied exasperated and handed her phone to Cynthia. “Because you love me,” Cynthia responded immediately without looking up from the phone. “What are you doing?” Julia asked trying to monitor her sister while staying focused on the road in front of her. “Just a second,” Cynthia replied as she struggled to use the search bar and typed one letter at a time slowly. D – r - . – N – a – b – u - Before she even finished typing the whole name, a suggested search popped up that said, “Dr. Nabul, Cynthia, find me.” Cynthia gasped and dropped the phone on the floor. Julia was startled and swerved for a second. “What are you doing?” Julia asked. “Did you see that?” Cynthia pointed a shaky finger at the phone on the floor as she spoke. “See what?” Julia replied. “They are in my head. I knew it. They already know everything about all of us.” Cynthia said panicked as she started to cry. “Who?” Julia asked worried. “Them! Big brother, the tech companies.” Cynthia was now sobbing in shock and fear. Julia pulled into a park and ride, rushed out of the driver’s seat, and ran around to the passenger door. She opened it, picked up the phone off the floor and wrapped her arms around Cynthia. “Shhh, it’s ok, no one is in your head,” Julia comforted. Cynthia knew Julia didn’t get it but was too shaken to argue and just put her head down on her sister’s shoulder and sobbed. After a few minutes when she was calmer, Julia let go and held the phone up so they both could see the screen. “What did you see, Cynthia?” Julia asked in gentle tone. “Search for Dr. Nabul,” Cynthia instructed shakily. Julia swiped Dr. Nabul into the search bar and a suggestion popped up, “Dr. Nabul, the sleep specialist.” “That’s not what it said!” Cynthia yelled smacking the phone out of Julia’s hand. Cynthia started to feel like she was going crazy. Julia sighed, walked over to her phone, and picked it up off the asphalt. Julia shook her head running her finger over the new crack in her screen. “I’m sorry,” Cynthia said defeated now sure she was hallucinating. “Cyn, let’s get you the help you need,” Julia replied in a soft tone, putting a hand on her sister’s shoulder. Neither sister spoke during the rest of the drive to Dr. Nabul’s office. When they arrived, Julia went around to her sister’s door and helped her to her feet. Cynthia’s objections to seeing a doctor was completely overshadowed by the new fears of losing her mind completely. Julia helped Cynthia, who was still shaking, sit down next to the rack of informational pamphlets before going up to the intake desk. Cynthia’s mind was racing with the EMT’s whisper and what she read in the search bar and with the migraine pain, she had no energy to process anything that her sister and the receptionist were saying. “It will take a little while, but he will see you today,” Julia announced with a relieved tone. Cynthia nodded sadly. After 30 minutes of being lost in thoughts of crazy hallucinations, Cynthia longed for a distraction and grabbed one of the pamphlets on the top of the rack. She scanned over the front fold talking about Dr. Nabul and his innovations into improving sleep with little interest. Then she opened the fold. “Cynthia, find me. I am waiting.” Cynthia threw the pamphlet across the waiting room and started sobbing again. Julia immediately wrapped her arms around her sister. “What happened?” she asked lovingly. “I am not crazy!!” Cynthia yelled. “No, you’re not,” Julia assured her, holding tighter. “That pamphlet said the same thing as my nightmares,” Cynthia announced breaking free from Julia’s embrace and marching over to the pamphlet. Julia walked calmly over to her sister as she stood over the pamphlet glaring. Julia carefully picked it up and started slowly reading the words on the front. Frustrated, Cynthia grabbed the pamphlet and opened the fold. “Right there!” she pointed to where she saw the words. “You can find peace in sleep again. A better sleep is waiting for you with the help of our patented Deep Sleep Band.” “No!” Cynthia screamed, grabbed the pamphlet, and tore it in half. “Cynthia, calm down!” Julia yelled. Cynthia looked up and saw a scared child being comforted by his mom across the room. Floods of guilt and embarrassment washed over her, and Cynthia ran out of the clinic sobbing again. “Just give us a minute,” Julia assured the receptionist as she rushed to follow her sister. Cynthia sat on the curb sobbing while Julia held her and did her best to comfort her. After a few minutes when Cynthia started to gain some composure, the receptionist stepped out. “Dr. Nabul said he will see you right away,” She informed in a soft tone. “Thank you,” Julia replied. Cynthia looked up at the nicely dressed receptionist. “I’m not crazy, really,” she explained desperately. “I am sure you’re not, ma’am,” the receptionist replied holding her hand out to help Cynthia stand. Cynthia struggled to her feet with Julia and the receptionist’s help, and they both escorted her into one of the examination rooms. The room was painted to look like the night sky, and there was a fully made bed with soft pillows and a comforter off to one side. Other than that, there were a couple other chairs and a white band hanging on a hook above the bed. “Please lie down on the bed,” the receptionist instructed Cynthia. As Cynthia sat on the edge of the bed, she realized that every muscle in her body was sore, and the headache was worse than it had ever been. She started to cry again, this time more from the physical pain. Julia helped her lie down as she kept sobbing. Cynthia had no clue how much or little time passed before the doctor came in, but it felt like an eternity to her. “Cynthia, I am Dr. Nabul,” A thick Indian accent finally shook her from her tears and back to her surroundings. The man on the chair next to her was old with a long white beard and long white hair. He wore a bright purple shirt and a jacket that was covered in colorful flowers. Cynthia was so surprised at his appearance, that she was sure she was hallucinating again and refused to respond. “She’s had a really rough day,” Julia offered nervously. “I am sure she has, that is too bad, I am so sorry,” Dr. Nabul said in response to Julia. Cynthia was relieved that Julia was responding to Dr. Nabul, because it meant her mind hadn’t created this strange doctor. “I am not crazy,” Cynthia said in a cracking voice. “Oh, I know you are not, no worries there,” Dr. Nabul assured excitedly. Even though it felt relieving to hear she wasn’t crazy from someone else, Cynthia was worried that he hadn’t even examined her before concluding that. “Please will you step out of the room, miss,” Dr. Nabul said to Julia as he rolled his chair closer to the bed. “What are you going to do?” Julia asked nervously. Dr. Nabul sighed. “I am going to help your sister with her nightmares and sleep issues, of course.” He said impatiently. “Uh…ok,” Julia replied as the receptionist escorted her out and closed the door. “Do you know what this is?” Dr. Nabul asked grabbing the white circular band off the hook above her. Cynthia just shook her head. “This is the patented Deep Sleep Band. It will make sure you are not plagued by nightmares ever again.” He informed cheerfully. Ever again sounded unrealistic to Cynthia and she started to get nervous. “How does it work?” Cynthia asked timidly. “It responds to the subconscious brain waves and emits a frequency that regulates the waves while you sleep so that you find peace in your rest.” Dr. Nabul spoke with the excitement of an inventor selling his new gadget on an infomercial. “All you are going to do is place this on your head when you go to bed, and you will find what you need to.” Cynthia wondered if Dr. Nabul was actually using the word find as much as it seemed or if she was starting to hallucinate again. Either way, her headache was now so bad that she couldn’t focus on any thought real or hallucinatory. “In the meantime, let’s take care of that headache.” Dr. Nabul pulled a syringe out of his pocket and uncapped the needle. Normally Cynthia would object, but she didn’t have the energy anymore. Her muscles were so sore, she barely felt when the needle pierced her skin. Within a few minutes, though, her migraine was gone. She had not been this clear headed in years. “Maybe I will be ok,” she thought as she sat up. Dr. Nabul opened the door and held his hand out to motion Cynthia through it. “You can go now,” he instructed. Cynthia got up, walked out the door, and the turned back quickly and muttered and thank you. Dr. Nabul didn’t seem to notice. She met Julia at the receptionist desk again and the lady behind the desk was already typing vigorously. “Come back if the band stops working or you experience any strange side effects,” she instructed as she typed. When she finished, she grabbed a white box off a stack next to her and handed it to Cynthia. “Sweet dreams,” she said with a smile as Cynthia took the box. “I am so sorry, Jules,” Cynthia broke the awkward silence that had permeated the first 15 minutes of the drive home. “You seem better,” Julia replied in an almost snarky tone. “Yeah, he gave me a shot,” Cynthia responded with a drop in her voice. “Of what?” Julia asked. “I don’t know,” Cynthia replied sadly. “What, my sister not questioning what a doctor gave her?” Julia questioned mockingly. Cynthia rolled her eyes and they returned to awkward silence. “What is that?” Julia finally asked pointing at the box on Cynthia’s lap. “It’s a band I wear at night to help me sleep better,” Cynthia replied. “Well, I hope it works,” Julia said. “Me too,” Cynthia replied, feeling guilty for all the hell she put Julia through. After saying goodbye to her sister, Cynthia went home and decided to take advantage of the first time in a while she wasn’t plagued by incessant migraines by taking care of her garden. After clipping the last tomato plant, Cynthia wheeled the scraps over to the mulch pile and dumped them. Everything she did that night was like she was on auto pilot. She was grateful to not be in pain right now, but worried about a device that would change her brain waves. “Maybe I’ll just use it for a little while until I get into the habit of sleeping better,” she finally justified to herself and got ready for bed. She pulled the white band out of the box. There were no buttons or switches, it was just a white band. She picked up the instruction manual, all it said was, “Put it on and lie down, that’s it.” Cynthia could almost hear Dr. Nabul’s thick accent as she read the simple instructions. She placed in around her head and was surprised how snuggly it fit. She then lied down carefully and closed her eyes. It must have been only seconds before she was fast asleep. In her dreams, Cynthia was walking down a familiar street in her small rural town, towards a familiar café. She walked in and up to a familiar table where she sat in front of a fresh cream cheese danish and a cup of chai tea. She looked into Mark’s eyes for the first time in years. “You finally found me, Cynthia, I’ve been waiting here a long time.” He reached out and grabbed her hand tenderly as he spoke. “Mark,” she said with a tender whimper in her voice and found herself unable to say anything else.


By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. My own house were I spend my whole childhood was burning as a huge campfire and the reason is just me... no one else but me. I ran down the lane to find the fire brigade. The firemen heard the incident and they agreed to help me. When I had come before my house with the firemens, the fire had spread into my neighbours house too. By seeing the conditions I fell down on the street; Fainted. When I opened my eyes in consciousness I was in a hospital, a nurse staring at me. She asked me some questions which they ask the people who get shocks due to a certain sad reason, I answered every correct answer then she left me by my own in the room alone. I reviewed the whole day which had started with much joy and excitement had turned in a dangerous and sad accident. All the past flew past my mind and I started to panic about what will my parents and my brother's reaction would be. I tried to remember each and every words I spoke throughout the day till now, and now want you guys to feel the accident and I want you to imagine each and every moment:-

IN THE COLLEGE DORM... "It is fall atlast", I screamed. My roommates woke up because of my scream and Mia yelled "Samantha, can't you keep your voice down specially on the weekend mornings. I really get tired of my schedule and I try to sleep in the weekends late so would you mind if I ask you to keep your mouth shut till 10:00 am?". Kelly screamed "Why did you ruin my sleep, I slept really late yesterday night, now I have to go to the pool party with a black spot under my eyes!!". Zia laughed and said "You are my little alarm clock Samantha, everyday you have some reason to shout in the mornings and I don't have to put an alarm as I wake up by your scream".

I said a little embarrassed "Sorry guys, from my childhood I have a sore throat which makes me speak so rough and loud, and Zia has some help too... She can wake up by my screams". I put my hand on my hair and played with a string of it and I said again "Today I am really very much excited as I'm going back to my hometown... and after so long time I would see my Mamma, Daddy and Brother, so can you please forgive me for breaking through all of yours sleep??". Zia came down from her bed and smirked. "What are you smirking for Zia?" I whispered. "You can guess the reason pretty good... Thank You 'alarm clock'..." My face began to grow red with anger and I spit out these words "Don't you dare to call me 'alarm clock' you flirting queen". Zia laughed as Mia and Kelly turned around to complete their broken sleep.

I had packed my bags 2 days beforehand so that I don't have to rush in the mornings. I had given my leave notice for 3 days and had got the acceptance card and I only need to attend today's class and then I'm free to leave for Mamma, Daddy and Bro. I checked the list I made and gave a tick-mark on the things I've done. In the meantime Zia peeped from her book and rolled her eyes at my behaviour and said "You are going to your own house Samantha not any examination, so why do you prepare what to take and what not to in a 'to do list', I'm really seeing a person so nervous while going to her own house the first time". I just merely gave her a faint smile and went back to do my work.

When I had finished all my classes for the day, I had a quick lunch with Mia and went off for my home...

ON THE WAY IN A CAB...

I booked a cab and told the address to the driver and he picked up the speed, I thoroughly enjoyed the ride. On the way I buyed some fruits for Mamma, she loves fruits so much I cannot elaborate it.

IN MY HOMETOWN... In a short time I reached home. But the house was empty and my phone was out of juice. I had a spare key of the backdoor and I tried to enter the house... But woah!! The back door was full of dust and spider webs as if it is not cleaned for a month or so...then also I entered the house. As soon as I had entered my stomach started growling with hunger. I had instant noodles so I went to the kitchen with a pack of them hurriedly. But my luck was so bad I didn't get a lighter to light the stove for hot water, my hands were rolled in a fist till then as if I'm going to hit someone and I said to my own "Why does this bloody shit house has nothing neither of any of my people nor any lighter to light the stove...". I searched through my bag to find a box of matchstick. It took a minute or two when I got the lighter and lit the stove to boil some water. I didn't pay attention to the matchstick and threw it outside the window in my kitchen. Then I took out a bowl from the cupboard washed the bowl neat and clean. Then I poured some of my drinking water and boiled it to pour off in the noodles. I ate the noodles searching my bag for a charger but 'Oh Shit' I forgot... I wanted to slap myself but I controlled my anger. When I had finished the noodles I was feeling so tired, I went to the couch to rest for a while... I had fallen asleep, but I was woken by a smell of something burning. I went to the kitchen and saw that I had turned the flame off... But the smoke was there outside the window in the kitchen.

I rushed out and saw that near the back side of the house, the heap of dried leaves were burning because of the half-burning matchstick that had landed from my hand to that heap of leaves and had caught fire... I was so shocked I couldn't understand what to do and what not to... An idea struck me... To call the fire brigade. I ran down the lane tripped two times hurt my elbow and a knee, but I still kept on running, blood dripping from my elbow as it was a big and deep cut... but my first mission was to save my house. In 10 minutes of running I reached the Fire Station. I explained them everything in detail and not wasting our precious time we rushed to our house... But when we reached my house, for me everything was literally going to be over. My house and my neighbour's house was burning like a fireball or a huge campfire. My eyes were filled with tears, hands and legs shivering with many kinds of fears.  I looked at my neighbours they were crying and saying "Our house gone... where do we go now... all gone... everythings are burning... with the arrival of fall came our end... where should we put our head to sleep..." I couldn't resist the tension anymore, my head became dizzy and I fell on the street. I had fainted... I woke up and saw the room, it was so hazy. I rubbed my eyes and saw that I was in a hospital and a nurse staring at me with eagerness. When I stood and sat on the bed with a supporting pillow, she asked me many questions and I gave the correct answers. "Who are you?", "I'm Samantha Drew Laeno". "Where were you at the time of the accident?", "At my own house". "Whom do you love the most? And his name?", "My elder brother. Samuel Drew Laeno". And many More...and More... and More... She said "You have no illness and your elbow is stitched... so remember to keep it dry the next few days. And one more thing... you will be discharged in a few hours", then she left me all by myself, alone in that room and that is when I started remembering the past hours.

        ------------------------------------------------------------ After I was discharged from the hospital, the same nurse asked me "Do you want anyone to come to pick you up or will you go home alone?". I replied "No Thank You I'll go by myself don't worry". I headed towards the road, but I didn't know where from I was walking... I was walking on the main street and a car was honking from behind but I couldn't hear as I was lost in thoughts... "What will my parents think of me when they get to know the mess I had made?... Will they forgive me?...". Just then as the car was to hit me dead, Melissa my best friend came to my rescue and she pulled my hand bringing me on top of her laying down on the sidewalk.

She screamed her tongue out of her mouth and shouted on the top of her voice "What the hell are you trying to do??... 'SUICIDE'? Are you senseless? What happened give a brief description of it please, and what happened to your arm and head?..." I nodded and gave her all the information, and she stood there with her mouth big opened. I asked her why she is looking at me like that. She replied "don't you know that your family has moved to another locality?...". I nodded 'NO'. We both got up and from my back Zia came running and pulled me face to face to her. She shook my head vigorously with anger and shouted "Samantha have you gone crazy??... Are you out of your mind??". I started crying like baby girl at the shouting of both my friends when Melissa asked us to go to a ice-cream parlour as her treat. We agreed. When we were eating our ice-cream my brother arrived 'Samuel Drew Laeno', he waved at me and winked at Mellissa I waved him back and I saw Melissa winking him back too. I asked them "What's your connection?", and both of them smiled and said "A secret".

Then he started arguing with me as because not calling him directly on my way back home "Are you a Donkey, Monkey, Idiot, Bastard...??" and etc.. etc...he said me. I quarrelled back "Why didn't you call me about the issue that you all have changed houses? Was the balance in your phone over 'Bastard'?". As we were shouting some people were seeing him and me both. A little boy of age 6-7 fell down the chair laughing with the ice-cream on his face. We all stood laughing seeing the boy's condition. I and my brother left for home. When we reached home my brother announced my arrival to my parents as "Mamma, Daddy your idiot Samantha has arrived". I hit him in the arm when mamma stopped him from beating me back. By seeing my mamma's face I started crying again when she comforted me and brought me at the couch to rest. She also said that "It doesn't matter dear, that is not our living place anymore... don't be sad honey." I looked at my mother's face she had a faint smile on her lips. Then she said to me "I think you have learned your lifetime lesson 'think before you leap' if you would thought what can happen right at the moment you threw the burning stick from your hand outside the window, this would not happen...". By that words I was changed throughout my life.


Title: A Troubled Invention (Part 2) Author: Haripriya Authors Note: Hello everyone! Hello everyone! I hope you're all having a happy Monday! Just a quick note, this story is part 2 of the story I wrote yesterday. So if you have not read yesterday's story, I suggest you start with that one and then read this one. If you have already read yesterday's story, you're right on track! I hope you enjoy the second part as much as you liked the first one! Under the dome, everyone was doing fine. Ok, maybe not

everyone  since that is a bit of a stretch. Except for Warring and Harris, everyone else was having their normal, happy days.

If you might be wondering if Warring ever got to present his robot, then no. Sadly, that day the entire show featuring these techy inventions was canceled and will only be rescheduled next year. That is a very long time for Warring, maybe even

too

long.

He wanted to present his non-emotional robot much sooner. He couldn't bear anyone's prickly words until then. He needed to show what a genius he was sooner. After all, the sooner the better, right? Everyone needed to praise him quicker, so he plotted with another plan, a hard one though.

"Let me see, if they are not going to schedule this show any time sooner, then I am still not safe. Harris will be watching me from the extremely strong microscope he built, meaning I need to keep my little one safe. Harris will be waiting for a chance to steal it so that I won't get famous. Harris is filled with jealousy, and I need to stop that somehow." he plotted. He thought hard about all the possibilities he could do to keep the robot safe. He needed to consider all these options very carefully because his robot means the world to him. Warring thinks that he is the only smart one in this entire world.

Warring thought that Harris was the overconfident, proud one. But Warring didn't take long enough to examine himself. He was the one who was too confident about everything he did. It just took a little bit of Harris's smart plan for Warring to figure that out.

⋆⋆⋆ One day, Warring was growing tired and even more restless than before. He kept pacing back and forth in his little basement, trying to figure out how to fix his robot. He still needed to make some tweaks to finally call it a finished product. Every time he tried to control the robot, it would do the opposite thing.

For example, if he ordered the robot to go left, it would go right. When Warring gave the robot a task to fulfill, (to hold some books) they dropped it. Warring still couldn't figure out what he needed to do to fix that little malfunction. It was bugging him. Those sleepless days, making his brain fuse out because he kept on thinking out what he was missing. Usually, when Harris was his brother, they would always work on an invention together. They would always brainstorm all their invention plans and processes with the help of their teamwork. That is how all their inventions got made so quickly. It was because they cooperated, they worked together. But now Warring was alone, and he couldn't get the help of someone else because they stormed at each other last week.

But no way was Warring ever going to go back to where Harris was. No way he could accept his defeat so easily. He couldn't even imagine doing that! Warring would only apologize if Harris came first, and until that day came, Warring was going to do what he wanted to do

alone.  Nothing was going to change. He had already made up his mind about it and he is deadly serious about his decisions.

Warring still didn't understand why Harris would stop him from clearing their name. He thought that his decision would have benefited both, him and Harris. Why did he say no to him? Did he always want to be called morons, and weirdos? Warring wasn't harming anyone, just trying to do something good to them, so that everyone would change their minds about them. While Warring was pondering about that, he noticed the time. On his holographic clock/watch, he noticed that it was getting pretty late. When he turned to his small, wooden, rusty window pane he also noticed that the "sky" was getting dark. He decided to think and worry about all these things later. All he wanted to do then was just rest, and at least try to get some sleep, unlike the night before. So, as he sighed, he switched off his holographic clock/watch and closed the blinds on his window, getting ready to sleep. When he was in bed, his mind still kept wandering about miscellaneous thoughts, even though he tried really hard to shut his brain. He closed his eyes, tightly, but still kept thinking about horrible memories of his brother walking out on him like that.

He remembered his brother saying, " I didn't want this conversation to come to this brother, but I'm afraid it has. I'm sorry, I tried to warn you. Since you're not listening to me, I must take leave. " For each word he recollected, his eyes stung, as if these words were poking each eye one by one. Tears rolled down his cheek as he kept thinking about that conversation. But, it wasn't all Harris's fault. Warring had also said some things he regretted too, and as he kept on thinking about them, the more pain, desperation, and regret he carried in his heart.

" You really think your puny woes could ever stop me? " he remembered him yelling at his little

brother , that is if he can legally call him that.

He started hating himself even more as all these feelings circled him, never leaving his brain. These terrible, horrible feelings always bothered him, preventing him to think straight. ⋆⋆⋆ The next morning, after his terrible slumber, he got an idea of what he could do to his robot, accidentally. "So this is what I was missing the entire time! I... I can't believe I never even took a second to think about this! Oh, how much time I have wasted for this missing piece!" he yelled in glory and excitement. What had happened was as his alarm had rung suddenly, and woke him up so abruptly, he tripped on a little screw. Though it hurt him a lot, and his thigh bones have probably broke, his head sprung with joy.

Now all he had to do was fit this screw to the robot so that he could finally get the robot to follow his instructions. He quickly did his morning routine, and finally got to his workspace.

While he sipped on his latte, he made sure to gather all of his tools for fitting in the screw really tightly this time. As he got all his materials, he made sure to double-check around the space for any missing nuts or other little parts to make sure he has everything he needs.

He took a little sip every other minute while at the same time he pushed the screw inside the missing little area and made sure it fit tight and nicely. It took him a couple of minutes to check if the screw was all good and nice.

Though it may look nice, there was still one more step to be done, and that is to conduct his final tests on the robot. Before, the robot only did the opposite of whatever it was told. But now that the screw has fit and Warring revised his code on the robot's program, he was sure that it was going to work.

He crossed his fingers and took a breath. He ordered the robot to do the same thing it failed at, picking up books. Warring placed a couple of books on the desk and controlled the robot, now hoping that he would find different results.

As he coded, he looked up to take a glimpse. His smile widened as he saw the robot moving its limbs in the correct way he told it to. He saw the robot taking the books one by one, and making sure to not make it fall, or make it trip. The robot carefully placed each book on the other end of the same desk.

" Finally... "

he thought but was too excited to even finish it. The robot was working just as he wanted it to. Even if he ordered the robot to do anything he wanted, the robot wouldn't get offended by it, because Warring cleverly programmed it to have no feelings of anger and sadness. In fact, the robot doesn't even have good feelings, such as happiness and excitement. All it is programmed to do is perform any tasks and duties the owner tells it to do. That's all!

⋆⋆⋆ But now is where is the other hard part comes in. Warring was smart enough to know that Harris would spy on him through his advanced technologies, so Harris would most likely try to steal the robot.

He did have a security mode installed inside the robot so that Warring would always know if something ever happened to it. But, if he installs the security mode 24/7, then his robot was going to lose its power. Every time he would have to fix his robot until the parts would heat, and burn up.

Obviously, he didn't want to take that risk because as you can see, he worked his heart and soul into this robot building project. He couldn't even imagine seeing his robot getting burned up. But how was he going to protect his robot while he was away? He can't carry it outside, because people will arrest him, thinking that he smuggled the robot from anywhere across the world. Even worse, he can't even explain he made the robot just like that. He would get into more trouble.

Poor Warring didn't know what to do. He also hesitated in the thought of going to his brother's place to convince him to not take the robot. Warring would only talk to him if Harris talked first.

All these thoughts started to worry him more than before. Without even thinking twice about his decision, he decided to not activate the safety mode. Warring couldn't stand a chance of one of his most prestigious inventions getting burned because he did something wrong knowingly. He decided to take the risky route and not activate any security mode on the robot. But, he did hide it somewhere safe and secretive and made sure to lock it when he was going out that night.

Warring locked his house and stepped outside. He prayed that nothing would ever happen to his little robot and that he would stay safe during the time he is outside.

Looking down, Warring started to walk away from his little basement still worrying about his robot being all alone in there. Half of Warring's brain was trying to convince the other half that nothing would happen because he did lock it in a secret place. So that Harris (if he was even coming) wouldn't know where it is. Even if he tried to use his microscope, he still wouldn't be able to find it. ⋆⋆⋆ Just as Warring expected, Harris did take a little visit to his basement to try and talk him out of this entire robot thing. But when Harris knocked on the door, no one opened it. He thought Warring didn't want to see him because he was still mad about last time, so he thought of using his magnifying glass to look into the door.

" Weird," he thought. "Usually he has to be home, what happened to him? Maybe he went somewhere. Wherever he is, I need to destroy that robot. Warring probably doesn't know that security check-in is going to come in today to check for any suspicious items. I can't keep this robot in my house because I'll risk the chances of anyone seeing it. I'm sorry brother, wherever you are, but I have to destroy this." he mumbled to himself. He tried to pick the lock, and it worked. Harris tried to use his magnifying glass to spot that robot. He couldn't see it on his working desk, or in his bedroom. "It must be in one of the shelves..." Harris figured. Using his magnifying glass, he tried to look into the shelves, as soon as he was going to give up, he found it on the last one.

"Aha! There it is. Now all I have to do is destroy it and burn the invention before Warring comes in." Harris said, and he did exactly as he said. He burnt the pieces and they decomposed themselves, so no one would find any clues of anything burning.

⋆⋆⋆ As Warring came home, the first place he looked was in that cupboard. Unfortunately, it wasn't there. Warring knew Harris had come inside the place. He immediately became frustrated and mad.

"I can't believe I used to be his older brother! I hate him. He knew I worked on that, he knew it! He did this on purpose! Ahhhh!" he groaned and yelled in rage.

If only Warring had enabled on the security system or even went to Harris's place to apologize, none of this would have happened. Warring's indecision was the reason his robot got ruined. ~ The End ~


Dear Corey, I am a long time listener of your show, but this is my first time writing in. My name is LTC Eugene Buckley, USA, Ret. but everyone calls me “Buck”. I’m 67 years old, retired about 7 years now, with over 40 years of honorable service to my country. I’ve been to war, been blown up, taken lives, saved lives, negotiated with the enemy, but I’m not writing today to talk about all that. I’m writing in to talk about the, hands down, most difficult situation I have ever been faced with in my life: learning to communicate with my far-left, almost Socialist, Democratic wife. I was 28 and she was 18 when we got married back in 1981. Our political leanings didn’t really come up the first few decades of our marriage, and it wasn’t until Trump did she finally decide that she was all-in full bore liberal; going to “protests,” wearing rainbows, refusing to buy one-use plastics, and other nonsense. I was raised in a traditional christian conservative household and my daddy brought me up on strong American values. I’m not going to lie to you Corey, it was really tense in our marriage for awhile there. But then I read your book about claiming my rightful spot as the alpha male in my family, and you hit that nail on the head! Following your advice, I got my sweet housewife back, and she is just purring like a little kitten, so full of joy and playfulness. This alpha male is feeling like the top dog again, and I’ve got you to thank. If you care to share my story with your listeners, I have a few main points that other misplaced alpha males might benefit from. — 6 months earlier: Betty had been confused by the Amazon package at her front door. She had stopped ordering from Amazon over a year ago as the atrocities of working for Bezos became impossible to ignore as the pandemic ravaged the country. She hadn’t looked at the label before opening it, and was confused by the artless paperback that slid out of the (non-recyclable) bubble-pack. Betty read the title out loud to the empty room “Reclaiming your God-Given Right as the Alpha Male — A guide for strong, conservative, Christian men.” Betty groaned as she muttered, “What the fuck, Buck?” A phase that had become a mantra over the last four years. She intended to slip the book back into its packaging and leave it on the counter for Buck to find when he returned from his weekly golf game, but then she hesitated. She realized that she held Buck’s new playbook in her hands and this might be her one chance to study up before the game started. Already feeling disgusted and bone-weary, she sat down and read the first line, “Why alpha males rule their worlds, their lives, and their women, even if their political views differ.” Betty’s eyes rolled so hard she thought her contacts might pop out. She scanned the first few pages about how the author went from feeling like a loser with women, to studying all the things women want and learning to mimic those things and then reach his ultimate goal of dating supermodels. Something about being a 3% man. He never explained the percentage, but really none of the ideas made any sense. Well, knowing Buck and his die-hard commitment to marriage above all else, he wasn’t looking to date women so she felt confident skipping ahead. As she read through the book a plan started to take shape in her mind. She felt simultaneously sad and exhilarated. Sad knowing they had passed a point of no return, but also exhilarated to finally pass this point, a very long time in the making. Betty pulled out a legal pad and started making notes, pausing to call out, “Alexa, play Rosemary Clooney’s cover of ’50 ways to leave your lover’.”

— So Corey, I kind of boiled down your main points into three easy steps that I’ve outlined below and then provided an example from my life on how to “get ‘er done!”

1.“Acting like the dominant male, laying down the law, it’s my way or the high-way, will bring any commie-loving wife to her knees when she witnesses your dominant resolve.”

So the way I did this with my wife is I refused to fight with her, I would just tell her in a very calm, yet firm voice what was going to happen. When we voted last month, she told me that if I voted for that “bigot” Trump again, she would leave me. Now I used to get all angry and we would end up yelling at each other, saying hateful things we didn’t mean. But this time I channeled my inner alpha male and said, “Well honey, I’m sorry you feel that way, but I like what Trump has to say and I support him. If that’s a problem for you, there’s the door.” No fight, no yelling, and did she leave? Of course not. Bless her heart, this woman has cared for this family, cooking and cleaning, but she’s never had a real job. This little darling couldn’t make it a day on her own, she likes the comfort of her home way too much. I knew there was no way she would walk out on all this that I have built for our family. — Betty knew that Buck would start in on the book’s advice as soon as he could. She wasn’t exactly sure how he planned to “act dominant” but she paid close attention to changes in his behavior. She didn’t have to wait long. A week later as Betty sat at the table working on her mail in ballot, Buck struck up a conversation about voting, usually a taboo topic in their house. She had voted mail-in for years, while Buck continued to insist on going to the polls on election day. He made a stupid comment about being glad he could cast his ballot in person so the commie mail carrier didn’t throw it out. Betty took the bait, just like she knew he wanted her to. In a moment of inspiration she threatened to leave him if he voted for Trump again. Instead of yelling, like he usually would have, she saw him stop and stare at her for a solid ten seconds, then in the most patronizing voice she had ever heard him use, he restated his intention of voting for Trump and then gestured toward the door like he was a game show host offering her a prize. “Interesting” she thought to herself.

— 2. Influence her circle. Make sure she’s mostly associating with the “right” kind of people (pun intended, haha)

Now Corey, this second step must be handled delicately. It’s important that you don’t outright forbid her to spend time with her commie friends and family, but if you can find ways to decrease the time she spends with them and increase the time she spends with the right kind of people, then you’ll be good to go. So here’s how I’ve handled that with my wife. Several months ago, during our church’s social hour, I mentioned to the pastor and several of the active church ladies that my wife was feeling down in the dumps due to all the Covid restrictions and that since the church had decided to stay open, maybe some opportunities to get involved would help lift her spirits. I made sure to tell them that it was important that they make it seem that she is really needed since she would never want to feel like a burden. I also made sure that I talked to each person individually so that as many people as possible reached out to my wife. I knew that if someone called her personally asking her to volunteer, she would have a very hard time saying no. Man oh man, it worked like a charm! She was surprised to get so many people calling and asking for help, but the more she said yes, the happier she became, and the more she ended up volunteering, even past my original intentions! I was so relieved to know that she was spending so much time (finally!) among people that would lead her down the right path.

— Betty’s blood ran cold as she read the chapter about influencing your wife’s social circles, with the end goal being to isolate her from her support network, and supplant it with his “approved” network. This three-day-old shit stain was literally training men on how to become an abuser. Betty had been around long enough to know that as soon as someone starts to “manage” an adult’s social circle, and isolate them from a network that has shown nothing but love and support, well any semblance of care they had for you is gone. So when the calls from the various church members mysteriously started, begging her for help, she knew just what to do. She politely declined when Marjory asked her to help protest at the local Planned Parenthood clinic, and instead called up the clinic and asked how she could help. She ended up becoming an escort, helping young women walk into the clinic, shielding them as best she could from the hate filled screams of protestors. When Sarah called her up and asked her to join them at the next school board meeting to protest the teaching of critical race theory, she politely informed Sarah that critical race theory is a college level course, but even if it wasn’t, she would welcome the lessons into the public school curriculum. Betty then found the contact information for the local Black Lives Matter chapter and signed up for protest support, to include aid booths and sign making. When Candace called her asking if she could possibly join their letter writing campaign asking the mayor to ban trans children from youth sports leagues, Betty resisted the urge to tell Candace to go Fuck herself and instead politely told her that she supported all of God’s children. PERIOD. FULL STOP. Betty then went online to find a letter writing campaign urging the mayor to protect members of the LGBTQ+ community. Betty then started to recruit friends and family to join her in her activism, strengthening her already strong social network. She also started researching churches in her area, because it was becoming painfully clear that she would need a new one. Betty let Buck know that the church had really been a great motivator to get her involved and she is so thankful to have received those calls. Buck smiled smugly. Betty smiled knowingly.

— 3. Make sure your wife knows that you are a “no compromise” guy. That you expect her to either agree with you, or to shut her damn mouth. She needs to remember that no one out there will love her like you do, will take care of her like you do, or will protect her like you do. But if she does decide to leave, then the failure of the marriage is all on her and her inability to see the truth.

I admit, this one sounds harsh, but as an alpha male, you can’t show any weakness. This circles back to Rule #1: Act dominant. This is more than just refusing to engage with her about issues you don’t agree with. You have to man up, step up, and actually do what you say you’re going to do. If you’re going to support your family, earn the bread, bring home the bacon, well DO that. If you say you’re all about protecting your family, then DO that. Even though this silly cold should not have shut down the economy, it was obvious that the limp-wristed Democrat leaders were going to do everything in their power to grind this country to a halt. When I heard about the likely disruption to the supply chain, you bet your ass that I was out there grabbing my share of toilet paper, bottled water, paper towels, and all the meat I could fit in the deep freeze! I then went to every gun shop in a 50 mile radius (and there are A LOT!) And not only bought up all the ammo they would let me buy, but also beefed up my arsenal, because if it gets as bad as they are predicting, as the alpha male, I have to be ready to hold off anyone that dares to threaten my family. Meanwhile I found that Betty was very receptive to my suggestions that would help her reach her potential, as long as I was light and playful in my delivery. For example, she was upset when the mayor decided not to require masks. I said, “Aw, honey, your face isn’t that bad to look at!” Or when she whined about the cops doing their job by stopping BLM rioters from burning down the city, I told her, “You are so lucky to have found someone as tolerant of your ideas as I am. I am a saint for sticking with you through these crazy ideas of yours!” She got mad at that one, but I think that the idea of being alone forever if she can’t see reason has started to finally sink in. Finally, I even got her to start seeing the pastor for mental health counseling. If anyone can cure this liberal mental illness, then Pastor Carlson can. I mean, his conversion therapy has had a 100% success rate! Overall Corey, your advice has changed my life and turned my marriage around. I urge anyone who is in a similar situation to get your book and follow the rules. It will change your life! Yours in alpha male brotherhood, LTC (Ret.) Eugene Buckley “Buck” — Betty felt disgusted, but not surprised that gaslighting was the final piece to this shit sandwich. She thought if every time the phrase “alpha male” was exchanged for “abuser,” then the book would at least be truthful. She also felt horrified that this message resonated with her husband, a man for whom she had once felt so much pride and respect. Had she changed? Probably. Had Buck? Sadly, probably not. Betty found it difficult to not feel responsible for the inevitable destruction of their marriage, but the thought that this man felt satisfied with a life void of self reflection and growth was exponentially more depressing. Over the next several months, Betty would grit her teeth through the nasty comments wrapped up like jokes. She learned that writing down every comment Buck made that was intended to make her question her own sanity and then recording what she knew the truth to be, served two purposes: 1. To help keep her mind right. 2. To fuel her rage at this man’s obvious attempt of manipulation. When Buck signed her up for therapy with pastor Carlson, she almost went ballistic. However, during their first meeting, Betty mentioned that she might feel more comfortable with a woman therapist because she had some “female issues” she would like guidance on. The pastor instantly turned red and shoved a list of therapists within the community into her hand. It was just a printout someone had made of all the local therapists and Betty was able to find a woman who’s values and priorities aligned with her own. She never mentioned the switch to Buck, and he never bothered to ask. The therapist ended up being a wealth of knowledge and resources, instantly recognizing the progressively abusive situation Betty was in. She helped Betty connect to a divorce lawyer that helped her set up her own bank accounts and lines of credit, to prepare for her exodus. She helped Betty explain to a few close friends what was going on, and her plan to leave. Through her various connections within the community, Betty secured paid work that allowed her to put down a deposit on her own studio apartment. The only thing she had left to do was walk herself out the door. Five friends pulled up to the house minutes after Buck left for his weekly golf game. She had managed to pre-pack most of the belongings she wanted to take under the guise of “summer cleaning.” The last thing left that Betty had to do was leave a note for Buck. She pulled out the same legal pad that had started her on this journey and wrote: Dear Buck, It looks like our priorities, morals and principles are no longer compatible. I know it took me 6 months to act on my promise to leave you if you voted for Trump. Well, I am finally keeping that promise. I just had to get a few things in order before I could leave. Good luck with your quest to become the dominant alpha male. Turns out, that just isn’t my type. Keep an eye on the mail, divorce papers will arrive shortly. Do better, Betty Buck felt rage course through his veins. How could Betty do this to him? He felt completely blindsided and violated. He then channeled his inner alpha male and forced himself to think logically: Betty would be back. She had no way to take care of herself...unless...the realization stole his breath. He flipped open his laptop. It took him several minutes to log into his bank account because he had to look up the login names and passwords since Betty usually took care of all the banking. Instantly he noticed that all of the accounts were about half of what they should have been. All he could do now was throw back his head and howl, not like the dominant alpha male he thought he was, but like the petulant wolf who has been ejected from the pack for their intolerable behavior.


Fincher was once the most bullied kid in 5th grade. He always wore the classic nerd attire complete with curly hair, braces, a pair of glasses and a shirt with a quote from Star Wars or Marvel or some other comic. He wasn't like the other kids, and that's probably what drew me to him. I, on the other hand, was extremely popular at that time. For the wrong reasons, but still popular. Everyone had dubbed me the new girl to look out for and everyone glanced at me with that envious look on their faces, but I really didn't care. Fincher and I used to share a love for classic movies like Casablanca or Singing in the Rain and I would often find him at our local drive which played black and white films every weekend. I'd always wave to him, but he'd always wave back. I never understood my attraction to him because it certainly wasn't for his looks. I always loved him for his uniqueness. Inside, I was just a nerd who loved Marvel and Star Wars too. The sad thing is, I never got to tell him that. I never got to show him that side of me. And when 9th grade rolled around, O knew that not confessing was the biggest mistake I made, and that it was way too late now. After Fincher returned from the summers, everything had changed. I was no longer the popular girl, and just the quirky weirdo with like two friends who always made double Dutch braids and won the Spelling Bee once! But Fincher on the other hand, he became the hot guy that every girl (and guy) had a crush on. Like literally every girl ever tried to pursue him but only that snotty Miranda was able to secure a kiss from that Greek God. No, like really. He had the body of a Greek God, the face, uhm, of a Greek God and, uh, the smile of a Greek God? It's really hard to decribe, but yeah his whole physicality was that of a Greek God. I mean, sure that was one of the most appealing thing about him at the time, because I remember he was as bright as a 10 watt bulb. But I also really liked him because he was kind to everyone around him and never stuck chewing gum under my desk, unlike Brian from Physics, his best friend. I would occasionally make my moves on him, but my flirtation got no reaction from him. He just smiled at me and turned away. I never got to see any of the stationary that I gave him again. Erasers, sharpeners, pens, rulers, all gone. But I'd take his affection over anything, even today. I use told tutor Brian in 11th grade and he even told me that Well, flash forward to today. I matched with Fincher on Tinder today! I have called him up to meet me at the Sands Café and he only lives a few blocks away. I know, it's kind of pathetic to pursue a childhood crush, but I have been single for a year now and really not ready for a relationship with a stranger, it's always better to date someone you know. And I love walking along the beach, but it's way too hot today and I don't want to arrive sweating and running out of breath on the first date. This cafe is, uh, neat. That's the best compliment I could think of. I only chose it because he suggested it. At least he was polite enough to ask, I just jumped at the first option out of excitement. I see this guy wearing headphones and his cap turned backwards. I can hear through his headphones, that is definitely the Barbie Girl song. Not judging, but that's definitely not him. I guess he's not here yet. His profile says that he is a 'freelance healer'. Not sure what that means. Someone else just came in! That's not him. That's a lady with big hoop earrings wearing a latex suit and carrying a dog in her purse. Have I accidentally walked onto the set of Jersey Shore? 15 minutes have passed, I'm still waiting. I guess it's okay to be a little late, he must been busy or something. And oh boy! There he is! He looks just like I remember him! That same dirty blonde hair and those hazel eyes! Ah! Someone pinch me! Is this a dream? "Alison?" "Hey Fincher!" I shout. He walks in looking around and quietly sits at the booth seat opposite me. "Quiet there, nobody calls me Fincher anymore, it's such a lame name. I go by Finn." He said. "Oh sorry, I didn't know." I said softly. He proceeds to tell me about his life and I stumble across him describing our drive in, "Wait, was it Sydney's Movies?" I subtly dropped a hint. "Yes, but how do you know that?" He said. I suppose he doesn't remember me, I'll have to jog up his memory. "I went to Morley Academy and used to go to Sydney's to watch classic movies on the weekends!" He has to remember me now. "Oh, then why haven't we met before?" Huh, guess he still doesn't remember me. "I am Aly, Alison Scott. Remember me? We both had Ms. May's Physics together?" "Um, I'm sorry, I don't recall you." "Do you remember Brian? He used to stick chewing gums under my desk?" "I remember Brian, but I don't remember anything about chewing gums-" "Mr. Duchovny's Algebra? The teacher taht always used to drench the first row with spit?" "Oh I remember him! He was so funny." "So do you remember me now?" "Um, not really." "How can you not remeber me? Mr. Ryerson, he used to give my English papers as an example to show the class that I always wrote the best stories and poems and I gave you like A BILLION PENCILS, Finn! How do you still not remember me?" "Uh, this is getting weird I think I should lea-" "Don't! This was a mistake. I should be the one to leave. Goodbye." And with that I left. I am so dumb. I really thought that he would remember me. Of course he doesn't remember me! What was there really to remember about me? My round cheeks that Ms. Burberry always used to pull? My silky, ebony hair that were pretty unique because every darn girl dyed her hair pink and purple in high school? The English essay I wrote on what it means to be a woman in today's society? Who am I kidding? There is a lot to remember about me! I am memorable. He is dumb as a sack of hair for forgetting someone like me. What the hell was I thinking?


My Alternate Self and His Advice            This is the third time now that I have seen this fellow. He looks a lot like me, and he smiles at me when I look at him. I didn’t have the nerve to go up to talk to him before, but this time I feel that I must. I simply have to do it.            When I walk up to him, he says to me, “Say, you are certainly a handsome fellow.” My obvious reply is: “yourself as well.”            Not so obvious is what he says next.            “I have wanted us to get together for a while now, as I have a few things I need to tell you, things that will benefit you in the long run.”            While I was a little suspicious of what he had just said, my curiosity got the better of me.            “Okay, there is a coffee shop just around the corner. We can go there, swill down some coffee and stuff down a doughnut or two.”            “Let’s do it.”            When we get there, I almost forget what I always order there. Fortunately, the server knew.  I really need to hear what he has to say. My life is pretty boring these days, 25 years old, with no wife or girlfriend in sight (although there are two sisters at work that I wouldn’t mind seeing outside of work), and no hobbies but writing stories for contests (never won one yet or even came close) to fill my off work hours.            “You are probably not going to believe what I am going to say to you at first. You have an imagination, just like I have, and I feel that like me, you like to write stories. So I hope that you can receive my words with your imaginative mind, not the one you use at work.”            “Well, you are right there on both counts. I love to write as it is the way my mind can take wing, but my mind at work involves balancing figures. Imaginative accountants are not really appreciated in a company like the one that I work for. Say what you have to say.”            “Well, here it goes. Hold onto your imagination. You are going to need it. I am you in an alternate reality that you have never heard of. Our lives are very, very similar. That’s why I can give you some advice. What do you think?”            “As I would say at work, ‘that doesn’t add up, or compute’, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to hear what you have to say. Go ahead. I need to ask you how you get here from your alternate reality?”            “There is a special wind that blows on occasion between our two realities. It is easily identified if you know what to look for. It blows soft at first, and yet there is a kind of howl to it that starts low and then high, then low again. You walk straight into where it is coming from right after the second low howl. Few know about it in your reality and mine.”            “I knew that you would be skeptical.  But I also know that you would be willing to listen. I will tell you what happened to me. Like you, I am not married, but unlike you, a wedding is in the offing, next week in fact. That wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t made a mistake first and learned from it.”            “There are two young women, sisters, that work where I do as an accountant (just like you do). One Friday afternoon as work was ending, I decided to make my move. One of them I was more interested in than the other one was– not by much, but enough.  Knowing that the two sisters are hardly ever more than a step or two away from each other, I couldn’t ask one of them for a date while shutting the other one down, I needed to have a plan. Fortunately, I had done some thinking on the subject and obtained an object that could solve the problem. It was a two-headed coin. But I didn’t know which one I would show both sides to. I was more attracted to the flashy, bold-speaking one who had what looked looks like she was designed by a Hollywood director, so I thought that she would be the one to see the coin for what it was.”            “Fortunately, earlier that day, I talked to my buddy Frank at lunch. When I said who my choice would be he shook his head, and told me stories of men he knew who had been briefly been involved with her and couldn’t get away from her fast enough. That convinced me that I should not show both sides of the coin to her. Neither should you.”            “The sister you have to go for is not the flashy, bold speaking Hollywood-styled one, but the one who is quieter, shyer in her self-presentation. That is the one that I will be marrying soon. The other one was no fit partner for me, and doubtless for you as well.

           Face each one and mention that you have a coin to flip for the date choice. Do not let the bold one see both sides of it. The quieter one you face and show that it is a two-headed coin, so she will know what to call. Give her first call.”            He puts his hand into his pocket and pulls out the two-headed coin and hands it to me. Shortly thereafter I hear the wind that he spoke of earlier, he turns away and soon disappears.            The coming Friday I am ready. Early in the morning I tell the two sisters (separately) that I want to meet them briefly at closing time for a special reason. At lunch, one of my budgeting buddies rushes up to me, and says to me. “I hear you are meeting with the two lovely sisters Marge and Mabel, later. I have a word of warning for you. One of them is not very nice.”            I reply to him saying “I have already been warned, don’t worry”. He pats me on the back and walks away.            When we meet up with the sisters after work, I say to them, “I have a proposal [a dangerous word I know]. But first, I have a question. Are either of you married, engaged or in a significant relationship.?            They both shook their heads as my alternate told me they would. The flashier one put a little more enthusiasm into the gesture than did her sister.            I turned to the flashy one, and showed her one side of the coin. The other, the quieter one, I showed both sides of the coin and winked at her and she winked back.  Then I asked the two sisters to discuss what their choices would be. I walked out of the room so I wouldn’t overhear what they were saying. I returned when the bold one called out ‘Ready. Come back into the room.”            I walk briskly back into the room and make a big show of flipping the coin very high. Then, as I catch it and turn it over, I call out in an over-loud voice, “It’s heads”. Then I ask the quiet one first what her call was. Much to my surprise, she says, “tails. I wanted tails” The flashy one smiled at me and said, “Good, I wanted heads right from the beginning.” I go through the dramatic motions of flipping the coin and of course callout it’s heads.’ The flashy one reaches out and gives me a big hug. The quiet one just smiles and walks away.            We had a great time that night, Marge and I, and I got the distinct feeling that she is the one for me. I will have to tell my alternate when I see him next, and I feel sure that will be soon, that ‘alternate reality’ does not necessarily mean the same reality. As long as there is choice, there is difference.


 Hot and Spicy Cocoa Cake....   So, he wants chocolate, does he? Yanti pounded her fist into the bread dough. She raised her forearm over and over, her fist clenched, beating the poor dough mercilessly. She looked out the window. The snow was coming down in heavy blankets. The sky was darkening and settling in like a foul mood. Like the one she was in. Why weren’t they back?

    “No, Yanti,” she muttered to herself. Her head shaking dramatically and pronouncing the words in an exaggerated slow manner. “It might be too dangerous for you. You should stay back and make dessert. And while you’re at, could you make it chocolate.”     “Hey there,” said Ms. Mable. “Are you trying to knead life into that bread or kill it. If you don’t slow down, it will be so hard, you’ll need a chain saw to cut it.” She put a hand on Yanti’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”     “Sila said you wanted a new dessert recipe. And to make it chocolate.”    Ms. Mable looked at her cautiously. “That’s true. But I think I can handle it if it’s too much work. I just knew you liked coming up with new things. It was just a thought.”     Feeling bad, Yanti bent her chin to her chest. Ms. Mable had become like a surrogate grandmother to her. The last thing she wanted was to offend her. She stretched her neck back and looking to the ceiling. Searching, as if she might find the answer there. Taking a deep breath.  In and out. In and out. “I would like that. And it’s not the recipe. They wouldn’t let me go with them. And they were supposed to be back yesterday.” Her speech getting more rapid and agitated. “And I can’t call for help until tomorrow.”     “So, that’s what you’ve been stewing over all morning.”     “I’ve not been stewing.”     “Honey, you’ve been stewing like overnight chili. But that’s ok. That just makes it better the next day. Tell me what you’ve been thinking about on that dessert.”     “Well, his favorite thing in all the world is spiced hot chocolate. So, I thought I could make a spiced hot chocolate cake. A creamy chocolate and served warm.”     “Yumm. No za’taar for revenge, I hope.” Za’taar was Yanti’s favorite spice, but had thyme, oregano, and sumac in it. Ms. Mable didn’t think it would pair well with sweet.     “No, cardamom, clove, and cinnamon. With a white chocolate, butter pecan ganache.”     “I thought he didn’t like pecans.”     “He doesn’t.”     “I see….”     “And top it off with spiced hot cocoa ice cream.”     “Well, that should be good. I would think he would like that.”     Yanti gave a mischievous smile. “It will be delicious.” She knew that he only liked ice cream in the summer. And never ate it in the winter.     “I’m glad that you are finally forgiving him. Let’s try it out on the guests and see what they think.” Ms. Mable gave a small smile, for she knew this was Yanti’s revenge dessert. But if it uplifted her spirits and distracted her for even a little while, it was worth it. She was getting worried herself.     The next few hours kept Yanti very busy. Turns out, her new dessert that she named Hot and Spicy Cocoa Cake became even more popular than Ms. Mable’s famous peanut butter pie. Whether it was because it was a novelty or because she was serving it hot out of the oven, topped with the ganache and ice cream, it didn’t matter. It was a hit.      Some were calling it Hot and Spicy Sin. Because if it tasted this good, it had to be a sin. As was Yanti’s spiced hot cocoa revenge. Ms. Mable always said love was the secret ingredient to good cooking. There should be no room for revenge.     Yanti was just adding a scoop of the hot cocoa ice cream to the steaming cake, when Yutu came running into the kitchen. Yutu was the kitchen boy that helped on occasion. “There’s someone out in the lobby, I think you’ll be pleased to see.”     Yanti threw her towel down, not taking the time to take her apron off. She was so relieved; she just ran to the lobby. She looked around in excitement. Boy, was she going to kill him! Her face dropped. Then trying to cover up her disappointment, she added a thin smile. Ms. Davis stood there with open arms.

    If Ms. Mable was Yanti’s surrogate grandmother, then Ms. Davis was her surrogate aunt. She was the one who had raised Nanook.  After she had found the baby polar bear cub stranded by a stream, she took him home as her son.  As he grew older and stronger, she had to finally set him free when he was in danger of the jealous townsmen killing him, because of his superior hunting skills. And sent him to Sila.  And then Nanook and Sila had rescued Yanti. They were three orphans that had become their own little family. Before Father had adopted all of them. So, of course, Ms. Davis was like an aunt. For an orphaned girl, her family was growing. That is, if Sila and Nanook were still safe.     She walked forward to give Ms. Davis a hug and kiss. Ms. Mable was beaming. Everyone was praising the new cake. Ms. Davis wrapped her tightly into her soft chest. She smelt like freshly baked warm bread, as always. Yanti inhaled her. It was like comfort food on the cold, snowy day. “Have you seen Sila and Nanook?”     “No, I was coming to ask you?” She looked at Yanti’s anxious face. “But I’m sure they’re ok. Remember, Nanook is a master wilderness guide. There is no better hunter. Have faith.”     “Have faith,” Yanti thought to herself. There was nothing more, that she had been thinking about for the last two days. Along, with the positive visions that she was sending out. She was the master at mental intentions. She knew that she was only supposed to send it out once, then sit back and have faith. Let the universe do its work and await the results.      But her anxiety kept washing over her, like the out-of-control freight train that had barreled over the Alaskan Railways last week. The runaway steam train had left a smoky, billowing trail behind it as it hurdled down the steep mountain grade.  Ominously, gaining speed and endangering everyone and everything in it’s path. This is also how those who encountered Yanti today, while she went about her tasks, felt.      The train amazingly, did not derail as it rounded bends, defying all logic. As with Yanti, everyone luckily escaped unharmed except for a few bruised egos.  But just as the train could not be stopped, despite everyone’s best efforts, neither could Yanti’s thoughts.     She ran back to the kitchen and sat in front of the last cake. The ice cream had melted on the hot cake while she was out in the front. Slow rivulets of cream streamed down the cake. No avalanche, just slow steady streams. And so sat Yanti.  With elbows on the table and clenched hands under her chin, slow rivulets of tears streamed down her face. Like the slowly dissolving cake, so was her reserve.     She knew something was wrong and she was not waiting for the rescue team. At the first signs of daybreak, she was heading out on her own. She packed her backpack as Sila had taught her. With 3 days food, water, ski shoes, and poles. Moleskin for blisters and extra socks. A flashlight, but no weapons. She would not need them. She was a weapon.      A rooky and untried, true, and Nanook had just started working with her. But a girl will do what a girl needs to do. As the sky was just turning orange over the horizon, she strapped the backpack on. Wolfed down a quick breakfast. She had long lost her appetite, but she knew she would need fuel to stay strong.  She didn’t know what she might have to face before the day was done. She was already breaking some of Sila’s rules.

    Rule number one, never venture out in a snowstorm. Couldn’t be helped.  Rule number four, never venture out alone. Also, couldn’t be helped. She was tired of waiting. And her inner voice was telling her to hurry.  She quickly wrote a note to Ms. Mable so that she would know where she had gone. The boys had insisted that she stay there while they were away.      At least she had dry socks, rule number three.  She could only hope that she wouldn’t get eaten by a bear, rule number two. She had the locket that Nanook, the King of Polar Bears, had given her for protection.  It hung around her neck, tucked into her jacket.  No bear would dare to touch her. She hoped…     She walked North, the direction she had last seen Sila and Nanook going. She didn’t know where she was going, but she could read a compass. The road quickly ran out and she laced her snowshoes on tightly. She knew how the heavy snow could rip them from your feet. Sending you tumbling when you might least expect it. She walked for several miles, which is a lot in snowshoes and deep snowy drift. She stopped to take a break and get a drink of water.       She felt some snow come tumbling down on her. She brushed it aside and looked around. The forest was deep with dark green spruce trees, but still spread out every six feet or so. Their limbs bending under the heavy blankets of snow. It felt magical to her. Even though it was still daytime, the skies were darkening under the snowfall. The temperature was dropping. She had brought a thermos of warm broth and thought to have some. She stepped under one of the large spruce limbs that hung almost to the ground and opened her thermos.     She looked up to see the most beautiful, snowy owl. It had a round face with large, curving brown eyebrows that spread across its entire face. It’s eyes were a golden brown and kind. It’s nose long and regal. It’s chest, neck, and underside a snowy white. Its back a golden brown with dark freckles. It came nearly to her chest, but she had to kneel to fit under the limb. In her kneeling position, the owl towered over her. They looked at each other, neither making a sound.     “I can see that we have both gotten separated from our families,” the owl finally said.     Yanti was surprised. She was still not used to this land of talking animals. “Uh, yes.”     “My brother went off on his own and I had to go in search of him.”     “Me too,” Yanti said looking sad. Yet feeling a camaraderie. “Are you hungry? I have some warm broth. I don’t know what owls eat.” She poured the broth into a bowl. Sila would have drunk it straight from the thermos, but she was a girl. As she began to pour the broth, it turned a bright golden color. Light radiated from it and lit up the entire space under the dark limb.     “I am very grateful. Your kindness radiates light.”     Not knowing what to think, “It’s just broth from the kitchen, I swear. I was going to make soup with it.”     “But when you are kind to a stranger, it makes a magical light. Sometimes you can see it, sometimes you cannot. But it is always there. Why are you seeking your brother?”     “He had a dream and our other sister told him he was a Shaman. So, he went to visit the Ijiraat to see if it were true. He should’ve been back days ago but has not returned. I am afraid that they decided to keep him. For he is a gifted storyteller and that is what they seek most.”    “Do you know where you are going?”    “No, I sent out a message to the universe to lead me where to go.”     “Ah, that is why you were sent to me.”     “Do you know where the Ijiratt are?”     “I know the general area.  But you will know you are near when the landscape starts looking distorted. They might disguise themselves as animals or humans, but you can recognize them by their eyes and mouths. They will be vertical, instead of horizontal. A change is coming.”     “That is what Nanook told Sila.”    “Yes, but this change is for you specifically. I am glad you listened to your gut to help your brother. He needs your help. You will need to set boundaries and develop a thick skin to avoid the negativities of others. Be careful of what you wish for.”     “I can usually manifest what I want, how did you know?”     “We are kindred spirits, you and me.  We are old souls and guardians of the ancient knowledge.  I will go with you to the Ijiratt land. I am glad you are adventurous. For it is time to fly into unchartered territory. You have a kind heart and lots of power. Be sure to use your light when you look into the dark.”     As the owl spoke, Yanti could feel herself being filled with hope. “Let’s go.”     They had walked about an hour when they heard talking. Yanti struggled to climb a small hill. Gasping for air when she reached the top, she looked down. She could see for miles. Sila was talking with a girl with vertical eyes. Yanti could not hear, but she could see he was upset by the intensity of his body language. The girl was just nodding her head passively. Coming up on both flanks were dozens of Ijiratt people.  They would soon have him trapped in a circle. She guessed them to be unfriendly by the fact that they were sneaking behind trees and snow mounds. Sila didn’t have a clue of the danger he was in. Yanti made a swift and determined decision.     She started running down the hill. The owl flying beside her, yelling for her to stop. But there was no stopping. No turning back. Sila and the girl looked at Yanti in surprise. Nanook gave a great roar of warning. Yanti raised her arms, stretched out at the girl and the hidden Ijiratt people. Some were already turning into wolves. She concentrated. Gave her best mental image. Commanded, “I wish you to be gone!” And they were.     “No, no, no,” yelled Sila, his anguish enunciated in every syllable he spoke.  “Yanti you don’t know what you have done!”     “They were going to hurt you.”     “The Ijiratt chief gave me a message. A message that I believe is key to finding Father. I told Nanook that I needed to get it to Alora immediately. I wasn’t allowed to tell him, just you guys. I wrote it down and then forgot it, according to their rules of spiritual messages.”     “Just read the message!” she said exasperated.    “I can’t. The Dark One sent his evil crows. They snatched it from me. The girl was going to tell me the message again. We were negotiating the terms since she was risking so much.”     “It was a trap. I saw dozens of them sneaking in the woods. They were coming to get you.”    “They were probably coming to get her! She was forbidden to tell me the message again. But she took sympathy on me because she knows the Dark One is evil. And it is important to finding Father. Important for me to tell Alora and Aiden. Now she is gone! She was my last chance!”    The impact of Yanti’s rashness suddenly hit her. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say.” The words ‘Be careful what you wish for’ echoed in her mind. She was ashamed. Not knowing what to do, she dug into her backpack. Pulled out two containers. One held the revenge dessert. The other had no pecans and no ice cream. Just rich, delicious spicy hot chocolate dessert. She reached her hand out as a peace offering to him. Her eyes as contrite and appealing as she could make them, “Cake?” she asked.


The dream begins as it always does. I stand in a small room with 3 blank, white walls. On the fourth wall, directly in front of me, are two doors. The doors themselves are unremarkable. Simple, solid, wooden doors, white to match the walls, each fitted with a single knob. The knobs are not fancy, nor are they old and rusty. Just knobs. On just doors. In just a room. I’ve had this dream frequently, for over a year. And every time I do, I choose the door on the left. I don’t know why, but I always do. And every time, it leads me to my own home. I enter, wearing ripped, old jeans and a faded sweatshirt. My hair is swept up in a ponytail, but it’s a mess, as if I’ve been out in the wind, sweaty tendrils falling in my eyes and on my neck. At the kitchen table, there is a blue notebook and a pencil.  I sit down and rip open the seal on the book to reveal an exam marked “FINAL.” I never know what the exam is for. The questions aren’t relevant. But the feelings of panic are. I don’t know the answers. I pick up the pencil just as a voice intones, “Five minutes left.” Five minutes! I scramble to write anything I can on the pages but my pencil breaks. The jagged wood pierces my skin, drawing blood. A faceless man sweeps past and collects my exam as he goes. “Disappointing,” he says. “But it’s not fair!” I protest, “I didn’t know there would be a test!” My pleas are ignored. The floor opens up and I fall, endlessly, engulfed in the smell of dying flowers and defeat, until I wake up in a cold sweat. The dream is the same every time. Every time, that is, until now. In the all white room, I reach for the door on the left and pause. I see a dandelion on the floor. It wasn’t there a moment ago. Yet, it is familiar. “Yes,” I whisper, “I see it now.” I can remember many meditation sessions during which I tried to memorize every aspect of this dandelion. The bright yellow, the pointy leaves. It is my symbol. My talisman, if you will. Something to call to my attention that I am dreaming and allow me to take control. I bend to pick the dandelion from where it is illogically growing right out of the white linoleum floor. I take it with me and cautiously open the door on the right. Instantly, I am swept up in a flurry of activity. Rabbits fret about taking my measurements. I look down and I am naked, though somehow, I am not bothered by it. “Come, come,” says a small baby, who really shouldn’t be able to talk yet. She is also naked as she takes my hand and leads me forward. That is when I notice I am outside. Lush green fields stretch for miles in every direction. The smell of grass and wildflowers fills my nostrils. My entourage of rabbits have stopped measuring and the birds are now playing with my hair. It smells freshly washed – such a wonderful smell. As the baby and I walk across the fields, the birds follow, braiding my hair into intricate designs. “We’ve been waiting EVER so long,” the baby says, smiling with such joy I almost forget that I am dreaming. I want to hold this baby and care for her and make sure she never has reason to stop smiling like that. I see the dandelion in my hand. “Where am I?” I ask. “Don’t you know?” The birds twitter with amusement. “You are here. But you need to go there,” says the baby girl. She is not pointing in any direction. “Where?” I ask. “You’ll know when you get there,” she says with a laugh. The rabbits return with robes made of the softest material I have ever felt. They drape them over my head and let them fall; they fit perfectly, just brushing the grass as I spin around. The birds hold up mirrors all around me, letting me see the robes in all their glory. They are a pale pink but all throughout, gold threads shimmer in the sunlight. Behind me, a loud bang startles us all. I turn and see black smoke billowing from where we came. “Well that’s that,” says the baby girl. Confused, I try to see what caused the explosion, but the baby pulls me forward by the hand again. “Not back,” she says, “only forward. Never back.” I follow her over the next hill, clutching my dandelion all the while. We come upon an old style river boat and a sleek black stallion, standing on 2 legs, beckons me forward. “Will you leave it behind?” he asks. “I don’t understand,” I say. “Leave what behind?” I turn to the baby, hoping for an explanation, but she is no longer a baby. The girl has grown and she is me. “You can’t move forward if you don’t leave it behind,” she says sadly. The stallion reaches for my hand. Suddenly he has hands, strong and warm, instead of hooves. As I look questioningly into his eyes, he transforms into the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. His black hair and black eyes gleam brilliantly in the sunlight. He takes the dandelion from my hand and says, “You won’t need this again. The other door is gone. But to get where you need to be, you have to stop trying to stay where you were.” I take his hand and step onto the boat. We begin to move on the water. I watch the dandelion float downstream. I am still in control, I think. I watch myself standing on the shore behind us as the stallion and I drift along the river, on and on until I lose sight of myself. The stallion says to me, “Where does the wind go? When it fails to knock you off your feet, where does it go?” I look into the distance in the direction the wind is blowing. The stallion man dissolves into a mist and as it swirls around me, I slowly wake. The sun is just rising now, and a fresh breeze blows through my window. I shower and pick some comfortable clothes for travelling. I pack my bag – not too much, just what I absolutely need. I pick up my phone, think better of it and place it back on the kitchen table. I take my car keys, and head off into the world. I won’t be coming back here again.


Thomas and Giles were sitting at the kitchen table preparing for Halloween night. Though the boys were unaware of his presence, Arthur sat at the table listening to his two grandchildren. “No, the holes in the sheet aren’t the eyes, idiot!” Thomas exclaimed. “Well, what are they then?” Giles asked. “Is this more comic book knowledge?” “Listen. The reason a ghost looks like a sheet isn’t because they are white and wavy. It’s because they are invisible. They drape a sheet over themselves so people can see them.” “Ah, so the holes are like spying holes?” “Yes… finally! Pass me that carving knife, please.” “How do they walk through walls then?” “What? How is that relevant?” “Well, if they can walk through walls, they can pass through physical stuff without resistance. If they can do that, then the sheet shouldn’t drape over them like they are physical, themselves.” “Leave the physics out for once, Giles. I am assuming they can control that kind of stuff. Like when someone comes in the room… and they have moved things around.” “So, they can choose when to be able to interact with the physical world?” “Yeah, like when Patrick Swayze learns how to touch objects from that funny-looking ghost on the subway.” “Ah, I see… nice reference. Not seen it. Unscrew that fake blood for me. My hands are tied… Wait, hang on a minute. If they can drape a sheet over themselves, they could just move around with normal clothes. They could even put eyeglasses on… like the invisible man. Why don’t they do that more often?” “Erm, well, maybe T-shirts, jeans, and stuff are all fashionable looks we cling to in life. Once you’re a ghost, the quicker and easier, the better.” “So, you’re saying our sense of style disappears when we die? Heaven must look drab.” “Well, no one said heaven is like a nightclub.” They both laughed. “Don’t kick the chair, Giles.” “Huh!? Yeah, but anyway, it’s objectively worse. Isn’t heaven supposed to be better?” “Maybe that is better. People are not clinging to superficial things.” “That’s deep! So, like, once you’re dead, you shed some of your ego?” “Yeah, maybe even all of it…” “Nah, not all of it,” Giles interrupted. “Why would they be moving stuff around if they didn’t have an ego? They still want to be noticed.” “Good point. Maybe the dead only move things around to help the living,” said Thomas, shrugging. “Like ghostly altruism? Like giving a warning or a nugget of wisdom. I can buy that.” The boys continued to tinker with their costumes as Arthur listened. Thomas carefully carved a pumpkin, while Giles decorated a werewolf mask with fake blood drops around the mouth. On the table were various tools and accessories: a carving knife, a rubber bat, the open bottle of fake blood, some glue, and a bag of frozen peas, only half open but spilling out. “What are you doing with those peas?” Giles asked. “Err…” Thomas lifted the pumpkin and rotated it in the air. “I’m gonna glue them to the pumpkin’s face for extra features.” “Carving not enough, eh? Well, it’s gonna be one glamorous pumpkin. Too glamorous for your egoless afterlife.” “Touché, Giles.” Thomas began gluing peas to the pumpkin, forming green-spotted eyebrows. “Hang on a minute. So, the holes in a sheet are not the eyes, right. Only eye holes?” “Back on that, are we? Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well, does that mean the holes carved in a pumpkin are the same? Is the pumpkin just like a funky motorcycle helmet for some ghostly entity?” Arthur leaned in closer to the conversation of the boys. Thomas continued: “Hmm… I think the pumpkin head is different. Like The Pumpkin King in The Nightmare Before Christmas. It’s really just his actual head, isn’t it?” “Now, that’s a film I have seen! No raunchy pottery in that one… I’m pretty sure his head isn’t an actual pumpkin. It’s kind of a skeleton thing. It’s white anyway.” “Maybe... You do raise an interesting point, though.” Thomas sat back and pondered. “Now I don’t know what to think anymore. Maybe the pumpkin is some kind of vessel for a ghostly head.” “Either way, I wonder what kind of physical interactions are happening with the ghost and the physical stuff. Like, how does the ghost’s composition interact with the physical world.” “This sounds like nerd talk again, Giles.” “No, but really… My physics teacher said that at the atomic level, most of the atom is just space anyway. Tiny electrons whizzing around a tiny nucleus, with lots of space inside.” “And?” “Well, maybe the ghost is made up of the same stuff as all that space in the atom. So, it can go through stuff but interact with the particles when it wants to.” “Interesting, Giles! So… ghosts are like an inverse Higgs Boson?” “Alright, Neil deGrasse Tyson!” Giles laughed. “Have you been watching my shows over my shoulder again?” “Maybe…” “Well, I think we’re on to something, Thomas.” “That does leave one question. If a ghost can interact with physical stuff because it is made of the same stuff as the space in atoms, how do they possess people?” “No, I can’t think of a mechanism for that. Is that even real?” Giles looked to the ceiling in thought. “Yeah, Giles, I agree. I think possession is nonsense. As I said, ghosts can only do stuff to help the living. Possessing them can only be traumatic and even physically damaging… and if what you say is true, and ghosts have the same composition as the space in atoms, then there is no way they could possibly possess anyone.” “Then we agree, Thomas. Ghosts can move stuff at will and pass through walls at will; they don’t have the ability to possess people and have absolutely no fashion sense. That doesn’t sound so scary.” “Agreed, Giles,” laughed Thomas before Giles burst out laughing, also. Arthur watched the boys for a moment before standing and leaving the room. He walked lightly up the stairs and into the master bedroom. “You know what I miss about Halloween, Giles?” “The glorious age of pumpkin glamour?” Giles replied, grinning. “No, I miss Grandad. Trick-or-treating with him was the best. He had no limits. People would answer the door ready to scare us, and they would end up screaming themselves.” “Yeah, like when he had that speaker strapped to his chest under his shirt to blast out that scream when he opened his mouth.” “Yeah, the Wilhelm scream. I guess he was the film buff before me.” “And he was the physics professor I want to be.” "The nerd-gene does run strong in you Giles. You did unravel the mystery of ghosts though, i'll give you that!" " We unravelled the mystery! Science plus Hollywood knowledge goes a long way." "Yeah, Grandad did like his films. Like when he dressed as Frankenstein and..." "Frankenstein's monster..." "Frankenstein, Giles. He was literally wearing a white coat!" "Oh yeah. Touché Thomas." "Anyway, he was dressed as Doctor Frankenstein, pretended to hand me the candy bucket and his fake arm fell off at the shoulder. That woman nearly fainted!” “Oh man, that was hilar…” The boys heard a creak on the stairs. Both looked to the doorway leading into the hall, then to each other. The creaks grew louder as Arthur descended the steps more heavily. “Giles? Didn’t Mum go out?” asked Thomas, widening his eyes. “Yeah, she did. And isn’t Dad at work until 6 p.m.?” His own widening eyes met his brother’s. “Yeah, they’re both out.” They looked again to the door in silent anticipation. Arthur walked into the kitchen, and their jaws dropped as they witnessed a sheet floating before them. The top of the sheet draped over something dome-like, and two holes had been crudely cut into a hanging region. “Look! Underneath, Thomas,” Giles whispered. “No legs.” Thomas was frozen in silence. Arthur moved closer, and the sheet glided across the kitchen, continuing to hover above the floor. Thomas grabbed Giles by his sleeve, but both remained fastened to their seats. Arthur lifted the sheet upwards from the bottom, revealing nothing, only clear air. Further and further up, the sheet was pulled before being scrunched into a ball before their eyes. Their mouths gaped at the floating mass of white cotton collecting above them. Arthur finally gripped several layers and yanked the sheet upwards. He tossed it into the air, revealing to the boys a pumpkin carved with eye holes and a jagged mouth. The pumpkin floated in isolation six feet above the kitchen floor. Thomas looked at Giles, and Giles looked back. They both let out a piercing scream and ran out of the kitchen, up the garden, and into the street. Arthur removed the pumpkin from his head and placed it on the kitchen table. He then began to push frozen peas with the tip of his index finger, one by one. He looked for several seconds at the peas and sat back before dissolving into nothingness for another year. Amongst the various tools and accessories on the table, the peas spelled out:

Never stop asking questions, boys Happy Halloween