It happens fast, faster than they show in the movies or TV. Just a moment passes and then everything is over. Death, it’s not something I ever feared, my parents were pastors, so I have always been confident of an afterlife, but the thought of your own death isn’t something most of us linger on. But today is different. Today it happened, no pain, no long goodbyes and certainly no poetic last words. The most I got out before slamming into the tree was “Oh shit” and then I was standing here. I have to say that this is not how I saw it ending, I have survived two snake bites, a stabbing and a less than friendly deer encounter. I thought I was indestructible; I suppose most teens do but there I am lifeless and so very pale. I feel like I should panic, freak out and beg for just one more chance to live but I just can’t find it in me. This feels like the end, it’s not like I haven’t been given my fair share of do-overs and close calls. Besides this one was my fault plain and simple, I was driving too fast on a soaked back road, a mistake made by countless reckless kids driving daddy's favorite car, most of us get away with it, not all though. Today was no different than yesterday. The same routine and the same boring conversations, just another day. I had lunch made and was just begging to sit when my brother called. He was out of school early and needed me to pick him up. I begrudgingly put my plate away and grabbed the keys as I walked out the door and into the rain. Skipping over the puddles I made my way to the car and climbed into the driver's seat. It was a beautiful car, dad’s pride and joy. “You don’t get them like this, not used cars anyway.” That's what he always told me. He loved that car and did all he could to keep her pristine. I can’t say I was the best driver, but I wasn’t reckless, not because I didn’t want to be but because I knew that whatever I did to that car my father would do even worse to me. The drive from the house to the school usually takes twenty minutes, that's going at around 60mph. The rain was coming down hard then though, so I should have probably taken it a little slower today. I made this drive every day, I knew these back roads better than most of my relatives, I thought 55 mph sounds like a good compromise. We all have those ignorant thoughts sometimes. “It could never be me.” That's always what we tell ourselves. It’s not true though, what can happen will happen and I guarantee that you are never fully prepared for it. Like I said before it happens fast. I would be lying if I told you I knew exactly the moment my life was over. Maybe it was when I started the engine, maybe it was when I first felt the tires pull away from me, all I do know is that at no point in time was I in control. That's the scariest part, I could tell you all about the moment the car tilted on to its side, the anguished scream the brakes let out as they tried to stop three tons of metal from spiraling out of control. I could tell you about the moment I left the road and stared down that tree and finally found the to answer the question of what happens to an unstoppable force when it meets an immovable object. But none of that was what truly left an impact, it was how small I was, how insignificant I was in those few moments and just how little anything I did mattered after fate had taken control. I was given maybe four seconds to evaluate the situation and understand that this was it, nothing I can say will ever be able to convey that feeling knowing that these next few moments are your last. The feeling however is short lived, you feel a slight pinch and then immense darkness. Now what? Years of church and I just don’t feel adequately prepared for this moment. I wait for the stereotypical spirit drivel I was taught in Sunday School, but nothing happens. No bright light, no chorus of angels beckoning me home, hell I’d settle for the Dalai Lama offering me some tea before reincarnating me as a cricket but what I can’t bear is this silence. Just my thoughts and the blank stare of my own lifeless face as it goes straight through me. “I have to admit bud we have looked better” I can’t actually hear my voice, a bit disconcerting but far from my most pressing issue. The once pristine interior of fathers Cadillac now lies in total ruin. The leather of the seats torn by the massive shards of glass thrown by the shattering of the windshield and no evidence that the bonnet had ever even existed. I once again feel that I should be distraught, broken down in tears trying to make this right. I however, only feel an overwhelming sense of relief, mixed with guilt over the car of course but thoroughly relieved that I no longer have the responsibility of explaining to dad that his most prized possession was reduced to little more than a rubix cube on the side of some God forsaken country road. I don’t know that it’s his anger I fear so much as the disappointment in his eyes, in the words of Lt. Aldo Rain “I’ve been chewed out before.” I can handle the harshest of insults and jeers hell I’m okay with taking an ass whipping, but I can’t take being his disappointment. “Hey!” The voice is soft and laced with panic. A short stout man comes waddling down the embankment. He has a towel in one hand and his phone in the other. I don’t think either one is going to help in the current situation, but I appreciate the gesture I suppose. I didn’t see his face when he looked into the car, but I did hear him gag, part of me felt insulted. I didn't think I looked that bad, but I let it slide, I’m sure he didn’t see his day going like this either. He called the police and climbed into the cab of his car shaking, partially from the rain and partially from the shock I would suppose. The sirens didn't take too long to start slowly picking away at the silence, growing closer and closer as the rain began to fall even harder than before. They sent three patrol cars, an EMS and one Game Warden. The small man jumped out of his car and met the officers. “Are you okay?” They asked him as they sprung into action. I think there are probably more pressing matters than his wellbeing but I’m not the professional here. They eventually make their way to me, cut me from the seat and drag me out of the car. I don't know that I will ever find the words to describe just how strange a feeling it is to see yourself and not have any form of control. The closest I can relate it to is hearing your own voice on a recording. You know that's you; you know that those are your words and you said them, but no voice will ever sound more foreign than your own. “Christ, that's Nicole's boy” That was the first physical feeling I have had of the crash. My stomach dropped as if every horrible thing I had ever done was revealed all at once and now it was time to pay for them. Here I am staring down at my own lifeless corpse unfazed, yet the mere mention of my mother's name sends my world into a spiral. I hadn’t thought about them, not any of my sisters, not dad, not even my little brother. I don't have a physical body but that doesn't stop me from feeling pain in every aspect of my being, I have never feared much but not being there for the ones I love that’s one that haunts me. “He’s gone” The paramedic shook his head and loaded my body into the back of the ambulance. “I’ll notify the family, they’ll come I.'. D him” The officer leaned down into his car and grasped the radio. “Alright, we're good” The paramedic said to the driver and closed the doors to the ambulance. I’ve had my fair share of ambulance rides; most are filled with forced small talk and the basic medical questions but this one is hard. The medics casually talk about their day and holiday plans, joking about how much they hate their in-laws coming to stay for Christmas. You forget that this is their job, they see this every day and it doesn't faze them. In different circumstances I am sure that I would enjoy their company. I didn't notice much after that, we arrived at the hospital and took me into the morgue, leaving me there with the other bodies. “We just need you to identify the body” The double doors swung open and in walked my parents. Mother was beside herself, understandably so. Dad, he’s a stoic man. I have never seen him cry and I don’t know that I ever will. He held himself together for mom, but I can see it, the tears begging to be set free. Never felt so empty, so fundamentally broken as I do right now. I have taken away my parents' son, their child, their friend. I have never cared what happened to me but seeing them standing over me, watching my father kiss my forehead like he had done when I was a boy, I avoided the physical aspects of death but made up for it now. “I’m sorry” The only words I could manage as they turned away. I haven’t been prepared for anything that has happened today but watching them walk away, nothing will ever compare to that. I don’t know how long I’ve sat here now, minutes, hours, days but I’m still waiting for something. Waiting for that moment of redemption I was promised as a boy. I am a realist though, if it hasn't come by now then I doubt it will. I’ll just close my eyes, try and drift off. “Hey there boy!” The voice shook the walls, the thick southern drawl mixed with the gravelly tone that only comes from decades of cigarette smoke is instantly recognizable to me. “Pawpaw Steve?” my eyes open and there he is, albeit much younger and as healthy as I had ever seen him. He looked like the pictures hung on the walls of his house, the ones I always looked at when I was young. “Well yeah boy, I ain’t that different.” he smiled, I always loved his smile. It always made things seem okay. He placed his massive hand onto my shoulder and walked me towards the door. “Waited a long time for you son, I’ve got somewhere I want you to see.” He opened the door, and we stepped through. I left my fears behind; I knew I was going home and someday they would join me. Until then me and Pawpaw Steve had some catching up to do.


Hello. My name is Willium Whiteford. I don't exactly know why I am here telling you this. Maybe I am tired of hiding. Perhaps I just need to get all these thoughts out of my skull. I just need to let somebody in on my secret. You see, I am a magician. Not like the ones you see at parties; well I do do parties but I will get to that later. What I mean to say is that I am an actual Magician, capital M and everything. I cast spells and the like. I used to do shows on Broadway. I was in Las Vegas for a while. I even toured the world doing magic shows. I was incredibly famous. Almost everyone knew my name. I had money, power, women, everything a man could ever want. No, no of course you haven't heard of me. Haha. Sorry to laugh. It's just I made everyone forget about me. A complicated spell, but worth it. It got all of those other hacks off my back. Always wanting to know my tricks. I got kidnapped twice you know. It just became annoying; so I left. I mostly do kids shows now. I did mention I do parties. Their smiles are always the best anyways. It also got kind of boring. You see, real magic is fairly easy. Overall at least. I can get almost anything I want with a wave of a hand. I could have it all back in an instant. So it's really not much of a loss. I did decide to get the better of those other 'magicians' though. Big air quotes around that word by the way. I went to learn their magic: sleight of hand, smoke and mirrors, card tricks and the like. It was all so complicated, it was more difficult than just changing the universe with a spell. The funny part was having learned it all I was actually able to hide real magic from prying eyes. Take long sleeves. Most 'magicians' don't wear them. They don't want people to say 'Ah he just took it out of his sleeve,' or 'He pulled that out of his sleeve!" Stuff like that. I always wear a coat. When I make something appear or disappear, it doesn't matter what, people just assume that's what I do. I went from being considered the greatest magician, to just a decent one. The freedom is amazing. What? No, of course I am not scared of you revealing my secret. Well simple. By the time you finish reading this you will have forgotten all about me. In fact after you hit the upvote button you will move on and read a different story. You may leave here with a strange compulsion to hire me though. Honestly, I am great with kids. They love the act. Their faces light up when I make toys appear out of thing air. Willium Whiteford, you can remember that. Thank you for listening. It was wonderful meeting you. Goodbye.


Adam Carr, a fifty-year-old antique dealer, stood in the middle of his emporium and watched shoppers as they examined his unusual antiques. Collectors from all over the world came to buy his statues, artwork, jewelry, books, and hundreds more antiques that no other antique dealer could offer. Sir Eric Morgan, holding a gold necklace and a dagger, worked his way through the crowd to Adam. “My good man, your catalog shows this necklace to be one worn by Nefertiti of Ancient Egypt, circa 3600 BC,” he said pointing to the picture. “An amazing resemblance, wouldn’t you say, old chap? Was it made for you? If so, shouldn’t you label it a replica?” “Sir Morgan, suppose I told you that it is not a replica. What would you say?” “Well, I would say…I would say, well how could it be? I don’t understand.” “Sir Morgan, my friend, I would never lie to you. Tell you what. Take the necklace to anyone you want to have it examined. I’m sure you have an expert on your payroll who can tell a replica from the authentic piece.” “That is very generous of you. I will take you up on your offer. Now, I would like to know about this dagger.” “My friend, what your holding is an ancient Roman dagger used by Brutus to kill Caesar.” “Come, now, this can’t be the real thing. I mean something like this would surely have been lost. Where did you get it?” “Let me just say I got it. You may take both to your expert if you wish.” “May I keep them for a week? I’ll have to fly my man in from London.” “Of course. Take your time. Sir Morgan, if you will excuse me, I believe I have a customer,” he said and went to a woman who was holding a painting in one hand and her check book in the other.” After everyone had left, Adam locked his emporium door and went to tally his sales. “$100,000 in checks and cash. Not bad. I will have to acquire some more antiques.” He went to his office, pressed some buttons on the lock, and the door opened. He entered and locked the door behind him. After putting the day’s receipts in a safe, he went to a sliding door in the wall and entered a walk-in closet. He removed a black jump suit, a black hood, black gloves, and black, sneaker-like shoes. After he finished dressing, he looked in a full-length mirror to make sure that no skin could be seen. Every inch of him was covered. Next, he took a black back pack that was made out of the same material as his clothes, and slung it on his back. He looked in the mirror, mumbled some words, and a shimmering face appeared. “Now I’m ready for a shopping trip. Mirror, I want to see Nero watching Rome burn.” “Yes, Master. Look.” a voice said and he looked in the mirror and saw a city in flames. The vision showed a man standing on a roof top apparently singing and playing an instrument. “He’s playing a cithara. If I don’t get it, it will be lost in the flames.” He entered the mirror and stepped out a few yards from Nero. He hurried to Nero and pulled the Cithara out of his hands startling him. “Mirror, make a portal for me, and an opening appeared. Nero stared as Adam went through the opening and stepped out of the mirror into his office. “This is a treasure,” he said holding the Cithara up. “Imagine, this was in Nero’s hands. Wait ‘til the collectors see this, especially Sir Morgan.” A week of brisk business went by and Sir Morgan returned. “My good man, my expert said they are authentic. how do you do it? How did you get these?” “Sir Morgan, I can’t tell you.” Alright. You can’t or won’t tell me. Now, how much do you want for them?” “One million for each.” “Sold. Adam, I’ll give you anything you want if you will tell me how you got these.” “I’m sorry, my friend, I can’t tell you.” “Alright. If you won’t tell me how you got these, may I ask you to get something for me?” “Yes. What do you want?” “Nero’s fiddle. The fiddle he played while Rome burned.” “He didn’t play a fiddle. The fiddle or violin wasn’t invented until the 16th century. Nero played an instrument called a cithara, it’s like a lyre. Come with me,” he said and went to the cithara that he had put in a show case. “There it is.” “My God,” Sir Morgan said looking closely at the cithara. “Anyone else would say you’re a charlatan, but I know you are not. I believe you. I must have it. How much?” “Two million. It wasn’t easy getting this.” “Sold. Now, tell me, can you get anything?” “I doubt that I can get anything. Why? What do you want?” “Don’t laugh. I want the forbidden fruit. You know, the Garden of Eden? The serpent and the forbidden fruit? “You’re joking. The Garden of Eden is just a story. Not too many people believe it’s true.” “I know, but if it is true, then you would know.” “Alright. I’ll try.” “Great,” They shook hands and he left. That night, Adam prepared himself and faced the mirror. “Mirror, I want to go to the Garden of Eden when Eve encountered the snake,” he said, and an image of a garden and a woman talking to a snake that was coiled around a tree branch appeared. “Oh, my God, it’s true.” He entered the mirror and then stepped out and stood in the garden. As he did, his clothes disappeared and he stood naked. Eve turned to him. “Adam, come see what the serpent has for us to eat,” she said and reached for the apple. Adam was nowhere to be found. Sir Morgan bought the Emporium thinking that he might find a clue to explain Adam’s disappearance, but he didn’t. Adam’s magic mirror and walk-in closet remained hidden. The mysterious antique dealer was gone and nobody knew where he went.


Elstrath von Graves ran as fast as his little legs could go. The guards who had given him a twenty metre head start ran him down with ease, even dressed in full fighting leathers. "Nice effort, young master." Oh, how frustrating it was to be a boy of eight when everyone he was surrounded by was a full grown adult. Time was cruel and unfair. When would he grow up and be able to outrun his minders? "Leonidas, next time you must wait a little longer," Elstrath commanded the Captain of his guard. "It just isn't fair that I have such little legs." "You'll have your growth spurts when you become a teenager," Leonidas said. "Do not rush the days of youth." Elstrath harrumphed and continued onwards towards the market. He never realised how big everything was until he was surrounded by it. The desert streets of Kyo baked beneath the mid morning sun. The citizens appeared pleased to be up and about, raising fabric awnings on the front of their sandstone houses. Men, women and children waved at the group of foreigners, not afraid of their pale skin. Elstrath grumpily ignored or sneered at them all, disregarding his father’s sound advice to be kind and welcoming while in foreign lands. Why should he be nice when he had been dragged halfway around the world against his best wishes? "Elstrath, control yourself," Leonidas said patiently, squeezing Elstrath’s shoulder and guiding him away from a group of children who were staring wide mouthed at them. "They’re just fascinated. Let them be." "I hate kids," Elstrath growled. "Look at them. They’re awful." Leonidas laughed and then hid it with a cough as Elstrath glared at him. "You are a child too, you know." "Don’t remind me." They moved as a rhythmic unit, ten men surrounding Elstrath, weapons on their hips but ready in an instant to attack at the first sign of danger. The streets grew busier and louder until they were suddenly in the thick of things, the market building up around them. Elstrath had never seen something so alive, so loud. Hundreds of people crowded the streets either setting up market stalls outside of their houses or gathering in crowds to purview and purchase food and wares. The most popular stall was a fish vendor somehow with the freshest catch this far from any sources of water. Everywhere there were people of all nationalities and races, as diverse a place as you could possibly find. Even Elstrath and his guards wouldn’t stand out in this crowd. "This is unbelievable," Elstrath remarked to Leonidas at his side, feeling quite terrified by all of the strangers. "How does something like this build up out of nothing?" "We have places like this back home too," Leonidas remarked. "Probably not as fast building or as full of action, but there are daily markets everywhere you go." "You’ll have to show me when we get home. How much did Father give you for me to spend today? Am I just looking or can I buy something as a reminder of our time here?" Leonidas hefted a pouch, jingling their stash of foreign currency. "We have more than enough for a trinket or two." Elstrath turned a slow circle in the middle of the market. How had he found himself so deep in the thrumming street already? The crowd was almost shoulder to shoulder with every stall busy with haggling pedestrians. He couldn’t see the sunshine through the trees. Where did he even begin in such a place? How would he find his way to the front of any stalls, let alone one worth visiting? "Would you like help, young master?" Leonidas asked. "I can disperse this crowd in an instant." "No, Leonidas, give me a moment and I’ll figure this out." Elstrath closed his eyes and listened. There were so many voices overlapping that it was almost impossible to focus on one alone. It was like drowning in an ocean, being pushed under by the rolling waves, unable to find a way to breathe. He gasped and swallowed a heavy breath, fighting off panic. He was braver than this. He wasn’t afraid or concerned by people. *Elstrath.* The whispered voice carried on the wind, burrowing into his brain. He whipped his head back and forth, opening his eyes and seeing nothing but backs. The thronging crowd was too dense to see anything else. *Elstrath.* There it was again, just out of reach. He could feel it coming from somewhere close by. He just had to fight his way through, pushing much larger adults aside and grab a hold of whoever was calling out to him. He pointed in the general direction and commanded, "Leonidas, make a path that way." Leonidas deftly carved a path through the crowd with Elstrath attached to his boot heels. He bid their way through with apologies and niceties and they came to stand before a crowded stall. The owner was shouting back and forth with an onyx skinned woman, haggling over some kind of trinket. Elstrath’s attention was immediately drawn to a row of red clay pots aligned at the back of the stall. *Elstrath.* The voice came from right there. He had found the correct place, but no one was speaking. "Do you hear that?" Elstrath asked, staring at the pots, taking in the strange symbols carved around their centre. "Hear what?" Leonidas asked. "The shrill barking of those two?" "No. Somebody is calling out to me. Can you see anyone we know?" "There’s nobody around who would know you. All of your guards wouldn’t be able to call out to you from throughout the market. Are you sure you’re hearing right?" "I swear." Elstrath crouched down so that he was at eye level with the wares. The intricate details on the pots were immaculate, but one of the five stood out to him more than any of the others. *Elstrath.* Was something inside that pot speaking to him? How could that be possible? "Hello?" Elstrath said uncertainly. "Can you hear me?" Elstrath reached out ever so slowly, hesitant but sure of his actions. "Oi, boyo!" The owner barked and flew over, slapping Elstrath’s hands away. "No touchie." "Sorry. I… How much is this?" "Too much for you, I’m betting. Take your grabby hands and find someone else to throw your foreign money at." Elstrath signalled to Leonidas and he handed him the money pouch. He tipped a third of it into his hand and glared at the stall owner. "Is this enough of your money to get you to haggle?" "Oho, my apologies, boyo. Which one of these fine goods caught your eye?" Elstrath took a gamble and said, "the set of pots." Elstrath didn’t know the value of the foreign currency so he allowed Leonidas to step in and barter back and forth with the owner. Eventually they reached a bargain and Elstrath departed with all five pots safely stowed in a crate packed with straw. He held them firmly to his chest as he barged his way to one end of the market. Before he could find a way free he stumbled into an alleyway between two houses and he followed it down and around a corner into a secret garden with a single tree. "Stand guard at the corner," he ordered, seeing that all of his guards had successfully followed him into the alley. Leonidas checked that there were no other exits and then stood with his back barely visible at the corner. "Alright," Elstrath said. "Let’s see what you are." He placed the crate beneath the tree and pulled out one pot at random. Looking it over he could tell that it wasn’t the one that had drawn his attention. As he went through and eventually picked up the fourth pot he heard it again: *Elstrath.* This was the one. The pot that was calling out to him. He set it on the sand and took a deep breath. Before he could convince himself otherwise he pulled the string tied around the seal and plucked the cork out. A powerful tornado of wind slammed Elstrath backwards, whiplashing his head into the ground. He practically bounced into the air from the impact and the breath was knocked out of him. "Elstrath," someone yelled. Elstrath was too disoriented to know who was speaking and he couldn’t seem to move without wanting to be sick. "Elstrath!" A second booming voice said from directly above him. Through swimming vision Elstrath looked up at a sight he could not believe. There was a being, ten times larger than a man with blue skin, a long wispy trail of smoke instead of legs and rippling muscles. "A Djinn?" Elstrath whispered. "Elstrath," the Djinn said, smiling with crossed arms. "You followed my call." Elstrath struggled up onto his elbows as ten men and women made a tight semicircle behind him and the Djinn. No one knew what it was or where it had come from. Only Elstrath knew that he had found the magic pot. "What do you want from me, Djinn?" Elstrath finally started to feel better and he rushed to his feet, feeling Leonidas pushing up towards his side. "Be careful, young master," Leonidas said, drawing his sword and adopting a defensive stance. "These creatures are dangerous and manipulative. Do not fall for its deceptions." "I want nothing from you, Elstrath," the Djinn said. "It is you who may ask things of me. Ask and I shall fulfil three of your dearest held desires." "Wait," Elstrath demanded. "Why were you calling out to me? That’s not how it happens in the stories I’ve read." "You’ve read fables meant for children. Djinn seek out their targets as much as we are sought out. You interest me, Elstrath. Now ask and I shall give." Elstrath had no idea what he wanted. No idea what to ask the Djinn for. Should he ask for endless fortune? For good health and a long life? To be whisked home, across the Endless Sea? "I… I don’t know, Djinn," he muttered. "I don’t know the limit of your power. What kinds of things could I ask for?" "I cannot guide your desires, Elstrath. You must come to the decision yourself." "I want to be brave," Elstrath quickly decided. "I want to see danger and be able to charge into it. I don’t want to be afraid anymore." "Your wish is my command," the Djinn said. Elstrath didn’t feel any changes, but then again he wasn’t particularly afraid of the Djinn or of being surrounded by his personal guard. He thought about running back into the crowded market to see how he felt being around people much bigger and stronger than him. But he decided to complete his wishes before seeing how effective they were. Maybe his newly provided bravery was leading his desires as he cleared his throat and stared at the Djinn. "I want my father to say yes to my next request. No matter what I ask for." "Oh, Elstrath, what are you planning?" Leonidas questioned as the Djinn accepted the wish. Elstrath glanced over his shoulder at the man who had been the only thing that made him feel safe until only moments earlier. Now he seemed like just another soldier, not specifically placed to keep him alive, but only there to alleviate his father’s concerns. He turned nonchalantly back to face the Djinn and spoke his last desire. "I want to be the greatest swordsman the world has ever seen," Elstrath said. "Your wish is granted," the Djinn proclaimed. "Goodbye, Elstrath." A heavy wind knocked Elstrath backwards a half step as the Djinn turned into dust and whisked back into the pot. The seal reappeared out of thin air, closing the pot until somebody else found it and summoned the Djinn. The guards all murmured and started to discuss the possibility of opening the pot for themselves, making Elstrath jump forwards and turn around with his arms held wide. "None of you will call out the Djinn," he said bravely. "Step away unless you want to challenge my newly acquired skill with the sword." There was a half sword attached to his belt, a weapon he had never used in a real fight before, but he didn’t doubt for a moment that the Djinn had given him untold skill. "No one is going to challenge you, young master," Leonidas said, holding his hands up above his shoulders. "Isn’t that right?" Every single one of the guards lifted their hands away from their weapons and nodded eagerly. "What will you do with the pots?" Leonidas continued. "How will you keep them safe?" "I will take them with me," Elstrath said. "No one will speak with the Djinn until I deem them worthy." "And what is it that you intend to ask your father? That was not a wish I ever imagined." "I will ask him to forget about me. It is time that I make my own path." "Young master? What do you mean? Do you intend to give up your family?" "I’m tired of being my father’s puppet, Leonidas. When I walk away from my father will you come with me? I promise to take you home, across the Endless Sea. This place does not hold any answers for you and me." "I am beholden to your-" "Just say that you’re too afraid to follow a boy," Elstrath interrupted. "I understand how hard it must be to have to protect me, but now you never have to draw your sword in my defence again. I am more than capable and brave enough to protect myself. I do not ask for your company as a soldier, but as a friend. So, forget about my father and make the decision for you. Will you come home with me?" Leonidas scratched his thickly bearded chin for a moment and then shook his head. "No, Elstrath. I must stay to protect your father. I swore an oath to protect his family and if you truly decide to leave that means I must protect him." Elstrath turned and collected the small crate from beneath the tree, packing the Djinn’s pot away safely. He hefted it and turned to face his former protector. "That’s fine," he said. "I guess the last thing you can do for me is see me safely to my father. My hands are a bit full to test my newly acquired sword skills." "That I can do, young master. That I can do." Elstrath fell into the centre of his guard as they forged a way back through the dying market. Many eyes fell on the young boy and his prize, but none of them knew what he had attained that day. Not one person knew that he held in his hands the key to unlock their greatest dreams. He would have to be careful where he kept the pots. If the Djinn fell into the wrong hands, who knew what disastrous outcomes would come to life. He had told Leonidas that only those worthy would get the chance to speak with the Djinn, but if he could have his way no one would ever break the seal. He pulled the crate tight against his chest and glared at everyone who looked his way. Let them try and steal his treasure. They would find that he would not let it go easily. The Djinn was his.


“The sun’s shining and my balls are fucking itchy,” Lenslo said. “What makes this day any different from the God’s damn rest of ‘em?” El-Dot turned its head and barked just once. “Don’t play games with me, El-Dot. Use your voice like a good boy.” “Master, I find this entire situation very perturbing,” El-Dot said, turning his head almost entirely sideways. “What makes today different?” “Absolutely nothing. We stand here in the middle of nowhere, doing fucking nothing. Everything I went through, all of that bloody pain and suffering. For this. For solitude.” “For peace though, Lenslo. And survival.” “I don’t think my fucking loneliness has been worth any of this. I fucked up bad, El-Dot. I have to fix this. Come on, let’s go back. Let’s restore order. My life for all of theirs.” “If that is what you desire, Master.” Lenslo turned West and from the middle of a dusty wasteland started walking back to where it all began. * The sun was fucking harsh and too God’s damn hot. Why on Earth he had thought that walking halfway across Australia through the sunlight hours was a good idea was anyone’s guess. “El-Dot?” Lenslo sighed. “Yes, Master?” El-Dot asked effortlessly. The heat did not matter to this fucking robot. “Where are we in this endless desert?” “At our current pace we are six hundred hours from the Eastern edge of the Red Centre.” “Six hundred? Fuck me blind. I’m gonna die out here, El-Dot.” “You’re welcome to ride, Master.” El-Dot wiggled his hind quarters. “Hey, El-Dot. Fuck you. I will not ride you.” “Using alternate methods of transport would get us to our destination in four hundred hours. It is not a judgement of your abilities, but a helpful proposal.” “Still, El-Dot,” Lenslo grunted. “I’ll fucking walk.” * Jesus fucking Christ, kangaroos. A million of them if there was one. A great big roaming herd, bounding across literally out of nowhere. Lenslo froze and just watched as twilight dwindled and the majestic creatures made their way from one horizon to the next. “That brings a tear to my eye, El-Dot.” “It is rather impressive that so many have survived and thrived out here, Master.” “Never thought I’d see the day. El-Dot, get me a straggler.” El-Dot bounded off gleefully, chasing down a stray kangaroo. It took one down like a lion mauling a zebra and they tangled until El-Dot snapped its neck in its mechanised jaws. It dragged the limp animal back to Lenslo and dropped it at its feet. “As you requested, Master.” “Start a fire, El-Dot. It’s time to have ourselves a feast.” * “Six hundred hours,” Lenslo laughed, thrusting his hands into the air as he collapsed to his knees in red sand. “Six hundred fucking hours, El-Dot.” “We made it in five hundred and eighty six hours, Master,” El-Dot said, ever so casually. “Fuck me, I don’t rightly care. We’re so close now I can taste it. This beautiful red sand is gonna lead us home.” “Home is thousands of kilometres South-East, Master.” “Argh, damn it, El-Dot, I meant home in a figurative sense. Home to people. Home away from all of this fucking emptiness.” “Of course, Master. Your destination is now forty two hours away.” Lenslo slowly rose from the dirt without even bothering to dust himself off. It was just another layer to his filth. He put one foot in front of the other and trudged onwards. Home sweet mother fucking home, just days away. * “Master, are you alright?” El-Dot inquired, pushing against Lenslo’s leg as he staggered ever onwards. “Huh?” Lenso stammered. “You’re collapsing, Master.” Lenslo fell to his knees and collapsed forwards, draping over El-Dot’s back as it quickly moved in front of him. A tube snaked out of El-Dot’s torso and forced into Lenslo’s mouth. Clean, fresh water filled Lenslo’s mouth and he greedily swallowed it down. He hadn’t suffered from low hydration throughout their journey, but wow did water taste good. Something else had made Lenslo collapse, and he had no idea what the fuck it was. All he felt was an overpowering lack of energy, and this when he was just hours away. He tried to lift himself up and take his own weight. Instead he slid sideways and slammed into the sand. Everything was heavy, so damn heavy. He slid into the dark. * “Wake up, Lenslo.” “Who the fuck?” Lenslo said sleepily, opening his eyes to blinding light. Someone was holding his head off the ground, pressing his cheeks in. “Who do you think? Didn’t you come all this way to see me?” Lenslo blinked and the faint outline of a man resolved in the harsh light. “Me?” “You’ve almost got it.” “Olsen?” “There you go. That didn’t take you long.” “How? Where are we?” Lenslo tried to work out how the hell he was looking into the face of his clone. “You don’t remember? You walked all the way out here to see me and you’ve forgotten.” “I was trying to do something. No idea what the fuck that was.” “Is that true?” Olsen asked, ratcheting up the pressure on Lenslo’s skull. “Or are you just messing with me so that you can flip the advantage?” “Fucking ouch!” Lenslo cried. “Let me go, ya bastard.” “Tell me what you’re doing back here, Lenslo. Or I’ll crush your skull.” “I have no idea, Olsen. Now get the fuck off me.” He shoved upwards, hoping to break his head free, but met only strong resistance. “El-Dot, why are you here?” Olsen asked. “Master?” El-Dot asked. “Should I tell Olsen your goal?” “Fucked if I know,” Lenslo growled. “I don’t have any clue what we’re doing back here. I swore to never return.” “That is not permission, Master. Please clarify.” “Tell me why I’m here.” “You returned in order to restore humanity. You want to undo your actions.” “Oh fuck,” Lenslo said, remembering everything he intended to do as Olsen slammed his head into the ground. “I don’t think so, Lenslo,” Olsen said, pounding Lenslo’s head until he lost consciousness. * *Lenslo coughed, hacking up blood and spitting it into the red sand. “Almost there, Pup,” he groaned, “Just a few more moments and we’ll be healed.” Pup barked happily and nuzzled Lenslo’s leg. Lenslo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then grasped the football-sized glowing emerald gem atop the concrete pedestal with both hands. They stood at the bottom of a crater impact site that was nearly fifty metres deep. “Is this really what you want, Lenslo?” Olsen asked, staring into the gem from the other side of the pedestal. “You’ll throw away everyone in order to live?” Lenslo ignored his clone. Who did he think he was to question his creator? His job was simply to protect this sacred site in case the ritual wasn’t a complete success. Not that there was any doubt in his mind that he would succeed. The sun reached its apex as Lenslo leaned over the gem and let blood trickle from his mouth and splash on its surface. “By and by. Dust to Dust,” he recited. “I lend you my core to satisfy your lust. Take what is ours and make it yours. Give me the strength and vitality to see through the years-” “Stop,” Olsen demanded and pointed a gun at Lenslo’s head. Now, where on Earth had he found that? “Don’t do this, Olsen,” Lenso seethed. “I created you for this purpose. I have given you life and I will give you eternity. Lower the gun.” Oslen fired, grazing Lenslo’s cheek and drawing a line of blood. “I will not allow this,” he yelled and shot Lenslo in the leg. Lenslo screamed in unbridled agony, leaning his full weight into the gem. “You fuckhead. How dare you. Fuck that smarts.” “Step away from the gemstone or I’ll aim for something more vital.” Lenslo couldn’t step away, but he slid to the ground and lost contact with the gem. Black spots peppered his vision and he could feel his veins throbbing. Olsen stepped around as he put his back to the pedestal and stretched out his leg, forcing his palm against the wound. Olsen kept the gun aimed at Lenslo’s chest, but he didn’t fire the killing shot. “Why?” Lenslo cried. “Why would you throw away immortality?” “It isn’t up to you to decide the fate of all human life. I will not let you. Abandon your plans, Lenslo.” “What right do you think you, a clone, has to make decisions about who lives and dies. You’re a construct.” “I never chose to live. But I can choose not to take away life.” “You’ll come to see things differently as you start to die.” “I don’t think so. We are not Gods.”* * “Wake up, Lenslo.” Warm water splashed over Lenslo’s face and he groggily came awake. Olsen was crouched before him and his hands were tied behind his back around some solid object. “The fuck, Olsen?” “I brought you the rest of the way, Lenslo,” Olsen said, looking around the enormous crater around them. “It was the least I could do for drugging you out there.” Lenslo realised that he was tied to the pedestal that had once held the gemstone. The pedestal that had been part of the ritual that had set everything into motion. “Why am I tied up, Olsen?” “You came to undo everything. I cannot allow that to happen.” Lenso burst into laughter. “What did I tell you? I said that you would come to see things differently. That at one point you would be the one to defend everything that happened.” “Well, you were right, Lenslo. I will not let you undo this. You will not take my life away.” “What life? What do you have out here, but fuck all? What’s the point of going on if we’re destined to be alone. At least if people return we’ll have someone to talk to before we die.” “I won’t let you do this,” Olsen said, tapping the barrel of a gun against his temple. “I said it last time and you changed my mind. This time I won’t be swayed. Goodbye, brother.” He placed the gun against Lenslo’s forehead and pulled the trigger. Click. * *“Okay, brother, I won’t do this,” Lenso said. “You’re lying,” Olsen recognised, keeping a safe distance with the gun aimed at Lenslo’s chest, his hands shaking from what he had done. “I’m not. Now help me patch this wound before I bleed out. If I’m going to die from this I don’t want to do it so close to my failure.” Olsen slowly lowered the gun and then tucked it into the back of his waistband. He rushed forward and knelt near Lenslo’s legs. He reached forward tentatively towards the outpouring blood with shaky hands. Lenslo reached forward in a flash and dragged Olsen towards him. He slammed his head into the pedestal once, twice, three times and then threw his unconscious body to the ground. As quickly as he could he tore a strip of cloth from the bottom of his shirt and tied it around his leg. He knew nothing about gunshot wounds, but was sure that it would do nothing for him. All he could do was complete the ritual and hope that with immortality came healing. Using the pedestal he pulled himself to his feet and placed his hands back onto the emerald gem. Time to finish before Olsen rose and got in his way again.* * Lenslo cackled as the gun failed to fire. Olsen turned the gun in his hands to inspect it as Lenslo slid a blade down the length of his sleeve and used it to slice through his bindings. Olsen really should have done a thorough job of searching him for weapons and checking that his own still worked after all these years. As the ropes fell away Lenslo slammed the blade into the side of Olsen’s neck and powered him sideways into the ground. Blood burbled and pooled around his hand as Olsen drowned. “You really shouldn’t have stood in my way, Olsen.” Olsen tried to speak, but only made wet sucking sounds. “Shh, don’t talk. Just accept your fate.” He had never intended to kill Olsen, but he was the sacrifice he needed to make to bring humanity back. Getting to his feet he looked at the pedestal for the first time and screamed an avalanche of obscenities. The gemstone, the key to everything, was gone. “El-Dot, do you have any idea where Olsen hid the fucking gemstone?” “It is gone, Master,” El-Dot said. “He destroyed it two days after you departed.” Lenslo turned and shot scorching hot daggers at his companion. “He fucking what? Why the hell didn’t you tell me this at any of the one billion opportunities we’ve had since then?” “You never asked, Master.” If El-Dot could shrug its dog-like shoulders, that would have been the time. “I didn’t think I would need to ask something so fucking obvious. You should have told me before I walked all the way here and killed the only other living soul on this God’s forsaken planet to achieve my goals.” Cackling laughter bubbled up out of Olsen’s mouth. “What the fuck?” Lenslo cried as Olsen moved like a liquid, standing up and pressing the barrel of the gun against the side of Lenslo’s head. “This seems oddly familiar, doesn’t it?” * *Cackling laughter bubbled up out of Olsen’s mouth. “What the fuck?” Lenslo cried as Olsen stood up and pressed the barrel of the gun against the side of Lenslo’s head. “Step away from the gemstone, or I put a bullet through your head.”* * “Take it easy, Olsen,” Lenslo said, turning to face Olsen and putting the barrel against the centre of his forehead. “We both know that your gun won’t fire. Put it down and let's talk about this. Man to man.” “Man?” Olsen asked uncertainly. “I was never a man and you ceased to be one when you gave yourself immortality.” “Fine, let’s talk clone to fucking monster. Better?” Olsen lowered the gun and took a step back to stay out of his reach. “What you are trying to do is not okay, Lenslo.” “I’m fixing my mistake. I never should have wiped out humanity just to live. You know that. You fucking argued that exact point before I did it and I didn’t God damn listen.” “I was right then…” Lenslo threw his arms up in disgust. “And I’m right now.” “You can’t be both, asshole,” Lenslo argued. “I can because I’m a subject of your misdeeds and I hate it,” Olsen roared. “You gave me life and made me a fucking bodyguard to the altar of humanity’s destruction. I watched as you used whatever that gemstone was to kill every living being and I will not watch you attempt to play God again. It is not your right to give, as it was not your right to take away.” “But, I’m-” “No, shut up and listen! You played your cards and you won the grand prize. You got the immortality that you wanted. You even dragged me along and made me suffer through this pitiful existence. Now, sixteen hundred years later you change your mind and you march back here expecting that you can just flick a switch and put things right. No. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I will not abide your Machiavellian tactics. You, Lenslo, are not the man who gets to decide.” “And you are?” Lenso screamed. “Who the fuck are you to stand in my way? To destroy the one true chance humanity had.” “I did what needed to be done,” Olsen said. “I obeyed your orders and guarded the site, but in the immediate aftermath I knew that I couldn’t allow you to wield that unjustified power again. So yes, I destroyed your precious gemstone because if you didn’t know I’m the side of you that instantly regretted your actions.” “You’re playing at being a God yourself, fuckwad. If you had just left that gem alone all of this could have been put back to normal.” “All of this and none of it. The Earth cannot handle people just reappearing.” Lenslo screamed and pointed a finger at Olsen. “I will not spend another day in this endless bullshit. Where the fuck is my gemstone?” “I destroyed it. Wasn’t that clear?” “You can’t lie to me, Olsen. I know all of your tells. Now, where the fuck is it?” * *“Olsen,” Lenslo said, holding his hands down with his palms showing. “Come on, Olsen. You don’t want to kill your mirror. Don’t you want your new life to last more than a few decades?” “That is irrelevant, Lenslo,” Olsen said, waving the gun side to side to get Lenslo away from the pedestal. “What matters here and now is that you are not a God. You cannot abandon humanity just to give yourself a future. Die with dignity.” “I fucking won’t. I made this happen. I will see it through.” “How? I can stand here all day. You on the other hand look a little worse for wear.” “You’re going to give me a chance,” Lenslo grinned. “Belvedova.” Olsen froze in place, all of his muscles going rigid, not even his eyelids fluttered. “You see, Olsen. I was smart enough to build several failsafes into you. Now stand there and watch as I save us.” Lenslo hobbled back to the pedestal and grabbed the gemstone with both hands. “By and by. Dust to Dust. I lend you my core to satisfy your lust. Take what is ours and…”* * Olsen waved his hands around the crater, taking in all of their surroundings. “It’s all around us,” he said. “I exploded it into a million pieces.” “You fucking moron!” Lenslo yelled, stepping towards Olsen and laying him out with a solid punch to the jaw. “How could you?” He bent down and picked up the gun that fell out of Olsen’s hand. He pointed it at Olsen’s chest and screamed as he pulled the trigger over and over. It was the first time he had ever held a gun, let alone tried to kill someone. Every time the gun failed to fire. He dropped the gun as he collapsed to his knees and started to cry. He had come and he had failed. Humanity would never return. He would have to live forever with that guilt. “I’m sorry, Lenslo,” Olsen said, standing up and dusting himself off. “This is why Man should never play God.” * *Lenslo stepped back from the pedestal, raising his hands from the gemstone. He had done it. He had played God and oh boy did it feel good. Somewhere out there, far from this Red Centre people would be dropping like flies. Here in the middle of the crater he felt strong. His leg was limbering up and he could breathe a little clearer. He turned to face Olsen and smiled. “You, my little pet project are going to stay right here, within shouting distance of this crater at all times. You will guard the pedestal from anyone who might have survived this ritual. I doubt anyone will come, but regardless you’ll stand over this until you die. Blessingdona.” Olsen could not move and he also couldn’t do anything other than fall into line. When Lenslo finally relinquished his hold over his clone it wouldn’t do anything other than follow his orders. “Take care, Olsen,” Lenso said. “You’re one of only two men left alive on this miserable planet. Belvedova.” Lenslo walked past Olsen, patting him on the shoulder as he went to leave the crater. He turned his head from the pedestal. He would never look back.* * “What do you want me to say?” Lenslo asked. “I was fucking wrong. Now, if there’s any part of you that wants to do some good, come with me. Help me find another crater. There must be other gemstones out there somewhere. I can fix the Earth. I can make it okay for billions of people to return. Fuck, Olsen, this cannot be how this ends.” “Why don’t you just force me to follow you?” Olsen asked. “Use your code words to alter my behaviour.” “I don’t want to do that. I want you to decide to do the right thing. Just like I wish I had done back then. I was a fool and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” “What happened to you out there, Lenslo?” Olsen asked, crouching just out of reach of Lenslo’s legs. “How did you suddenly change after sixteen hundred years alone?” “I… I just woke the fuck up,” Lenslo laughed. “I thought I could just wander back here and set things right. God I’m an idiot.” “You’re just a man who stumbled upon a power that was beyond his belief. I don’t think anyone could judge you for what you wanted to attain. There might have been a better way to do it, however. I’m sorry it had to end this way.” “It’s not over, brother. I know that I’ll find a way to put things right. Are you coming with me?” “No. I’ll leave this up to you and El-Dot. If it’s alright with you I’d like to go out there and give this life thing a chance.” “Olsen, there is nothing I would like better. Go and have yourself a merry old life, Blessingdona.” “Thank you, Lenslo. Good luck out there.” Lenso waved goodbye as one last time he walked towards the edge of the crater. “Come on, El-Dot. Let’s find us another gemstone and fix this fucking Earth.


#Welcome to Micro Monday Hello writers and welcome to Micro Monday! It’s time to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic, you ask? Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I provide a simple constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. This rotates between simple prompts, sentences, images, songs, and themes. You’re free to interpret the weekly constraints how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.** &nbsp; *** #This week’s challenge: - **Image Prompt: ** - **Bonus Constraint:** At least one of the five senses must be integral to the story. This week’s challenge is to use the above image as inspiration for your story. You can use any part of the image you like, as long as the connection is clear and you follow all sub and post rules. The bonus constraint is not required, but it is worth an additional 10 points. **Note: Don’t forget to next Monday!** (The form usually opens at about 11:30am EST Monday.) You get points just for voting. &nbsp; *** #How To Participate - **Submit a story between 100-300 words in the comments below.** You have until **Sunday at 11:59pm EST**. (No poetry.) - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and rankings. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post, exclusively. Micro serials are acceptable, but please keep in mind that each installment should be able to stand on its own and be understood without leaning on previous installments. - **Come back throughout the week, read the other stories, and leave them some feedback on the thread.** You have until **2pm EST Monday** to get your feedback in. Only **actionable feedback** will be awarded points. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please follow all subreddit rules and be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here; we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. You can find a list of . - **Nominate your favorite stories at the end of the week .** You have until **2pm EST** next Monday to submit nominations. (Please note: The form does not open until Monday morning, after the story submission deadline.) - **And most of all, be creative and have fun!** If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail. &nbsp; *** #Campfire - On **Mondays at 12pm EST,** I host a Campfire on our server. We read all the stories from the weekly thread and provide live feedback for those who are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Everyone is welcome! &nbsp; *** #How Rankings are Tallied We have a new point system! **TASK** | **POINTS** | **ADDITIONAL NOTES** |:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:|:--:| | **Use of the Main Prompt/Constraint** | up to **50** pts | Requirements always provided with the weekly challenge | **Use of Bonus Constraint** | **10** pts | (unless otherwise noted) | ***Actionable* Feedback** | up to **15** pts each (5 crit max) | You’re always welcome to provide more crit, but points are capped at 75 | **Nominations your story receives** | **20** pts each | No cap | **Bay’s Nominations** | **20 - 50** pts | First- **50** pts, Second- **40** pts, Third- **30** pts, plus regular noms | **Voting for others** | **10** pts | Don’t forget to vote before 2pm EST every week! *Users who go above and beyond with feedback (more than 2 detailed, actionable crits) will be awarded Crit Credits that can be used on r/WPCritique.* &nbsp; *** #Rankings *Please be aware that we have a new point system. See “How Rankings are Tallied” for more specifics!* - **First:** - Submitted by u/GingerQuill - **Second:** - Submitted by u/katherine_c - **Third:** - Submitted by u/ZachTheLitchKing ###Crit Stars Crit Stars receive 1 Crit Credit to use on r/WPCritique. - **Crit Star:** u/GingerQuill - **Crit Star:** u/OneSidedDice - **Crit Star:** u/ZachTheLitchKing *** ###Subreddit News - Join to chat with authors, prompters, and readers! We hold several weekly Campfires, monthly Worldbuilding interviews, and other fun events! - Check out the brand new over on r/WritingPrompts! - Try your hand at serial writing with ! - You can also post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


Knight takes a deep breath and places her hand on the door. She feels the weight of a body leaning against the thin wood. With all her rage, the knight plunges her blade through the door impaling the man on the other side. Knight begins sawing upward, splitting the man’s torso in two. Blood mixes with the sawdust turning to a thick red paste. Knight rampages through the door leaving small jagged planks still attached to the hinges. The robed man with the pendant sits at his desk paralyzed with fear. He reaches for a small bottle containing a black liquid on his desk. Knight pulls a throwing ax from her belt and hurls it at the man. The ax strikes his hand, sticking it firmly to the desk. He lets out a shriek that could crack windows as blood soaks the desktop. Knight picks up the bottle and looks at its contents. The liquid swirling around inside appears so black it's as if knight was staring into the void. She tucks the bottle into her belt pouch and shifts her focus back to the robe. Knight pulls the ax from his hand and rips the desk out of the way. The desk slams against the wall into a torch knocking it to the floor. The robed man trembles clutching his hand as it gushes blood. The man sneers.. Robed man: “who are you?” Knight grabs the pendant and rips it from his neck. The desk begins to catch fire lighting up the room revealing her silver eyes through the helmet visor. She stares deep into his eyes with an anger that burns his soul. Robed man: "Those eyes…I know you" Knight begins digging her blade into the robed man's chest as slow as possible to inflict the maximum amount of pain. He begins screaming again and flailing his arms wildly trying to stop knight from taking his life. Knight raises him high above her head impaling him further and showering herself in his blood. Knight lowers him down near the fire and using her foot, slides the robed man off the tip of her blade. His body drops onto the burning desk. He cries out rything pain as his body begins to burn. Knight stands blood soaked and watches until he falls silent. Knight gazes at the pendant with sadness in her eyes. She ties the pendant around her neck and tucks it inside the armor to keep it safe. Having heard the screams, more robes down the hall sprinted towards the door to see what had happened. Knight slowly exits the room, blood still dripping from her armor. The robes come to a screeching halt as the gaze in awe at a blood soaked knight holding the most formidable blade stepping from the flaming room. The robes all pulled small bottles of black liquid like the one knight took, and began drinking them. Their eyes dilated and their breath rate rose. All the robes hunch over like a pack of wolves about to charge in for the kill. Knight looks to the ceiling and unleashes a roar that shakes the trees. She charges into the group ready to paint the stone walls with their gore. The robes thrash their swords in an unorganized fashion. Taking advantage of her more advanced training, knight methodically counters the robe onslaught. Blood and limbs fly through the air hitting the floor with a mushy thud. The sound of banging metal echoes up and down the corridor. A robe raises his sword to protect his face from knights blade but his flimsy steel shattered under the weight of the saw blade. Knight buried it deep into his head adding another tally to the saw blades kill count. The robes body is kicked to the floor before knight continues cutting through the group. When the last body fell, knight stood among the bodies covered in their blood and a little of her own. She drops to her knees out of breath and slowly cleans her blade using a piece of robe from one of the bodies. Knight gazes down the corridor and sees another massive door with the tarantula wasp insignia. She hangs her head taking a moment of peace before charging into the depths of hell.


Endless corridors, elevators, and more corridors; every now and then, there were small empty office kitchens where the company had provided a modest table, a microwave, and a coffee machine. The carpet, with its strange zigzag pattern in a swampy color, was soft and even a little sticky, as if it didn't want to let go of your foot after each step. Or was it just the lingering effects of another sleepless night? Entering her boss's office, Susan slowed her pace near the panoramic window on the 70th floor: snow had long since covered the entire city and continued to fall from the sky. However, in the endless enclosed spaces that flowed into subway stations and electric trains, you barely encountered winter. "You've had an excellent performance this year. You think we don't notice?" her boss said gently, sitting on the couch next to Susan after she had told him she was planning to leave. "I'm just burned out, I want to quit," she replied quietly. "We have several thousand people working here, and among them all, I know you personally. You know, I've been here for twenty years, since the very beginning…" Susan nodded politely, listening to the story of the company, but she already understood she would leave empty-handed. Reflections of the company's logo, which hung just behind the large window of the top management floor, flickered on the glossy furniture in the office, on the marble-covered floor, on the walls with old-fashioned motivational posters, and on the strange mannequins displaying new season clothing samples. In the dim light, it seemed as if the mannequins had holes instead of eyes. "It's like he turned his enemies into stone and imprisoned them here once upon a time." "Where do you see yourself here?" The conversation was becoming uncomfortable. Susan wanted to end it, but she even found it awkward to hang up on scammers when they called her on the phone, let alone in this situation. The boss was polite, but his persistence was suffocating, as sticky as the carpet in the corridors of the top management floor. She remained silent. "Think about it, don't rush. Sleep on this thought, as they say. You can't beat me." "Excuse me?" Susan startled. "You don't need to leave, you're one of us." And so, Susan left the office with no avail. She walked back past the empty kitchens, through an elevator with a transfer on one of the floors, and past small office cubicles where the backs of people's heads were visible behind partitions. Susan sank into her tired, creaking chair and looked at the open spreadsheet on her screen. "I need to get out of here," she muttered to herself when she saw the clock in the corner of the screen. She said goodbye to a couple of remaining workaholics and, in the elevator descending thirty levels down, put on her coat she had bought from Zara a few years back. Susan walked out, skillfully navigating around the flow of people, and continued through the endless subway corridors. Overtaking pedestrians, she hurried to catch the bus: it was already past ten in the evening, and the last bus to the suburbs was at eleven. Time was running out. "Check this file," her phone vibrated. The next minute, Susan was sitting in the subway car with her laptop on her knees, editing a presentation for her team leader's status update the following day. "Ah, damn it," Susan cursed: she had missed two stations. She closed her laptop, grabbed her bag, and rushed through the closing doors. "I can't hear you, I'm in the subway right now!" But the approaching train relentlessly drowned out her attempts to answer the call, "Let's talk tomorrow, okay?" Standing by the door on the return train, Susan looked at her quivering reflection in the doors opposite. Her curls tensely bounced. Susan decided to remove her coat and scarf, remaining in a black sweater from under which a strict white blouse peeked out. She used to feel like she belonged at work, but now she wanted to shed the office style along with all the work devices that lay in her bag and rubbed her neck. The bus was nowhere to be found, but Susan was not used to giving up, especially since she could get home on the commuter train, after traversing seven stations back to the station. "Why do I have to rush even when I'm going home?" She wanted to relax and observe the subway passengers: a couple in their twenties, sharing a pair of headphones. Or a young man who seemed to have just returned from the army and hadn't yet decided what to do with his life now. But her phone vibrated again: this time, her boss was calling. "There's this ambitious task that just came in, and I immediately thought of you... The previous manager couldn't handle it. Tomorrow morning, come see me." When Susan joined this company ten years ago, the idea that her tasks would reach the boss seemed incredible. Even three years ago, a project of this level would have made her head spin. But she needed to leave. "Where are you?" A message from her team leader. After fighting her way through the ticket counter queue, a pointless bag search, and a malfunctioning turnstile, Susan burst into the stuffy commuter train car, unable to make her way past the vestibule. No worries, in half an hour she would be home. "Check out this version," another message came. Twenty minutes into the journey between two stations, the train stopped and showed no signs of life. "Please remain calm; the train will depart shortly," the indifferent voice of the train operator announced. "When will you send it? I need to check it too." The clock showed past midnight. Someone opened the doors, and especially impatient passengers started to climb out directly onto the tracks. Dangerous, but she didn’t care anymore. Susan ran a mile along the rails to her station, then to her home. Leaving the messages unread, she turned on 'Do Not Disturb' mode on her phone and set the alarm for 5:30 am. After another sleepless night, Susan entered the office changing room and sat on the couch to catch her breath. "Alright, time to take off my clothes," she whispered to herself. Susan removed her scarf and felt for the zipper on her boots, took them off, and stretched her legs a bit. Then she reached for the buttons on her coat, but her hand stopped halfway because she looked at her reflection again. Her hand involuntarily rose to the back of her neck, and with difficulty, she found the hidden zipper there. Struggling to grab the clasp, which she hadn't used for a long time, Susan pulled it down. It wasn't very pleasant; the zipper squeaked and dug into her skin. She hadn't taken off this attire for ten years, since joining this company. But now she wanted to get rid of it and take a refreshing shower first thing. She removed her tired face, her curly hair, which she diligently dyed every month, giving it a fresh golden hue. She took off her sad shoulders along with the Zara coat, the white blouse under the black sweater. The suit resisted heavily at the stomach, got stuck at the thighs, but Susan managed to get rid of it, and in the mirror before her stood the girl who had come here ten years ago and then decided to entrust her fate to the company. She carefully folded the suit of thirty-five-year-old Susan, with its hair, face, waist, hips, legs, heels, experience, network, achievements... "What is this?" she heard a voice and flinched. It turned out that a young intern, who had just joined the company a couple of months ago, was standing there. "Want it? Take it, it’s yours," the girl said, handing the suit over to him. She needed to hurry, so she left the changing room and took the elevator away from this glass tower. As she left the premises, she knew in her heart that she would never return. Peter, the intern who had looked up to Susan as a role model, was thrilled with the opportunity to cut a career path. He hesitated for a moment, and after a brief pause, he first put on her legs, which were in slightly tight jeans, hips, Susan's waist with a hint of extra weight, and her sad shoulders. Looking in the mirror at his head, as if attached to Susan's shoulders, Peter nodded decisively, put on her face, hair, and zipped up. Ten minutes later, Susan came out of the changing room and, looking around uncertainly, walked to the elevator to the boss's level, forgetting to take off the Zara coat worn over the white blouse under the black sweater.


See part 1 **3** “Clarence! Long time no talk! How are things?” “As good as they can be,” Clarence replied, sliding into a chair in the space elevator’s Earth-based control room and settling himself in front of the monitor that displayed Devon’s beaming face as he floated in the elevator’s zero-G environment. Nothing could dampen Devon’s enthusiasm, not even being stranded tens of thousands of miles above the planet’s surface with his space elevator’s inaugural voyage on the brink of turning into a veritable shit show with the entire world watching. It almost served as a kind of fuel, propelling Devon to new levels of intolerability. “How’s the view?” Clarence asked as he busied himself checking various readouts and displays, anything to avoid looking at Devon’s face. “See for yourself.” Clarence looked up as Devon directed his phone’s camera toward the crawler window at the planet below and then panned across the passengers inside, all of them enjoying the absence of gravity, doing somersaults and bouncing off the walls, playing like little kids. “Everybody say hello!” Devon said. The passengers all stopped to wave and smile at the camera, which eventually came to rest on her. “Hello, Clarence,” Darla said, giving him a small wave, her other hand clutching a plastic squeeze pouch labeled “Martini.” She paused to take a sip. “I take it you got my message.” Clarence lowered his eyes once again. “Indeed, I did.” “We can’t go into details here—for obvious reasons,” Devon said, turning the camera back on himself and lowering his voice as he pushed away from the others. Clarence nodded, still not looking up. “Of course.” “But Clarence . . .” Clarence knew Devon was waiting for him to make eye contact. He resisted for as long as possible. When he finally looked up, Devon’s grin was gone. “This is no joke.” Clarence stared at him for a moment and then nodded. “I understand.” In a flash, Devon’s smile returned. “Excellent! We’ll wait to hear from you, and then our voyage can continue.” He turned back to the other passengers. “What do you say, folks, who’s ready for another drink?” His question was met by a chorus of cheers. Then the screen went blank. Clarence stared at the monitor for a few moments until he heard the control room’s sliding glass doors whoosh open behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. Terry Eng, Devon’s right-hand man. As serious as Devon was exuberant. “Clarence, good to see you.” Terry had a way of making it sound like it was anything but good to see him. “You too, Terry.” Terry clapped his hands and rubbed them briskly together. “So, any ideas?” Clarence sat back and looked at the various displays. “Not really. Everything appears to be in the green.” “Exactly,” Terry replied as he rolled a desk chair over toward Clarence and then sat down. The control room was normally manned by a three-person crew, but Terry had dismissed them all once Clarence arrived. “Everything was in the green when it stalled too. Which makes me wonder . . .” “Makes you wonder what?” Clarence asked, swiveling toward him. Terry looked around and then rolled his chair a bit closer, lowering his voice. “If we’ve been hacked.” Clarence raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Hacked? Now what kind of ungrateful psycho would do that to an asshole like Devon?” Terry grimaced as he held back a response. Normally, he didn’t tolerate anyone talking trash about his boss or even insinuating that Devon was anything other than the stellar specimen of humanity that the fawning media made him out to be. But these were special circumstances. Clarence smiled as he watched Terry struggle. “Has anyone claimed responsibility?” Terry shook his head. “Not yet. But that doesn’t mean anything.” Clarence turned back to the control panel. “Maybe we should try one more reboot. If that doesn’t work, I don’t think you have a choice. You’re going to have to send up the rescue crawler and tow them down. Thanks to the atomic battery, they’ll have enough oxygen for twenty years, but food is another matter. And there’s only so much recycled piss a person can drink.” “Clarence, I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here.” “What do you mean?” Terry glanced around again to ensure no one was listening—an instinct rather than a necessity, seeing it was clear they were the only people in the room. “Some of the deals Devon made to secure the land-based anchor points are . . .” “Shady?” “Tenuous. As you’re well aware, the places where these anchor points are located, they aren’t necessarily the most stable of countries.” Clarence nodded for Terry to continue. “And?” “If this voyage fails, well, some of those deals could be in jeopardy. The same goes for the lease agreements on the mobile platforms. Which means competitors could—” “Never mind the competition, Terry. If this voyage fails, some lives could be in jeopardy. Very important lives. Including Devon’s.” “I realize that.” Terry nodded at the control panel. “Can we just . . .” “Rebooting now,” Clarence said, turning his chair back to face the monitor.


\ I watched as the dying light finally claimed the island’s outline. Kadear Coalfields - or Pomafauc Reset, whatever it was to be called - was gone once more. I tore myself away from where the island had been, andI sat on the side of the boat, my legs dangling between two railings as a weak breeze pushed us lazily through the waters. A late summer moon lit up the flat ocean in an indigo blue. Light enough to be seen. Dark enough to appear as a shapeless canvas, a blank slate where my thoughts could land. Alessia walked up beside me and leaned against the bullwark, holding her palms together. “Done what I can with the wind, but it’s gonna be slow sailing.” I nodded, but my eyes didn’t look up. Alessia was studying my face, waiting for a reaction. I had no idea what she could see. My mind and body felt numb, sucked of all consciousness. I can only assume I looked like a faceless statue, waiting for someone to engrave in the details. She sighed and sat down beside me, dropping her legs off the side next to mine. “I’m sorry, Ferdinand.” “It’s not your fault.” My gaze remained fixed on the blue expanse, as gentle waves rolled into shapes. Thomas’s smile. Lachlann’s guitar. Jacob’s nod before he jumped off that ladder. Alessia shuffled awkwardly. “I know this has been a lot of loss…” She paused, rubbing her neck with her hand. “I wish I had something better to say.” Once more silence came back. Another wave came, this one reminding me of Thomas’s friendship, a more abstract shape. “All you can do…” Alessia spoke slowly, seemingly unsure of what words would come next. “…is try and do right by Thomas. And Lachlann. Try and live the life they’d want you to live.” “I’m not even sure what Thomas would want,” I muttered. Alessia leaned forward, turning to try and better see my face. “He’d want you to go chase your ambitions. Do what you wanted to do.” “At least…” I paused, a small moment of grief caught in my throat. “At least with Lachlann, he died with everyone loving him. Everyone who ever hears of Lachlann will know how great he was. Thomas?” I shook my head. “Everyone on that island is going to be told he was a traitor.” “Those who knew him will think differently.” “I don’t know. Even if they do. There’s a lot of the island who will only ever know him from the scaffold. Know what Jacob wants them to know.” “There’s always a chance someone found the papers you left.” “Maybe.” I stared down at my feet, feeling the heaviness in my chest. “He died not knowing he was right. He died with everyone thinking he deserved it.” “He died after speaking with his best friend,” Alessia said, stressing every syllable. He died knowing you were going to investigate just because he asked. He knew how you felt.” I thought back to Thomas’s face on that scaffold as it lay beneath my own. The soft rise at the corner of the lips in contrast to the physical pain in the eyes. “He deserved so much more.” “We can respect him. And everywhere we go we can tell people who he was.” Alessia let out the softest of chuckles. “Never underestimate how quickly word can travel among traders across the sea. When all this is done, we’ll make sure the whole Archipelago knows.” I nodded, trying to take solace in the offer. She looked to her right, staring off at the lightless horizon. “Meanwhile, guess we’ll see what we can find on Yotese Over Haven.” “You know anything about the place?” I turned, staring into the blackness with her. “Only cause I’ve sailed around it rather than into it.” Alessia sniffed. “Beyond that, not a damn thing. Gets little trade. Some insular, deadwater types from what I understand.” I sighed. “Into the unknown again then.” “It’s what we do best though, ay?” Alessia pushed herself to her feet and placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s gonna be a few days sailing in this wind. Try and get some rest, okay?” I twitched a nod. Alessia left for the night and once more I was alone with the ocean, and the tides slowly filling with my every thought and my every regret. I would sleep eventually. But when I did, it would be through exhaustion, because there were no more thoughts to be had. \ Rest came with difficulty over the next few days. The fourth night, I spent the full stretch on the deck, only sinking below deck when the orange hue that disappeared in the west had begun to reemerge in the east. I woke with a thud. The whole boat lurched with enough force to throw me against my bedside wall. My eyes shot open. Something was wrong. I leapt from bed and hurried up the stairs, still only wearing my pajama shorts. My conscious mind was still waking up to its surroundings as adrenalin drew me to the door and out onto the deck. I ran outside and looked over the edge. Beach. We had landed. “You probably wanna get dressed before we head on out,” Alessia snickered from behind the wheel. The tension left my body and my body deflated. “You could’ve let me know we were about to land.” “Thought you could do with the extra sleep. Besides, nice to know how quickly you’ll rescue me if needs be.” She cast an eye across my bare torso and shorts. I sighed and crossed my arms, partly out of protest, and partly to stave off the chilly morning air clipping against my bare skin. “I’ll go get dressed,” I said, turning to the door. “Hopefully we can find out a bit about why Sannaz was here.” “Oh, I’ve got a fair idea of that already,” Alessia called out, raising her chin. I stared at her, my eyebrows narrowed in. She nodded behind me, looking over my shoulder. I turned. Across the shoreline, the beach curved outwards and the banks climbed higher. Thin reeds of grass poked out from the sand in a thin patch before disappearing where the coast descended once more. But in that next part of the bay, rising above the dune, there was a structure. The metal had slowly rusted, a former sheen had turned a copper colour at the edges, the surfaces eroded to sharp and brittle points. However, the bulk of it was intact. It was around five storeys tall, though the circular windows on the side didn’t seem to be evenly distributed. At the very top, orbs and dishes decorated the roof, and long thin poles pointed to the sky. Near the front, a lower section stretched out, two sides meeting in a point at the shoreline. It was then I realised I was looking at a boat, stuck and marooned on the sands of Yotese Over Haven. But this boat wasn’t built here, or anywhere in the Archipelago. It had to be of the old world. “How is that here?” The words left my mouth compulsively. “How has it survived?” “Your idea is as good as mine.” Alessia shrugged. “Go get dressed, we can venture out when you’re done.”. I hurried below deck and changed as quickly as I could. The possibilities of the odd structure had wiped away the weariness and given my brain something to latch onto, something to think about other than Pomafauc Reset. We trudged along the deserted shoreline, our feet falling into the soft powdery sands of Yotese Over Haven. My mind craved activity. It wanted noises and distractions. But Yotese seemed so still. Any coast should bring with it small fishing boats, the odd parked vessel, or even just people enjoying being near the sea. Yet, here, we were alone. I began looking for signs of life. Up the hill to our left, I could see some old wooden shacks, and farmland. However, it all seemed in disrepair. The fences around the pens were falling apart, and the buildings were peppered with holes and rotting planks. If it weren’t for a small group of pigs patrolling the fields, I would assume the place to be abandoned. Instead, I was trying to work out why it was so uncared for. Resources couldn’t be the issue. These were simple wooden homes surrounded by tall trees. Something else was missing. We continued till we reached the top of the dunes and could see the whole of the ship. Only the smallest pool of water ran by the base of the boat, a mixture of a stream heading out and the edge of the waves that ran up the inlet. As such, much of the keel sat atop the sand, causing it to list to its port side. Still, even the height of the keel was enough to dwarf Alessia’s boat. As I continued to examine the details of the ship - the railings at the side of the vessel, the rivets that held the great sections together, old faded paint lines where the ship’s lettering used to be - I noticed a solitary man standing watch at the base. He looked out away from the ship, his hands clasped behind him. He had a long sleeve shirt far too hot for the summer sun, and I could see the glistening sheen of sweat on his red face. Next to him there was a wooden pole with a bell fixed on top and a rope that ran down its side. He had seen us already. His back was straight and stiff, but his head glanced between the bell and us. His arm twitched, ready to grab the bell if needs be. “Hello,” I announced as I walked down the slope. “All visitors must report to the Council headquarters.” He answered. His voice was croaky through unuse, the words only arriving through drilled-in instinct. “You can find the headquarters on the western side of the island.” I stopped. “Okay. I just wanted to know if we could enter the ship.” The man swallowed. “All visitors must report to the Council headquarters. You can find the headquarters on the western side of the island.” “Understood,” I said, turning to Alessia, my face scrunched, before returning to the guard. “Do you think they’ll let us into the ship?” “All visitors must report to the Council headquarters. You can find the headquarters on the western side of the island.” The man seemed to gain confidence with each repeated verse. Alessia tapped me on the arm. “I don’t think this is going anywhere.” I leaned over, lest my voice carry and cause offence. “What’s with the strange answer though?” Alessia lowered her head in return. “I don’t know. But you could try asking him that. I’m sure you’ll get a different response this time.” I turned halfway towards the man, before glancing back at Alessia and noticing the tongue bit between her teeth. “Very funny,” I muttered. “Thanks, we’ll come back later-“ Something interrupted me. Not a sound. A sight - a brief visual caught out the corner of my eye - a sleeve poking through the sand. It was the same navy of the guard’s shirt, except at the end of this one were the brown bones of a dead man’s hands. “What… what is that?” I said, the volume increasing as I transitioned from confusion to anger. The guard raised his hands, his voice slightly panicked, but the words were the same. “All visitors must report to the Council headquarters. You can find the headquarters on the western side of the island.” “Is that a man? Buried there? There’s a dead body, right there.” I pointed at the arm resting in the sand less than three metres away from him. “Why are you just standing there?” “All visitors must report to the Council headquarters. You can find the headquarters on the western side of the island.” Something inside me was flickering, a quivering set of thoughts that left me confused, angry, disorientated; as though any attempt at rationality was repeatedly being kicked out of me by some force. My mouth spluttered for coherency until it found something that felt like a sentence. I pounced on the thought, screaming it. “How could you just leave a body like that? How could you not respect it?” The man took a quick pace to his right, leaned over, and pulled hard on the rope of the bell. The clapper struck and a hollow ring echoed out across the sands. The reverberation faded just in time for the ball to strike on the other side and the alarm to sound once more. The trilling cut off my thoughts. I looked to Alessia. Her eyes darted back and forth, watching the hills, as her hands poised by the belt on her hip. Slow shallow breathing took over as I felt my chest pound with each sounding of the bell. The guard spoke once more. Confidence had returned to his demeanour and he spoke with enough volume to clear the ringing of the bell. “All visitors must report to the Council headquarters. You can find the headquarters on the western side of the island.” \ *The Archipelago is posted every Wednesday.


As the TV at the bar flickered everyone looked at it in shock. “This horrendous” the lady in the TV sayed. “How can a man, who was described by his family as loving and thoughtful, be made to do something like that?” I took the last sip of my beer and made myself with a smile on my face towards the door. “Another win for me” I thought as Something in the corner of my eye took my attention. I would almost call it a super power, but for the time being I am only a human. It was a young man, at most twenty years old. He was alone and mumbling to himself. I made my way through the crowd to come out right behind him. “Hello young man” He was startled. “H-Hello” “How are you on this fine day?” “I don't think I should talk to someone I just met.” Then let's change that. I am Selcuk. Damian Selcuk, but you can just call me Damian.” "It's nice to meet you Damian. I'm Sam. " I could see the change in his eyes. That is a good sign, at least for me. For everyone else? Worthy of discussion. “So, Sam." I clicked my tongue. “Is there something that distresses you?” Ahhh my catchphrase, every time I say it a cold chill runs down my spine. I could see how his gloominess started to appear above him. "It's just… today 11 years ago my dad died and my Mother just does not care. She only cares for her new husband and they're twins. It's like she completely forgot about my dad.” Glorious success. A big smirk appeared on my face. We talked for a long time. It was a back and forth until I got him to the point I wanted. Then I heard him say it. “I really loved my dad, I just can't understand how she can replace him and, and me too.” He started to cry “I just cant I hate them, those two, no all of them. They should suffer as I have.” I could hear his teeth grinding and muscles stiffening. Yes, Sam embraces the anger and use it. “They should perish for what they've done to you. Don't you think? “Yes they should. But how?” His eyes lit up. “The twins” Ah he is so far i don't even need to help. Perfect. “Thank you so much Damian.” I smiled. “No, I have to thank you. I think you know what you have to do?” “Yes I do. I hope to see you again soon.” As he was walking away I whispered to myself. “I doubt It” In the door Sam bumped into a police officer. "Oh, sorry Officer.” “don't mind it.” She was searching the room as her eyes matched mine, her expression became more serious. She took the place Sam was sitting in just a moment ago. “Hello Mister…” she was looking at her notes. “Selcuk” “Please call me Damian.” “Alright Damian we are investigating the recent spike in crimes Involving Intense violence and deaths. To our surprise every suspect had talked to you at least a week before the act. Do you know something about it?” I put down my Jug of beer. “Listen Officer, I am no monster. I just talk to a lot of people. I just talked for hours to the boy that bumped into you at the door. Also do I really look like someone who is a criminal mastermind?” Her intensity subsided. “I'm sorry I guess you're right. I will take my leave now " "I grabbed her arm “Officer is there something that distresses you?” A frown on her face appeared. “It's just, my wife” I smudged and thought “Jackpot.” A few days later I found myself at the same spot. The TV flickered again “The young man was arrested. But the twins are still in critical condition. But the real question is how could a man do this to his own family” Good job Sam, really good job. A hand appeared on my shoulder “excuse me Mister.” I turned around and there was a police officer. “I'm not trying to pronounce that. I have a few questions for you.” He looked annoyed and seemed to have no desire to be here. “Of course officer, take a seat.” “I just need to finish the investigation from an officer who recently went on a rampage. It won't take long.” I smiled on the inside. "Of course but at first. Is there something that distresses you? I love this life.