Before I got second Mummy and second Daddy, I remember how first Mummy used to lock me in the cupboard.

The first time it happened it was late at night, maybe nine or ten pm. I was playing with my two plastic dolls, Melissa and Sweetum. Somebody must have given them to us from abroad because they were both white-girl dolls, Melissa with long blond hair and Sweetum with short, curly-blond hair. Blond must have been the in color then. As perhaps it still is now.

I don’t remember asking why the dolls had hair the color of sunshine, when my own was the color of midnight. I seem to have accepted many things as they were, at that time.

Anyway, we three were having a tea party, and I had just seated the two dolls opposite each other on the floor, each sitting on a little padded cushion, the fabric being ikat - or was it paisley? - and placed tiny plates with little red swirlies in front of each, and tiny teacups and saucers with blue flowers drawn in, on the side, and was pouring what passed for doll’s tea, just plain old H2O from a rusty tap, into those cups, that’s when it happened.

The front door swung open noisily and I heard first Daddy shouting for first Mummy, and before she went to him, to the door, she gathered me up in her arms and made for the cupboard.

“Mummy, you’ve spilt the tea,” I screamed, as the little plastic teapot fell over, the water spilling on the ikat or paisley, but she didn’t care.

She put me in the cupboard, made me crouch down, and said, “Beta, ssh, do not come out of here till I come to get you,” and shut the door. Then I heard a lot of shouting and crashing and shoving, and then first Mummy screaming, and I was about to push open the door to run to her, when I remembered that she said to stay in there. So I crouched there in the dark, listening to those sounds. Then everything went very quiet and I was trembling. I wanted to hear first Mummy’s voice, and then much later I heard her crying. And I remember feeling much better, because even the sound of her crying was still part of her music. The next day there was a big black mark on her eye, and I asked her what it was, and she said the crow had kissed her. I told her to tell the crow to kiss her hair next time so it would blend in with her midnight. She laughed but her eyes were wet. After the second time in the cupboard, I started to take Melissa and Sweetum in there with me. With the three of us there, things were much better. We had long conversations, about tea parties, spiders and other things. I was in the cupboard a lot that year. She put me in there so often, that after the first few times, we decided she should remove the first shelf and make it more comfortable for me.

In the beginning I used to tremble in the cupboard, but later on, I liked it in there.

One time I saw a spider in there and I screamed. I heard first Daddy say, “What was that?” and then first Mummy started to sing, some song from a film, very loudly, and I heard the sound of her anklets. I put a shoe on the spider so it wouldn’t crawl on me. But then I felt sad in the morning when it wouldn’t move any more. The crow was always kissing first Mummy those days. I could see the kisses the next day. Sometimes on her fleshy arms, sometimes on her neck. But always, always on her face. Then there was that last time I was in the cupboard. Usually, first Mummy let me out of there in the morning, but this time she didn’t come. There had been a lot of shouting and things crashing that night. I remember I had a bad feeling in my tummy. Later, I heard first Daddy snoring. Then it was dawn and I could see the light creeping in under the cupboard. I saw a spider running inside, but this time I didn’t put a shoe on it. I just let it build its web.

I stayed there a long time. Maybe it was more than a day. Then first Mummy’s friend came by, and I heard her scream. “Hai, Ram,” she said, calling on one of our favorite guys up in the heavens. But even he’d doubted the virtue of his wife, after she’d been kidnapped. Another story. None of our gods are perfect. Anyway, she must have known about our cupboard system, because she came to get me from there. She told me that first Mummy was now in the sky with the stars. I asked, “When is she going to come back down? Does she have a ladder to come back?” and she said not for a long, long time. Then I got her meaning and I cried.

They didn’t tell me at the time, but they took first Daddy away, and put him in jail. This I found out later on. He writes letters to me, but I have not written back. *** After that I got placed with second Mummy and second Daddy. Everybody tells me I’m very lucky because usually no one wants a child after they’re no longer a baby. Especially a child that has suffered trauma. But because of the trauma, my story appeared in the newspaper, and second Mummy read about me and wanted to help me.

Second Mummy is a famous actress and she’s adopted lots of children, and I’m the pick from India. So now I have toys, food, a nice room and nice clothes. I practice my American accent. I am never put in a cupboard. But however lucky I am, all I wish is that I could be back in first Mummy’s cupboard, and hear her sad song awaken me at dawn.


The Epistle of Paul to the Present Church Chapter 1 1.     Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle by the will of God and separated according to the effective working of His power amongst the Gentiles

2.     scattered throughout the world, to bear witness of the grace and love of the Father revealed in Jesus Christ, His Son, 3.     To the present Church, beloved by God and called into fellowship with Him and each other for the eternal purpose of the Kingdom of God,

4.     made known by the Spirit of knowledge and revelation to His people, who stand according to His grace.

5.     Greetings, in the Name of my Lord, Jesus Christ. 6.     I thank God for each remembrance of you, fondly considering your place in the heart of the Father,

7.     knowing that you are precious in His sight, in attitude, word, and deed, always striving for the furtherance of His kingdom on the Earth. 8.     Though it was my intention to teach and preach among you to the continued benefit of both you and me, it seems the Lord had plans for me, not of any private revelation.

9.     For what I have faced in this life, I did so for the sake of the Gospel and not for any personal gain, whether of gold and silver or of reputation.

10.  I have learned to be satisfied with what comes from the Hand of God in either of these.

11.  Thus, I faced my certain demise with bold faith and trust in the Lord to do what He deems to be profitable for His Church. 12.  For this reason, my preaching must find listening ears only by the reading of my words. My voice, made bold by the confidence I have in the leading of the Spirit, though willing, has been made silent by the elevation of my service into the Temple, not made by hands. 13.  Therefore, I bow my knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, from Whom all saints are so named. I 14.  n the Presence of God, I speak of you, both day and night, that He may provide for you the accoutrements of your warfare for the souls of those outside,

15.  that you may fight the good fight in the midst of the difficulties brought on you by the unbelief of those in the same present authority,

16.  who do not care to know the way of righteousness and peace, preferring their choices that lead to strife and heartache, as it has been from the beginning. Chapter 2 1.     And you also have been found wanting in this; that you let your heart be given over to double-mindedness concerning the things of this world.

2.     Have you not seen the sorrow that comes from pursuing these things that are openly destructive to your faith and purpose?

3.     Has it not been enough to turn your eyes away from the attractive things of Man that tarnish in the light of day? 4.     This observation I share with a heart made heavy by the surety of the end, known from the beginning by our Lord and revealed to us through the revelations to the prophets and apostles

5.     and made known to you through their writings; that the things you gather into your storehouse are the wild gourds of the flesh that brings death to the pot and not the delights of the Spirit which are well known by those who walk in the Spirit. 6.     Know this, that the Flour which will give life to the pot is Jesus Christ, which restoration Elisha, the son of Shaphat could attest,

7.     that there is no other who can provide such life.

8.     Without the Kernal of the Seed, ground into flour through the sufferings which were ordained from the beginning by the Father, the death remains.

9.     In like fashion; it is we who have the penalty of death upon us without the same Flour being mixed in because we also have pursued the double-mindedness of the world.

10.  I hear reports of multiplications of salvations amongst you all.

11.  Can it be true that you seek your identity apart from the risen Christ?

12.  Who, then, died for you? Who suffered the indignities of the Cross and rose triumphantly for you?

13.  Are you not named by the Lord of the Universe and claimed as His? 14.  Walk, then, in wisdom, and move a distance from the futility of the carnal mind. Know, assuredly, that life is found only from one Source, and He is enough.

15.  Let your mind be on heavenly things and renounce the earthy things of the flesh, in which is no chance of life. Chapter 3 1.     Husbands, endeavour to love and serve your own wives as Christ does the Church.

2.     Fulfill the promises you made at the altar, knowing that your Lord has fulfilled all His promises and His altar,

3.     when the Church was birthed out of the side of the crucified Lord, just as Eve was out of the side of Adam. 4.     Wives, respect your husbands as the servants of the Lord, given to you by the will of God.

5.     Supply support for them as partners in life, serving the Lord together, with gladness, rejoicing in the fruits of your union in the children and the children’s children. 6.     Children, hear the words of your parents and obey, that they are saved from the sorrow of a wayward child.

7.     You are not the future of the Church but are now active members in your own right, called to serve the Lord of Glory as we all are. 8.     Finally, Saints of God, be strong in the Lord. The enemy presses upon you with his worldly wisdom, which leads to the precipice.

9.     Seek not for how close you can get, but flee its very locations, wherever they may be found. Eschew all that pertains to his drawing us to him.

10.  Pursue godliness without dilution, seeking the will of Him who loves you with everlasting love.

11.  Stand apart that your garments do not pick up the smoke of the coming conflagration.

12.  The eternal life of your loved one is in the balance for they also seek an example of Christlikeness in a world of bad examples. Be their light. Chapter 4 1.     Though I remain in the environs of Heaven, I think of you often, pleading with my Lord, 2.     Who has replaced my faith with blessed sight.

3.     I pray for you that you accomplish the tasks laid upon you by the Spirit of God. I pray that you love each other with the mind of Christ.

4.     I pray you walk in the righteousness of God, providing light to those who live in darkness.

5.     Some of you will come to me soon. The ones left behind still have the burden of ordination on you to do the will of the Lord.

6.     I cannot come to you, but my prayers penetrate the chasm. 7.     Until then, peace be to you and grace, in the Name of God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I have you in my heart. Amen


Do you know the saying; I feel like I have walked in someone else’s shoes. Let me tell you about this incident, of consciously viewing from another person’s eyes. When I close my eyes; I can see a whole new place, a home, a park, or a coffee shop away from where I am at the moment. Now I had never brought this up before other than to tell you this story. Someone would place me here permanently in a hospital room with locked hallway doors in the Mental Health and Addictions Unit. Where I have been once before, but I could not tell them everything that was going on. I didn’t want them to think I was strange. I have a terrible memory. Think about something and in one second it’s gone. So, this experience I like to keep to myself. But today I will share my occurrences. One day I was relaxing in my chair in front of my window, watching people walk by. Wondering what they are thinking? How their day is going? I could see if they felt happy or troubled about something going on in their lives. At one point I closed my eyes and instead of seeing just darkness, I could see shadows moving around, people talking. When I opened my eyes to see if anyone was standing in front of me. I got up to look outside my doorway. The hallway was clear. Everyone was on the other side of the doors, waiting for evening snack time to arrive. That’s how I would know what time it was at eight in the evening. Everybody lined up waiting for the sandwiches to be given out. I just stood outside my door, feeling like I couldn’t comprehend what was going on with my eyes. Walking back to my armchair to relax and close my eyes to meditate. It happened again. This time I could see the nurse’s station, where they did their paperwork. I see one blind hair male trying to get a nurse’s attention. It took a few knocks on the window. Then asked, “Hi, Can I have a piece of paper.” he asked. She handed him what he asked for. He said, “Thank you.” “Your welcome.” the nurse said, then she shut the window. I opened my eyes after I watched him walking back to his room. My view was from me standing near the doors that separate the staff area from ours. So, I haven’t figured out yet who’s eyes I am seeing out of at this moment. Is the man aware I can see from his view? It all seems very complicated. I will figure this out eventually and sighed. I thought as I opened my eyes, going back to looking out my room window. Sitting here contemplating on what to do and how to go about figuring everything out. Went over to my bed, climbed on to read a book. Trying to not think about things; not worry about it right now. Maybe after I read a few chapters in the book “Drawing of the Three” by Stephen King. Then I fell asleep. When I woke up to find the book on the bed. Staring reading again until they dropped lunch off. I finished one chapter. Which was great kept my mind from overthinking. Especially about this new eyesight phenomenon. I really do not know what else to call it. It’s weird, but I will have to get used to it. I wondered why today I had noticed it. After that though, I picked up my burger and took a bite. Must say hospital food isn’t all that bad. It’s nice being taken care of. They bring you your medication and food. It’s a pleasant change from doing things for yourself. Sitting and drinking my coffee, I realized I could keep a journal while having this other persons’ sight. I went to the desk and asked them for a pencil and some paper. Once I was in my room, closed the door and start writing everything out. I closed my eyes again to see what he was seeing. The next thing I saw was a female coming closer to me. I opened my eyes to see if she was actually in front of me. “Oh well, of course, she is not here,” I said out loud to myself. I went back to see what the relationship was between them. I could see her smiling. “Hi Rodger, what is going on?” “Nothing much. Just sitting here relaxing. Do you want to watch some tv with me, Anna?” Rodger asked. “Sure, I will go get the remote,” Anna answered. I watched her get up to walk to the window at the nurse’s station. When Anna came back, she turned on the tv and asked, “What are you in the mood for? Oh, I know what we can watch, the Olympics.” she stated. “Sure, that sounds like fun. It has been a while since I have watched some good sporting events. Thank you for asking.” Rodger expressed smiling. I was laying in bed waiting for the TV to be turned on. “Oh, this is too much. I can actually see the swimming pool. This is really cool.” I thought to myself. I wonder if he can see my life when his eyes are closed? How would I ever bring this up? I hope it just stops on its own. What’s going to happen when I go to sleep? Maybe nothing because he will be asleep or so I hope. I wonder if other people have noticed this happen to them. Living life with your eyes closed and still be able to see what another human is doing in life from their perspective. It’s intriguing for some people, I am sure. What a money market that this could be. All it would take is for one of us to say something. Would we have the guts? It’s weird how I don’t have Rodger’s words coming out of my mouth. But to have his view. I think it’s incredible and I will keep saying it if I have to. A person would never feel alone again. Just knowing that someone is around to comfort me as I grow up. I am only twenty-five. As I closed my eyes to fall asleep and no one was there. I sat up with a worried feeling, not knowing what to do. I grabbed my pillow and hugged it. Feeling alone again in this life to figure things out and learn what I do not know.  I could never explain what happened. Maybe it wasn’t real. I will never know.


“ You smell the blood, don’t you? This iron heavy scent beckons you, while dangling white-meat legs try to find the invisible ladder and escape from here. But there are no ladders in our world, right my friend? We…” - Boss, it is … emm… time! – a lady’s umbrella-shaped head appeared in the narrow door chink. Her tiny jellyfish eyes glanced at the majestic figure of the Boss who was holding a tiny toy-shark in one hand and a tin soldier in another– Are you … emm… playing with toys again? The Boss flinched and dropped the items on the red-wood table. The ringing tin sound filled the room and suddenly stopped as the giant Boss’ hands covered the source of the sound.

- They are … emm… in the conference room. – The jellyfish head waited for a second and after receiving a short nod slowly disappeared behind the massive doors. Even though she was gone, the waves of this

emm  sound were still in the air, enshrouding the Boss and leaking deep into his ears. He winced and started scratching ears with a tip of a Montblanc pen. The ticklish sense filled his body and a slight smile pushed frequent face wrinkles apart.

For 10 years she has been working here but still cannot talk properly. The Boss stopped scratching his sprawling ears and glanced at his left hand. His stiff fingers gently unclenched and revelled the palm-sized soft toy-shark.

My old friend .

What an irony, ha?

They  let this jellyfish work here, the person who cannot create, cannot think on her own and cannot even speak without a filler… But

they  want to destroy us. Do you know why? The wise eyes of the shark glanced at him with note of sadness. Because we. are. old.

The shark was slowly being moved across the massive red-wood table. It swam across the golden desk calendar with a miniature of Laocoön, dived in the half full golden cup, and swam out at the green lamp. Suddenly it froze in the air. The Boss wearily put the shark under the dusty ray of light. My friend, you have bald patches on your back!

He cautiously stroked the shark’s fur the wrong way but the bold patch didn’t disappear. He licked that place and the transparent liquid changed the white colour of the bold patch to the black. Now it is better. No one can see. Don’t worry, my friend. I have the same. He boldly lifted his wig and without hesitation put the toy-shark on the top of his bold head. You see. Nothing to worry about. We still rule the world. The Boss slightly started spinning in the chair carefully holding the shark on the head that was observing the dark wood panelled office. The room was the mix of the elegant wood book shelves in the Victorian style and wild plants on the red wood floor. The maritime paintings on the walls and miniatures of ships on the shelves helped the shark to make itself at home. The red sofa and leather armchairs in the middle of the room were drowning in the fleece of the black carpet under the light of the golden chandelier. The Boss continue spinning and the shark was able to see the rest of the room: the massive arch doorways in which any moment the jellyfish umbrella-head might appear, and a giant mirror next to the table. The Boss finished the tour as they reached a large window behind his back.

Do you want to come closer, my friend? To see the real world? We can do it if we try. The sun rays supportively held the shark on his head while the giant figure of the Boss was slowly rising. But as soon as he stood up, the black dots swam before his eyes. He started blinking and rubbing his watery red eyes to force these dots swim away. They didn’t, but the shark did. It plummeted with a beanbag sound on the floor.

Trying to find the balance, the Boss leaned back on the table but unintentionally knocked the golden cup off the table. The heavy shards drifted on the red-wood floor and the brown liquid started slowly devouring the shark.

Hold on, I’m coming! The Boss stepped towards the window and grabbed the green curtains that freely descended from the window cornice. His right knee could not bend properly so he distributed his weight to the left leg and slowly went down. The left leg started shaking and the Boss sweepingly slide down on his butt. With the cloth rip sound the curtain fell and covered his giant figure.

- I’m.. almost… here…  -

The Boss’ muted voice, interrupted by the heavy breath, reached the tiny ears of the shark.

As soon as the Boss got out of the curtain, he saw his friend that was half drowned in the coffee lava.

Hold my hand. The Boss’ ancient fingers almost touched the muzzle of the shark but it was not enough for grabbing it. The dark dots started dancing more distinctively in front of his eyes. He dropped his hand on the floor and a tiny shatter of the golden cup painted a scratch on his firm skin.

Don’t worry, my friend. I’ll find the way. You just stay there, ha? Flicking the blood drops from the hand, Boss was looking around. The crumpled curtain, the chair, wires, a trash bin… I cannot use it. I cannot… Wait a second. My walking stick. He glanced with the contempt at a bamboo walking stick that was leaned towards the wall.

Finally, you are useful. He greedily grabbed it and fished the shark out. The toy was completely brown but Boss strained it to his heart without hesitation.

Don’t worry. We will fix it. We can wash it out.

The coffee liquid was slowly dropping, imbruing his suit. But he didn’t stop hugging the shark. - Boss, … emm… are you coming or …! – the squeaked voice of the jellyfish lady filled the room again. – BOSS! – she cried and ran towards him.

The Boss’ watery red eyes focused on the approaching lady. The colour of her suit was mingled with red walls creating an illusion of the flying head with jiggling tentacles. Jellyfish is coming, ha? The Boss hid the shark into the inner pocket of his blazer. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the wall.

- Boss! What is going on? Why are you … emm… on the floor? – she squatted down and gripped his hand – is it blood? Are you hurt?

- No, I am not. Just help me to stand up - Yes, Boss! Let’s do it on the count of three! – she chunked her high heels away and stood in the firm position. -  One … emm… Two. Three! The Boss clung to her arm and with heavily panting tried to stand up. The red stripes from his grip appeared on the soft jellyfish' hand. She held her scream back and used all her strength to lift him up. The Boss stood up but the dizziness didn’t let him to stay straight.

- … emm, let’s sit, shall we? - Holding the Boss with both arms, the lady moved the chair with her bare foot closer to the Boss. He crumpled on it.

The lady straightened up and rubbed her back. - Oh Boss what happened to your… emm… hair? She carefully lifted the wig from the table but the Boss snatched it from her hands.

- Nothing. He put slovenly his wig on the head and hid bloody hands with the shark under the table. - I will be back in a second with … emm… the First Aid Kit? – she suggested timidly. Then she looked at her dirty feet and added- with a mop ok?

The Boss nodded.

She nodded back, grabbed her high heels and without putting them on, rushed into the hall.

We didn’t manage to see the real world but we still had our small adventure, ha?

The Boss carefully opened the pocket and looked in the shark’s coffee eyes.

Do you think we… The sudden sound of the knocked down door didn’t let him celebrate a small victory. The chandelier trembled with fear and clang from despair. Three silhouettes broke into the room. -       What is going on, Faaaather? -  the most giant figure of all three cried out. – we’ve been waiting for you for two hours! What are you doing here? Sleeping? The giant figure crashed on the sofa. He fidgeted there for some time but his long legs did not let him sit comfortably. He was the same size as his father and some features of his face proclaimed his kinship: his outright nose was trying to reach the thin downward-turned lips but the tiny forest prevents it.

 - Even if I was sleeping, Phanes, I can do it. It is my company and my time. And you are my employees. If it is necessary you wait for million hours. - The Boss closed eyes, trying to stop the dizziness. But the pulsating temples were too intrusive: BuM BuM BuM.

Another man who had a feminine face and a scrawny body was still standing in doors with folders in his small hands. He fixed his half-frame glasses and with a thin voice announced: - Ye- BuM, Boss BuM, ple BuM ase ac BuM cept o BuM ur dee BuM pest… - I do not hear you! –  the Boss barked and without opening eyes impatiently pointed on the armchair next to Phanes. - Come closer or turn your male voice on already!

- Yes, Boss, - the man in glasses did not come any closer but he raised his voice - please accept our deepest apologies for this barbaric invasion but we cannot wait any longer. As you are, we are businessmen.. –

- And businesswomen –the deep female voice ranged out behind his back. - And, as it was aptly noted by our colleague, businesswomen…

- Yeah, Thymbr. You are much like a businesswooooman. – howled the giant figure from the sofa.

The Boss quietly laughed and sweaty drops dripped on his interlaced fingers.

Red-faced Thymbr breathed out and continued:

- We were sitting in the conference room and doing nothing for two hours. The smile was washed away from the Boss’ face.

Have you heard it, my friend?

They wasted time again.

- You should have learned how to manage time effectively, Thymbr. A piece of paper and a pen are enough for spending two hours productively, don’t they?

- Bot Fother! Some of os cannot sit for so long! – the woman with a big belly stepped out of the Thymbr’s shadow. – we hove our needs. You could at least tell os that you were not coming. - Afi, if you cannot sit and wait, go home and do whatever you want  there. Stop doing business if you are not capable of doing it.

- You connot talk this woy with a pregnont woman! – she squeaked. The Boss took all his strength and stood up. -       And you cannot talk this way To. Your. Boss. The powerful wave of his voice pushed three of them away. Phanes stopped fidgeting and Thymbr turned from red to white. Afi closed her belly with two hands and backed toward the door. The Boss wrecked on the chair. He turned away from visitors and hid himself behind the chair’s back.

- All three of os connot do any business, you know it, fother. – Afi mumbled - Phanes is stupid and Thymbr is weird. Why om I worse?

- Woooow, woooow, sister! – Phanes jumped from the sofa and moved towards Afi – we are sooo different. There is no way you get the company. - You think so because I om a woman – she whispered and backed away.

But the giant figure of Phanes reached her in a second.

- No, Afi. It is not because you are a woman. It is because you are an illiterate prodigal. – Phanes leaned down to her stomach and continued with a fake caretaker voice  – Baby girl, you should know that your dear uncles graduated from universities, while your mommy got pregnant at school.

- Stop it! – Afi pushed him away.

But he grabbed her arms and continued: - You dear mommy didn’t get any education and skipped all professional trainings that were organised for her. She spent the fortune on the wedding and got divorced in a month.

- Stop it! – she pushed him stronger and started crying. Thymbr hurried to protect the sister and stood between Phanes and Afi. Phanes stepped away and said with his normal voice: - I do not care that you are a woman. I care that the person who cannot control her own life or money can easily destroy the company in a week! You don’t deserve it. - I beg you a pardon, Phanes but you behave in inappropriate way - Thymbr muttered. -       Oh really, Thymbr? Look here, Faaaather, two girls united against me. Girl power! – he wanted to flick Thymbr but the brother dodged it.

-       Father gave you four chances to prove yourselves. – Thymbr whispered -  Not three, Phanes. Four times. I’ve never had such opportunities. But you had. And you failed. How the company can be entrusted to the person, who cannot learn from his own mistakes? You don’t deserve this company either. Thymbr helped Afi to sit on the armchair, while Phanes was knocking the edge of the carpet with his shoe tip. -       You think your email-answering-machine-way-of-talk will help you to become the head of the Company? – Phanes demanded - No, it won’t. Father can hardly hear you. And it is not because he is old. It is because you are a softie. A softie without a kernel. No ideas, no actions. You are empty.

Thymbr clenched fists and moved towards Phanes but Afi grabbed his hand. He stepped back and pronounced: - With all due respect, brother, you are wrong. Let’s ask the Boss. – he glanced at the chair back - Father, we have to know in which hands the future of the company is. We are convinced that the changed we’ve implemented will prevent the company from the chaos. We… - Faaather, you are eighty years old! You cannot be the Head of the Company.– Phanes impatiently interrupted.

- Fother, you most think about the members of your fomily… Just tell os the noime of the heir – she placed her hands on the belly and mover towards the table - I om for exomple… My old friend

– The Boss carefully got the brown shark out of his pocket. – I cannot help them. They are going to die because they do not know how to swim.

-

But you, Luke, are a human being, too. -

the shark swam up to the right shoulder of the Boss. -  And you will die even though you know how to swim.

-

What will happen to the company?  – the Boss looked at the shark’s loopy tail -

Do you really want to know? -

Just curious. -

Afi will have it. -

Afi? I thought she doesn’t know anything about the company and she doesn’t care about it. -

She doesn’t. The shark leaned its head on the Boss’ cheek.

-

Did we have a good life, my friend? -

We had a perfect life, Luke-

the shark whispered and gently stroke Luke’s nose-

Do you remember what was before we met? -

Were we are not swimming together from the beginning? -

No. We weren’t.

Don’t you remember yourself as a kid? As a human kid? When you didn’t know anything about the sea

-

I don’t remember that.

-

Do you remember your parents? -

No.

-

Do you remember your first love? -

No… - the Boss wrinkled -

I do not remember her. Why do you ask about my past, my friend? -

Because you and I are ready to swim out to the deeper sea. I wondered what we should take with us. The curtain that was crumpled on the floor began crawling towards the chair and blue water from the paintings started flowing down. -

I have everything with me… Will you be with me when it happens, my friend? -

Of course, Luke, I’ll be with you. I am with you.

The curtains waves with a splash flooded the room. The miniatures of ships became bigger and knocked the walls and people out. The massive masts gored the ceiling and the golden chandelier with tinkling strove upward to the sky. -

open your eyes and breath!

– the voice of his friend rang out.

The Boss felt as cold water went through the gill passages. He opened his giant eyes and saw the monochromatic marine world. Rare sounds of gurgling reached his inner ear and he turned his massive muzzle to that direction. Some indistinguishable fish and a jellyfish that were swimming right in front of his jaw were swallowed by him immediately. The Boss looked down. The grey chairs, sofas, shelves and empty paintings disappeared in the abyss.

-

Thank you, my friend. Now I have peace.


This is so old, it's got mold. Here we were on the way to clean out the remains of a house trailer that had been stuck in the same location for over eighty years. It's buried like a grave site imbedded in the ground but there was still access to get inside to hopefully find the answers to the questions that have surfaced at family get-togethers over the years. It was an unforeseen moment in time when a hurricane lifted the house trailer only to neatly set it down about a hundred yards away. That was the craziest moment highlighted years ago in daily newspapers across the country. Where the family disappeared to was anyone's guess. They were never seen again. Long ago, the trailer was built in the Carolinas and moved to its permanent location by a team of horses and wagons. It was only a few weeks ago that we found out about their questionable lifestyle and livelihood. This family lived their lives as hucksters, where the selling of items through and around towns along the east coast by wagon became a huge money tree. A new area was needed to serve their purpose, so suitcases were packed up and they settled into a new house trailer. They picked a rural area that had many small towns near the Outer Banks region of North Carolina where they could peddle their wares; shoddy or otherwise to a new influx of the ones settling into this area towards the end of the Great Depression. Cash money was on the upswing. No one trusted the banks. You know what I mean? And now, here we found ourselves in the middle of a family dilemma yet to be made clear. We only knew that the property had seen better days and now it was time to sell. As the story unfolded, we were not aware if anyone inhabited this place back in '35 when an epic seasonal windstorm began brewing up the Atlantic Coast. Its wrath started to unfurl along the southern part of Florida's coast. Then it came screaming up through various coastal regions and turned into the most horrific monster of a category 5 storm remembered to this day as the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935. It was reported that more houses flew around, but there did not seem to be any bad witch that this particular house trailer landed on in the aftermath, oh well. It most certainly would have turned into a different version of the famous scene in the movie as it would be showing a hurricane instead of the tornado. It probably would not have turned into the epic film it still is to this day. You know what I mean? Before we came here on this interesting adventure, the black and white picture we saw of this place looked disturbed and creepy. Certainly not for the average person to unknowingly agree to take on this task. How we got railroaded into making this whole mess go happily in another direction was another story. Generations change and this family was only known to us through a few grainy photographs and some of the old, saved newspapers. Who and how we were related was still unclear. The three of us were tasked to go on this road trip destination and to figure out how to proceed with the next part of the plan. The property had been vacant for decades and declared abandoned years ago. Our Uncle who was on top of this situation had asked if we could assume the role of managing what was left of the property. We needed to make changes since more development was affecting the town. The train depot and rail lines were along one side of the property boundary for miles so who knew what that meant in the long run. He had more information kept in his file of the family and arranged to meet to let us in on the story behind the story. It was agreed to open, what we charmingly called, Pandora's box, at the town coffee depot in an hour. Before that happened, the three of us opted to stop by the house trailer and maybe get a sense of the mystery of this place and the surrounding property. You know what I mean? As sisters, we've had some pretty amazing road trips over the years. This one had to top the cake. We found the muddy, dirt road less travelled where the house trailer sat, and pulled over to scope out the surrounding area. With windows rolled down, we observed the sunken Albatross in the distance which was overgrown with vines and wildflowers. It had an interesting cluster, though, of metal still attached on the roof. So, freaking amazing! It was an object d'art piece made to be an actual weathervane. I called first 'dibs' on it since it was a family heirloom of sorts and did not care what the others found behind the doors at this place. They looked at me like I was crazy, but this was my winning prize when our job was over! Then the talk went on and on about the who, what, where of it all. Why us? Then we got out and snuck around looking in the windows. The place was filled, floor to ceiling, with boxes of stuff and random odd items like horses from a carousel. Was this a huckster hording nightmare gone through the roof? Time was up to get to our meeting, but the decision was made as we drove away, that the three of us would go back and get it done, whatever that meant. We would be smart, go in carefully with helmets, safety goggles, headlamp, coveralls, boots and a pickaxe, since there was no idea who or what remained behind the 'curtain'. You know what I mean?

We pulled over, parked next to the front door of the coffee depot and went inside to find our uncle sitting with the box. He greeted us as coffees were poured and each took a seat around the 'centerpiece of the hour'. Pandora's box had been found blown into a tree in '35 and kept in the town archives. The name on the box was finally connected to the family of the family who were notified of the property. He got right down to business informing us of the contents. "You are not going to like what you agreed to do." The look he gave us was not expected. He reached into the box to pull out only one piece of paper and a key. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." The key was to the house trailer. The rest of the words on the paper stated, "Whomever holds these words are hereby obliged to partake in the windfall of artifacts duly acquired yet fully submerged on the property." We were shocked to learn that we had a distant cousin who had joined up with the hucksters. It was none other than the famous bank robber, John Dillinger! How could we even think about selling the property not knowing if a boatload of money was squirreled behind the walls in the house trailer, under a mattress sunken to the floor with hundreds of boxes on top or randomly buried in a treasure chest somewhere in a field on the property. You know what I mean?


"That's the thing about this city".This is what my uncle told me when I first set my foot in Nairobi city. It was the first time that I visited the city.I had never been there and once schools closed for December holiday,my uncle took me with him to the city.I have heard so many things about out countries capital city but this time I was there and my uncle could not tire from explanations and descriptions of the city's people,buildings,roads and even the matatu culture. Matatu is Swahili name for a minivan used as a share taxi in Kenya and all the graffiti on it. When we alighted from a bus from the countryside, I remember it was just a few minutes to six o'clock in the evening. One thing that court my eyes was the Kenyatta International Conference Centre(KICC).The building has been a landmark for the Kenya's capital. "Uncle take me there.I want to go and touch it" I said clinging to my uncle's hand.But I could see many buildings that were even taller than KICC but this particular building fascinated me.And this is when my dream of becoming an architecture came in. "Son.Lets get home first then I will bring you tomorrow and see your city." We went to the Railway matatu terminus and took another vehicle which would take us to where my uncle stayed with his family in one of the city's suburbs.Honestly I would say I liked the minibus we boarded.The graffiti outside almost changed  my career I had chosen of becoming an architecture to a graffiti artist.Both inside and outside was awesome. Seated just next to  my uncle near the window ,I could see very clearly what was happening outside. "Uncle see that minibus is written Cardi B."I said.He didn't answer anything but just chuckled and taped my left shoulder. "See that one has Messi,CR7,Rooney and Drogba graffiti " "Don't worry kid. This is what we call Matatu culture."my uncle said."Or in other words Nairobians call it Mathree culture" I was confused. "Uncle what is mathree?' I asked.My uncle took a sighed and smiled.I saw a man sitting on the other side look where we were and smiled.I reciprocated not knowing whether he was smiling at me or someone else.But Iam sure he was smiling at me. "Son.Mathree is a name that comes from the word three."My uncle said displaying three fingures . "You know very well matatu comes from Swahili word tatu meaning three okey son."I knoded just to show we were together or rather following  what he was telling me. "Now mathree is a slang name for matatu."Uncle said.This left me with a lot of fanciful ideas about the matatu and started comparing them with matatu back in our village.Now I got story to tell my classmate once schools opened for first term in January. Now I will say it was not the matatu graffiti or the KICC that fascinated me.The language spoken by people from the city especially young people left me wondering what the hell had befallen my people. This matatu conductor came to my uncle and asked for ticket.When my uncle asked him how much for the two  ,he said 'rwabe tu'.I saw my uncle give the conductor 200 shillings and he left to the next passenger. 'Uncle.What is rwabe' .I have never seen my uncle laugh like that.Mostly I had seen him just chuckle or smile. "Do you know sheng?" Uncle asked."Sheng in English means slang .Slang is a word or language that is outside conventional use and I can tell you son Nairobians have taken the whole thing to another level and perfected it.This boys and girls even your cousins are experts in this."he said.I.looked at my very keenly and he again signed and tapped my shoulder. "Do Jimmy and Jenny speak sheng?"I asked. "Yes son."he said. "Uncle tell me more about that so that when I bet home my cousin's won't embarrass me. "Now son I would not want you to learn using that slang words  because they will never be on any exam paper okey "Uncle said."But you will have to learn some because this is Kanairo." I could see my uncle stop immediately after the word he said the word Kanairo and pretended to make a call on his cell phone.But he came to his sences when he realized that he had told me earlier that his phone battery had died.I laughed and reminded him that his phone was off due to battery lacking power. "Uncle what is Kanairo" I asked.This one I asked a bit louder and I could see some passengers look at me and smile.Others laughed. Others murmured to each other. "Kanairo is a slang word for Nairobi city." What the hell that such a beautiful  city would be referred to as Kanairo? I didn't expect that even my uncle knows. "Uncle do you know sheng and how many words are you familiar with?"I asked. Uncle Benny was a man who was born half  a century ago and I don't expect him to know such words. Maybe his children had taught him.Back home I had heard him use sheng words but not too often like I heard from some people in the city before I realised that they were overusing the language. "Yes son ." he said."They say when you go to Rome just do what the Romans do?He said. "Uncle tell me the sheng words you know" "Now kid.You I don't have to tell you all the slang words  I know.You will be here for one good month and you will get to know some of the words such as mbogi for meaning a group of rogue people and ndai for a vehicle and orezo meaning a president "my uncle said.My uncle looked at me and removed a lollipop  from the small luggage and gave me. "My son.This is Nairobi city and and you will get to know many things okey.You haven't seen anything to be surprised about.You will see how people behave,live and mingle with other people from other tribes and even race and I am sure you will love it."Uncle said. "Uncle tomorrow take me to KICC okey" "Yes son"uncle Benny said. Traffic jam along Langata road was heavy and vehicles moved slowly.But this provided me with an opportunity to see the city and learn one or two things. There was this rogue matatu tout who hanged dangerously on the matatu door while the vehicle was moving going  the opposite side where vehicles were moving a bit fast. My uncle did what he always did.Tap my shoulder. "Kid don't worry this is Kanairo" he said and smiled and gave me a packet of biscuits.


Find the best light and tilt your chin upwards. Look directly at the camera lens on your phone, then smile. But not a big smile - A smile that says I know you wish you were me. Most people find taking selfies awkward, but it was second nature to Cissy. It was her livelihood, and she was good – very good. Cissy was a social media influencer – a mega influencer - who had built up millions of followers on Instagram, TikTok and YouTube, and her followers were like a cult, blindly following every recommendation. Being an influencer was a very lucrative business and Cissy was ruthless. When she wanted something, she would network like a poverty-stricken beauty queen in a room full of rich, old men. Despite this killer instinct, Cissy looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Her figure was sleek and strong without being muscular, and every part of Cissy was primped and preened; from her platinum bob to her French polished toenails. Her image was her brand, and it was perfection. It was an average mega-influencer type of day. Cissy had posted her vlog for the morning; a GRWM 1 reel sponsored by a high-end fashion brand. The response had been amazing, and she knew the brand’s marketing department would be pleased. It also meant her asking price would go up. A win-win, and all thanks to her. Cissy was reading her DMs 2 after the post and noted the up-and-coming male model who had slid in. He knew some of the people she knew (of course he did - she knew everyone who was worth knowing) and wanted to ‘catch up and hang’. ‘Maybe next time, loser’, she thought, ‘if you have to chase me then I’m already bored.’ Ekko, Cissy’s old school friend and PA, bustled into Cissy’s bedroom. Ekko was like a creamy custard tart; round and messy on the outside but sweet and thoughtful on the inside. She had idolised Cissy since school, however Cissy had ulterior motives from the start. Cissy wasn’t popular at school but that was because teenaged girls were shallow and jealous. The only reason she was crowned Prom Queen was because Ekko was friends with everyone. Was it her fault that they were all so mediocre? Nevertheless, as loathe as she was to admit it, Cissy was completely reliant on Ekko, to do her dirty work. “Good morning, Cissy”, chimed Ekko in a sing song voice. “You’ve got that right”, said Cissy triumphantly, “I’ve got a few thousand new followers with that crap the brand sent over.” Cissy smirked to herself as she continued. “Make sure we get the views and the sales figures from this post. I want them to know what a difference I make.” “Sure”, chirped Ekko, “Okay, you have a few appointments today; the stylist wants to show you a few looks they’ve pulled for your appearance tonight and your trainer said he can add the extra Pilates session later this week, just like you asked.” Cissy inspected her nails. The chic French manicure with a slice of deep navy across the top would need a touch up soon. “Ohh” Ekko spluttered, “I almost forgot! So exciting! You know that new resort that opened in the Maldives? Well, they want to pay you to visit and post some content for them. Do you think you’ll have time? It would be so cool - I’ve always wanted to go there!” Cissy rolled over in her linen sheets towards Ekko and stared at her coolly. “Hmmm, is that really necessary? I’m not sure that your body is (Cissy used air quotes) Maldives-ready. It could take some prep work for you to be comfortable in a bikini. Honestly, I’m only thinking of you and want you to feel great, and I’m not sure you would.” Ekko slumped, her round shoulders swallowing up her neck. Ekko was so easy to manipulate that it was barely sport for Cissy. Cissy knew that comparisons would ensure she was always unquestionably, the most beautiful. But she also knew that she had to be cautious not to become less desirable by association. Cissy hoped that people saw the generosity she showed a poor little thing like Ekko, simply by allowing her to orbit in Cissy’s universe. “Oh, okay, well, you’re right of course, perhaps I don’t need to be there,” Ekko sulked, “but do you have someone who will sort things out for you at the resort? I’d be happy to try and arrange everything from here, but I just don’t think I could be on top of everything, being so far away.” Cissy paused, tilted her head and tucked her manicured hand under her chin, as if there was a shot being taken of her looking “pensive”. ‘I’ll have to remember this pose’, she thought, ‘it could be good for my post next week on self-affirmation’. “Oh look, I suppose you could come” Cissy sighed, “there’s too much for me to arrange, and I’ll be busy trying to make sure that resort looks as good as it can. God knows, they could do with my help.” Ekko squealed as she spun around and ran out the door. “I’ll get right onto it now”, Ekko shouted as she bustled down the hallway. Cissy leaned back on her pillows and sighed with a smirk on her face. Aquamarine blue water, glaringly brilliant sand and sparkling sunshine – this would be perfectly on brand for her. She would post content of herself lounging on a rope hammock at sunset, and long, slow shots of her oily lean limbs being massaged. All while her followers were shivering in their sodden winter clothes, hating their miserable lives and living vicariously through her. Yes, this was a great idea. When Cissy arrived at the resort, there were some “issues”. The food upset her digestive system, however her stomach became flatter and her thighs were slimmer, which was great for those bikini shots – lots of thigh gap and jutting hip bones. When she got slightly sunburnt, she simply used the photo filters and adjusted the saturation of her reddened skin to a deep olive glow. Cissy posted lots of ‘solo’ reels on the beach (with Ekko following her and filming), showing Cissy emerge from the water like a modern-day mermaid, glistening water running down her burnished back. The posts were an unbelievable success. Cissy’s followers increased exponentially, and her DMs were blowing up with pokes 3 from A list celebrities. She was pursued by major players in the lifestyle and beauty industries, with offers that made her manager scream and cheer down the phone from the other side of the world. Life was perfect. On the last day, during their morning catch up over breakfast, Cissy and Ekko went through the figures and planned the final shoot. Cissy’s floating tray of delicacies bobbed around the private pool as she poked slices of tropical fruit into her mouth. Ekko sat on a chair at the edge of the pool, slick with sweat from the heat. Ekko studiously scrolled through the messages on her phone. “Oo, Cissy – the resort manager has offered us a sail on the resort yacht, and I think this might be a great opportunity to show the reef around the island”, Ekko said excitedly. “God no, I’m not here for the environment” scowled Cissy. “Where’s the hotness? My followers are not worried about the stupid fish!” “Oh no” stuttered Ekko, “I mean it would be perfect to show some full-length shots of you swimming underwater in that neon bikini you have.” Cissy stretched her lithe limbs out and admired the way they glimmered through the dappled water. “I suppose you’re right” she sighed, “okay, well, let them know I’ll do it. But not too early – I need my beauty sleep.” The yacht glowed in the bright sun, stretched out along the bleached marina. As Cissy and Ekko boarded, Cissy imagined reels with long, smooth dives overboard into the turquoise waters (good for a full-body action shot) and of her swimming below the ocean with sea life (the water would make her thigh muscles ripple as she kicked). The journey to the reef seemed to stretch forever and the island faded behind them until it wasn’t even a sliver on the horizon. The crew unfurled the sails which puffed and billowed, capturing the strong breeze. Finally, the deep sapphire of the water lightened to a topaz blue, and the captain set anchor. The increasing gusts of wind unsettled the water, creating small caps of white foam on the edges of the waves. “This is it”, said the captain, “it’s the best spot for sea life. If we’re lucky you might even see some sharks.” Cissy swung around and glared at him. “Reef sharks, of course” the captain continued with a chuckle, “perfectly harmless and very well fed.” He winked at Cissy, but it didn’t appease her. Determined to create the content she needed, Cissy began to wrangle on the bright coloured goggles and snorkel and struggled to pull on her flippers. She snapped at Ekko to avoid headshots and keep the focus on her body. The boat kept leaning and yawning in the unpredictable waves. Ekko balanced on the rolling deck with her legs apart, focusing her phone on Cissy. Cissy leant over the side and looked below into the cool depths. To others, it looked like she was watching the fish below the surface, weaving around the keel. But Cissy was distracted by the perfection of her silhouette, reflected on the choppy water surface. The angle of the afternoon sun meant her shadow was taller and slimmer than in reality, and despite the churning waves muddying any definition of her shape, she knew she was ideally proportioned in real life. That’s why everyone wanted to be her - she was flawless in every way. Cissy pulled herself to the back of the yacht and held onto the metal rail as she steadied herself, ready to jump into the water below. Suddenly a wave lifted the bow and the yacht lurched. Cissy slipped and she clutched at the handrail, but her hands were greasy with sun lotion. Her grip slid recklessly along the length of the rail, finally wrenching open at the end and she fell headfirst into the sloppy sea. With a stomach-turning crack against the fibreglass keel, Cissy shattered her perfectly shaped skull. The hard smack of the impact was followed by a quiet, soft dullness. Cissy’s body sank lower and lower, into the depths. Her final thought was pathetically typical, as Cissy’s mind dissolved into the salty water around her. ‘Ekko had better be filming this – nothing gets more views than tragedy.’ A crimson cloud of blood slowly enveloped her as sharks hovered ominously, swimming in ever smaller circles. -The End - 1 GRWM is a ‘get ready with me’ reel on social media where influencers film themselves getting dressed or applying makeup in preparation to ‘go out’. Always staged and often sponsored. 2 DM: Abbreviation for ‘Direct Message’, private texts/messages between the person who uploaded the post and an approved follower. 3 Poke: A DM/message or a reaction to a post from a follower.


Author's Note: strong language warning. "There are ports in the universe. Places where your realm connects with other realms. Think of the universe as a long subway tunnel. Each port is like a subway exit. Celest's Cafe is just one of those ports." The barista nods her head, as if satisfied with her own explanation. She goes back to washing and drying coffee cups; She pulls them from under the counter, and Ghost can hear the cups clinking together, so she assumes there must be a dishpan under the counter. 'Ordinarily,' Ghost thinks, 'I'd say this bitch is on something, or she's fucking with me, maybe both. But I know this block well, and yesterday, this was an abandoned lot. A parking lot with more cracks than old lady Miller's face, and weeds taking over. So this morning, when I motored past and saw a fucking coffee shop, with people coming in and out, seeking their early dawn caffeine fix, I had to find out what was up with this place.' Ghost eyes the barista, who continues to ignore her, a slight smile on as she washes cups. The barista is tall, blond, and blue-eyed, ' she looks like she should be on a magazine cover instead of ruining her nails in that soapy water.' 'There's something off...I can't figure out what it is.' Ghost thinks. 'It's her eyes...They are such a dark blue they're nearly purple. It's more than that...her features are sorta...catlike. So much so, that I keep expecting to see a tail flickering up behind her'. Ghost thinks. The barista chuckles...then clears her throat. Ghost narrows her eyes at her, wondering what was funny. The woman is still busy with the coffee cups, her eyes on the water. Ghost takes a sip of the coffee and spins around on the leather bar stool to look around the coffee bar and at the other patrons. She pauses and rolls the coffee around on her tongue. It's strong and has just the right amount of sweetness. 'Which is odd,' Ghost thinks, 'because...' "Hey, I never ordered this!" Ghost says as she spins back around to face the Barista. There are frown lines between Ghost's eyes, her nose is wrinkled up, and her upper lip curls, like her features, are all scrunching together to meet in the middle of her face. This time, the Barista meets her gaze, smiling fully. 'Her teeth are perfect,' Ghost thinks. 'And...fucking long! What the hell?' Ghost wonders, but she shakes her head and tucks that information away in her brain for later. "I never ordered this..." Ghost stammers. "I've been doing this a long time, I'm good at reading people." 'Okay." So many questions crowd up into Ghost's mind, she's silent and overwhelmed, not knowing which one to ask first. Ghost takes another sip. Best coffee ever. "Are you Celeste?" 'What?' Ghost thinks. 'That's the most important question I should be asking here?! What is happening...' "Nope. I'm Iris. Celeste is my cousin. She doesn't come in often." "Often? How long has this place been around? Because it wasn't here yesterday." "I told you, it's a port." The barista...Iris...sighs like this should explain everything, and Ghost is a dummy. Ghost stares at her for the space of a couple of heartbeats. "Okay...but why..?" "Finish your coffee, Erika. You have an appointment." Ghost's eyes widen, and her jaw goes slack. "I..I didn't tell you my name...and what appointment?!" “I have another customer I need to talk to. It’ll make sense at the right time, don’t worry about it. Finish your coffee.” Iris rounds the counter, notepad out, and heads for a booth in the front corner, near the door. Ghost turns her head to watch her go over and talk to a tall, Italian-looking woman. The woman has a little girl with her, the girl is cute, blonde, and blue-eyed. She has Down syndrome, which gives her an aura of sweetness and innocence. The little girl's blue eyes meet Ghost’s blue eyes, and the little girl smiles. Ghost rarely smiles, but she can’t help smiling back at her. It’s a bittersweet moment for Ghost. She is reminded of another blue-eyed child, this one with black braids instead of blond ones. It was a lifetime ago. Ghost buries the memory as she turns back to finish her coffee. This place is unsettling, and it makes her remember things she would rather forget. The coffee is still hot. From the booth at the front corner of the café, Ze’Eva watches the blond barista approach. “Good morning. A hot chocolate for her,” Zee indicates the little girl. “A coffee in a to-go cup for me, thanks.” “Sure. I love your accent! It sounds Italian, I’m learning Italian, it’s a lovely language.” “Thank you.” Zee doesn’t look at her as she says this, she is looking around the café, studying each patron in turn before turning her sharp emerald gaze to the next. She doesn’t linger on any of them, except for the one at the counter up front. The person has their back to the door, wearing a black sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled up. The sweatshirt is bulky, and the person is wearing black sweatpants, also bulky and shapeless, effectively hiding any clues if this is a male or a female. “Magen, stay here a moment, please.” Zee watches the barista make her coffee first and set it on the counter with a Z written on it, and then the barista starts making Magen’s hot chocolate. Zee gets up in that instant and skirts the tables with a speed and surety that makes a few of the other customers look up startled. She ignores their curious gazes, and deliberately bumps the counter next to the person in black, making it look like she tripped, she slaps the counter loudly. On cue, the person jumps and whips their head in her direction. ‘Oh. A teenager.’ Zee thinks, the thrill of the fight response fades, disappointing Zee. “Sorry I startled you, kid.” Zee purses her lips as she goes to the other side of the young woman and grabs her coffee. Something is poking into the back of her mind, like an irritating mosquito.

‘Something about the girl’s face,’ Zee ponders it. She looks at her out of the corner of her eye. The girl is drinking her coffee again, her profile turned toward Zee. Her skin is perfect. Too perfect. Zee quickly sticks out a finger and before the girl can react, Zee swipes her finger down the side of the young woman’s face. Makeup comes off on Zee’s finger. She rubs it between her thumb and forefinger, frowning. ‘Thick,’ Zee thinks. “Grease paint?” Zee says out loud, without intending to speak. ***************************** Author's note: here's a hint to what's going on...look up Iris in Greek mythology. Also, Ghost is the main character in the book I'm writing. Zee is the main character in another book I wrote.


Maddie couldn’t imagine. For everything to be fate would be fine. For God to have created everything for a purpose would work. Even an epic battle between heaven and hell would have meaning. But randomness. That all could change because one stopped for a yellow light rather than rushing through before the light turned red. Unthinkable. Those were Maddie’s last thoughts as she tried to sleep. Δ In the morning Maddie woke before the sun as she always did on runway days. Good to get to the set and walk about in the quiet before her people started arriving. For a perfect show something always had to be fixed last minute. No matter the chaos, she never forgot she lived her dream. Maddie always wanted to work in fashion but, not being pretty enough to model, had to work in the background. For years she accepted every jig in hopes it would push her further up the road where she now lived. After showering and breakfast, Maddie filled her favorite mug with coffee and smiled at the deer print. The landscape mug had been chosen from a mix at her favorite artist’s gallery. With it she went out to her front porch to watch the sunrise and scroll through Facebook. She liked using her downtime to scroll for notices and reviews. Passing through lots of nonsense, she paused at a photo of the New York journalist, Annelies Frank. She’d died. The article was her obituary. Working for Annelies was Maddie’s first set experience and at the end of this week’s success, Maddie was to be interviewed. As it was 6:11 she had another ten minutes before her driver arrived and so tapped the article. Annelies had been ninety-four and great grandmother of seven. There was a photo of her hugging a laughing boy. Δ But this wasn’t true. Maddie no more ran fashion runways than there was a famous New York reporter named Annelies. Tossing in her sleep, Maddie tried to wake but the dream turned and she was clicking on the link. Nearly a hundred years had passed since Annelies was born in 1929. Too many years for Maddie to imagine what that world was like. Among recent reviews, Maddie saw Lady Gaga and Katy Perry, but bypassed those looking for a different interview from 2002. That was Maddie’s first meeting with Annelies and her first time working in any sort of limelight. The 2002 interview stood out in bold yellow type. Tapping that link, brought Maddie to a studio. It was like waking in a memory. Or remembering. Maddie had been so nervous the first time she worked in entertainment. It didn’t matter that journalism was not fashion. She was jittery and more than once had to force herself to slow down and take a breath rather than rush under the lights and cameras. That day, determined to succeed, she learned to turn fear into excitement. She had walked through a door above which a neon sign flashed May 1, 2002. Inside the wide room cameras were being adjusted to focus on the comfortable chairs at the table in the room’s center. Among people doing checks Maddie had seen Annelies’s signature dark head and couldn’t help staring. A woman’s touch on her arm had pulled her from her awe. “Can you check the coffee.” She had pointed to the kitchen. Realizing she was there to serve, Maddie had hurried to find the coffee. Around her the bustling energy of noise and lights enveloped as she had hustled to arrange coffee in cups. She let the feeling sink into her skin so that she felt the shift before the hush fell and lights had gone on. At the back with everyone else, Maddie had been mesmerized as Annelies walked to the table.  She had such presence, even if not famous, eyes would have been drawn to her. Looking at the camera, Annelies had said into the microphone. “As everyone knows last September our government prevented an attack on the World Trade Center. Tonight, I’ve invited two leaders from the civil rights movement to share their insights on these events. Please welcome the man best known for non-violence and peaceful protesting, Mister Martin Luther King.” A senior black man came out to greet her. After they shook hands, she had introduced, “And another leader known for more aggressive talk.” A taller senior man came out. “Mr. Malcolm X.” After they had shaken hands and sat about the table, Annelies smiled from her guests to the camera. “Thank you both for agreeing to this meeting. I must say, Mr. X, that you were the harder person to introduce. You’ve certainly gone through some transformations.” “The world has gone through some transformations,” he had answered with a chuckle. “I know what you mean,” Annelies had agreed. “It seems strange that race used to be such an issue.” It was fascinating to hear the men, in their seventies, discuss their long lives. Maddie’s heart ached when Malcolm X had answered that he’d been certain they were going to be killed back in the sixties. Annelies had begun the interview asking, “Do you think there can be a peaceful solution to the middle eastern conflict that seems to be spilling over into this country?” “Its definitely possible,” Malcolm X had answered. “Let me tell you if we’ve been able to find a peaceful solution for the problems in this country, anything is possible. I still remember being sure, both Martin and I, would be killed in the sixties, but look at us now. I’ll be seventy-seven at the end of this month. My wife and I have been married forty-four years. Back then I never thought I’d live this long.” “And back then you didn’t always agree on how peace could be achieved,” Annelies had asked. “We were always on the same side. The same team or family. Our differences were only ever in opinions not in real value.” “As it is with lots of problems, people likely have more in common if they stopped to look. I think focusing on how we are similar all part of one human creation we would be lots better off than looking for what divides us.” “Always better to choose peace over fear.” They laughed before Annelies nodded and had added, “And what exactly is racism? I mean its divisions in the human races, but how exactly are we suppose to be divided?” “In America, especially in the south, people were divided in categories of black and white,” Mr. King had answered. “But when I was growing up in German, jews were considered a whole separate and inferior race,” Annelies had answered. She was born the same year as Martin Luther King and had grown up Jewish in Germany when people were afraid on the Nazi seizing power. Such a relief none of that happened. Δ The scene faded, and as Maddie realized she was dreaming her alarm went off.  She had to get up before the sun, not to coordinate a runway shoot but to serve breakfasts at a diner. After showering and breakfast, Maddie sat with her coffee and scrolled through Facebook nonsense until passing a child’s familiar photo. Anne Frank’s full name was Annelies Marie Frank. Jewish girl born in Germany in 1929. Killed by Nazi in 1945. Had wanted to be journalist.


Tom can’t count the days of darkness. He’s been sitting in the middle of that room for what seems like an eternity. He cannot differentiate day and night. He can only feel the temperature change. He thinks it’s nighttime when his feet, tied to both legs of the chair, ache with the touch of the freezing floor and daytime when sweat drips from every pore of his body. There are no windows for light and air to pass through. He’s surprised he’s still breathing, taking in the stench of mold, sweat, and piss. He’s been in and out of sleep, he can’t even figure our dreams versus reality anymore. Sometimes he’d wake up from light vibrations from above. By that, he thinks he’s underground and the light rumble’s probably from a heavy vehicle. But he can’t be sure. After food-deprived days or weeks maybe, he couldn’t think properly. His mind is in spirals. Drought is taking over his throat. Death is on its way. He hears footsteps. Three or four persons, maybe more. He tried to guess. Keys rattle and the door opens. A sliver of light seeps in. Somebody enters the room and turns on the blinding lights. The plain white walls randomly stained by molds, shoe prints, and blood, peeling yet bright under the reflection of what seems a hundred bulbs over Tom add to the suffering of his eyes. Heavy footsteps head towards him and stop right in front. A strong hand grips his jaw. Tom opens his eyes and squints. He isn’t sure if it’s the light that blinds him or starvation. A blurred vision of a man slowly becomes clear, well built, huge neck, and wide-body in camo uniform and fatigue boots. Must be at least, three hundred pounds. ‘Just tell us where he is Tom, and you’re free.’ His big body matches his deep husky voice. He lets go of Tom’s jaw and slowly paces back and forth in front of him. ‘Come on boy. Just tell us where this little El Presidente of yours is and you walk outta here a free man. You and your little girlfriend. That’s a promise if you play along.’ He sounds like a gentle teacher trying to get his preschool student to draw an apple. Tom’s almost blind eyes open as wide as it possibly can. ‘Don’t touch her,’ his faint voice is not louder than the rodents at night. ‘Bring her in!’ This time, the muscle guy isn't gentle anymore. Tom hears a thud on the floor. ‘We vowed, Tom. We’d rather die.’ Luisa’s face is almost on the floor. Her wrists bleed from handcuffs. Her left eyelid, puffy. Dark purple circles cover most of her face. Death is also, on her way. ‘Shut up!’ Muscle guy in camo lifts her face and hits it with his right hand, so strong Luisa’s head could almost separate from her body. Tom utters a very weak, ‘no.’ Muscle guy comes back to Tom. ‘Whatdya say boy?’ He grins. ‘Let her go, please,’ Tom whispers. ‘Then bloody tell me where that El Presidente of yours is.’ Tom suddenly gets a heavy blow on his left cheek. Blood drips on his face. From where he couldn’t exactly tell. He isn't sure if he just lost a few teeth or got his jaw dislocated. But one isn't better than the other. ‘Say something, Tom. Don’t let me lose my patience. You tell me where he is and both of you,’ he looks at Tom and then Luisa and then back to Tom again, ‘walk outta here free.’ ‘Don’t tell him, Tom. You tell him and he’d still kill us. We cannot betray the organization. We made a pact. ’ Luisa looks like she’d already gone to hell and back. ‘Take her out!’ Two men in camo, smaller than muscle guy, quickly drag Luisa out clutching her arms as if she’s just some kind of luggage. ‘Don’t tell him, Tom. I’d rather die! We’d rather die! That’s our pact! Tom looks at her as they drag her out. He listens to her screams that later on turn into faint muffled wails. ‘Look here boy. You should have been at school. But you and your stupid little organization brought you here. You think you can fight the government with that?’ Tom glares at him. ‘I’ll give you one more day boy. Think about it. Or you and your cute little girlfriend will die.’ Muscle guy turned off the light and locked the room. Tom laughs at the idea of locking the room. There’s really no need for he couldn’t even move his finger an inch. His wrist bleeds from being handcuffed. His arms are tightly bound to the chair. His eyes adjust to darkness again and listen as the heavy footsteps disappear. He laughs. He laughs until his empty stomach hurts. Until his eyes squeeze out what little liquid is left in his body. He thinks about how he ended up in that dark dungeon. He was just a freshman at the university when he met Fred. He gave his speeches in front of their office organization near the university gate. He carried a megaphone and spoke about the struggles of the poor, capitalism, and democracy. His charisma was alluring, Tom wasn’t able to resist. He was blinded by Fred’s idealism. Luisa got blinded too. Tom brought Luisa into the organization and she became more hardcore than him. They, later on, dropped out of university and joined Fred full time. They themselves started recruiting innocent-eyed freshmen. Tom thinks about his father who died while working in a factory. The company did a cover-up. The hospital closed its eyes and ears. No suitcases were filed. A meager payment for his father’s life was offered by the company’s lawyer, in which, they had no way to refuse as his younger self and his mother didn’t know what to do. This reminds him of all the principles he fought for and why is he in that dark room. Tom thinks about his mother who by now must have been dealing with the mountains of debt she accumulated by sending him to university. He laughs. What a grateful son! This is how he repays her. She must have all her hair gray now, trying to get by with her life, old and alone. Tom thinks about Luisa, her bruised face, and the life they envisioned together before they both joined the organization. They could have finished their degrees now, working for capitalists, earning some money to pay their debts, living a seemingly normal life. They could have been married too. Who knows? By sitting in the dark, handcuffed, and tied to a chair, he will probably never find out. Tom thinks about Fred in his safe house. Probably sleeping comfortably in his securely guarded abode. Recruiting more and more freshmen into his idealistic organization and sending them to the front line whenever trouble arises. Tom, Luisa, and every member took an oath to protect Fred, their El Presidente, and the organization to create a better future for the next generation. They made a pact. There’s only loyalty or death. He’s wondering now why life wasn’t given as an option. And then life is all he could think about. He wants to live. He wants Luisa to live. He wants a life with her and his mom. He wakes up to the rattling of keys. Muscle guy comes in and turns on the blinding lights. Tom hears a thud and a weak, dying wail from Luisa. ‘Time’s up boy. Speak or die.’ 'No, Tom. No!' Luisa's hoarse voice is almost non-existent. "We'd rather die than be branded as traitors.' Tom gently opens his eyes and tries to adjust to the brightness. He looks at three guns pointed at Luisa and thinks of life. Traitors aren’t born traitors. They are raised by adversity.


1919 words Rated PG; gun violence, blood I roll my pen back and forth along my desk to stop the annoying buzz of silence in my office. The shimmering crystals inside it jostle. They were taken from the first star ever created. You can get them in bulk at the gift shop downstairs.

It takes away the mystique, doesn’t it? You can just pop down two floors, grab one of these babies, and now you own part of a star. Humans would go crazy for just a glimpse at it. Not that they can touch it. Their fingers would explode. “ 729*8 , your new patient is ready.” Chirps the intercom voice. Finally. I was worried I was going to be here all day. “Alright, send them in.” Above me, a clear tube lowers into the chair in front of me. I have seen this many times. It doesn't get any more exciting. With a series of clicks and a whir, a person falls down it. The tube rises again into the ceiling. This person has brown hair with grey eyebrows, and a floral print dress. Their pale skin almost shines in the light of my desk lamp. It makes for an unsettling look. Not as unsettling as the look on their face, though. They scream at the sight of me. I wave a hand to silence them, as their file appears in front of me. I pick it up. Mager Elthod Czefth Pronouns: He/Him Age of death: 41 Date and time of death: Monday, February 6, at 13:45 Mode of death: COVID-19 Transition method: ethereal protocol #854 “Why hello, Mr.Czefth.” I take away the silencing wish with a flick of my wrist. For a flitting moment, Mager’s features are not scared, but confused. “How did you pronounce my name right?” “Well, I read it, and sounded it out.” Mager nods, understanding my thought process. “Sure. So, I’m dead, right?” “Very much so.” He stares at the room he’s in. The silver walls have pictures of all my patients on them. I have over a hundred, so one side is completely filled with smiling faces. Which reminds me. “Hey, smile.” Mager turns to me.

“What?” “Just smile.” Mager does, revealing his small teeth. I hold out the fingers of my human form, and take a mental image. “There we go.” On the wall, another frame pops out. Mager’s mouth drops as his nervous face hangs up. “So, I’m guessing this is heaven.” “You could say that.” I cross out the take picture part of the patient to do list with my not-so-special pen. “So, who are you?” “That is a difficult question, Mager. I am here to adjust you to your new afterlife. Think of me as a supernatural therapist.” Mager still doesn’t seem to understand. “Basically I help you get used to being dead. Got it?” “Yeah, sorta.” I sigh and cross off explanation .

“I have an hour of your time before my next meeting. While I could ask the boss to slow down time for you, their a jerk, so I’d rather not?” “Meaning?” Mager’s not finished saying the word before I’m at the door, extending my hand.

“Let’s go. You have a lot to learn.” [] Outside, it’s raining. I put an umbrella over our heads. This leads to a pattering sound. I hate pattering sounds. Mager squints to see anything with the water falling on our heads. “Why is it raining in heaven?” I gesture for him to follow me as we walk to town square. “Perfect weather gets boring. This community has asked to have rain be a part of regular weather patterns.” A car appears in front of us. I snap my pudgy fingers, and we’re inside. The hood is rolled down, for maximum view. Mager isn’t as surprised at teleportation as I’d thought he’d be. “You have awesome powers.” I unintentionally smile at his compliment.

“Yes, I do.” We pass the homes of people with curtains open, playing board games or eating together. They’re all laughing or smiling as they converse with their friends and family. Mager watches.

“You don’t see much of that anymore on earth.” I am tempted to comfort him, because I fell genuine sadness in his voice, but that’s ethereal protocol #4562, and that is not the one I am doing. “Yes, it’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” As we leave the community, the sun turns on again. All the homes are made of bubbles, of all different tints and sizes. The road has changed from pavement to bricks. Fountains spurt up on both sides of us, rising and falling in a synchronized dance. “Wow, look at this place.” Mager marvels at the living quarters. “I would not want to live here.” “Don’t worry, you aren’t.” I assure him, even though I have no idea. We pass people walking down the street, with bags of clothes and ice cream in their hands. They all shout at and greet Mager. “Hi!” “Welcome to the afterlife!” “How are you doing?” Mager waves.  “I’m a little scared.” Everyone laughs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over it!” Mager is warming up to them. Perfect. Up ahead, past the community, is a stand. A lone person is standing behind it, grinning. The sign above them says Escort. I stop in front of it. I walk out, and Mager falls in step beside me. “What is this?” he asks. “The rest of your ride.” I high-five with the person controlling the escort. “Hey, 274*3, what’s up?” 274*3 laughs. “Oh, not much. Just the worst paperwork you could imagine. Did you know tenants now have to sign satisfaction papers?” I drop my jaw. “You’re kidding.” 274*3 shakes their head. “Oh, I wish. Forget about finishing in 12.4563 minutes.” I push Mager closer to them. He is a bit tense.

“Mager, promise to give them full marks. They’re the best in the business.” Mager looks up and down at 274*3.

“I don’t see why not.” 274*3 clicks their human tongue at Mager. “Sweet, now, come on, let’s get you home.” After a quick elbowing from me, Mager goes after 274*3. He looks back at me. “When will I see you again?” “Whenever you like.” I shrug. “So, what about tomorrow?” That’s unusual. But a tenant is always right.

“Yeah, that works. You’ll be dropped off tomorrow at my building.” I smirk as he walks away. His transition is easier than expected. Tomorrow, he will be tortured. Tomorrow, he will be closer to perfection. [] Mager is at my doorstep very early. I’ve barely had time to clean my mouth bones. He is wearing a brown skirt and a matching brown tie. His shirt is a colour I don’t recognize. “You’re really eager.” I comment as we walk to the front desk. “I’m just excited to be transitioned.” he responds. At the front desk, 352*0 is working. Organizing patient files and sending them up. A boring but necessary task. Their person fingers and nails click and clack on the human keyboard without even looking at it. That's always what I found most impressive about humans. And now that there are ethereals learning the skill, I've come to appreciate the work that people put into things. “Hey, ethereal protocol #854.” I say when 352*0 asks why we’re here. “Please present wrist for inspection.”

253*0 takes a a small rectangle from a drawer and holds it out, waiting for us to obey their monotone request. It’s bright blue, with the label written on the front in curly glyphs. Protocol scanner . The bottom of it is projecting red light, waiting for something to authorize. “Mager, that’s you.” I nudge him. “Oh.” He rolls up his sleeve, revealing his bare arm. 253*0 runs the scanner over it. The scanner beeps, and they check a message on their computer.

“Alright, please enter the door to my left.” A magenta door appears on the wall next to her. It swings open. “Come on, let’s go.”

I take Mager’s hand, and we start to descend the steps on the other side of it. The further we go, the more we’re basked in yellow lights. The air also gets worse. Mager coughs at one point from all the thick, green gas floating around our heads. The stairwell keeps winding downwards. “Where are we going?” Mager inquires after a bat flies next to us. “Hell, basically.” “Hell?” Mager yells. “How is that adjusting me to the afterlife?” “You’ll see.” I want to tell him, for some reason, but it’s against protocol. Once we’re so deep I think Mager will pass out, we finally come to the next door. It will lead us straight to the part of hell necessary for Mager’s curriculum. Mager flinches as I turn the knob, and huddles behind me. I should push him away, but strangely don’t feel any automatic urge to, so I leave him be. The room is white. No walls, ceilings, or doors. Just an endless expanse of light. No people, either. Mager’s fingers, which were digging into my clothes, start to relax on their hold. Maybe it won’t be so bad. If only I could warn him. I don’t have to, because the first livestream appears. “Hello, and welcome to the bottom, where we will be showing you some of the souls to help you adjust to your afterlife.” Says an employee I don’t recognize. They wave at the camera to come closer. Every patient with this program is watching right now, wondering what’s about to happen. “Here, we have Addie Dills. She is charged with murder. She has killed over 20 people as a shooter, employed by many notable convicts.” The woman, Addie, is in her 50s. She is lying on the ground. Dirt is rubbed on her face and wiry hair. Her eyes are glassy, staring off into a nonexistent distance. Blood is dripping from her mouth and nose. She is curled up in a little ball, to make her self as small as possible.

Mager gasps incredulously. “Who would do this?” “Kill all those people? I know-” Mager cuts me off. “No, I mean who would do this to Addie? She looks terrible.” “It’s a punishment for her crimes.” I say quickly, but I don’t really believe it today, for whatever reason. “Next, let’s look at Kenneth Arkaner. He was mentally ill, causing the death of 32 students in his shootings sprees.” I can’t decipher Kenneth’s age. He’s standing in rags, his eyes wet. An employee is ten feet from him, holding a machine gun. When the machine gun goes off, all the bullets hit Kenneth. He groans and collapses on the ground. Red marks bloom all over his torn clothes. Mager lets out a sob. I turn. Behind me, my patient has fallen to his knees.

“Why not rehabilitate them?” He asks as tears roll down his cheeks. “Why do this?” I have no answer for him. I am supposed to stand tall, no matter how the patient reacts, but I can’t. I crouch down, and pull him close to me. He’s shaking now, as the employee moves on to the next prisoner. He buries his face in my shirt. “Why?” He gulps. I am not sure what to say. It’s only a whisper at the back of my mind. A rising anger in my throat I’ve never felt before confuses me. I’m even more bewildered as I spit out a sacred word, treating it like it’s no better than the garbage in earth’s oceans. “Protocol.”


The Mentor Off-key crooning… “The green leaves of summer are starting to fall, and those…’’ “Enough with all the melancholy end-of-summer stuff, Sawyer!” “How about something a little more upbeat like a little ‘Summer Nights’ from Grease, Jesse?” “Oh my God, no. If I hear about Sandy and Danny one more time I’m going to toss my cookies. You need to move on. Summer’s over. We had a good run, but school starts tomorrow.” “Yeah, I know, but I sure am going to miss those lazy, laid-back days of summer, sleepin’ in, sittin’ on the porch sipping my lemonade and checking out all the cars that go by, video games, watching Paw Patrol until my eyes hurt, trips to the park …” “Snap out of it, Sawyer, life isn’t all fun and games. It’s high time you got a little serious about your future.” “To be honest, I’m scared about my first day of school tomorrow. I don’t think I want to go. Maybe I’ll just stay home.”  “Don’t be ridiculous, Sawyer. You can’t stay home. And there’s nothing to be scared about. Sit down, I’ll tell you everything you need to know about how to be a good student.” Huck strolled into the room. The kid is so cool he makes the Fonz look like Napoleon Dynamite. “What’s up, bros?” “Sawyer’s got his undies in a bundle over school starting tomorrow, Huck.” “School starts tomorrow? Huh, I didn’t know that.” “Gees, Huck, how could you possibly not know school starts tomorrow?” “School, shmool, who cares? The Huckster’s got more on his mind than getting packed into a classroom like a bunch of sardines listening to some boring teachers try to teach us a bunch of crap.” “Watch your language, Huck!” “Crap, crap, crap, crap. Sawyer, relax. School’s no big deal. Just don’t let your goodie-two-shoes brother Jesse get in your head about it. You listen to him, and you’re going to hate school.” “You’re going to like school, Sawyer, but you have to take it seriously. Learning new things is exciting, fun, and rewarding. Knowledge and hard work are the keys to a successful life.” “You listen to Jesse, and you’re going to have a permanent seat at the nerd table at lunch. Lighten up on the kid, Jesse. Sawyer, all work and no play and you’ll turn into a super-geek like Jesse.” First days of school can be worrisome for a kid. First first days of school can be downright scary. Sawyer was making the big move, from kindergarten to first grade, real school. Jesse, having polished off his first two years in a breeze and now entering third grade, would be there for his little brother. Huck would also be there to…well, that was the problem. Huck would be there. Having miraculously made it through grades one through four without one documented minute of study, Huck was not likely going to be a good influence on his youngest brother as he embarked on his academic journey. But Jesse ranked high on the responsibility scale, too high for an eight-year-old kid, and he wanted Sawyer to get off on the right foot. “You got your pencil box packed?” “I think so, Jesse.” “Think so doesn’t cut it in the first grade. You’re not in kindergarten anymore, Sawyer. Let’s go through the list.” “ Six #2 pencils?” “Check.” “Ruler?” “Check” “Glue stick?” “Check.” “Remote control fart machine?” “Shut up, Huck. That’s not funny.” “Funny? Are you kidding me? That’s the funniest thing in the world. Sawyer, you make it sound like Miss Finn is rippin’ off a few thunder-busters, and you’ll be the most popular kid in the class.” “Stop it, Huck! Sawyer, don’t listen to him. He’s just going to get you in trouble. Fiskars kid scissors?” “Check.” And so it went, Jesse the force of good, and Huck, the force of not-so-good, exerting competing influences over their little brother. “Jesse, is Miss Finn a good teacher?” “She’s great, Sawyer. She’s very patient, explains everything really well, and cares about her students. You’re going to love her.” “B.S. She’s a witch, Sawyer. You can’t chew gum in class, she wants you to pay attention all the time, no throwing things, and she won’t let you go to the bathroom all day long. And I heard she killed a kid once.” “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Huck, Miss Finn never killed anyone.” “It’s what I heard. Just watch yourself, Sawyer.” “Is first grade hard, Jesse?” “Not if you stay focused and work hard. It’s pretty tough stuff, Sawyer, letters, words, numbers. If you pay attention in class and do your homework on time, you’ll be fine. Focus is the key. You’ve got to stay focused.” “Yeah, and here’s what you focus on, Sawyer- lunch, recess, and three o’clock. That’s when school lets out.” “Huck, don’t tell him that…” “Get in the lunch line early. Here’s where their stupid rules will work to your advantage. There’s no running in the hallways, but you do it anyway. That puts you at the front of the line every day. That way your hot lunch will actually be hot. And always look for some stupid, nerdy kid who might be willing to swap his dessert for your fruit or vegetable. It’s hard to believe, but they’re out there.” “Sawyer, you cannot run in the hallway! That’s a very important rule. Principal Carson is quite strict about that.” “Sawyer, I do it all the time. You don’t have to worry about Clueless Carson. His head’s up his butt most of the time anyway.” “Keep it up, Huck, and I’m telling Mom.” “Oh, that’s a surprise.” “Sawyer, Principal Carson does not have his head, well you know, what Huck said.” “Are you kidding me? You’d think after finding a fake puke on his desk five days in a row he’d catch on. Sawyer, the guy ran out of his office every time. Once he even barfed himself.” “That’s so disrespectful, Huck. He’s a very nice, smart man.” “Smart? One day I put a ‘School Closed’ sign at the entrance. When he saw it, Sawyer, he turned around and went home. Ha, ha, ha.” “He did not go home. You just told everyone he did.” “Well, he thought about it.” “How would you know if he thought about it?!” “And how about all the fire alarms I set off? The whole school knew I did it, and he never caught on.” “Stop it, Huck. Sawyer, if you listen to Huck you’ll spend a lot of time in detention.” “That’s where you want to be, Sawyer- detention. You don’t have to do a thing there. You just sit. And that’s where you’ll find all the cool kids. Hell, you and I can be in there together.” “That’s sounds pretty cool.” “Sawyer! No, you do not want to be in detention. Stop it, Huck!” “I’m just trying to help the kid out.” “ And, Sawyer, you want to look good for school. How you dress sets the tone for the day.” “No one cares what you look like Sawyer. Just try not to smell. In fact, it helps if you look a little rough, torn dirty jeans, your shirt hanging out, hair a mess. It boosts your cool-factor, gives you some street cred. Now, back to what matters. Recess. Stay away from the nerd games like 4-Square, Red Rover, Kick-ball, and Simon Says. And stay off the playground equipment. The cool kids are never caught on the swings or merry-go-round.”

“Don’t listen to him, Sawyer. The playground equipment is fun. You’ll love the climbing ladders and the big slide.” “They’re death traps, Sawyer. I heard half the stuff was paid for by the school nurse and some bone doctor in town to keep their business up. You can shoot some hoops or toss a football around, but what you really want to do is play marbles or dice for money. Just make damn sure you get good at marbles before you play, and most of the kids won’t know the rules for dice so they’ll be easy pickins. You can make some pretty good dough at recess if you play your cards right. Oh yeah, and cards, Texas Holdem so you can get a lot of hands in.” “Will you teach me dice and Texas Holdem, Huck.?” “Of course, Sawyer. That’s what brothers do.” “Huck! Don’t teach him that stuff! Sawyer, that’s not what you want to learn or what you want to do. You go to school to learn, not to gamble, pull foolish pranks, or get in trouble.” “Sawyer, look how much stuff you know already, and you’ve never been to school! Life is short, enjoy yourself. Do you think they would have invented the remote control fart machine if they didn’t want someone to use it? You gotta have a sense of humor, Sawyer. You listen to your nerd-bag brother Jesse and someday you’ll be putting starch in your underpants.” “I don’t put starch in my underpants!… I do ask Mom to iron them though.” “Oh, my God. I can’t believe we’re related. Ok, little buddy, let’s move on. Three o’clock. Once your school day starts, that’s the only thing that matters, the moment you walk out of the joint.” “Eight to three, that’s a long day, Huck.” “You bet your sweet bippy it is, Sawyer. That’s why you need to be able to entertain yourself while all the teaching crap is going on.” ‘Huck! The language…oh, never mind.” “Game Boy was always my go-to device. Then I got busted, and now they watch for that stuff. Same with the little radios and the earbuds. The best you can do now is a comic book slipped inside one of their humongous textbooks. And of course, you can always doodle.” Sawyer was taking notes. “Comic book and doodle…” “Sawyer! Don’t write that stuff down. You don’t want to remember anything he’s telling you.” “And there’s always the sweet element of distraction. My buddy’s brother is in college, and he calls it ‘defensive booking’. Rather than study yourself, you keep the other guy from studying to lower the curve. It’s brilliant, and you can have a lot of fun doing it. There’s all kinds of things you can do.” “Lower the curve, that sounds interesting, Huck.” Jesse couldn’t stand it. He put his hands to his forehead. “Oh, my God.” “Like what kind of things, Huck?” “Spitballs, funny faces, fart sounds, whatever strikes your fancy. It’s a good chance to show a little creativity. They should give grades for it, but the tyrants that run the place don’t understand.” “Sawyer, as Principal Carson always tells us, ‘Your business here is learning.’ Your future starts now. Education will be the foundation of your life. You fall behind, and the Chinese will eat your lunch.” “Huck, you didn’t say anything about Chinese people in the lunch room.” “Sawyer, Sawyer, Sawyer, you’ve got so much to learn. That’s why you’re lucky to have big bro Huck to take you under his wing.” “Big bro Huck is going to get you in a lot of trouble, Sawyer. You need to listen to big-bro Jesse. You’re at a crossroads of your life, Sawyer. You can either try to make something of yourself, accomplish great things, and live a meaningful life, or idle away your time like a goofball clown…like your brother Huck.”

The meeting of the brothers was interrupted as Mom and Dad entered the room. “Well, Sawyer, have the boys been filling you in on what first grade will be like?” “Yes, Mom.” Dad understood the forces at work. He could imagine the good and bad angels perched on Sawyer's shoulders. “Let’s hope you take your cue from Jesse and not from Huck. “Yes, for sure, Dad. Jesse really helped me a lot. The main thing is I will need to focus. It’s important to pay attention, follow the rules, and do my homework on time. I understand my business there will be learning. Oh, and I always want to look sharp.” Jesse smiled proudly; a devilish grin from Huck. --------- As the three boys and their Mother stood at the end of their driveway waiting for the school bus, Sawyer gave Huck a questioning look. Huck leaned toward Sawyer, smiled, gave him a quick wink, and whispered. “Don’t worry. It’s all good, Sawyer. I snuck the remote control fart machine into your backpack.” “Thanks, Huck. I think I’m going to like school.”