The walls were gray. Not a dark, ominous gray. Not a cheerful gray. Just gray. I walk around the mostly empty area, the sun beating down on me. I feel good, I feel wanderlust. I've been here a hundred times. He's always here. I just have to be patient.            As I continue to walk around the courtyard, those gray stone walls seemed comforting. A nice way to end my day. The grass was always a muted green and the air was always fresh, warm. There were two stone benches that faced each other in the middle. Beyond that, there was more grass and some trees against the building in the back. I kicked off my sandals and laid down on my back in the grass. The greenery tickling and scratching my bare legs and arms. The clouds were beautiful. I could make out the shape of a house and see an airplane flying by.            I close my eyes and soak up the sun.            I feel someone lay down next to me. It's him. I turn on my side to face him and he turns his head to me. We smile at each other. We do not talk. We never talk. But we're always here.            His skin is a warm beige, his eyes hazel, and his hair is short and nearly black. He was in his blue and white striped tank top and black cargo shorts. I was wearing my favorite burgundy off the shoulder sundress. We were always in the same clothes.            In the distance I hear a familiar tone, the last thing I saw was his full lips dropping into a frown as I faded away. I was startled awake by the alarm on my iPhone going off. “Hard to Love,” by Lee Brice playing. The song was supposed to wake me up peacefully, but every time I have that dream, I am always so calm that waking up is a fright.            I used to question it. Why was I having this recurring dream? Where was it coming from? Who was he? They say you cannot dream of a person’s face unless you know them; that your brain can't create a face. Mine apparently can. I have never seen him before. He didn't go to school with me, I checked my final high school yearbook months ago. I've never seen him in a grocery store or at University. And most important to me, why can't we talk? I've tried to say “hi” before, but nothing came out. Oddly, enough like most dreams, or nightmares rather, when that happens you would freak out. It didn't freak me out though. The whole thing is just serene. Dreamy.            The first time I had the dream I didn’t think anything of it. Just a dream. The second time I was thinking “huh, weird.” The third time it was starting to get a little creepy, but not because I felt so peaceful when I was there. I started to look forward to it. Over the last few months, I was always excited to go to sleep. I’m not sure if it’s the courtyard or him that makes it so serene, but I always wanted more. College was stressful and it was a beautiful escape.            I rolled out of bed and shuffled to my bathroom to brush my teeth. As I place the toothpaste on my electric toothbrush I think about how exciting this summer is going to be. My best friend, Maria, has an Aunt Kathy who has a beach house in Miami. We’re going to stay there for the summer. Nothing but my best friend, clubs, alcohol, partying, the sand, the ocean, all of it. It’s going to be a blast.            A while later I finished throwing the last of my essentials in my suitcase just as Maria was pulling up in an uber, “Sophia!” she yelled from the window of the car as she pulled up.            “Hey! Come help me!”            “Let’s goooooooo!” she exclaims as she helps me grab my bags. She immediately starts chatting excitedly about how amazing this summer is going to be, and I respond animatedly. Upon arriving in Florida after a short “two movies long” flight we make it to the beach house. Maria claims the master suite and I take another bedroom with its own bathroom upstairs. Maria tells me she’s going to take a nap, so she’ll be ready to take on the night.            It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and I just wasn’t tired surprisingly, I decided to take a walk around instead. She won’t mind, she’s been here tons of times.            I decide to change out of my comfy leggings and hoodie and put on my sandals and a sundress before heading out.            I walked down the strip, there were a few resorts that were close, so this area was pretty busy, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed the hot, muggy air and took in my surroundings as I waltzed down the strip. I grabbed an iced coffee from a coffee cart I passed and as I was sipping the last of it I was coming up to a gray stone wall. It felt . . . familiar. No. It can’t be.

I quickened my pace as I rounded the corner at the end, and there it was. A courtyard. No. The courtyard. It was all here. The gray walls, the muted green grass, the trees on the far end, the benches facing one another in the middle. The entire thing. This was my courtyard. From my dream.

I tossed my empty cup into a trash bin on the curb and slowly stepped into the courtyard. No one was here. Which made the whole thing even more daunting. I’ve been here a hundred times in my head, but I have never seen this place in person. I’ve never even been to Florida until today. Now, I’m in a touristy area, full of bustling people, and not a single soul is in the courtyard. That I came up. In my head.            Then it hit me. If this is real . . . then he’s real! I looked frantically around, but still, there was no one here. Maybe I need to lay in the grass. I carefully moved to the spot in the grass that I always lay, kicked off my sandals, and lay down.            This is crazy. This can’t be real. I sat up. “I should go back to the beach house,” I say aloud, “but what if. . .” I drop my head to my knees and curl up in a ball. I have to stay Right? I mean my head somehow knew this very courtyard existed, how can he not be real. What if my dream was some kind of premonition?            I lay back down and gaze at the sky. I just have to be patient. He’s always here. “Where are you?” Maria says over the phone.            “I’m, uh,” I say moving to sit up and check the time. Six o’clock. Shit. “I’m sorry I went for a walk and I, uh. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes; you can start getting ready!”            I hang up the phone and look around. He’s still not here. He has to be here. I stand and shove my feet back into my sandals and take one last sad look around. Maybe I can come back tomorrow.            I half jogged back to the beach house, when I got there, I was more than a little out of breath. “Maria!”            Maria emerges from the master suite in a towel, her black hair wet and sticking to her neck.            “It’s real.” I gasp. I was much more in shock than I realized now that I was out of that dreamy state.            “What’s real?” she asked walking to the kitchen. “Margarita?”            “Yes, please. But, the courtyard! That one from my dream!”            “What are you talking about?” she says while measuring out ingredients and pouring them into the blender.            “The courtyard with that guy, my dream?” I look at her wide-eyed manifesting her knowledge of the situation. She must have answers, she must.            “That’s impossible. I told you already, you must have seen him in passing somewhere and I’m sure most courtyards look the same.” She turned on the blender and flipped her hair to the other side, a technique she has always done for volume when air drying.            “No, you don’t understand,” I yell over the sound of ice crushing. “It’s the same one. Same. Exact. One. Everything is exactly the same.            “Girl, chill out,” she says looking concerned. “I’m sure it’s just very similar.” She hands me a margarita, complete with the little umbrella. Maria is always so extra. “Now, go get your makeup and meet me in my bathroom to get ready!” I decided it was best to just drop it. An hour later we were ready to hit the clubs and dance the night away. After ordering our first drinks and making our way to the dance floor, we already had two guys come up to us and ask us to dance, respectively. We danced and danced, but my mind just was not in it. I tried to enjoy myself, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the courtyard. I thought I was doing a good job, especially because two drinks in and Maria was drunk enough to not pay me much attention, but hours later I blew my cover.            “Want to invite them back for a bonfire on the beach?” Maria yelled over the music, into my ear. We found one of those tall tables to stand at as the four of us took a break from the dance floor and had another drink.            “I’m kinda tired,” I yelled back. “I think I just want to go home and go to sleep.”            “You’re not tired,” she scolded. “You’re still thinking about that courtyard aren’t you?” She threw her arm over my shoulder and I wasn’t sure if it was just to yell at me more or for stability as she realized how intoxicated she was. It ended up being the former as she added, “Let it go, Sophia! We’re here to have fun! You go to bed if you want, but I’m telling them to come over.” The next morning, I woke up with a fright to my head throbbing and the house quiet. I had the dream again. I sobered up pretty quickly when we got home around midnight and retired to bed, but Maria, Dylan, and Finn stayed up much later to have that bonfire without me. As I lay there, I contemplate how much it may piss Maria off if I leave again, and against my better judgment, I throw on leggings and a cropped t-shirt and walk out the door. Stopping at the coffee cart on the way, I maneuvered my way through the crowds and made it to the courtyard, which was empty again. This time I decided to sit on one of the benches and enjoy my iced coffee and the sun beaming on my face. After a long while, I moved to lay in the grass, wishing I brought a book or something. Around two in the afternoon, I got a call from Maria who sounded like she had just woken up. “Sophia,” she said over the phone in a chastising tone. “Do not tell me you went back to that courtyard.” “Okay, I won’t tell you,” I replied quietly. We got into a small argument much to my dismay. I knew she would be upset, but I didn’t realize she would be this upset. She went on and on about how it was our second day here and we’re supposed to be having fun, and how I left her early last night and then left this morning. On and on she went. I started crying. Not because she was yelling at me. I started crying because she was right, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I felt so compelled to stay. To wait for him. He has to be here. The next month went like this: I woke up early to go to the courtyard, getting smarter and bringing a book with me. Maria stayed out late without me and slept in late. We barely spoke. She was so mad at me. I understood why; we were supposed to have this amazing summer but I just couldn’t let go of this “calling” I had.            We only spoke small awkward small talk when we passed one another in the house. She had people over most evenings, then they would all go out. I stayed in my room when I was home most of the time because I was so sad that Maria was that mad at me.            Until one day, something happened.            I started my day as I did every day. I woke up early, showered, got dressed, and headed out to the courtyard, stopping at the coffee cart on the way. When I got to the courtyard, there was someone there. Laying in the grass. My heart stopped.            I stepped in slowly and quietly and basically tiptoed my way over. It was a man. He had beige skin. And . . . oh my god. No way.            “Oh my god!” I gasped when I was close enough to see his face.            He startled and jumped up, “oh my god!”            “It’s you!” we said in unison.            “But how?” I struggled for words and trailed off. I knew it, I knew, and yet, I was so afraid.”            “I’ve been dreaming of this place, and you for months now. I’m on vacation and I just stumbled in here this morning . . . I had to wait . . . I had to . . .”            “I know,” I interjected softly. “I’ve been coming here every day for a month waiting for you. I ruined my relationship with my best friend.” I told him the whole story. How pissed Maria was at me.            He told me the dreams started a few months ago, he lives in New York, only a few hours away from me, he’s on vacation with his parents and left early to take a walk this morning.            “I didn’t even ask your name,” I said. “I’m Sophia.”            “I’m Ryan,” he replied with a smile, holding out his hand for me to take. That felt too formal, a handshake. So, I grabbed it and pulled him in for a hug. It felt right, natural.            I gasped and pulled away.            “What, what’s wrong?” He exclaimed.            “I have to take you to Maria!”


“Cassie??! Where are you??! Cassie! Seriously, come on out! This isn’t funny anymore!”

She trudged along on the newly fallen leaves, looking for any sign of her sister. Her dog, Maxine, close at her heels,

“Go find Cassie, Max! Please!” the dog ran on ahead in the direction of the woods. “No, no. Anywhere but there …. Why, Cassie? You know better…”

Jenny marched forward, begrudgingly, as if on her death march. The clouds, too, as if sharing her mood, shifted colors before her very eyes, coming together in harsh, dark, ominous grey hues overhead.

As she approached the tree-line, an eerie silence befell her. The wind had stopped. All bugs and birds alike had already headed out for the winter, leaving nothing but a quiet emptiness in their absence.

Maxine’s hair stood up on her hackles, as her upper lip curled into a menacing snarl. “I know Max,” she whispered comfortingly, “you did good girl! No need to go any further.”

She patted the dog on the top of it’s head hoping to comfort it, but the dog never relaxed, and neither did she.

“Cass! Max found you already! We know you are in there! Please come on out now!”

A swift rustle was heard behind one of the tall pine trees, before breaking way to Cass’s voice—

“Oh c’mon, I wasn’t even deep into the woods! I’m only right here on the outskirts of the trees. No reason for everyone to panic,” she said jokingly.

Jenny looked back at her sister reproachfully, staring into a face that was identical to her own. Even though they were technically identical twins, their personalities could not be more different.

“You know we aren’t supposed to go anywhere near the woods, Cass…”

“Oh really? And why is that Jenn? Aren’t you the least bit curious? Haven’t you ever wondered why all these rules are in place? We’re young, our hearts were made for exploring and having fun!”

“The rules are meant to keep us safe. I’m sure there’s all manner of snakes and spiders and other poisonous plants in there. Even Max doesn’t like going in” she said, one hand still petting the pup’s head, although now she was unsure of whether or not she was actually trying to comfort the dog, or rather, herself at this point.

“So you really think it’s off limits because of bugs and flora? I swear Jenn you can be so naïve sometimes, so gullible… so easily fenced in…”

“Stop trying to scare me with conspiracy theories, Cass.”

“I’m not trying to do anything. And they’re not theories. They’re highly plausible realities. They’re hiding something in the woods, Jenn. Something more than arachnids.”

“Well, I’m sure whatever’s hidden, is hidden for a reason Cass, so let’s just get back to the house okay? Before the storm hits at least…” Jenn said, as thunder aptly rumbled a low foreboding sound in the distance.

“What are you so afraid of anyway? It’s just trees.”

“You literally just told me some ‘other mystery’ lies beyond them though, and now you’re trying to convince me it’s just your everyday average forest?”

“Well that’s just it, Jenn. We won’t ever know if it’s average or magical, unless we take that leap of faith will we?”

“More like a leap of insanity Cass, and magical isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe the vibe I get from this place…”

“Well I am not content to just wait around for forever. Now’s a good a time as any, so you can stand there and wait for me, or you can join me.”

“Please tell me you’re not serious, Cass.”

Cassie took two steps back into the overgrown brush, and called out to Max to follow her. The dog let out a throaty growl.

“Fine,” Cass said sourly, “you two scaredy-cats can keep each other company, for all I care!” and she disappeared into the shadow of the thickets.

“Cass! I’m not playing with you anymore! Stop being ridiculous and come back to the house!” Jenn yelled after her sister.

Only silence answered her.

This is just like Cass…. For once though, just for once, why couldn’t she listen to me? Jenn sat down on the cold ground, close to the dog, “looks like we might be here for a little longer, Max, might as well get comfortable” if such a thing was possible, in such a place.

To be honest, Jenn didn’t really know why the woods were off limits. She had heard stories of missing children, and dead dogs but, the dogs were all thought to have died at the hands of natural woodland things like snakes or cougars. The missing children, well, I mean, who hasn’t thought of running away from home at one point or another and just pitching a tent at the end of the world? Whatever the real reason was though, Jenn herself just didn’t like the feeling of being lost, and in the middle of a forest so expanse, that possibility was all too plausible for her liking.

She looked up at the trees; at least 80 foot tall, and still growing. She suddenly felt smaller than she’d ever felt before. The trees seemed to bend and lean at strange angles, giving the sensation that they were almost craning their necks to look at her. The thought sent a shiver up her spine.

And that’s when she heard it. The blood-curdling scream. Max immediately jumped to her feet and started barking out of control,

“Cass!” Jen yelled, “was that you? Are you alright??!”

A deadly silence followed.

“Cass! I need you to say something! Do you need help?!”

No birds chirping. No bugs fluttering their wings. No sound of her sister returned.

Jenn took a deep breath, “I swear, if this is some kind of silly prank, you will pay for this Cass!” she said, as she took her first steps into the forest. Her heart racing as the light of day disappeared behind her. It was dark in the woods. Too dark, like night had already descended. With every step that she took, branches grabbed at her arms, thorns lodged themselves into her hands, and a layer of mud made her every step feel heavier.

“I don’t even know which direction she went in” Jenn said, tired already, and clearly frustrated. “Cass! I’m coming for you, but I need to know where you are!”

Jenn could hear Max barking in the distance, but the dog seemed a thousand miles away already, and Jenn had never felt more alone. It was a strange sensation for her, because from the very moment she even came into this world, she had technically, always had another person right beside her. She recalled learning her first words with Cass, and riding bikes in the park with her sister, and chasing after the ice-cream truck, why couldn’t they just have done something like that today? How was she even supposed to find her? Twin-telepathy? Hah, as if, that’s only an option in science fiction.

The trees seemed to buckle even tighter, mocking her in her efforts. They twisted in grotesque ways, and seemed to stretch on endlessly into nothing but darkness.

Except, in the distance, Jenn saw a small flicker of light.

“Cass! Cass is that you?” she called, not even expecting an answer at this point.

“Jenn! I’m over here! Come quick! Help me! I’m stuck!” Oh thank you, thank you! Jenn thought, Cass was here and had apparently just gotten stuck in something, maybe this ever-thickening mud, or an animal trap of some kind; this would all be over soon.

“Hang on Cass, I’m coming for you!” Jenn yelled as she raced toward the flicker of light.

As she got closer, the flicker turned into a more stable, and much larger, image of silver. The silver was reflecting the last bit of light through the trees, but appeared to be almost illuminated by some inexplicable internal light source itself.

As she got closer still, she noticed that the silver formed into a very specific shape. A large, six foot, standing oval mirror.

What was a mirror doing all the way out here? She wondered.

As she approached closer, she saw that there was no dust or dirt or anything on the mirror, it looked like it had been pristine clean, and there were ornate designs all around the edges depicting things that looked either like vines or archaic writing.

“Jenn! Help me!” She heard Cassie’s voice… coming from… the mirror?

Jenn looked into the reflection. For a moment, she thought she was seeing her own. The same brown hair. Those same brown eyes. Until her reflection spoke.

“Jenn! I’m stuck!”

It took Jenn a moment to process what Cassie was saying…. How was it even possible…

“In there?” Jenn asked… “you’re.. you’re stuck… in there?”

“Yes” Cass snapped, “what does it look like??! I’m sorry, I know I messed up, can you please help me out and I promise I’ll always listen to what you say from now on!”

“But… how?” Jenn asked, “How did you get stuck in there Cass??”

“I don’t know Jenn! One second I was walking around the forest, like you, and the next I was looking at the forest from the other side of this mirror! Does it matter? I just want out!”

“Can you just? Walk back through?” Jenn asked.

“Yea, sure, like I haven’t already tried that” Cass said rolling her eyes, before walking to the edge of the mirror and placing her hand on it. “It won’t go through” Cass said.

Jenn held her hand up to Cassie’s, and watched the mirror ripple like it was made of water,

“Cass! Something’s happening on my side! It’s… it’s moving! What do I do??”

“Can you try to pull me out?” she asked, “grab my wrist!”

“What if I get stuck too though?” Jenn stammered, “can I just go back and get help?”

“And leave me here all alone?!” Cass whimpered, “and how would you even find your way back to the mirror, Jenn! You won’t be able to find me again! Please just grab my wrist and pull me toward you! It won’t hurt! We have to try something!”

“I’m just… a little weirded out..” Jenn said quietly, pulling back her hand from the mirror with a wince like she had touched a hot stove “what if it’s some kind of curse or something? You literally don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into… and I don’t want to be a part of it… and I don’t know how to get you out of it…”

“You’re weirded out?!” Cass scoffed, “I’m the one trapped in a mirror for crying out loud! I know it doesn’t make sense, but I need you to help me! There’s nothing rippling or moving on my side, so you have to do it from your side!”

Jenn took a deep breath and looked at the face in the mirror, all the fear rising up to her throat, because for once, Cassie didn’t even look like the brave one, she looked terrified.

Jenn put her palm back to the surface of the mirror, the ripples swam from underneath her fingers. She applied pressure, and was shocked to see that her fingers went through the barrier easily like it was made of water and not glass. She wrapped her fingers around Cassie’s wrist, and was just about to yank them both back hard, when, instead, Cassie grabbed Jenn’s hand with her other arm and pulled. Jenn fell on top of the floor, next to Cassie, with a harsh thud,

“What the hell did you do that for??!” Jenn yelled, “Now we are both trapped in here!”

Cassie stood over Jenny, looking down with a cold stare,

“No, my dear, only you are” and with that, Cassie placed one foot, then one leg out of the mirror, and stepped effortlessly into the other side.

Her head still ringing from the fall, Jenn struggled to stand on unsteady legs. She ran to the mirror’s edge and placed both hands on it, pushing with all her might, but this time the pressure didn’t give, and the mirror wasn’t water, but solid glass. She banged on the edge between worlds with both fists, until her fingers turned purple with bruises. She screamed at her sister on the other side, bargained, pleaded,

“Cassie! Please! Whatever kind of sick joke you think this is, it’s not funny! Please help me out of here! I want to go home! Now!”

Tears started to fall down Jenn’s face, as she watched her sister shake her head “no” and turn her back toward her before walking off.

She thought she could hear a dog barking somewhere in the distance, but over the sound of her own desperate screaming she wasn’t sure.

She sat down at the table, smelling fresh-baked rolls hot from the oven, green beans steaming next to the ham.

“Can you pass the butter please, mom?” she asked.

“Sure thing, honey” Sandra said as she handed her daughter the tray, “and what all did you do today on your thanksgiving break from school? Hopefully enjoying the holiday?”

“Oh yes, very much so” she replied, “me and Max played all day, but it feels good to finally be home.”

“Yes, well I’m just glad you both made it in before the rain hit” her father said from across the table, “now let us say grace: Dear Lord, we thank You for this day You have made and this meal we have prepared. We pray that it nourishes our bodies, and gives us the strength to keep us safe from evil. We thank you for our family, for Max, Sandra, myself, and our dearly beloved daughter Jenn.”

She smiled.

Max growled from underneath the table. A low, defiant rumbling.

“Amen” they all said in unison.

The sound of forks scraping the plate and chewing ensued.

“Hey mom?” she asked,

“Yes Jenn?” Sandra replied,

“I was just wondering… if you and dad had given any more thought to ya know, maybe adding any more siblings to the family table?”

Sandra laughed, “Oh honey, you know that you have always been, and will always be an only child right??! But surely Max counts as family by now, too huh Jenny?! So cut your poor old mother some slack!”

She smiled. It was going to take some time getting used to that name—Jenny. But what’s in a name? They can be changed as easily as the leaves change colors.

Max started to bark. Louder and louder. Persistent. Aiming them all at the intruder before him.

“Silly girl, I don’t know what’s gotten into her today!” Sandra said, “Max! Stop! Shoo, that’s Jenn, shoo! You can’t have her food!”

The barking didn’t stop.

“Can you please put that dog out, Sandra!” Gerald said exasperated, “I’m trying to enjoy my meal!”

Sandra grabbed the dog by the collar, and let Maxine spend the rest of the night howling in the rain.


The wind-swept farmland outside of the village of Colkirk was uncharacteristically quiet as Ahlran walked down the worn dirt path leading into the forest. Basket in hand, Ahlran stooped and looked over his shoulder back towards the village. He pulled the thin cloth hood from his head in the hope that maybe doing so would allow him to hear the familiar sounds of life from Colkirk. Quiet wasn’t the right word. Besides the sound of the wind cutting through the long stalks of grain, the fruit of another successful agricultural season, there was nothing. Utter and total silence. Even the birds, usually plentiful and noisy with their enthusiastic melodies, were nowhere to be seen. Ahlran’s young apprentice would undoubtedly see this as an omen. In the past Ahlran would quickly dismiss such superstitions, but now he wasn’t quite so confident. He was glad he came out here alone. As Ahlran’s eyes passed over the fertile plains of golden-brown grain, the small stream passing through and irrigating the crops, and over the old, but sturdy stone wall encircling Colkirk and the thatched roofs of its homes, he was struck with an acute and sudden sense of dread. Throughout his time in the village, Ahlran had come to know and love it for its liveliness. The harsh contrast of its current silence sent an uncanny chill up his spine. Ahlran turned back towards the forest and noticed that the trees had just begun to bud, the assurance that Spring was indeed here. For the first time in his life, the sight of nature’s cyclical resurrection did not fill him with joy and excitement. Undeniably, time was now running out. He let out a deep sigh, steeled himself with what resolve he could muster, and proceeded down the path, into the dense and comparatively lively forest. There was much to be done.            The sun was just beginning to set as Ahlran passed through the wooden gate and entered the village. He had barely cleared the raised gate before it came crashing down behind him. He looked up behind him towards the rampart and the guard who had disengaged the locked crank and released the gate. Their eyes met just for a moment, but Ahlran saw the exhausted anger in the young man’s eyes. “Good haul?” Ahlran turned towards the voice. It was Gormal, captain of the guard here in Colkirk. Though Ahlran now regarded the enormous man as a friend, he had to admit he was still frightened of him. What Colkirk lacked in numbers it more than made up for in its quality of guards ready, even eager, to defend it. Ahlran swallowed, caught off guard by the six-and-a-half-foot giant in front of him with his piercing blue eyes and unflinchingly tight grip on his axe. “We’ll have to see if it was a good haul, but I’m optimistic.” Ahlran knew this was a lie and was convinced Gormal knew it. Gormal looked down at the basket in Ahlran’s hands, brimming with all kinds of herbs, roots, flowers, vials of numerous liquids, bones, and even a few small dead animals. Gormal looked back at Ahlran. “Let’s hope that it is.” Ahlran nodded quickly and began to walk past him. He felt Gormal’s massive hand come down on his shoulder. It was not enough to hurt him – Ahlran suspected Gormal could crush his shoulder with a mere squeeze, should Gormal feel he should –but it wasn’t a gentle touch either. Ahlran turned back towards his friend. Gormal took a deep breath. “Getting you and Erune your-,” He searched for a polite word, “-subjects is becoming difficult. I believe that you are doing the right thing, but there are many here who do not share my sentiment.” Ahlran could swear Gormal’s blue eyes were pleading to him. A few of the other guards near the gate had stopped what they were doing and were now looking at the two of them. Gormal’s grip on Ahlran’s shoulder tightened.  “Do you understand?” Gormal asked calmly but firmly. Ahlran placed his own hand on top of Gormal’s. “Better than anyone, my friend,” he said. Gormal, apparently satisfied with this, nodded, and let out an affirmative grunt. He released Ahlran who quickly headed towards his home on the other side of the village. The streets were aglow in the nearing twilight and nearly deserted. This had become the norm for the past few months. As Ahlran walked down the stone path he couldn’t help but notice the looks he was getting from the small number of people who hadn’t confined themselves to the perceived safety of their homes. The owner of the local tavern was chopping wood outside his property and smiled as Ahlran passed. Much like Ahlran’s smiles these days though, it was out on more as an act of hopeful defiance, rather than genuine contentment. Further down the path, a young man and his even younger brother were staring at Ahlran with neither friendliness nor malice. Knowing that they had recently been orphaned, Ahlran felt he owed them an apology, though it wasn’t his fault. None of this had been his fault, nor the fault of anyone here.  Ahlran hurried on. The path began to slope downwards now as he would have to pass by the village tomb. The ancient stone building was never very inviting, but these days it was simply dreadful to even look at. As Ahlran passed, he could see two men carrying a corpse adorned with all the ceremonial flowers and oils, pristinely wrapped in the funerary cloth in which it would remain bound and entombed amongst their ancestors for all time. A woman was holding her face in her hands and crying near the entrance to the tomb. She looked up at Ahlran as slowed down to look at her. She said nothing, but the fiery hatred that burned in her eyes left little for Ahlran to have to interpret. He hastened past the tomb. He could the voices of several people nearby, as well as one much louder voice nearly drowning out the others. As he finally made the turn on the path that would allow his home to be in view, his heart sank. A small crowd had gathered outside of his small and unassuming cottage. He recognized the source of the singular dominating voice immediately. It was Tearlach, one the village’s religious authorities and an outspoken critic of Ahlran and Erune’s profession. “This is what these heretics do to help?! As our flock lay dead and dying in the streets?!” They meddle in the forbidden arts with recklessness and utter disregard for our faith!” His voice thundered as his ornate robes, expertly tailored with intricate patterns, billowed in the wind behind him. Ahlran might have admired it if Tearlach hadn’t called for his death at every opportunity. Tearlach continued, his bald head visibly sweating.  “Let us not forget, we saw the first of us fall to this affliction not long before these sorcerers, these conjurers of evil, came to our village. Do not be fooled, brothers and sisters, they are not here to help you. They are here to satisfy their own sick and twisted curiosities!” Though the crowd was only made up of about ten people, they were hanging onto every venom-laced word. The occasional cheer of approval could be heard throughout his hatred-soaked sermon. At this point, Ahlran felt more exhausted and annoyed than angry. All he wanted was to get back to his work with Erune. No one, not even Tearlach, could question his loyalties if they were successful. He resolved to simply push through the crowd without a word and close the door behind him. He knew there was no getting through to a mob when it was riled like this. However, something made him stop as he got closer. Erune was so small he hadn’t noticed her before now. Tearlach had her by the arm, despite her violent thrashing as she tried desperately to break free from his grip. It was clear that Tearlach had no intention of letting go. Ahlran’s apprehension vanished as he pushed into the crowd and headed straight for Tearlach. An unsettling smile formed on his face as he saw Ahlran approaching him. “Speak of the devil,” he hissed. “Good people! It would seem the man in question has… –,“ Ahlran cut him off as he punched him squarely in the diaphragm. Tearlach was taken completely by surprise. Doubling over, he immediately released his grip on Erune, Ahlran considered himself to be a man of peace. Violence went directly against everything he stood for. But on his front steps, in full view of everyone, he couldn’t help but take a little satisfaction in shutting Tearlach up, if only for a few precious moments. Ahlran helped Erune to her feet as Tearlach coughed and gasped for breath. “Are you alright?” Ahlran asked her.  “I’m fine,” she said. Then after a short pause, “Thanks.” Apparently just as shocked as Tearlach, the crowd did nothing, as they had never seen Ahlran do anything like that before. Ahlran and Erune turned to go inside the cottage as Tearlach, still on the ground, grabbed Erune’s ankle. “You all saw!” he bellowed. “THIS is what we can expect from the likes of these two outsiders. THIS is the kind of animal we’re dealing–…” Tearlach was interrupted again, not by a strike from Ahlran, but from Erune spitting in his face. Tearlach let out a furious yell, as a commanding voice from behind the crowd roared, “That’s enough!” Everyone turned to see Gormal with a handful of armed guards at his side, his famous axe in hand. “Captain!” Tearlach yelled, hurrying away from Ahlran and Erune. “You saw what they did, did you not?!” he cried incredulously. “I did.” Gormal answered calmly. With all eyes on him, Tearlach stammered, “S-so what are you going to do about it?” Now only a few feet from him, Gormal turned his gaze toward Tearlach with a sigh. Tearlach was large, but still no comparison to Gormal’s hulking figure. “Absolutely nothing.” Gormal said emotionlessly. “I’m going to do nothing, and you and this crowd will disperse and leave those two alone. Simple as that.” Tearlach stared at him in disbelief. Staring directing into his eyes, Gormal continued, “But make no mistake, if I see this happening again, I will do something, and you’re really not going to like what that something is. Do we have an understanding, priest?” Tearlach’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He prepared to say something but thought better of it. He shot a hateful glance towards Ahlran and Erune, dusted off his robes, and headed back towards the church. “As for the rest of you,” Gormal said, redirecting his attention towards the crowd, “I understand the frustration we are all feeling during these times. But you all know Ahlran and Erune are doing their best to help us.” The crowd shuffled uncomfortably. Gormal went on, “I don’t need to remind all of you that these two are under the protection of the Chief. I will not hesitate to enforce his decree.” The crowd shifted uneasily, averting their gaze. “Go home, be with your families. Let Ahlran and Erune do what they’re here to do.” The crowd dispersed quickly, leaving just Ahlran, Erune, Gormal and his men in the silent moonlight. “Thank you” Ahlran said. Gormal looked at him gravely. “I won’t be able to protect you two forever. Those crowds will get larger, Tearlach will get bolder.” Ahlran didn’t want to admit it, but he knew Gormal was right. “Get it done,” Gormal said, the first time he had ever ordered Ahlran to do anything. With that, he walked off into the night with his guards. Ahlran looked down at Erune and saw that she was crying as she buried her head in his robes. “Let’s get inside.” Ahlran said. “We’re running out of time, light the candles, I’m going to get these ingredients downstairs to the workshop.” Ahlran said to Erune as they entered their home and shut the heavy wooden door behind them.  Ahlran noticed Erune was quick to latch and bolt the several locks secured to the door. “Did Gormal make another delivery while I was gone?” Ahlran asked Erune. “Not him, one of the guards,” she answered. “He didn’t look particularly happy about it.” She continued. “Who would be?” Ahlran said, not concealing the frustration in his voice very well. “I set them up on the examining table. Despite the direness of the situation, the comfort of the warmth and quiet of his home wasn’t lost on him. Well-lit with candlelight, the room was the perfect alchemical laboratory. Shadows on the walls danced as the candle flames flickered. Dried herbs hung to the walls, books, tomes, and scrolls laid haphazardly strewn about, as if someone was studying them not for leisure, but for efficiency. A very pungent, almost sweet aroma hung in the air. Ahlran and Erune had come to know this scent well, even got used to its astringent foulness. They were convinced this meant they were closer to a cure. Ahlran set his basket of alchemical ingredients down and quickly gathered up some books that had been left open to specific pages.  “I set the body up on the examining table. Postmortem conditions are still consistent.” She said, anticipating her teacher’s question. “Good.” Ahlran said. “At least it’s remaining consistent.” Ahlran placed all his materials on a small table near the body that had been laid out. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the body. An old man who he had regularly met with out in the fields. He was one of the few people who had been pleasant to Ahlran and Erune when they first arrived in Colkirk. “You know him?” Erune asked, noticing Ahlran’s hesitation. He shook his head. “No time.”  Erune was right, the disease’s effects on the body remained consistent: large lesions spread across the body, the shriveling of the tissue around the bones, an almost total lack of pigmentation, and the falling out of all hair. What was left behind of the unfortunate victims resembled something closer to a large albino rat than what would resemble a person.  Ahlran let out a deep sigh, steadying himself. Now was the time to focus. Erune was already hard at work going over the books they have been reading repeatedly for weeks. Erune was convinced that the cure was within grasp. She and Ahlran believed there was only one thing missing from the final concoction that could cure this nameless affliction. “Here,” she said, pointing to a particular passage in an enormous and ancient alchemical book. “I think this is what we’re missing, I’m just not exactly sure about the translation.” Ahlran was setting up his alchemy station, lighting small fires beneath a collection of varied beakers and flasks. He was preparing what they believed was the correct formulation of curative herbs and other ingredients that would yield a successful brew. “What’s your best guess?” Ahlran asked. He was always genuinely impressed with Erune’s capacity for linguistics. She was the most talented alchemist, but her assistance with translating the texts of recipe books and other alchemical tomes was invaluable to Ahlran. He made a mental note to tell her if they ever found a cure. After a long pause, Erune answered. “The most accurate translation, I think, is “human touch.” Ahlran stared at her before returning to his bubbling beakers. “Great,” he said. “Nothing like a poetic touch to your ingredient list.” Erune hopped off her stool and brought the book over. “This whole text is shrouded in allegory and symbolism. It’s a cultural as well as language barrier we’re dealing with here.” Erune explained. Ahlran picked up a small vial that had finished brewing and held it up to the light to examine it. “It’s blue, isn’t it?” Erune asked impatiently. “Blue means we got it, right?” Ahlran turned to her. “No, it can’t be just blue, Erune, we’ve been over this.” He said, somewhat angrily. He caught himself and continued more gently. “This is an exact science. There is no ‘good enough’ in what we do. There’s correct, and there’s potentially killing someone.” This needs to be precisely Azure Blue. This –“he said, tapping the vial in his hand, “-is Lapis. No good.” Disappointed, Erune turned back to her tomes. The hours went on as Erune scoured her notes and Ahlran tried combination after combination with that day’s haul of ingredients, desperately hoping the vial would mercifully turn Azure. A human touch. Suddenly, an idea came to him. He almost fell from his seat as he wildly searched for something. “What is it?” Erune asked, startled by the sudden break in silence. “A pin! I need a pin!” he cried. Erune’s eyes lit up. “You think you got it?” she asked excitedly. Ahlran triumphantly raised a pin in the air that he had found underneath a taxidermy butterfly. “We’re about to find out!” he yelled.  Ever so carefully, Ahlran pricked his thumb with the pin and squeezed a drop of his blood into lapis colored vial. Erune unconsciously huddled close to her teacher in nervous anticipation. “What made you think of blood?” she asked. “My dear, what could ever be more human?” he answered looking down at her with a smile. Her eyes met his and she smiled too. It had been a long time since Ahlran had seen that smile. The contents of the vial churned as Ahlran’s blood mixed with the other ingredients. Scared to breathe, the two of them inched closer to inspect the contents. With a miraculous glow of color, the vial shone with a magnificent glow of calming, perfect, Azure blue.


TW: murder, injury. The coffee was going cold in his hands but the conversation around him was starting to warm. Mr Williams shook the wide, white, frill of his cuff as it escaped the edge of his black legal robes. He lifted a brown cup to his lips, drained the final, lukewarm dregs and looked up. Mr George was pushing his way through the coffee house door, removing his hat to reveal his neatly tied-back hair. The bright yellow thread detail, contrasted against the dark green of his tail coat and caught the candle light. He must have left his robes and wig in the offices. The fashion for wearing professional clothes in public was waning but Mr Williams was more traditional and enjoyed being recognised. At least he had done until now. ‘Ah Mr George!’ ‘Mr Williams!’ the other lawyer took a copy of The Spectator from the coffee shop counter on his way between the crowded tables. Mr Williams stood, and pulled out a chair for his young colleague. Mr George sat down and swigged his coffee, too quickly. He placed his cup on the table and sucked cool air over his scalded tongue. ‘May I enquire after your family?’ asked Mr Williams. ‘All very well thank you, all very well. And how are your wife and children? What news of Ann’s engagement?’ ‘They are well, very well. Young Ann still resists marriage in spite of three wealthy suitors. I may have to make a decision for her soon.’ The gentlemen soaked up the atmosphere. Men from every walk of life gathered to discuss the news of the day in the sober absence of ale. Chairs scraped on the wooden floor and candles glowed on the tabletops. Judges and carpenters, lamplighters and rat catchers came together to talk and share jest over coffee. The chatter was lively and punctuated by the aroma of their beverages. Mr Williams and Mr George turned their heads to eavesdrop on the three men at the table behind them, who were discussing the latest murder. A scruffy young chap with unkempt hair raised a copy of the Times to stare at the headline. 'Another one! A Mother Goose Murder! Last night it were.' Though he probably couldn't read it. 'Let me see that!' A bespectacled older gentleman with a grey, curled wig draped over his collar bones took the paper from the boy. He swept his eyes across the front page. 'Oh my goodness!' he crossed himself, 'They left a goose feather at the scene, as with the others. How awful. I wonder if they have found any connection yet, between the victims.' Mr George's face reddened as he looked at Mr Williams. The older mans' shoulders lifted towards his ears as he tensed. The colour drained from his cheeks. Mr Williams leaned across the table towards his companion and lowered his voice. ‘So, another one on Wednesday? What do the newspapers say? And what is this obsession with nursery rhymes?’ Mr George smoothed down his green vest and silk breeches. He lifted his copy of The Spectator as he cleared his throat. Keeping his voice steady and quiet, to avoid undue attention, he began to read. ‘Master Bill Marshal of Silverdale Road was found dead on Thursday morning by his housekeeper Mrs Bettis. An arrow firmly lodged in the man’s left eye socket was the sure cause of death. A handwritten note found at the scene carried the words of the nursery rhyme "Who killed Cock Robin?" A white goose feather was left on the body, further connecting this crime to the other recent murders in the city. The Bow Street Runners have been engaged for three weeks now, searching for information to reveal the identity of the Mother Goose Killer, who has so far claimed four lives. The only link between the victims seems to be that they were each acquitted of crimes in court in the last twelve months. No further clues have been uncovered as to the identity of the killer.’ ‘Cock Robin!’ Mr Williams had a tear in his eye as he recited the first two verses. ‘Who killed Cock Robin? I, said the Sparrow, with my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin. Who saw him die? I, said the Fly, with my little teeny eye, I saw him die.’ The men looked at each other, eyes wide and mouths open. The chatter of voices around them faded to a background hum as they pondered the news. ‘Remind me of the order of the others,’ Mr George said after a few moments pause, ‘I never can remember those rhymes.’ He signalled to Mrs Smith to bring more coffee and put two pennies on the table. She poured two steaming cups of hot, brown liquid and shuffled her way between chattering customers to deliver the drinks and collect her payment. ‘The first was Mr Stretten, the baker of Kensington who was found with his severed head wrapped in pastry and cooking in his own oven!’ Mr Williams ran his finger across his neck and rolled his eyes back into his head. ‘The rhyme about four and twenty black birds baked in a pie was found written, in poor man's hand, on his linen tablecloth. In blood.’ Mr George winced and fiddled with his golden waistcoat buttons but gestured to his companion to continue. ‘The second was Mr Blithe, the rather portly gentleman found surrounded by broken eggs, his neck snapped, at the bottom of the city wall in Whitechapel.’ Mr Williams, still leaning in for privacy, lifted his fresh cup to his lips and let the steam fill his nose before he sipped. ‘The opening lines of Humpty Dumpty were scrawled on the stonework.’ ‘I remember the third being especially grisly.’ Mr George frowned. ‘Poor child. The nine-year-old Stoker boy on Artillery Lane, strangled with black wool, and his eyes poked out. Baa Baa black sheep. I suppose the victim must have cried down the lane in his final moments.’ ‘Yes, the scribbled rhyme was found, in full, hiding in his coat pocket.’ ‘The city is no longer safe. The killer only cares about his rhymes, and his revenge. I’ve been wondering how he might catch you! Perhaps with the church bells? How does that one go?’ Mr George wrapped his fingers around his cup and supped his coffee. Mr Williams rubbed his chin as he brought the words to mind. ‘Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St. Clement's. You owe me five farthings, Say the bells of St. Martin's. When will you pay me? Say the bells at Old Bailey. When I grow rich, Say the bells at Shoreditch. When will that be? Say the bells of Stepney. I do not know, Says the great bell at Bow…’ ‘Ah and then the final, damning verse; Here comes a candle to light you to bed, And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!' sang Mr George under his breath. ‘Chip chop chip chop the last man is dead!’ they whispered together. ‘I wonder, whatever will be next? The Hey Diddle Diddle murder? Perhaps the killer will fling a cow over the moon?’ Mr George laughed darkly. ‘Did you ever represent a milkmaid? I’ve heard it said the smallpox doesn’t get them.’ Mr Jenner at the next table looked up and caught Mr George's eye. 'Do milkmaids really not catch smallpox?' 'No Sir, apparently they do not,' replied Mr George before looking swiftly away to avoid further conversation. Mr Williams nodded towards the door. Both men stood and took up their tri corn hats, bowing politely to Mr Jenner before they left the coffee shop. But he was deep in thought and did not return the pleasantry. There was a hint of smoke in the twilight as they strolled over the cobbles on Fish Street Hill towards the bustle of London Bridge. 'I'm sorry to cut our outing short. I thought we should leave before we invited any questions.' Mr Williams shuddered. 'As you know, I'm becoming quite sure that I am the link between these murders.' There was a gust of wind and the men pulled their coats around them. ‘London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.’ Sang Mr Williams in a harrowing voice as they came in sight of the river. ‘Perhaps he’ll push us into the water, and we’ll drown!’ ‘Oh a terrible fate! I cannot swim, and my coat would surely weigh me to the bottom.’ whispered Mr George. Footsteps behind them hardly caught their attention until a beery breath was detected on the breeze. It was accompanied by a voice, soft at first, and then louder. ‘Ladybird, ladybird fly away 'ome, Yer 'ouse is on fire and yer children are gone, All except one, and 'er name is Ann, And she's 'id under the bakin' pan.’ The men stopped dead in the street. Mr George, his heart pounding, turned to face the singer. A tall, dirty man in shabby clothing with a goose feather in his breast pocket stopped several feet behind him. He stood under a street lamp and stared him in the eye. Mr Williams turned more slowly, reluctant to see who was there, but at the same time, curious. 'Mother Goose they call me! You know 'oo I am! That baker from Kensington killed my sister when she refused 'is courtship. It were clear what 'e did. Pushed 'er down the market steps when she took the geese fer sale.' He sniffed and wiped his nose on his ragged sleeve. 'Made me think o' that song, Goosey Goosey Gander - though that were a man 'oo died. But it's their feathers I'm leavin'. To remind you. Without you as 'is filthy lawyer 'e'd 'av 'anged! Hanged I tells ya!' The man pointed his finger at Mr Williams and scowled. 'All your guilty clients should 'ang! Every last stinkin' one.' Mr George stared at the man and then at Mr Williams. Mr Williams' most recent victory had been the successful defence of his own son, Billy. Billy had been accused of stealing six pence and a clean fleece from a wool trader. They both knew he was guilty. ‘Williams, Williams, fly away 'ome, Yer 'ouse is on fire and yer children are gone, All except one, an' 'er name is Ann, And she's 'id under the bakin' pan.’


As an unexpected torrent of rain began to fall, you began to make out the form of the train station in front of you. You quickly rushed towards it after exiting a taxi you had taken from your home on the outskirts of the city. Your beating heart was rapid as you recalled the last words your mother had told you before leaving her for the beginning of a new life. Your mother had said only three things before saying goodbye: to be careful, to stay safe, and finally that she loved you dearly. Even though you didn’t think much of it at the moment, a sudden feeling of remorse began to sink in as you realized how much you were going to miss her. The two of you had had plenty of ups and downs in your relationship, but now looking back on those moments, you saw how she was of the few people who truly understood you. Still, deep in your thoughts, you almost didn’t hear the announcement that your train would be leaving soon. You again quickened your pace, but this time instead of the station, you headed towards the boarding area, and quickly your mind was again consumed with the excitement of embarking on a new adventure. You smoothed down your peach-colored, finely tailored dress, and approached the attendant who was standing by the train’s entrance, ticket in hand. Once boarded you promptly chose a window seat and began to sort through the food you, along with your mother, had stored for the trip. There were plenty of snacks you had stored from home. In a small, brightly decorated plastic canister you found your favorite homemade meal as well as a thermos filled with hot chocolate. After choosing a snack -saving the meal for later- the train finally began its departure and you realized that the surrounding seats had been filled by your fellow passengers. To your right, you saw a couple, a mother and father not much older than you, with what looked to be their newborn son. You watched as they fussed over their baby and appreciated how much they truly seemed to care for him. Your thoughts continued to trail as you considered just how bittersweet the process of growing up could be, just 17 years ago you were in the same position as that child, receiving that pure love from your parents with your entire future ahead of you. Sometimes you couldn’t help but selfishly wish that you could have remained a child forever, receiving the benefits of unconditional love with nothing but your hopes and dreams in your mind. Of course, that’s just not how life works, and here you were now on the precipice of adulthood, seeking out new opportunities alone. This was a sad thought and you could feel yourself quickly falling into darkness, so you reminded yourself of the reasons why you were on that train.

Just 2 months ago you were accepted into the prestigious Zarzinger College, only 1½ hours away by train. You were surprised by the acceptance at first and a flurry of self-doubt had almost been enough to keep you from taking that huge step towards your future, but that changed after you reread the essay you had submitted as a part of your application. For the majority of your life, you had felt lost, but reading back your own words to yourself it was like you could physically see what it was that you wanted. You were always afraid to admit it, but you wanted to leave home, you wanted to grow up, and more than anything you wanted to be a writer. The words leaped off that page and formed the image of a young girl filled with dreams too big for her small head, it was you. That was when you decided to move away from for college, to others it might have seemed like a small development, but for you -and your family- this was massive. Thinking back on that day a new wave of confidence washed over you, allowing you to finally relax.

By now your train ride was beginning to near its end, you looked out of the window and took in everything that you were seeing since your endless thinking had distracted you from any sort of sight-seeing. Outside you could see an endless sea of green as you passed an apple orchard, the night before you had read about the intense agriculture of this area in a brochure, and now you were beginning to see the proof. You began to think about how funny and slightly peculiar it was seeing just how obsessed this town was with apples. There were apples around your seat, you saw people around you in apple-themed clothes, and most -if not all- of the food in the menu that you were provided was apple centered. This little bit of quirkiness helped you to feel even more comfortable about your choice to move, it’s weird, but the absurdity reminded you of home. Now in this new state of comfort, you decided to write a poem to express the feelings that you had at the moment: Feeling like a cast-away I face myself with new eyes I view a sight so mundane

A girl who’s obviously shy Still, I see a spark hidden in that mind One that will grow with each new hill Challenging that climb every time You failed to think of a final line but were content with what you had been able to come up with. You still needed a lot of practice -obviously- thought there was also a reason why poetry wasn’t your specialty. Right after placing your journal back in your bag was when you heard the announcement that you would be arriving soon. Gathering all of your stuff together your mind was finally empty of worry and even though you knew this wouldn’t last you still to bask in your peaceful state of mind. Beginning from the moment that you stepped out of that train, you were truly going to be alone, your own pillar of strength and you could not wait. Under your breath, you quietly muttered two final words of encouragement, “I’m ready.”


“Fly by the Seat of Your Pants and Write a Story Without a Plan.” -

Reedsy Reedsy, you don’t know what you are asking me to do. I don’t know what I am doing, which is a definite drawback to good writing. With no plan, I am like James Dean in “Rebel Without a Cause,” running around and getting into trouble. Well, you asked for it. Just remember, this was not my idea. The problem with flying by the seat of my pants and writing a story without a plan is I don’t know what to write about. It’s not that there is a lack of subjects. There are plenty of topics – too many of them. I will go through them in my mind, one by one. One by one, I reject every idea that comes into my head. This one requires too much research, so I won’t have time to write this story in the one week I am given. That one has already been covered by other writers, and I don’t have a fresh enough approach to make my version worth reading. Another one is not funny enough. Okay, this isn’t getting me anywhere. That’s obvious. So what do I do now? I know. I’ll watch TV. Maybe something there will inspire me. If not, I can at least be entertained while I put off sitting down and writing something. There must be a marathon of “Law and Order” on cable somewhere. If not “Law and Order,” “Criminal Minds” is a good bet. The problem with “Criminal Minds,” though, is that it grosses me out. I haven’t been able to handle the show since that episode where they were dealing with necrophilia. So “Criminal Minds” is out. “Law and Order: Special Victims Unit” is a possibility, but that deals with rape, another upsetting subject. I settle on watching old sitcoms on the Antenna TV channel. It’s tedious but safe. I think about the sink and stove full of dishes left over from when I was cooking my dinner. Now there’s something to write about – the awful, unpleasant chore of washing dishes by hand because you don’t have a dishwasher. I’ve found a perfect subject upon which to build an unplanned story. It’s full of frustration, mess, toil, and misery, and it doesn’t get any better. Unfortunately, both dirty pans are nonstick ones, and the one plate, one bowl, one cutting board, and a few pieces of silverware are equally easy to wash. In no time, with minimal effort, I am finished with the job, and my erstwhile dirty dishes are neatly stacked on the drying rack. So much for that. I go back to the computer and stare at the screen, hoping that something will appear on it that will inspire me to write a masterpiece. I click on a couple of things, and all I get are advertisements that stall the computer and force me to turn it off and back on again. This is a great way to consume time, but it doesn’t help me with my writing. It takes my old, slow computer several minutes to come back on and bring up everything that has to come up in the beginning. Instead of opening Word and trying to write something, I decide to play a game of Simple Word Search. This is one of those free games. I am a wet blanket when it comes to computer games, and I refuse to play anything that costs any money. I have played Simple Word Search so much that I have become an expert. I like games where I win most of the time, and this is one of them. Five games of Simple Word Search later, I decide to play a game of Simple Mahjong. Again, this is a free game; I have played it so much that I am pretty good at it. It’s one of those games that make the player feel smart. Sometimes I need to feel smart, this time being one of them. I play four games of Simple Mahjong, which convinces me that I am some kind of genius, even if I can’t even come up with a usable subject to write about. Life has a funny way of interjecting itself into our procrastination. My conscience bothers me, and I shut down the Mahjong game and bring up Word. The blank page taunts me. “You think you’re a writer?” it seems to say. “You’re a fake, an amateur. You’ll never win any contests and never get any books published. You’re a loser.” For a blank page on a computer screen, it’s pretty talkative. “Shut up!” I say to the blank page. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I have reached the point where I am talking to a computer screen. I heave a big sigh, sit back in my computer chair, hit the chair arms with my hands, and shake my head. I am determined to win this silly game of spiritual chicken with my mind, but I don’t yet have a strategy. I decide to take a nap, hoping that a good temporary sleep will rest my mind and help me in my endeavor to overcome its reluctance to think of something worthwhile. I set my iPhone alarm to ring an hour from now and lie down on my bed. The piercing alarm wakes me up an hour later. I was having a lively dream about being chased through the streets of my neighborhood by giant, bloodstained letters of the alphabet that refused to form into words. I am happy to wake up from that dream but as mentally barren as ever. I get up, walk to the computer, sit down, stare at the blank screen, and stick my tongue out. At that point, I have an epiphany. I have a story! Why didn’t I think of this before? I can write about my struggle to write! Why not? There are a beginning, a middle, and an end. If that isn’t a story, what is? I finally begin to type, and the words come tumbling out of my head like water in a waterfall. I’m a writer again! Blank page, you are no longer blank, and you no longer taunt me with your cruel words! The result is the story you just read. I hope you enjoyed it; it took a lot out of me.


Eleanor peeked around the corner of the palace's stone hall and gasped. She felt absolute rage at her mother for telling such a lie. There was no strange aura or mist. There was no woman with robes of satin and gold. Just two wooden doors were being guarded by two of her spelled family members. Eleanor shrank down along the wall and sobbed. It was hopeless. She would never be able to prevent the kingdom from being overrun by its spelled citizens. "Hark! Who goes there?" One of the guards, her father, fixed the holding on his spear. He turned to her aunt. "Hear that, Milan?" "No," her mother's sister replied, tossing her silver hair back. Her face bore no wrinkles, as a blessing from the sorceress of light and life. "But have I will, I shall notify thy at once, my dearest." "No, no, no, no, no!" Eleanor whispered to herself. "The spell... it's taken over them. The first sign of the Mindless... loss of personal accent." She decided that then she had to risk it and run into one of the rooms. How to do it, she wasn't sure, but a life-or-death situation awaited her as she thought up a storm. "Henri!" Eleanor called suddenly. "Milan!" Her family members slid their weapons out and scanned the premises. "Show yourself, intruder!" Milan growled, her freshly sharpened sword slicing the air as she spoke. "Come out now, and we will leave you unscathed and give you the privilege of serving our beloved king and queen! That is if we don't kill you like a dog first!" snarled Henri. Their Mindless accent had faded because of Eleanor's outburst, sliding into the last part of their minds that wasn't blocked out by the curse that she was their beloved daughter and was not to be harmed no matter what. Eleanor dashed out from the corridor and kicked open the door on the right, guarded by her aunt. It was made of dry, brown wood that broke down as soon as she rushed into it. Milan's sword caught a lock of her violet hair on her sword and nicked a bit of her ear in Eleanor's attempt to escape. A black void surrounded her and only a small, golden aura light up the area, although Eleanor couldn't figure out where it came from. Thinking that the sorceress of life was nearby, she moved forward slowly, her bare feet gently slapping the black void beneath her. She gently knelt. "O creator of life and spirit, where hast thou reside in this empty room, devoid of life or light? Thou bestowed a blessing on thy Aunt Milan, and I plead for help during this immediate time of crisis." Eleanor recited an old chant that caused the sorceress to appear to others, hopefully, in this same room. Sure enough, a woman floated into the vicinity. She wore a satin and golden gown and grasped a vivid-colored caduceus, the staff of Hermes. Her purple hair flowed and hovered inches over the floor. The mythological and legendary sorceress lifted Eleanor's chin ever so slightly so that she stared into the woman's sharp, crystal blue eyes piercing the irises of Eleanor's ones. "Yes, child?" her velvety voice coated Eleanor's insides and forced her to stand up. Reaching the sorceress's elbows, she explained that people of what once was a proud kingdom had been placed under a curse that allowed the person who cast the spell able to control everybody that they touched both of their shoulder blades at the corresponding moment. Then they acquired the name, Mindless. "You say you require my services, Eleanora?" Eleanor reddened. "Eleanora is-  was

my

mother. She died when I was at least ten years old, and that was before the spell took place three years later," She confessed. The woman looked at her sympathetically. "I met your mother. She was a kind and pure heart, never thinking of herself, instead of others" she commented. "She came here with you to see her child's truthfulness, purity, and honesty. Of course, you had spectacular results. She was determined to protect you more than ever from the danger of the forces of evil." "But... can you help me with the curse?" Eleanor asked, half wishing that the woman would stop talking about the personal stuff in her life. She shook her head. "No, I cannot." "Bu-bu-bu-but

why ?" she worried. "Because... I

am  you." Eleanor fell back onto the hard, black void. It couldn't be true! She would have felt some sort of spiritual relationship with the celebrated sorceress who saved people's lives and cured plagues on a daily basis, instead of greeting her like a complete stranger who could kill her on a whim. "But... if you are me... then how did you meet my mother?" Eleanor questioned, suspecting that the sorceress was lying and was actually an adversary observer in search of a juicy story to reveal to the public about anything that would bring the morals of the few remaining survivors down to the point of surrender and betrayal. "I never told anyone about this before, but I am not just a mere sorceress. Sorceresses and sorcerers have a further unrestricted lifespan, but they are not immortal. I am a demigoddess. My father- your father- was a mere mortal, while our mother was an accomplished goddess. Eleanor is what many people call me, for I bring light to mortals who have experienced the anguish of wickedness for too long," Eleanor the Goddess confirmed. Eleanor's body formed a lump in her windpipe as she thought about the hopeless, sullen moments when Goddess Light, also known now as Eleanor the Goddess, had followers that cursed and shunned her powers and shuddered at the mention of her name so much that they torched her alter, and those who had died several days later, bringing up a generation of destructive descendants of the followers that caused the torching. No, she couldn't believe it. She was not a goddess. She was just ridiculous, proposing that explanation. "I refuse to accept your pitiful misrepresentation," Eleanor cast her shoulders backward and elevated her head in insubordination. Eleanor the Goddess nodded slowly. "Yes, I understand. I cannot annihilate you, for that would mean my own passing, but you must get rejected of me... for I am the one who placed that spell and made your life into a breathing nightmare and horror fiction." Eleanor gasped and noticed the goddess's hand gripped a dagger. An ensorcelled dagger. The weapon and the goddess are what was causing the powerful atmosphere that had lightened up the room. Suddenly, it appeared in her hand, and it pulled like a magnetic force to the goddess's, her counterpart's, heart. Before she knew what was happening, blood started trickling from Goddess Light's chest. As soon as she destroyed Eleanor the Goddess, the hollow void melted into the exhibition where Eleanor had fallen into the place where she had met her counterpart held the same room, but the doors were gone, and in their location was Milan and Henri, unspelled and leaned overhead her, observing her for any noticeable injuries or damages. "Nora, honey, are you alright?" Henri worried, whispering words in an extremely discouraging deep voice. "Ella, what occurred back in that vacancy?" Milan asked. There was nothing that Eleanor could do but sob and mourn the death of her counterpart.


Bliss: Horrible things happen in Bliss. Some say the small town is cursed, haunted, home to a cult, among other things. One outrageous accusation is that the town is ran by a group of corrupt politicians who orchestrate publicity stunts in order to bring attention to the town, and the issues they want to address. The odd thing is, that most of the incidents claim victims who are not native to the town. Almost as if the town is weeding out those who weren’t born on it's soil, the newcomers always end up disappearing or the victim of some cruel and strange crime.

One such case involved a young man and his father. For sake of discretion, we will omit their actual names and replace them. Frank, and his son Gideon were traveling for the summer when they were stranded in the southern United States. After a week of gathering funds and resources to keep moving north back home, they found themselves in central Georgia.

Crossing the state became difficult after the vehicle they were using needed extended maintenance. Arriving in Bliss, the first mechanic on the road seemed less than eager to help them, but managed to get them on their way quickly. “Now you can leave so fast we won’t even remember you” He said with a nervous chuckle as they paid him for the service.

“Do you think there are rooms available at the motel?” Asked Frank, the father of the sixteen year old boy whose attention span was that of a scared rabbit.

“Oh no, you can go much further than Bliss, no reason to stay here.” The mechanic made it very apparent that it would be a waste of the small family’s time to stay in the tiny town.

“Thank you, have a good day, it was nice to meet you.” Frank said, leading his son back to their car.

“Likewise sir” The mechanic sighing in relief as the man turned to leave. It was nearly midnight, and the two needed to stay somewhere for the night as they were exhausted. They stopped at the only motel in town. The neon sign shining the word ‘vacancy’ was just what they were hoping to see. However the clerk desperately tried to turn them away, explaining that there was no room, and half of the rooms were being cleaned.

“Can’t you just help us? Please? My son and I need a place to sleep. We are exhausted.” Frank asked, trying to trigger the clerk’s compassion.

“Fine, we have one room and you can have it, but only one night.” The clerk gave in, allowing them to stay.

Just as the two left the office the clerk frantically got on the phone and began dialing. Frank and Gideon, impressed by the fact the room is clean, didn't care that it wasn’t a fancy or less reputable establishment, they simply need a bed, a shower, and maybe coffee in the morning. The two quickly went to sleep in the pitch blackness of the room, with only the streetlight outside illuminating the curtains.

Gideon woke to loud footsteps in the dormant parking lot. He softly placed his feet on the floor and stepped to the window after hearing voices conversing. He was curious, but not afraid, he was well versed in mixed martial arts and felt as though he could fend off anyone with the intent to harm them.

Sliding the curtain to the side, Gideon gazed at two figures outside talking. It was hard to tell who they were at first. He cleared his sleepy eyes and went to the door, slightly opening it to get a slight peak at the two.

He recognized the mechanic from earlier, who seemed to be talking to the motel manager. The two seemed to be frantic and nervous. Gideon realized something was wrong when the manager pointed to the room they were in. The mechanic then brandished a heavy wrench and knife.

Gideon’s eyes grew to the size of golf-balls, he shut the door quietly and stayed low to the floor as he made his way over to the bed his father was sleeping in.

“Dad, Dad, you have to wake up!” He spoke softly but intensely, hoping his father would pop up quickly. Frank wiped his eyes and looked at his son with a squinted face, trying to go back to sleep “What did you hear something?” Frank said, slamming his head back to the pillow. “No dad, I mean yes, but.. “ Gideon stammered and became frustrated quickly. “Dad wake the fuck up, two guys are outside and they have weapons” Gideon said, ripping the cover off of his father. “What are you talking about!?” Frank said, stumbling out of the bed. He made his way to the window and saw a man standing in the middle of the parking lot wearing a large hat.

For a moment he could swear he was dreaming, but then readjusted his vision to see it was a helmet, similar to a biker’s helmet. “There's a biker out there, but no bike.” he said, looking back from the window to the bed.

Clk clk clk,

a knock hit the door. Then a second time. The two men scrambled to their clothes and got dressed. They both went toward the door, Gideon stayed near the nightstand.

The manager began speaking, “Look sir, we are gonna have to ask you to leave now, we will get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out you are here.” Frank and Gideon were confused, and flustered. Frank didn’t know how to answer the manager. He decided to open the door slightly kept closed by the latched chain at the top.

“I’m real sorry mister but we don't make the rules. You have to leave now before we are put in a position we don’t want to be in.” Said the manager, with the mechanic staying behind him with something heavy in his hands.

“Ok, we will leave. We don’t mean any harm just please don’t do anything rash, we are sorry if we have done anything wrong.” Frank pleaded in a raspy voice. Frank shut the door and the two grabbed their things quickly. They came to the door, where the mechanic and the manager were still waiting just outside. Once opened they crossed the doorway and Frank met eye to eye with the manager. “I’m sorry for whatever we have done” Frank spoke to him. “You are the lucky ones. If you didn’t remind my father so much of us, you would be stains on the sheets. Just like anyone that comes through Bliss.” The manager spoke softly, his voice cracking with regret. Frank now looked over to the mechanic, noticing now how similar they looked. “You’ll find your car at the intersection south, well out of town. We couldn’t allow it to be seen here. Go now before the turn of the hour, and protect your son from the sounds on the way out.

The two began walking with their luggage, it was around two thirty

A.M. when they sat out.

The Constance County sheriff’s department found the vehicle at the intersection south of Bliss. It was abandoned and looked to have been that way for several days by the time they found it. The deputy who found the vehicle had many questions, when he asked the sheriff, he sat down for a long talk about the horror of Bliss.


Tabitha slid one finger and opened an eye to see through her hands, covering her eyes. Mom sat in front of her assuring her that Dad did not turn into a monster. “Yes, he did,” Tabitha argued. “When I went to bed on Christmas Eve, he was fine. But this morning Dad is missing, and a monster is trying to look like him. Except the monster has bumps, and red eyes, and yells, and tried to swallow me whole.” “Tabitha, he did not try to swallow you whole. You were running through the house, and your dad picked you up, lifted you above his head and over the Christmas box you were about to knock over. Now, it’s Christmas morning. Your sisters want to open their gifts from Santa. Don’t you?” “Dad’s not here the monster ate him trying to make him look like Dad.” Tabitha gasped then shuttered. “Oh, no. Dad’s been eaten. Mom, we have to rescue him. Do you have an ax? We can cut him out like in Red Riding Hood. Is the monster still out there, mom? I’m scared.” Tabitha sobbed. Mom laughed in frustration, rubbing her sleepless eyes. “Chet, come in here. Your daughter thinks you are a monster, and I can’t talk any sense into her. She is your department. I’ll make pancakes we’ll have breakfast first.” “Good luck with that. The other girls are already pulling at the wrapping paper,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb as mom walked by. “I told you old man, no good deed goes unpunished,” Dad smirked pulled her back and kissed her. Tabitha screamed. Mom shook her head and yelled for the other girls to help her in the kitchen. Tabitha left alone to fight the monster grabbed a pillow. “Don’t eat my mom you, you monster.” And she threw the pillow at him. It plopped on the floor, landing between them. They both looked at the pillow, and then at each other like they were in a standoff at the OK Corral. Then dad made his sad gopher face. It was a face he made all the time to make them laugh. He was good at sad gopher face. Tabitha blinked her eyes and tilted her head; her curls smashed on her right shoulder. “Dad, are you in there?” “Yes, sweet pea, I’m me. You wanna know what happened?” “Yep, tell me the whole storted story, “Tabitha said, flopping down on the pillow in story listening cross-legged position. “First, it’s sorted not storted.” “That’s what I said.” “Never mind. Why do you think I’m a monster?” “Easy peasy, you have big bumps all over you, you scream, and your eyes are glow-in-the-dark red. Plus you tried to eat me whole.” “So, if I’m a monster, then why didn’t I eat you whole.” “I don’t know because I wiggled and kicked myself free.” “Yeah, that’s for that,” Dad said, rubbing his jaw.  Tabitha puckered up her lips, ready to cry that she had hurt the monster. “Sorry monster but you shouldn’t eat people, and you wouldn’t get hurt!” “I’ll try to remember that. So you remember last summer when Grandpa died. And last month when my dad, your other grandpa passed away? Then we had to move away from your school and your best friend Penny?” “Why are you reminding me? And hey, how do you know that monster? Are you abstorbing my dad’s brain or somefhing?” “No, and it's absorbing and something.” Then he made her say them slowly. It was frustrating for both of them. “Listen Sweet Pea; I asked you what you wanted for Christmas that would help make up for all the things you had every right to cry about, remember? It was after I picked you up from Penny’s house for the last time.” “Yep, I remember. Sigh. Penny had a big, big, big Christmas tree that smelled like Lysol. I love Lysol. Smells like Saturday when we do all the cleaning and dancing and watch movies.” “Tabitha, don’t tell people you love Lysol, okay?” “Okay, but that is don’t tell number 981, and my head can’t hold all the don’ts you know.” “Yep, I know. I’ll try to slow down on don'ts after you turn twenty-one.” “I’m only five twenty-one is forever away.” “Time only seems like forever. It’s not. Anyway, I told your mom we were going to get a real tree. Mom didn’t like that cause…” “Did she tell you no good deed goes unpunished?” “Yep, but….” “I know don’t tell number five, right after don’t fart loud in public.” “Both still true by the way.” “I’m trrryyying!” “I know. You are a good girl. I wanted you to have that tree, our tree, that mom and I put up last night. I stayed up all night to see your face when you ran in and saw the tree. Then, you saw the monster and ran almost into a present, so I lifted you over.” Tabitha whispered, “What happened to you in the middle of the night, daddy? Please say you’re okay inside the monster.” All four eyes in the room turned dew dropie. “Well, baby girl, your dad is allergic to Pine-tree sap. It breaks me out in these hives.” Dad pointed to the multiple red hives that covered his arms and neck and face. One almost covered his whole eye.  “That is why we’ve never had a real tree.” “Oh,” said Tabitha blinking and wriggling her lips. “I see. You loved me. You became a monster for me. So, you must not be a bad monster but a good monster, right?” Tabitha gasped her eyes widened. “You’re my Happy Halloween Sad Gopher Face Christmas Monster.” Dad laughed, “Guess I am. But you can call me, HH-SGF-CM.” “No silly, your dad. Only my dad spells weird like that.” She gave dad a big, though be it painful, bear-hug and ran out to the kitchen. Mom and the girls were pouring syrup on the chocolate chip pancakes. “Hey everybody, meet Happy Halloween, Sad Gopher Face, Christmas Monster! How do you spell it, Dad?” “HH-SGF-CM!” Dad exclaimed, then made a deep bow. “Da-da-da scream,” cried out, baby sister. “Com’ on let’s open presents under that mean tree,“ Tabitha said. The girls followed her to the Christmas tree. Mom looked at the uneaten and getting cold pancakes. “No good deed goes unpunished,” said mom. Then gave dad some medicine and wiped some pink stuff on him. You look more festive than the tree,” she joked. Then everyone just stood there in front of the Lysol smelling tree with its popcorn and construction paper ornaments and the angel on top. “Let’s not knock good deeds today, okay old lady?” “Okay, old man. Maybe you were right,” said mom as he put his arm around her and pulled us girls close. Then everyone said, “I’m always right.” “Hey,” said Dad, “that’s my line.” We just giggled. Dad turned Seventy-nine this year, and I’m much older than five. Mom is with our grandpas, and my sisters have families that love them, too. We never had another live tree in any of our homes. But there still aren’t too many Christmases that I don’t remember HH-SGF-CM. He was the best Christmas Monster I ever knew.

<End.>


My neighbors are aliens. No, not the foreigners from Mexico or Germany but from somewhere else. Somewhere that we've never been. The Gordon family moved in next door in my junior year of college. I think I was twenty-three then. Tommy and I went over to see if we could lend a hand. That was the first time that I met Carla. Being fresh off of a break-up I didn.t believe in love at first sight until that very moment. She was a natural beauty with thick auburn hair, mesmerizing eyes and a laugh that was contagious. As we unloaded the U-Haul truck, I got the feeling that she could and would work circles around me. This being a big college town I was happy to see that the kids were all around my own age. We lived a short ten-minute drive from the gates of the state university and Saturday night was an important event in tiger-town. I worked up the courage to invite Carla out to the game on Saturday night and the pregame foodfest that we call tailgating. I had open seating with my school I.D. to allow us to sit in the student section. I liked to get to the game early to enjoy the tailgating that I thought was the best part of the evening. I was attracted to Carla because of her big brown "cow eyes". I had never seen anybody with such beautiful eyes. She was twenty-one years old, smart and funny. When I went to pick her up on Saturday, I noticed that the whole family had the same beautiful large eyes. I chalked it up to genetics and we went to join the tailgaters for the game. As we walked around the tailgating area, we sampled some of the best Cajun food that Louisiana had to offer, and it was all free. I asked her about Orius where she was from. I just thought it was some small mid=western town. She said I will tell you all about where I came from but not tonight. Tonight, I am an adopted Louisiana girl having the time of my life. I said you know we can do this every Saturday. She said that would be great. I was so excited about our standing date that I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. At halftime we made our way to our seats in the middle of the purple and gold jerseys of the student section and cheered our tigers to a decisive victory. It was a great first date. The next morning while I was trying to sleep in Tommy banged on my door. He said he was going next door to shoot some hoops and asked me if I wanted to play. No thanks I said I'm sleeping in but maybe later on around five we can start a new game. I told him to give Carla a hug for me and that I would see them later. Now Tommy who was twenty-one and in his prime was very good at basketball. He came back in a couple of hours banged on my door again, "Richard wake up, we have to talk." What I said, noticing how worn out he looked. He said "I'm pretty good at basketball, right? I always practiced and in high school they called me champ. Yes, Tommy I said, thinking his ego needed stroking, you're the best. Then he told me how Lisa, Carlas little sister, had just whooped his butt at basketball. I just laughed. No, no Tommy said! She really did outdo me today and I think she was holding back too. You know what I think Tommy, I need coffee that's what I think. Let's go down and get some coffee and a slice of pie. Mom will get her feelings hurt if we don't cut into that pie. This year flew by and before I knew it finals were right around the corner. As I stayed up cramming for my biology final Carla came over to bring me a plate of food. I took a break to eat. I couldn't help but realize how much our love had grown. Then she sat on the sofa, and I laid my head on her lap and closed my eyes. She stroked my head and said that maybe I was stressing too much. She might be right I thought. Maybe my retention problem was just a fatigue problem. I asked her to wake me in an hour. When I woke, I picked up my notes and began to read and study. Much to my surprise I seemed to have a photographic memory. I needed to test this suspicion so I grabbed a magazine and read a random article. Carla said your memory will never fail you again. It's a gift from me to you. How did you do that? I asked her. It's magic she said, and a magician never tells her secrets. She said I have another de stressor. I said that sounds good to me and I can be done studying right now. She said read your notes over just one last time and I will meet you upstairs. Before too long Carla came in and sat on a chair that I had on the side of the bed. She asked me to sit up and stare into her eyes and no matter what just keep looking into her eyes. O.K. I said because I was always going to keep an open mind but admittedly thought that this seemed odd. Just when I blinked I felt a currant run through my entire body. It entered through my eyes and traveled down and exited through the soles of my feet. It was like having sex without even touching each other. I lay there shaking. Carla said now we can do it your way. I said I don't think I can right now. Then it just fell out of my mouth. Will you marry me? Take your finals and then we will talk about it she said. I'm going home. You get some sleep and don't forget to set your alarm clock. I love you too she said. I finished the semester with my highest-grade point ever. Having aced all of my tests I decided to take the summer semester off. Carla and I both wanted to plan a trip and just enjoy the time we had together. We were upstairs one day planning our vacation when Mom and Dad told us to come downstairs to the dining room table. They said they had something for me. It's a gift Mom said. Dad said it is for all your hard work. I opened the small box and it was a wallet with my initials embossed on it. I told them thanks and I really appreciate it and I would treasure it forever. Mom laughed out loud and said "Richard, whenever someone gives you a wallet you should always look under the flap. O.K. I said and I looked and found a check. Five Thousand dollars I said. This is too much, I can't take this much money. Dad said it is not up for discussion. So, I just said thank you and gave them hugs. The next week Carla and I packed our bags and flew to Ireland. We were struck by the beauty of this enchanted place. Lush green hills with castles on top. There were pubs that we enjoyed immensely. I carried the ring in my pocket everywhere we went looking for just the right time to pop the question. On the last night of our trip when we returned to our room, I got down on one knee to ask her once again. This time with the ring in my hand, I thought it was very romantic. Carlas' answer was unexpected. She said Richard I love you, but I can't marry you. She said I have to tell you and it's not easy for me either. So, I picked myself up and just listened to her. Maybe it was only a case of cold feet. Have you ever heard that youth is wasted on the young? she began. Sure, I said. She continued. well, where I come from it is not. Orius is not a small town in Somewhere, USA. It is a planet located two galaxies away. There we are born old and age backwards. We get younger. When we reach zero days we are simply gone. Are you telling me that Lisa is your older sister, I asked. Yes, she said, Lisa is older, but she is not my sister. She is a best friend, and you Richard are the love of my life and also my best friend. Trust my judgement here Richard. In twenty years, I will be just a baby, but you will have a happy and full life ahead. And when twenty years has gone by, do not be sad for me. Think back and remember the time and love we shared and know that I lived a very long and happy life. We will be moving at the end of the month. I leave you with a heavy heart she said. I will tell you that the gifts that I have given you will always be yours to keep, along with one other gift that you don't know about yet. It's a surprise from me to you. I happen to know that you will soon find love again. When that happens give her my ring. Just one more thing when you have that little baby, do me a favor and name her Carla. the end


Love Can save all Nicole jalonen

Nakira Roman was the surviving member of her family of five . The twenty two year old had just watched her house with her mom and dad and two siblings inside blow up after a number of asteroids hit it , causing it to blow up and burn! Falling to her thin jean covered knees and crying hysterically the blonde haired spot covered woman hardly noticed as someone picked her up off the dead charred grass and held her close to him . Whispering , “ I know it’s hard but you’ve got to get out of here the druids will find and kill us as we are the last two humans on earth now!” “Andreas is that you?!” The thin ms universe beauty queen asked as she peered into the five foot tall MSN’s blue eyes as her childhood friend and high school love nodded and carried her away from the scene of her families demise as the whole planet earth was engulfed in war and fire .

“Where can we go that’s safe!” Nakira asked in fear as Andreas whipped out a huge silver dagger with a green handle And without saying a word to her he cut a hole right through the red with fury sky and pulled her through it! “How’s you do thst ? “ Where are we now?” The confused and scared woman asked as Andreas replied . “I’m a warlock and this is my magic home your earth Is experiencing the biblical apocalypse so we must live here if we are to survive for you are the last of the human race Nakira I was sent to bond with you so we could fall in love and continue your race .” With that said and her heart a flutter for this man who had just saved her life the two married and together had a fully human and another fully warlock child and they had to save the humsn race so they loved each other and within a year gave birth to two children one was fully a warlock and one was a full humdn girl who grew to one day look for a full human msn to fall in love with as was predicted . Tatiana met and fell in love with a human man at the age of eighteen and through their daughter and after her Nakira and Andrea had saved the world of humans forever more ! not knowimh if anymore apocalypse were going to happen her dad Andrea left Tatianna and her twin atoni spells Toni could use to protect the new humans against going exist because they knew how vulnerable thE species was . Now and always the species would be protected through magic because Andreas and a nakira would live forever to protect the world so no one would never again experience the pain of death! Yet death would be truffled with . For the Grimm teepee has ways of creeping upon the unexpecting ones. Striking at those times when defences are down . Letting Andreas find a curse box that cursed him to age and everyday the warlock would slowly age and experience sickness even though it would not kill him he and his wife who thought they’d cheated death would always be aware death was there . Yet the lovers persevered and lived out everyday loving each other through because they knew their love was strong enough to get them through anything . So the reaper tried again feeling defeated by these lovers again he took Andreas powers completely away and centuries after the couple had bested n the apocalypse with their love the powerful warlock Andreas was reduced to a lily powerless human and would age until he would eventually die. Not want to watch her lover parish Nakira made a deal with death she would become one if his reapers forever more if only he would let her beloved husband live with his magic! nodding in agreement Nakira gave her life so Andreas could be a powerful warlock again and she the original human died young knowing her loved ones could be happy again! Andreas carries on for his wife unwilling trying again and again to find another love . Years passed and Nakira watched her lover be alone so she decided to intervene and she pleaded with the angels to grant Andreas a gift for saving the world. They agreed and sent down one of their angels Casima to Andreas and Nakira told her everything the men liked and Casima won Andreas heart and they married and Andreas was happy . Though he missed Nakira his heart was happy and he and casima had lots of kids and he ruled the new safe world forever more with one of their kids Deranna grew up to rule the world and protect the world! Yet another problem rose for the daughter when the secret police warlocks came and arrested the daughter for treason when they said she worked for the devils who destroyed the world before ! you have no proof of this ! Casima and Andreas screamed as their daughter was sentanced to death By hanging ! not wanting Andreas to lose more Nakira who was the ever watchful reaper turned back time and made his daughter with Casima be in another place so someone else could take the blame for the crime ! life as a reaper was lonely and her heart longed for her love but she knew they could never be back together for they had gave that up when they made it so no one else could die in the apocalypse! So Nakira had no choice but to watch her beloved Andreas be happy without her and forever heart ache was her price for not wanting To experience death again ! so Andreas moved on with his eternal life and Nakira would once in a while intervene to make him happy so he wouldn’t be sad without her. But Andreas though he was happy still thought of the love he lost everyday and vowed he would keep his family together no matter what he had to do!