Cold air kissed my cheeks. I’m so relieved that I finally had the chance to travel alone. Anyway, I’m joining a hike and camp, I’m with a tour guide and a group having their squad goals. We’re here in the top of Bundok Misteryo , a perfect place to breathe and find oneself. My phone reads February 29, 2020, 4:20 p.m. I can almost see the sunset. The group of friends I was with seems so happy. They are having fun, taking pictures, and joking around. I just smile looking to them, remembering my set of own friends.

I had already talked to some girls earlier, and I can say they are kind and pretty. They called me earlier to join them but I chose not to.

The camp is in the distant with our tour guide and some of his colleagues, preparing our food for the dinner and some firewood for the bonfire.

I sat in a big rock overlooking the sunset view. Smiling bitterly, flashes of memories flooded in again.

I never remember anything it happens. I’m with a guy whose face is still a mystery to me. I just see glimpse of his face but not fully, sometimes I even forgot his features when I woke up.

I close my eyes and repeatedly take deep sighs. I don’t want this. I don’t want to feel this empty just because of those empty memories. I’m here to escape and treat myself for my birthday today. I had a hard time convincing my parents for this travel; thankfully, they let me. “Are you okay, Binibini (Miss)?” I open my eyes as I heard that manly voice. Standing in front is a handsome man. He is so stunning in his simple old clothes. Wait, what? He is wearing an old Filipino clothes for men, with all the Amerikana (Filipino men’s formal clothes).

Wow, I never expected that there are people who still prefer that kind of style. But, from the way he dressed, he seems to be a young man from an elite family. “ Binibini ? Are you lost?” he said, taking off his hat and placed it to his front and bowed down. “Anyway, Good evening Binibini.” I repeatedly blink my eyes. Oh, he’s real, I thought it was just another imagination or flood of memories.

“ Kuya , are you attending a party? Or a cosplay?” I unconsciously asked him. ( Kuya means Big brother, commonly used to refer an older man even to strangers) “Huh? Forgive me Binibini , but I don’t understand you,” he confusedly replied. “Oh sorry, never mind. Anyway, I’m one of those tourist, are you one of those tour guides? Is dinner ready?” I asked him instead.

I think my fellows had already gone to the camp, how sad they forgot to call me to join them.

I turned to him and all I got instead is a more confused look. “ Binibini , I think it’s already late for you to roam around especially you’re a woman and alone.”

 “I’m still enjoying the view; I will just follow you later. I can still manage myself,” I said dismissing his idea of shooing me to go to the camp.

“It’s dangerous Binibini , especially alone and with …,” he was silenced for a while, and blushed. A shy type. “With you? Are you planning to do something to me? Then I would shout for help,” my silly side replied to him, acting dramatically.

“No, no. I don’t mean that way,” he replied defensively. I laughed mentally as I watched his reactions. Nonetheless, I think he’s a good man. I extend my hands to him and say, “Can you help me stand up? This backpack is so heavy.” He just blushed even more. “I think it’s too much, being with a woman in this late night is not good. What’s more if I held her hands?”

I think he’s still battling to himself, if he will help me or not; murmuring to himself. I just rolled my eyes and take off both traps of my backpack and stood up, then scoop it again. “Hey Kuya . Are you still with me?” I said with a boring tone, waking him up. “Sorry if I can’t lend you my hand because I’m not allowed to.”

I don’t know, is he just a shy guy or a complete weirdo dressed in a weird clothing? “Can we just go to the camp? Do you have a flashlight with you? I have mine, but it’s not enough to light us to the camp,” I said while finding my flashlight in the backpack.

“Camp? Where is that place? I don’t know anything but that?” he answered. “Are you making fun of me, Kuya ? The camp is…,” I stopped as there no any sight of the camp. They must have already set up the bonfire, so there must be lights from it.

“Are you referring to that bahay kubo (old hut)? Is it your home?” he said pointing to his left. I turned with my flashlight on, and saw an old abandoned hut; no camps, no bonfire and no one was there.

No, it can’t be. I know it was just there a while ago. I turned again to find even just a glimpse of it. What the hell is happening! “I think you’re lost, Binibini ,” he finally concludes after a while.

With all the tiredness from those haunted memories, stress, and the long hiking, I don’t know what happened next as darkness engulfed me.

I wake up with a heavy head. I think it’s already eight in the evening, or not. A lamp was the only one that lights up the whole room. I roamed around my eyes; all I can see is an old-fashioned items and furniture with paintings and books. I roam around admiring the paintings, seems like the painter love to paint landscapes. I saw a painting of the big rock I was sitting earlier and a painting of falls; they are all beautiful.

A wood table calendar caught my attention. It was beautiful, carved, and furnished. I’ve always want this kind of thing but never really had one. It says PEB 29 1944 (February 29, 1944).

I confusedly stared the numbers. I think the owner completely lost track of time. I tried moving the numbers; I think it just automatically changes. Cool.  I stopped when suddenly someone came in. “Hey!” I shouted as it was the guy earlier. “What are you doing here?”

“Ssshh. Lower you voice, Binibini . You’re in my house,” he said. I covered myself as I realized I’m wearing different clothes now, and angrily look at him. “You’re mistaken, I asked Tinay to dress you, in fact, she’ll be here few minutes to serve your food.” I spent the night with him. Don’t think anything silly, we slept separately. I was in his bed and he was in the floor in banig ( buri mat). I also met Tinay, their young maid. She’s the only one knows about my existence.

He said that people might get the wrong idea if they know he brought a girl in his bedroom; it’s not good to see both man and woman to be in a room alone. He had no choice, but to bring me here secretly because I collapsed and no place to go.

“What’s your name?” I asked suddenly. I know he was still wide-awake. “I’m Mario Alcantara, you?”

I giggled, his name was old as his taste. But, it’s close to mine, opps.

 “I’m Mara Ysabella Gonzales, I just turned 20 today. Actually, 29th is my birthday,” I replied still staring to his wood table calendar. “Really? I’m also 20, February 29 is also my birthday. February 29, 1924 to be exact. I can’t believe this,” he replied excitedly.

I furrowed my brows. Is he serious? “1924? Are you kidding me? Hello, for god’s sake, it’s 2020! Have you totally and insanely lost track of time?” We both sit and face each other. “No. Look” he said and points to his calendar. “It’s February 29, 1944. And today, I just turned 20.” I dig in to the pocket of my backpack placed below the side table to find my phone. I rolled my eyes as it’s already dead, obviously, they don’t have electricity here.

I searched instead the papers I had with 2020 date on it. “Look, its 2020! I got these when I signed up for the hike and camp.” He studied the papers for a while and said, “I think something’s wrong.” I woke up as cold air embraced me from the open window.

“Forgive me if I disturbed you, Binibini .”

Mario was already standing beside the window; dressed in simple clothes with basket in his study table and some piece of clothes.

“I can’t let someone caught you in here, so we’ll be leaving. I already fetch pails of water from the well. You should better prepare yourself,” he continued and drink his cup of coffee.

I shrugged and do as he says. I took a bath and dressed up with the same old-fashioned baro’t saya, but much better than the last one.

I went out and caught him staring at me. “Hey, Mario! Are you okay?” waking him up from idling.  I glanced back to the table calendar. Oddly, it still shows PEB 29 1944, not MAR 01. I just shrugged the thought, thinking it already broke down. I believed it’s already 2020, and he keeps insisting that its 1944.

“Ye..yes, I’m fine. Shall we go?” he said tensely, picking up my backpack and the basket, and went to the window.  “What are you doing?” I asked while looking down to him from the window. “We can’t use the doors, some people are already awake. It’s our only way out,” he said as he went down the ladder.

He places all the baggage and starts to go up, “Here, you can have a grip in my arm.”

We slowly climbed down the ladder, still gripping his arm as a support with my other hand to the steps. My clumsiness activated as we fell, when we are already two steps away from the ground.

We’re both shocked as I fell on top of him. We stared for a while. I immediately got up as I realized what happened, fixing myself, and he does the same. We are both blushing out of embarrassment.

“So..sorry,” I said, still can’t look at him. “I..It’s okay. Let’s g-go,” he said changing the atmosphere.

We went back to the mountaintop; we arrived exactly as the sun rises. He placed a mat and I prepared the food he brought in the basket. We sat, staring the enchanting view of the sunrise, eating breakfast together.

“Do you know that I was born exactly as the sun rises?” I turned to him and replied, “Really? I was born during the sunset. What a coincidence.”  “I agree,” he said smiling. “It’s the most relieving view, isn’t it?” he continues as he turned to the view. “Yeah, you’re right. It gives me the peace, and escape.” I agreed.

 “My grandmother said before that unusual things happen during sunset and a happy memory starts during sunrise. It signifies happiness and you will experience that longest day in your life,” he paused. “Somewhat agrees to her, but rarely it happens,” he continues.

After the breakfast, we went to a mango tree still overlooking the view. He climbed to the tree to pick some.

We ended up talking about my stuffs, like the flashlight, and whistle. I also showed my heart-pendant necklace, I kept in the backpack’s small pocket because I’m afraid it might get lost. I don’t know why but I just felt the urged to give it to him, gladly he accepts it.

Ignorance was all over his face as he inspects my phone, which makes me laughed. He also draws a portrait of me smiling, in my notebook. After that, I’m chasing him as he don’t want me to see it yet until the day ends. We ended up into a mud pond; we laughed and smudged mud to each other’s face.

“Wow. It’s so beautiful!” I said mesmerized by the view. We’re here in the falls. He handing the bread, “Have a bite first, Binibini .” Weirdly, he still addressed me as Binibini (Miss). I think he was so formal and old- fashioned to address me that way, but I don’t mind; it gives me the kilig (blushing moment). He was also gentleman and handsome.

He was fully clothed like me when we are flashing water to each other. He said it would be a shame if he would take off his top.

We had a good time playing around and laughing, not minding what would happen next. It was like we were children having the time off their lives; a long time friends, catching up to each other; and a lover who makes memories together. We went to the falls and let the water drops in our heads. Betting who can swam faster, or who can breathe longer underwater.

Now, we are leaning in the rocks and staring as the water falls. “I know, we are still thinking the same thing,” I said. “Yes. How weird that we believed we are born and lives in different time, but now you’re here in my time, 1944,” he agreed. “You know what, I think its déjà vu . I think it already happens to me before. Sometimes, I had glimpse of memories that I’m not in my time, or I met someone that seems so unusual in my time. But sadly, I can’t really figure out what really happened and who’s that boy,” I said sharing my stories. “Really?” shocked was written all over his face.

“I also experienced that one. I met that little girl, I’m sure she was that same girl every time I had that unusual day. We met during sunsets, till sunrise came; I remembered that was one of those longest days, and I’m always with her. Suddenly, everything vanishes after the sun sets again.”

He stopped as he realized something. “Could it be?” we both said, staring to each other’s eyes again. “Your that boy?” I said breaking the silence. “Maybe. But, how that’s possible? I have all the glimpse of memories about those days, weeks before my birthday, February 29, the day who just came every four years. That unusual day, I always met that girl,” he said. “I also experienced the same thing,” I replied, shocked. He’s that guy? “So, we are from different times. We’re here in year 1944, my time and, you’re from 2020. We both met every four years, or every birthdays as 29th comes,” he said concluding.

“My grandmother is right. But then, everything vanishes after the next sunset,” he paused as we discovered what’s next.

“And, we will forget again what happened until the next four years.” We smiled bitterly to each other. “How sad it is?” I said with a faint voice. “Yeah,” he agreed sadly. “How rude fate can be.” Silence engulfed us again as we already figured out the mystery. The memories that haunt me weeks and years before were true; they were not empty memories after all, but a sad reality with the right person. Sadly, we can’t be together. Yes, oddly as it seems, I’m having this weird feelings towards him, it just happened.

After the long silence, we decided to go to their farm. No one was their because it’s siesta time (nap time), we harvest some apples, bananas and coconuts. We went back to the mountaintop and brought some of those fruits, while telling stories about our lives. Another long moment of silence filled the air as we arrive, realizing that the sun is starting to set.

“Can I have your hand?” he said. I confusedly accept his hand; I thought it was forbidden in their time?

“You must be confused right now, but I’m afraid this would be the last moment or worst the last time I will meet you,” he said, sadness is visible in his face.

“I like you,” he said.  “No. I love you. Crazy, but I know from the start that I love you. I love that girl whom I always had those memories with. Memories that gives me happiness and at the same time sadness as it ends,” he continued, tears wetting his eyes. We can’t help but felt pain. We can’t be together.

Tears slowly rolling down my face. “Memories that I will always treasure,” I replied.

“Yeah, happy memories with you,” he said with a bitter smile.

“I love you too. It might not right but I felt the same way,” I said bowing my head to our touching hands. He placed a necklace around my neck, with an hourglass pendant in it.

“My grandmother gave it to me before she dies. She said that I should give it to a special woman I want to spend my time and life with.” He smiled bitterly. “I will treasure your necklace forever, so treasure mine.”  “This is sad, but always remember my love, Mara,” he said as he slowly leaned closer, with our eyes closed.

I felt his warm lips touched mine. “Mara!” I opened my eyes as I heard that voice and it was Patty, one of my companions. “What happened? Are you okay?” she asked as she saw me in tears. I confusedly wiped my tears. Weird, I don’t know what happened. Why am I crying? Pain shots up in my heart. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, there’s part of me is happy because something’s filled my heart but sadness at the same time as there’s a missing part my heart seeks to find. I glanced to the rock I was sitting earlier, as Patty and I both tried to catch up with her friends heading to the camp. I know I will find that missing piece again.


It’s the middle of the night. About two in the morning. Flint is terrified to go to sleep. Apparently in the nearby cities, there’s been creatures causing power outages so that nobody will see them and then the next morning everybody would be slaughtered. Nobody knows who or what is doing this or what city they will attack next. Flint just wants to run away and move to a different city. Maybe even a different country! But he can’t afford that. He can barely afford his next meal. Let alone a whole move. So he sits. Waiting in his living room. Waiting for them to attack. He has his shotgun in his left hand, ready to shoot if they came into his house. It was his dads. He gave it to him for his 16 th birthday. It was the neat gift he could’ve asked for. He never thought that he’d have to use it. He’s terrified to shoot anybody or anything but if he has to, he will. Then all of a sudden he hears a boom. He goes to the window and looks outside but doesn’t see anything. Then his power shuts off. He runs downstairs into the cellar and locks the door. He keeps bearing crashing sounds, booming, screaming. He’s terrified but at the same time he wants to know what the hell is causing all of this. “Who or what is it!?!” He yells to himself. He grabs his hair and starts pulling at it, wanting to just rip it all out. That’s when he heard something in his cellar. He grips his gun, getting ready to shoot. The only problem is, he can’t see anything to be able to shoot. That’s when he grabs his phone and turns on the flash. That’s when it appeared. One of the creatures. It looked kind of like a giant ball with long skinny legs, two eyes, and a huge mouth with long sharp teeth with drool dripping out. It was just standing there, looking at him. Flint didn’t know what to do. He was in so much shock at what he was looking at. Then the creature pounced  onto  him. Making Flint drop his gun. He started throwing punches. One hit after the other but the creature wouldn’t budge. He kept pounding and pounding while the creature kept trying to bite at his neck. Flint tried to reach for his gun but to no avail. It was too far away. When the creature noticed he was trying to reach for his gun, it picked him up and started carrying him outside. Flint didn’t have his gun. Or his phone. He didn’t have anything to protect himself with. He was terrified. “What are they going to do with me?” “Are they going to take me to their hideout?” “Or are they going to kill me and leave me in the streets?” He kept asking himself more and more questions, all without any answers. That’s when he looked around. His city was on fire. Dead bodies just lying in the streets. He kept looking around, and that’s when he noticed the other creatures. There were so many. So so many. The creature carrying him stopped in the middle of the street, waiting on his colleagues. After the other creatures were done destroying the city, they all gathered around the one holding flint. They all started to communicate in a weird language. All the other creatures took a good look at flint and then suddenly jumped up and all of them started to run out of the city. Including the one that was holding flint. He started to pound the back of the creature holding him. He didn’t want to go with them. He didn’t. He wanted to stay. Or at least go to the police. Somewhere safe!! But he couldn’t get loose. The grip of this creature was undeniable.

They ran for what felt like ages when they suddenly stopped. Flint looked around and noticed a huge dark cave. All of the creatures entered and placed Flint next to a fire. They were all staring at him. He ran up against a wall, sat down, and curled up into  a ball. He was crying, saying he wanted to go home. That’s when the creature spoke. “Now now you skittish fool. You’re going to be perfectly fine. You just have to take your medicine. Now calm down. Here it is. Go on take your pill and everything will be just fine.” The creature said. But flint knocked the pill out of its hand. All of the creatures looked down at the pill, then looked at Flint. Full of rage. Their eyes turned scorching red. Their skin started to drip with sweat. They all gathered around him. All of them breathing heavily. So heavy, Flint thought he seen smoke come out of their noses. Then suddenly, the creatures gripped his legs and arms down tightly while another one shoved the pills in his mouth, forcing him to take them. Flint kept trying to fight them. Trying to shake them off one by one. But nothing worked more creatures joined in. Holding down his stomach and head. Shoving the pill in his mouth and holding his mouth shut until he swallowed. “Did you swallow?” They asked. He nodded his head. The creature holding his mouth, moved it hands and told him to open and stick out his tongue. So he did. That’s when they all let him go. He sat down next to the cave wall. Just staring at the creatures. “What pill was that?” Flint asks. “Your schizophrenia pill. You see we let you out about a week ago and when we let patients out, we have to check on them weekly to make sure they’re doing okay. Well, we went to check on you today and you were in your garage with a shotgun talking about how “they’re coming for you and your city” and talking about how scared you were. So now you’re back here with us. At the mental institute. Welcome back.” They finished talking. That’s when the monsters started to turn into regular people with with coats on and Flint was laying in his bed. Safe. He turned his back to his doctors and tears started to run down his face.


Constable Vic Clarke of the Vancouver Police Department (VPD) looked perplexed. As he filled out the incident report: ______________________________________________________ LOST PROPERTY REPORT The completion of this report will document the loss of Personal Property  Vancouver Police Department REPORT NUMBER: 1982-06-011 Call 604 555-1212 and ask for a “Lost Property” report number. If this number is not filled in, your report will not be recorded by the Department. NAME: John Schwartz STREET: 1155 Beach St. Vancouver, BC

SUITE/APT: Apt. #1201 CITY/Postal Code: Vancouver, BC V6E 1V2 TELEPHONE (604) 555-9999 Type of Location: Multi story Apartment Date Property Last Seen: 1982 06 10 Time: 08:00am Date Property Discovered Missing: 1982 06 10 Time: 05:10pm PROPERTY QTY: 1

DESCRIPTION – (Serial Numbers if Available) : Rolex - no serial number COST $300.00 EACH TOTAL $300.00 CASH (If any) $150.00 Additional Property Is To Be Entered On A Separate Sheet of Paper  Total Loss >>>>> $450.00 NARRATIVE : (Briefly describe what happened.) Owner returned to his apartment at approx. 3:00pm. Noticed watch and cash missing when he was getting ready to go out for dinner. No sign of forced entry. No witnesses. Residents of other apartments on this floor were at work. Reporting Officer: Constable Vic Clarke ______________________________________________________ This was the second report he had filled out that week, there were three reports last week. They were all similar, the robberies happened during the day, the amount was under $500 and they were all in apartments above the tenth floor. In all cases, the neighbours were at work during the times of the robberies. ‘ Even if I caught him for this robbery, he would only get a light sentence for theft under $500. The courts wouldn’t count all the other robberies. He only takes cash and items that can be quickly pawned. Still it all adds up to over $1000 a week and no taxes – that’s more than what I make. . . . Breaking this case will look good next time I apply for detective ’ Constable Clarke went and talked to the building manager. The results were always the same. He hadn’t seen anybody other than a few deliver people that had been buzzed in by a resident. There was a video camera in the underground parking area. It covers the front door to the parking area and is monitored by the building manager. Clarke takes the tape even though he knows there probably wouldn’t be anything on it. Clarke goes back to his car and drives around to the back of the property. There is a small outdoor parking lot off Pacific Ave. A set of stairs at the back of the parking lot lead to a door that opens onto a corridor to the lobby. Another staircase, just to the left of the first, leads down to a door marked ‘Equipment Room’. There is a BC Tel repairman standing in front of the door. Clarke goes to talk to him. As he approaches the repairman starts to smile. As he gets nearer the man says: “Twice in one week?” Clarke looks confused. “I saw you last week just down the street. I was delivering a phone.” Clarke smiles in recognition, he had been investigating another breakin at the time. To his embarrassment, there had even been another robbery in that building that day. “In my fifteen years with the company I never ran into a VPD officer before – then twice in one week. It must be some kind of sign.” The repairman sticks out his hand. “Frank Fisher . . . What can I do for you?” Clarke glances at the ID card hanging from a lanyard around the man’s neck then shakes his hand. “Constable Vic Clarke. There have been a series of robberies in high rise apartments in the West End, just investigating one that happened here yesterday. . . . Have you seen anything unusual?” “Not really” smiling “Other than the increased number of patrol cars in the area.” Frank takes the building key from the lockbox to the left of the door. “Do all the repairmen have a key to the lockbox?” “No, just the ones assigned to working on apartment buildings.” Showing the key to Clarke – “The company started using these tubular tumbler locks. They are supposed to be harder to pick and there is no place that I know of to get one cut.” Clarke looks at it. He has seen similar keys used on vending machines. Frank opens the door. Using his foot to stop the door from closing he puts the key back in the lockbox.

“The door will lock as soon as it closes. . . . Some guys like to take everything inside then put the lock back when they finish. I like to make sure everything is locked up before I start.” Frank holds the door open. “Could someone break into the lockbox to get the building key?” Clarke asks. Frank laughs. “I guess they could smash the box, I don’t think they could open it. . . . The most secure thing here is the lockbox. Any locksmith worth his salt could make a key for the door in the time it takes to cut the key.” “Once inside the equipment room can you get into the rest of the building?” “Sure. C’mon in – I’ll show you.” Pointing to his left Frank says “That’s the Hydro room. You don’t want to go in there.” Pointing to the back of the room. “That’s the door to the underground parking and the elevator.” Clarke goes over to check. ‘ That must be how he is getting in without anyone seeing him. ’ “Is that the way you get into the main part of the building?” “Only if I have to change the wire going to the client's apartment. If I am picking up or delivering a phone I use the main entrance. . . . I want to know the customer is home, so I get buzzed in. No sense in going up to the apartment if there is no one home.” “Don’t you have an appointment?” “Yeh. But sometimes I am late and sometimes the customer had to go out. . . . Best to be buzzed in.” Clarke smiles remembering the times he has waited for a service man that didn’t show. Frank was working while they were talking. He has clipped his orange test phone onto a line, then pulls a black module from a module strip and replaces it with another one from a small cabinet. Still connected to the line he was testing, Frank dials something on the test phone. Then: “Hello, this is the telephone repairman. Your line should be working now. Please call repair service if you have any more problems.” Unclipping his test phone, "Got the answering machine." He takes a red marking pen from his pouch and marks the first module with an ‘X’. “Don’t want it to get mixed up with the good ones. . . . I’m finished. . . Do you want a Cook’s Tour?” Clarke had always felt that you never know when a random bit of knowledge may come in useful. “Sure – I have a bit of time.” Pointing at a large black cable “This cable connects back to the central office down on Seymour St. There are two hundred and fifty pairs of wire in the cable – a little big for this building, but it is always nice to have extra in case something goes wrong..”

Pointing at a strip of fifty rows of modules, five modules per row at the end of a small framework. The framework has five short shelves; there are wires running along the shelves. “Each cable pair connects to one side of one of a module which acts like a circuit breaker and high voltage protector. . . . The trouble I had today was with the high voltage protector. It blocks any high voltages, say from a lightning strike, from blowing your phone off the wall. They sometimes go bad – you can’t fix them. . . . You with me so far?” Clarke nods “What are those red modules for?” “Those are for alarm circuits – we never touch them.” Anticipating his next question – “That orange module means the line has been disconnected – probably an empty apartment. . . . . These pins on the right” – pointing to the right side of the strip of modules – “connect to the other side of the module.” “Do you solder the wire to the pin?” “No, we have a tool for wrapping the wire onto the pin. I was skeptical of it at first – but they work great”

Going to the side of the frame Frank shows him a series of connector blocks. “Each block connects to a cable going to one of the floors.” Grabbing a wire from the shelf. “This wire running along the shelf connects the cable pair from the office to the cable going to the right floor.” Clarke asks “Why do some blocks have less wires than others?” “The lower floors have smaller apartments, more apartments per floor. From about the fifth floor up, the apartments start getting larger – fewer per floor.” ‘ Bingo ’ Clarke smiles to himself. ‘ That is why the robberies were all above the tenth floor – fewer neighbours. Less likely for there to be someone at home. ’ “You left a message on the answering machine. I didn’t think you could call yourself back like that.” “You noticed that, did you?” Forcing a laugh. “There is a code you can dial that will ring the phone on the line you are on. If I am going to have the line down for any length of time I call before I start, to see if anyone is home. This time I was only going to be a few seconds – so I just left a message once I was finished.” Clarke nods. Frank says “I have to get back to work. . . . So, now you know how this works, if you ever get tired of the VPD you can become a repairman.” Laughing Clarke replies. “I think I will stay where I am.” Both men walk back to their vehicles. After saying goodbye Constable Clarke gets in his cruiser and drives off, excited to report what he has found out about entering the building through the Equipment Room. ‘ I might even make detective out of this. ’

Frank sits in his van pretending to look through a stack of papers - waiting for Clarke to leave. ‘ What a schlemiel! I laid out the whole scam for him and he still didn’t figure out who I was. . . . Still when you have the right look and know the patter people accept you at face value. . . . Maybe it's time to move on. Check out the Calgary Stampede next month. ’ Glancing down at the toolbox behind the passenger seat. ‘ Best investment I ever made – getting a machine to cut keys for tubular locks. ’


It had always been thus. The old sign hung upon the mortician’s door had been placed there so long ago that its weathered edges were rounded entirely and the lettering on its front needed constant darkening with soot and ash to keep it legible. The wind whipped through Graydon’s Gorge at an almost relentless pace and the townsfolk were happier for its protection. Tales around these parts say that Graydon himself was the first to set up shop at the mouth of the gorge and folks around here think that mighty peculiar, as it isn’t often that a mortician sets up on a vacant piece of land with no one to need his particular services.

The story goes that Graydon’s Gorge, and the river running through it, is home to one of the richest veins of silver this county has ever known. The problem was, Graydon had no desire or skill to mine that vein and so he put an out an ad.

At first, he was discrete, not wanting to attract the wrong element. His ads were typical of boomtown advertisements and only the most desperate of people would inquire. It was a hard sell because Graydon’s only condition was that you arrived with a family. It didn’t specify the size of the family, and it didn’t define what a family was, Graydon’s condition was that you come and you bring love with you. For his end of the bargain, he promised that love would endure until the end of days. Sappy sentiment if you ask me but it weren’t no ballyhoo and I’m the living proof. The first to bite was a man named Reginald, a slight and nobby feller who arrived double-riding on a tired horse with a jackaroo named Jeb. Jeb was a quiet feller but Reg was downright loquacious, and so that’s what Graydon had called him. Jeb agreed that it sounded a bit more than Reginald, and Reg himself took it as a compliment. And so, Loquacious and Jeb broke ground on what would become this here inn. At Graydon’s request, they called it the Bone Orchard. “That’s a lil grim, boss,” Jeb observed. “Trust me,” Graydon said with a wink and a nod. Building the Bone Orchard was no easy feat, what with materials needing to be brought in from the coast, a nearly hundred-mile journey but one that brought Connie and Dale and young Ditmus and Betty. They were builders, you see and they came to Grayden’s Gorge with materials and skill and soon the Bone Orchard was up and running. Within no time at all, the town had begun to fill up. Loquacious and Dale had become fast friends. They and Jeb would spend hours reading the California prayer book and bending at the elbow, gambling their troubles away for that was all they had to offer and filling the space with bumblebee whisky. There were nearly a dozen folks now living in prosperity at the mouth of Graydon’s Gorge but not a single one mined that vein.

Junie, Bridey, and shy young Pip showed up, entering the Gorge in all their finery. They were all pretty girls and their smiles were practiced, patient, and persuasive except for Pip who hadn’t yet gotten the hang of it. They had come from Archerton in the east where they had practiced the oldest profession. At least two of them had. “Mine is older,” Graydon replied with a smile, all at once wicked and welcoming. Within a week Junie, Bridey, and Pip had a place of their own. Dale and Ditmas, Jeb and Zachariah… oh yes, Zachariah was the butcher’s boy. They arrived sometime the previous winter, blown into the Gorge quite by chance during a storm. He and Pip hit it off famously. Within a year they had built themselves their own lil home and not long after the squeals and squalls of Baby, that's what they called their sweet lil girl, were bouncing off the walls, echoing down the canyon and back again. Not long after, a school was built and Esther came to teach there. So many children now ran the streets of Graydon’s Gorge that it was simply overrun. No one batted an eyelash when that orphanage next town over had burned down and all those kids needed a place to stay. They’d never needed a teacher before, but now they did and Esther had come. Her journey wasn’t easy as she’d traveled a long hard road, but she arrived just when they needed her most. The orphans, the painted ladies, the butcher, the builders, and Graydon himself all prospered at the mouth of the Gorge, and still no one had mined that vein. Loquacious had often said that their fortune had been made when they decided to build a life here. Jeb always doubled the notion, gently taking his hand. They were all rich in friends he’d say, and not a single soul would disagree. Baby grew up and grew old among the friends the fire had sent their way. More children were born and more arrived, as did their parents and grandparents. All manner of  families arrived, families grew, and everyone prospered just as Graydon had promised. If anyone questioned he would nod and smile and, “Trust me,” was all he’d say.

Old Nellie sat now upon the Bone Orchard’s porch in her well worn rocker. Her husband, Shad would bring her a cup of hot tea, three times a day. He always perched a wedge of lemon on its rim. She knitted lambs wool into all manner of clothes which she gave away freely, just as Morton, the shepherd had given her the wool for spinning.

The dry grass of the desert seemed to suit Morton’s small herd just fine. It was never too large, but never so small that old Nellie couldn’t provide whatever was needed whenever the occasion arose. Every once in a while they’d lose one to the coydogs which would sneak into town after twilight. But every so often they would find a litter of pups and take those in, train them up, and then the town had its own patrol of pugnacious lil beasts that would snarl and bark and howl whenever an outsider came too close. Their warnings would echo down the length of Graydon’s Gorge and back again. The sun rose fiery one morning, glowing oranges and reds as it came angrily over the horizon. The waves of heat rose from the sands as if they would catch fire all of a sudden and consume the town whole. Shad came a-knockin’ on Graydon’s door. Shad knew everything that was happening, day or night and he did not fear the angry early morning heat for the years spent shoveling coal on the railroad. There was that sound again. “Do you hear it, Gray?” The old man asked. “I hear it.” Graydon’s jaw set firmly. Shad took a step back. For all his long years at the mouth of the gorge, he had never seen Graydon’s smile wane. But here it was like a new moon all dark, the light was gone. The tapping echoed through the gorge and the rafters of their homes shook as if the gods were raining thunder down upon them. The coydogs were baying and the sheep were bleating and Jeb came to stand at Graydon’s side, his sidearm ready for use. “Been keeping it ready, boss” Jeb said matter-of-factly. “Should I see to it?” “They’ve found the vein,” Graydon replied. “Bring all hands and the cook.” “Everyone?” Jeb was stunned. “Every last one.” Graydon straightened his tie and walked off towards the mouth of the gorge, the dogs now falling into step behind him. The three men worked in the light of an oil lantern, hoping the shadows of the deep gorge would soon give way to light. Foolishness, they’d a been roasted alive. The dogs grew quiet, but the rumbles of the deep-throated growls seemed to run with the river’s waters as Graydon reached the small camp’s perimeter. The first one to notice him cast his pan aside and casually grabbed the handle of his pick menacingly. “Mornin’,” He said, startling his companions into a defensive formation on either side of him. “Mornin’ to you,” Graydon replied, his expression none too pleased. “This is my Gorge. It’s my river. That’s my silver.” The three men looked from one to the other and then began to laugh, the leader at their front now taking a step forward. “You know, I think there’s enough for all of us.” “There certainly is, but you’ve come as thieves in the night and so… you’ve got no claim.” There was regret in his voice. The dogs had circled around to Graydon’s front, and now their hackles were up as they crouched low to the ground, teeth bared, ready to attack. “You’re going to sick your dogs on us?” The leader sounded wary but still confident. “No need,” Graydon said, looking to the left and then to the right. They were all there, Loquacious and Jeb, Old Nellie and strong dependable Ditmas. Shad had come and so had Bridey and Junie and Baby too. The orphans were all there and even kindhearted Esther. They whipped past him in a nimbus of outrage, their spectral hands outstretched like eagles’ talons and bobcats’ claws. They rent the miners’ flesh and sent their blood drifting in little red clouds down the gently rolling waters of the river. They ground their bones to dust upon its rocky bed. Their tools fell down deep into the water where they succumbed to time and the elements.

The angry spirits of Graydon’s Gorge surveyed the damage. They were lucky. The miners had not yet disturbed the ancient silver vein. For good measure, they sent the baying dogs down the river and back again. When they were certain there were no others the crowd slowly dispersed, each of them drifting back to their eternity and forgetting all about the men who’d have destroyed everything they had paid so dearly to build. “Sad business,” Jeb said, falling in beside Graydon as he strolled back to the mortuary. “We’ll be fine. Trust me,” Graydon said, his smile had returned. He dipped his fingers into a small pot that dangled from a nail beneath the old worn sign, emerging with a gob of oily soot and ash which he rubbed into the letters of the sign. It had always been thus.


cw: gore, blood, language

Finally made it to the flower shop. It took a few wrong turns to finally arrive. I step out of my car and look at the sign, "Bonnies Flower Shop". It was a bit difficult to find since I am new to this small town. I close the door to my car and make my way up to the store. I'm not sure what I am looking for today, just something for my wife Nemy. She is a plant fanatic, our new house is already covered in all kinds of plants and flowers. Her birthday is coming up so I figured I would try and get a plant she doesn't have. I open the door to the flower shop; the earthy smell hits my nose right away. I look around at all the flowers, all ranging from different heights, colors, smells, looks. This is going to be harder than I thought it would be. I start walking down the aisles looking at all the plants. I want to find the perfect one. I really just don't know which one would be a perfect pick. I hear footstep come my way. "Anything I can help you with dear?" I look over at a small elderly lady and smile, "I'm not really sure what I'm looking for." She comes closer, "Looking for anyone specific?" "My wife. Turns out trying to find a flower she doesn't have is quite troublesome." Her eyes light up, "You're the couple that moved into that old cottage just outside the city, right?" Guess the word travels fast in small towns. I nod my head "Yes Ma'am we are." "Come I have the perfect thing. She wouldn't happen to have any Cherry Blossoms Trees, would she?" Cherry blossoms? Those didn't even cross my mind. I start to follow her, "No I don't think she does actually." We walk into a different room; this one is closed off from the rest of the shop. I look at the beautiful arrange of small cherry blossom trees. "What do you think?" These would be perfect for Nemy. I smile at her, "I will take one." "Alright remember what I told you?" "Keep it in doors for a few weeks, water it and give it sunlight. Then transfer it outside where we would like and watch it grow." I repeated the conversation we had while she was checking me out. She gives me a rather creepy smile. I'm not one to judge others but that smile but a little bit of fear into me. I let out a small huff and grabbed the plant. "Well, I appreciate the help! I'll let you know how it goes." "Oh, I know how it will turn out." I let out an awkward laugh, "Bye!" I put the tree in the front seat and figured out my way home. What a strange lady, I shouldn't worry about it. She did help me get the perfect plant. I finally get home, "Honey I'm home." "In the kitchen." I put the plant behind my back and make my way to the kitchen. I turn the corner and see her cooking something on the stove. She finally turns around and gives me a skeptical look, "What's behind your back?" "Close your eyes." She closes them and I pull round the tree, "Open them." She opens them and they immediately light up, "Happy Birthday Love." "Oh Kit!" She walks over to me and touches the plant. "It's absolutely beautiful." "Good because I wasn't sure until the lady showed it to me." She gives me a tight hug and a peck on the lips. "I love it, Thank you so much. You're the best husband a woman could ask for!" She grabs the tree and puts it on the middle of the dining room table. "We shall eat with it tonight and I’ll put it in the window tomorrow.”

She makes both of our plates as we sit down and talk. “Did you find the shop alright?” I finish my bite, “You already know that answer.” She giggles and looks at the tree, “It really is beautiful dear.” As soon as she said it my mind flashed to that elderly lady. Something was off at the end of our interaction. I can’t quite put my finger on it.

I open my eyes as soon as I hear that sound. It’s a horrible screeching noise that spreads through the house. It’s been going on for a few weeks and we can’t figure out what it is. I swear it happened over 100 times, especially at night. Nemy thinks it is just because our house is old but there is no way that’s the reason.

I’ve tried convincing myself it’s no big deal but when it goes on for this long something has to be up. I pull the blankets from my body and swing my feet over the bed. They hit the cold hard floor and the sound stops. What the heck! I get up quietly making sure I don’t wake Nemy. I make my way through the house to make sure everything seems alright. I make my way into the kitchen not having found anything. It’s strange the noise stopped as soon as I was about to check it out. I pull out a cup from the cabinet and fill it up with water. I lean against the counter and look out the window. Oh god, we’re going to have to move that Cherry Blossom Tree out tomorrow, it is growing onto our walls. I told Nemy a week ago to move it outside and she insisted it was fine. Said “I’m the plant expert right?” I roll my eyes remembering what she said. I get it but like it’s growing on our wall it shouldn’t do that. I finish my cup of water and wash the cup and head back to bed. I snuggle up next to Nemy and close my eyes. “eerrrreee” I groan, I swear someone or something is just messing with me.

I stare out the window as Nemy is planting the tree. I finally convinced her to do it. I don’t know why she was so against it. I’m literally following what the lady said to do. I will admit the tree looks beautiful out there. Fits in more than I expected with all her other plants. I go back to making some Chicken Alfredo for dinner. I finished it about 45 minutes later. Nemy hasn’t come back yet. Which isn’t weird, I swear she spends more time with her plants than her own husband. I walk to the window again and see her still by the tree. I open the back door and call for her, “Honey dinner is ready.” No response. I make my way over to her and look down at her. Oh god, “Honey!” I say kneeling beside her and grabbing her arm. It’s covered in blood, “What the hell happened?” She doesn’t respond to me, “Nemy!” I raise my voice a bit louder. She slowly looks at me, “What?” “What happened?” I ask, nodding my head towards her arm. She looks at her arm and gasp, “Oh my god.” I look at her confused. I sigh and stand up, “come in, Ill clean you up.” I get her inside and start to clean her cut, luckily it’s not that deep. I wrap it up and look at her. “What happened?” She shakes her head, “I don’t know.” “You don’t know how you got a big cut on your arm?” “No Kit I don’t.” She says with a bit of an attitude. “I’m just asking Nemy, it’s weird for someone to not know how they cut themselves that’s big.” “Well I fucking don’t.” I back up, throwing my hands up. “Dinners done anyways come on before it gets too cold.” She shakes her head, “I’m not hungry, I'm going to lay down.” I guess I'm eating by myself tonight.

Nemy has been acting weird lately. Like she’s avoiding me by staying with her plants. I caught her talking to herself, which is totally normal, but she was mumbling in like different language. Maybe I’m just losing my mind. I plan on talking to her tonight to see what the deal is. I walk outside to where she is. Swear she is always out here by this dang tree. If i knew the cherry blossom would be such a perfect plant that it takes my wife from me I would have never gotten it. I take a seat by her on the ground and look at her. She doesn’t even acknowledge that I am here. I sit here a bit before I speak, “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” “Nothing.” She tells me in a soft voice. “You’ve been acting differently lately. I'm getting worried about you. You're always out here.” “Is that such a bad thing? She needs me.” I look at her confused “Who?” She doesn’t respond to me but instead points towards the tree. I shake my head, “honey it’s a plant, it thrives outside. It doesn’t need supervision 24/7.” “She needs me.” She keeps repeating. What the hell is she on about? I look at the tree, it looks a bit darker, like a reddish color. Aren’t they supposed to be mainly pink and white? “I don’t understand Nemy.” She slowly turns her head towards me, “you will know soon.” She suddenly pushes me down onto the ground. I start to panic, “Nemy what the hell?” “She needs us.” I start to panic, when did she get so damn strong. I start to feel something crawl up my limbs. I turn my head to see vines wrapping around my arms. This isn’t happening right? No, there's no way this can happen. I have to be dreaming. I look back at Nemy and her eyes are red. I squeeze my eyes closed in hope of waking up from this dream. I start to hear her laughing. I open my eyes back up. This is not a dream, it’s a nightmare. I start to realize what is happening. I try to fight my way out of the vines grip that have me. “Don’t fight dear.” I feel Nemy's hands on me. “She needs you to survive. She needs your blood to create so much more.” “It’s a fucking plant Nemy. Please listen to me. Cut me out of these vines.” She shakes her head, “It’s for the better.” She leans down and pecks my lips. “It will be over soon.” I start to feel a stinging pain all over. I look over at one of my arms and see a bunch of little thorns piercing my skin. “NEMY! STOP THIS!” She just smiles at me, “for the better darling, remember.” I start to feel dizzy, “please Nemy.” I see a single tear run down her face. “I have to Kit. New beginnings.”


Again, on his annual vigil, he sat alone on the riverbank lost in thought. He didn’t know how long he’d been there as the only thing on his mind was his beloved Julia. It was so many years since they had been together and, although his whole being ached with an overwhelming longing to be with her he still wasn’t sure they’d ever meet again. He had relived that last night together over and over until it was so embedded in his mind he knew he could never be free. They had both been together at high school but never really mixed and, as she was a year younger, their paths seldom crossed.  However, if they did happen to pass by they always smiled at each other as if drawn by some invisible thread. So their first proper meeting, by the local river one glorious day in late summer, was purely by chance.

The air, much as this evening, had been filled with a mellow warmth that was host to buzzing bees and humming flies darting around the marshes, reed beds and the last of the wild flowers in bloom. A few wasps were drunkenly weaving their way about having feasted on the late blackberries together with apples, from the nearby orchard, that had fallen, rotten, to the ground. The hazy atmosphere hung over the whole area like a soft gossamer shawl keeping out the onset of Autumn’s cooler days. He had been sitting lazily on the bank side, occasionally casting his rod into the water hoping to catch something to take home for his mother to cook for their evening meal. She had wandered down from her parents’ large house where she had been in the beautiful gardens watching over her younger brothers and sisters. She was now free for time to herself as the young folk had been taken inside for their tea. Lost in thought she manoeuvred the narrow path, trying to keep her long hippie skirt away from the brambles, so she didn’t see the slender, prickly tendril snaking across the parched earth in front of her. Suddenly, she found herself tripping, tumbling forward and landing in an unladylike heap in the dried, brown foliage at the edge of the path. Edward was shaken out of his reverie by her startled yelp and, turning around, saw a vision of loveliness with long, tousled, blonde hair sitting on the gravel, brushing dust off her skirt and rubbing her knee. “Are you alright?” he asked jumping to his feet. Her twinkling laugh was music to his ears. “Yes thank you, I’m fine, I just didn’t notice the bramble. Hence my sudden downfall!”, she answered ruefully, lifting her head to look up at him. “Oh it’s you”, they exclaimed in unison as their eyes met. He helped her to her feet, dusting the dirt and dried grass from her back whilst she shook the front of her skirt to destroy the evidence of her clumsiness. Turning to her he extended his hand. “Edward”, he said by way of introduction. She shook his hand, her bright blue eyes looking directly into his soft brown ones saying “Julia, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you”. His heart skipped a beat as he detected her cheeks blushing in a most delightful way. He brought himself back to earth explaining “the path is uneven and gets worse from here on”. “I know”, she glanced at him demurely “perhaps I’d better go back home and try and make a lady of myself again!” He was captivated again by her infectious laugh feeling that, from that moment on, she was the only girl he would ever want in his life. “I’ll walk you home just in case you don’t look where you’re going again”, he said smilingly mocking her. She tossed her head flicking her long blonde curls and, pretending to be affronted by his mockery, strode off in the direction from which she’d come.

He gathered up his fishing stuff and ran after her. “I’m sorry. He blurted out, “I didn’t mean to offend you”. He was about to carry on apologising when he saw the laughter in her eyes, the enchanting smile on her face and realised she was teasing him.

“Oh I see, it’s going to be like that, is it? I can see I’ll have to sharpen my wits if I’m to keep up with you! Unless you fall down again and then I’ll have no trouble keeping up!”. They both enjoyed the humour and continued to banter until they reached her garden gate. From that moment on they were inseparable. They spent their free time together at school and continued to take long walks hand in hand, by the river, through autumn and into winter, whenever possible. They walked and talked so earnestly that, in time, they knew everything about each other being in wonder at the similarities in their outlooks, dispositions, honesty, integrity and the empathy they felt towards each other. As winter and spring gave way to summer once more, their love for, and devotion to, each other was undeniable.

Unfortunately, she had an over domineering father who had no intention of letting Edward, or any other young man, waltz his daughter off into the sunset. Her help was needed at home as she was extremely good at looking after her younger siblings when both parents went out.

So, after many tearful battles he finally put his foot down, refusing to give his permission for Julia to even see Edward anymore and threatening harm to Edward if they disobeyed him. At this Julia ran out of the house to tell Edward that, for his sake, she could no longer see him as the last thing she wanted was for him to come to any harm. She ran along the path until she came to the wide bend where the river seemed to gain strength, rippling its way downstream. The water had eroded the bank making a small beach like area complete with a fallen tree that gave them something to lean against. It was definitely their favourite place. She saw Edward sitting, waiting for her with his fishing rod in his hand.

He heard her screaming his name and ran towards her, aware of her father charging behind her like a raging bull. He gathered her up in his arms asking what was happening. Breathless from running she was unable to explain that, for his safety, she couldn’t see him again before her father was upon them. His puffy face was bright red - partly from the exercise his big, flabby body was unused to, and partly from the anger he felt towards his daughter as he assumed she had disobeyed him and gone to see her beloved regardless. Little did he know she was carrying out his instructions. The older man reached them and lunged towards Edward grabbing his arm. “You stay away from my daughter”. He screamed into Edward’s face, his own contorted with rage.

Whereupon Edward, realising danger, tried wrenching his arm away from the vice like grip. Unfortunately, in doing so, he completely lost his balance and fell backwards towards the river, his hand clutching his adversary’s jacket, causing them both to fall, as one, into the cold water. Edward felt his back hit the riverbed, winding him and making it impossible to move the heavier man on top of him. His legs, now entangled in the weeds, stopped him from getting his head above water to breathe. Meanwhile his foe, realising what was happening beneath him, took advantage and held Edward’s body down until it appeared lifeless. He then pretended to try and lift Edward to the surface, telling his daughter that the boy’s legs were trapped, and he couldn’t save him.

It was then that Julia, without a thought for her own safety, jumped into the water to try and help her beloved, pushing her father out of the way such that he stumbled and fell headlong into the water again, this time striking his head on the rocky bottom. He did not surface again. Julia was left clinging to her motionless Edward never, for one moment, thinking of deserting him or what the inevitable consequences might be for her.

As the years went by Edward would stand at Julia’s gate to get just a glimpse of her – but he never saw her. In time different people moved into the house so he assumed her father had taken the whole family away, to where? He didn’t know. He could only hope that one year, on that fatal anniversary, she would come to him at their special place. *    *    * Fast forward to today. A technological age full of angular, futuristic buildings and vehicles that seemed to slink silently along like cats on the prowl. The small, sleek, gleaming craft moored near the bend in the river was no exception. Its brilliant white shell had turned to the prettiest of pinks as it absorbed the colour from the large, orange sun set low in the sky. The boat was like a chameleon that changed colour constantly depending on its surroundings, preventing the ultra-modern style and shape looking too incongruous against the natural beauty of the river and marshes.  It was early evening and the dying sun was sending its last vestiges of orange light across the landscape. What a lovely way to spend a honeymoon, Monica thought as she looked up from the book she was reading, what a good job we keep some of the old traditions going! She wondered if she should go below and project the rest of the book on to the wall mounted screen, but she still liked to read a “proper” book and, besides, the atmosphere on deck was too magical to want to tear herself away from it. “That’s really interesting” she called to Martin who poked his head up through the stairwell to ask what she was talking about. “I’ve been reading about the two High School lovers who used to meet on that small beachy bit a long time ago, until they were torn apart by her despicable father.  Funny I wonder what a High School was like. Can’t imagine not studying from home like we all do now. Hang on – it was actually 100 years ago to this very day. Legend has it that the boy, he was called Edward, still wanders around waiting for his love to return. That is soooo sad. I wonder if we’ll see him at all.  Apparently, the awful father still hangs around as well looking for young lovers to prey on. It happened about this time of day as well” she grimaced looking at her watch. She shivered as Martin sat down beside her.  “It’s ok, it’s not you”, she smiled. Perhaps I got too involved in the story, but it is a little scary as we are definitely young and in love! Hope we’re not in the wrong place at the wrong time” she said apprehensively. “I almost feel as if we’re not alone, or am I just talking something up?”. He pulled her close, watching as the coolness of the early evening met the heat of the day resulting in a gradual mist building up and moving up the river. “You’ll be ok” he whispered lightheartedly into his new wife’s neck, I’ll always be here to protect you!”. Inwardly he wondered what it must be like to just meet someone by chance and fall in love. Young people nowadays were paired up by ultra-super computers – and given three possible matches to find the right partner. Fortunately it had been third time lucky for him! *    *    * Edward saw the mist as well. He was mesmerised by its slow-moving, ever changing form as it glided along the river, covering everything in its path. He thought he must be seeing things as, gradually rising from the water, the form seemed to become Julia. Surely he was dreaming but, the more he watched, the more it became her. This beautiful, colourless apparition with flowing curls and the loveliest of faces, was now enveloped in a cloak of grey that still allowed him glimpses of the peasant skirt beneath he remembered so well. She gave him the gentlest of smiles and beckoned him to join her. It seemed the most natural thing to take his place beside her – after all this was what he had been waiting for all those years. They swept silently on gripping each other’s hands tightly. She turned her head and stared back into the greyness with a frightened look. This made him glance back as well – and then he realised that way down river the mist had changed to a thick fog that was beginning to gather momentum, swirling and rushing to catch them up with a velocity he couldn’t believe. His heart sank. He had recognised the shape the fog was taking on as …………. Julia’s father. Julia sped forward pulling him with her until they came across the small  boat neatly moored with two young people, very much in love, visibly wrapped in each other’s arms. By this time the furious fog was fast catching them up.  Julia quickly enveloped Edward with her cloak, the two separate misty bodies becoming one that descended on the boat, covering it completely thus hiding it from view. Its thickness muffled any sound Monica and Martin made as they felt its dampness enveloping them.

The fog, now raging and looking just as malevolent and angry as Julia’s father had been when he drowned, swept over the shielding blanket unaware that his prey, both living and dead, was beneath him. As he sped on upstream, finally failing to wreak havoc, he began to lose control and gradually dissipated into thin air as if he’d never existed. So, one hundred years after that dreadful evening, Julia finally got there in time and, together with her love was able to put an end to her father’s evil wanderings. She and Edward were given their second chance, at last, to be together for eternity. The ghost story is no longer of any interest to anyone, so Julia and Edward are free to roam the river at will, content in each other’s company, and able to go to their special place when the heat of the day meets the coolness of evening – knowing her father will never harm anyone again.


Olton Grove was a town in decline. Since the construction of a new superhighway that bypassed the remote settlement entirely, the pothole-strewn streets saw less and less use by the year. Travellers and locals had left behind the rolling wheat fields for greener pastures, literal and figurative alike, and the dilapidated store fronts and desperate “For Lease” signs now rivalled the dwindling population of the town. And in his lonely cottage on the threshold of Olton Grove and the expansive Mid-Western wilderness beyond, John David had grown accustomed to the stillness of his quaint, quiet life. A rapping on the front door a little after noon brought the stillness crashing in around John David. A local historian for all of his working life, Mr. David devoted his time to the study of all those that had long since faded from the memories of the one-horse town. Sepia-toned photographs, fractured clay sculptures, faded art and fabrics on loan from town hall - these were all the company Mr. David had known for nearly three decades, and all of the companionship he asked for. The rhythmic knocking had no place among his scribbled workings. But reluctantly, Mr. David arose from his old and cluttered desk and shuffled to the front door, compelled by his commitment to the old-fashioned neighborly manners his mother had taught him when he was a child. Opening the door just a crack, he could glimpse the stranger on the other side, idly scanning the dismal surroundings from the poorly painted porch: a boy, hardly yet a man, with a nest of unkempt hair atop a lanky, toothpick body. With torn jeans and a thick suede jacket, the boy had the markings of a city kid, one impossibly lost amid the endless fields of grain. He certainly resembled none that remained in Olton Grove. “What do you want?” John David whispered, his tired voice hoarse and strained from a lifetime of isolation. He loathed being pulled away from his work like this. Somehow, the colorless images he stared at all day long held more color and life than the world outside his front door. But the stranger was real and standing on his porch, absently tending to his tousled, tangled locks. The dry heat of summer was a nuisance to those inexperienced with it. “I’m lookin’ for someone. The guy at the store said you could help.” “Aye, perhaps. What’s it to ya?” “Look, I don’t got much cash on me. But it’s important, yeah?” Sighing, Mr. David shut the door and unhooked the security latch. Swinging the door wide open, he motioned the boy inside. “Fine, fine. What do ya want? I ain’t got all day.” The boy stepped inside the cottage, the old floorboards creaking with every motion that he made. Mr. David gestured to a plush lounge chair in the corner, a gaudy floral pattern adorning every inch. Obligingly, he accepted the seat; despite the dated, grotesque fabric, the cushions were comfortable enough. Opposite the chair, Mr. David sat on back on a sagging loveseat, a piece surely older than his guest and all the more reliable. “Not from ‘ere, are ya?” “No, sir. Never. My ma spent some time out here, though, back in the day. I thought I’d check it out for myself.” John David chuckled to himself. “Ain’t much to check out these days, I’m afraid. Your ma was smart to get out.” “I guess.” “So, what’s your name, boy? A what brings ya to my front porch?” “Christopher, sir. Christopher Lewis. And like I said - I’m lookin’ for someone.” “Christopher, eh? What kinda someone?” Wringing his wrists, Christopher’s eyes dropped to a fraying carpet beneath his seat. “Well - see, I don’t know much about em’, sir. If they’re even out here anymore. What they mighta been like.” “So, what do ya know, boy?” “Just a name: Brandon Clarke.” Christopher shrugged. “I know it ain’t much. But… Ma said he was the love of her life, y’know? She said she left ‘im here to raise me. But I’m all raised now, so… I dunno. I thought I’d see if I could find ‘im. For ma. Has to be worth a shot, anyhow.” “Ahh… I see...” Slowly, John David rose from the loveseat, grabbing the wool cardigan he’d left draped over the arm the night before. “You’re a good kid, ain’t ya? Yeah, I know the name. I’ll take ya to ‘im, if you care to visit..” “Yessir. Thank you, sir.” … A short ride in John David’s worn sedan brought Mr. David and the boy to the single-story church just down the road. The sacred grounds where the stone church stood were carved into Mr. David’s mind, not only from 50-some years of Sunday services, but from a lifetime of studying the marble epitaphs that stood behind the building. With sturdy, methodic steps, Mr. David walked Christopher down the dirt path that ran along row after row of gravestones, leading him to the back of the cemetery with surety. There, in the back corner of the cemetery beneath a lone maple tree, he pointed to a grave placed away from the others, a somber look crossing his face. Christopher knelt before the marble stone with interest; in neat calligraphy, the name Brandon Clarke stared back. “I don’t get it, sir… 1990 to 1992 . He’s- It’s-” “I reckon leavin’ ‘im behind hurt your ma somethin’ bad. The pain of losin’ a child… It ain’t one that ever goes away.” “She never told me…” Gently, he traced the writing on the polished stone, his gaze vacant as he imagined a face to match the name. “I didn’t know…” “Perhaps it was too hard to talk about. I’m sure she meant you no harm.” Christopher looked up to John David with wide brown eyes. “You talk like you know her, sir.” “Nah, not hardly. I know her pain, is all.” “You lost a child, sir?” Mr. David looked away. “I don’t mean to pry-” “Think nothin’ of it.” With a heavy heart and slouched shoulders, Mr. David strolled to a bench beneath the maple tree and sat with Christopher. “Y’know, I never did care much for history til’ I had a kid o’ my own. The only thing my ex-wife ever left me, save the house and a mountain o’ debts. He woulda been about your age by now, I reckon; certainly a hell of a lot more sturdy.

‘Cept… He went missing, see? Broad daylight, middle o’ town - but there weren’t anyone around to see nothin’. Haven’t seen ‘im in - goodness, more than 20 years. After that, the past seemed a lot happier than the present.” Shutting his eyes, Mr. David breathed in the warm air and smiled. The sun seemed to shine brighter there than it ever did on his front porch. As the light fell across his face, he could almost feel his son’s breath on his cheek as he babbled about cowboys and cattle. Christopher stood from the bench hurriedly, his expression blank as he approached the grave one more. Sighing, Mr. David forced himself up and returned to the young boy’s side - as always, the memories had to come to an end as reality set back in. “But I’m sure your ma is better off than I was - with a kind boy like yourself lookin’ out for ‘er-” And the world around John David went dark.


The Ignorant I stared out the window of the truck as the man continued to drive to the gas station. My car was being pulled by the truck, as I had forgotten that I was running low on gas. I had to call in somebody to tow my car to a gas station and once the man arrived, without preamble, he began tying my car onto his truck.

The smell of smoke filled the air as the man held his cigarette out the window, not bothering to notice how uncomfortable I had gotten at the smell. At least he had the decency to puff the smoke out of the vehicle.

We were currently paused at a red light, what seemed like a mall being constructed at my right caught my attention.

“ Heyario Mall!! Opening 09/24! Biggest Mall In America!” Signs with the same writing were plastered all over nearby stores, the only variance being the color and size. The sun was beating down on the workers as they dug around the construction site, sweat and exhaustion visibly present on all of them. Smoke from the machines hovering all over the streets. These days, it has been getting hotter. Summer was on its way, yes, but the heat was excruciatingly high. There was a girl in one of my lectures that passed out signs to the class now and then. They had some sort of warning, something about the world dying and overheating. She was labeled as the crazy kid in class, so everyone maintained their distance. Except, of course, the other environmentalists around. They would convince the professor to postpone his lecture and talk about global warming, which he would more than gladly comply with whenever he was in no mood to teach.

I never paid attention to them. All I wanted to do was finish university and find an easygoing job that pays well and relax. Not enter some sort of group that cleans trash all day. We had finally made it to the station, the man effortlessly placing my car down near the pump and leaving without so much of a goodbye. I didn’t care. He did his job and I paid my debt, no communication is needed. I filled my empty car with enough gasoline for the bar to reach full capacity, sighing as the heat made its way towards my bones. I glanced at the store by the station, a big poster advertising a brand new iced treat that came out a few days ago.

I decided that it’s a good idea to try it out for the first time so I entered the store and grabbed myself one. For some reason, all the lights were on even though the sun provided enough radiance. The sound of the AC, the freezers, and what I thought was a sports game playing from the old TV in the corner was the only thing echoing through the store. I thanked the cashier and stepped out to eat my dessert in peace, slowly licking the popsicle to its wooden stick. I glanced around the area and couldn’t seem to pick up on any nearby garbage cans. So I headed towards my car to throw the wrapper and stick it into my cup holders. I began my journey back home, deeming this day too hot to do anything productive. Once I opened my window, the wrapper for the treat I had earlier flew out of it, causing me to mutter a few curses and signal an apology towards the car behind me. I sighed while waiting for traffic. Today’s been too long. The Alert I bowed one more time towards the crowd. I wasn’t going to give up. After all, it’s our planet.

“I was invited to the latest meeting provided by our town. A few of my friends in the 'Mother Nature Club' noticed the ongoing instruction for the new mall and were on the verge of exploding. Our protests for more solar power and less plastic waste are all going in vain. I have spent hours cleaning the side roads and trying to convince people in my lectures to help prevent this excessive waste, and I don’t see any change. This heatwave we are going through, it’s all because of global warming. Antarctica has lost three trillion tons of ice, ancient glaciers are melting, droughts are happening, and it’s all because we are too selfish to take care of our world. What is it going to take for you to notice that our Earth is signaling for help? Signaling for us to find a way to let our Earth

breathe ? Is having hundreds of thousands of trees cut down a day making you happy? And for what, to make paper that you won’t even get recycled? Why is the mall that is being built downtown needed? We have one in the next town over, and it’s only fifteen minutes away. Why won’t you reinforce solar panels on all buildings? Because people will save money? That gas station down the road, the lights are on even though the sun is right there.

Have you ever stopped on the highway and seen the amount of

trash  that is being thrown from cars? Gasoline is also a problem. Believe it or not, electric cars exist. We just have to normalize them instead of gas cars. As humans, it’s natural to be selfish, it’s natural to not want to complicate your mind with tiny problems here and there. But those small problems will eventually become

big . Big enough for you to wish you had solved these problems earlier. So all that is needed is for you to put your environment first. To begin rethinking your needs and wants. Baby steps. That is all that is required.” After stepping out into the empty lobby, I replayed my speech over and over in my head, hoping it was enough for the people present to rethink their values.

I huffed a heated breath and grabbed my metal bottle to take a sip of my iced water that is stored inside.

The heat has been gradually getting worse. The traffic everywhere is only increasing it.

I glanced around the area and found no one present. kneeling on the floor, I offered a prayer for our Earth, hoping one day everyone would be able to see what I see and help me save her. The Suffering I knew my condition was getting worse. My fevers were getting stronger and lasting longer as well. A few of the ice I had stored were disappearing. Parts of my habitat were being burned. My animal children were getting killed daily. I tried to fight back. I have. A few water leaks here, a fire there. Though it doesn't seem to be working. I knew there were still a few of my human children who still cared about my health because I hear their prayers every night. Even though it was barely noticeable, I knew some cared about what the plastic was doing to me and the animals. And for that, I want to thank them. Thank them for caring about me when most of my children don’t. But I don’t blame them. I’m not angry, just saddened by that fact. I know not everyone has time to care about what can they should throw their garbage into, and don't have time to go and buy reusable bags. So I forgive you. But please save me. It’s getting more suffocating by the hour. I don’t think I have a lot of time.

Please, I am begging you. From… Your Mother Earth.


There is a room in the north-east corner of my friend's house. Whenever I go their house Firoz don't allow me to enter the room. I asked Firoz, "what is there inside the room? Why don't you allow me?"Firoz don't reply. And I am interested to go the room but what to do. Then I stop asking.

   Oh let's give our introduction to the readers. I am Sabana and Firoz is my childhood friend. We are in college now. We both are in the language department. He comes my house frequently. Let's come to the story. Last Sunday, I went to Firoz's house. I knocked the door and Firoz's mom opened the door. I asked," Aunty where is Firoz?" Aunty replied, "he has gone to my daughter's place. Didn't he inform you?" "No aunty," I said. Aunty told me to stay there that night. Uncle were out of town and suddenly Firoz has to go his sister's place . I murmured, "let's discover the secret tonight." I called my mom and told all about. Mom always supports me.

    Having dinner, I go to Firoz's room so that I can visit the north-east corner. I said , "Aunty my exam's days are coming, if I stay Firoz's room, I can study." And aunty agreed. I am going to discover the secret tonight . Oh, I am so excited. I am awaking in Firoz's room and planning for today's operation. When I think that aunty may be slept thought it is tough to say, she is in another room. I open my room's door slowly like a thief. I go to north - east corner and enter the room. The room was well designed and decorated with balloons. "Does Firoz love balloons? Don't know but I love ballons" . I am looking at the whole room. One suspicious thing was there in the table. I go near and take the thing. It was covered. I open it's cover and see a photograph of mine and Firoz. I just shock. I observe it and see there is written "diary, 2012" behind the photograph. I never know Firoz writes diary. Now I have to find the diary. I start observing the table. There is a drawer, the diary may be there inside the drawer. I open the drawer and find out the diary, 2012. Now let's read the diary.

1st page

  "Today was my first day at the college. I saw college girl, may be first year. She wore a borkha. I saw her eyes. Her deep black eyes attracted me. I fall in love when I saw her. But I didn't get any chance to talk with her. My friends called me and had to pay attention. She vanished in a while. It was like a dream." 2nd page   " Today is my second day at my college. I searched that "borkha girl" in college campus, other departments. But I couldn't find her. Finally I entered my department. What I saw, I couldn't believe in my eyes. That girl in my department! I feel swear on my body. Nervously I took a seat. Our professors has came and took classes one by one. At the end of all classes our senior come to our department and started taking introduction. All my classmates were giving introduction one by one. They asked that "borkha girl" to give her introduction. "I am Sabana Parveen, I have....." She said with a lovely voice." I felt, this voice is known to me. But who is she? Can't remember. Today I tried to talk but couldn't. Her eyes just pulling me near to her. In in deep black eyes anyone can immerses."

   3rd page    " Today our college was off. I was thinking of Sabana. My school friend Abhishekh called me and told me to visit at football ground. My friends had arranged a reunion of school friends. I had not visit the please since two mounth. I reached there. Sabana was there. How she were there? Was she one of our school friends? I found it as an opportunity. I wen to her and succeed in talking to her. I come to know that Sabana was there in my school before 4 years. Then she has to go out of town due to his father's posting. And this year she come back along with her mother to complete her graduation. She could complete her graduation from other college, but her father also complete his college from this college. So she wished to graduate from this college. Today I get my answered why her voice... 4 years ego we were in same school. Even we together completed our primary schooling. Oh! what a lucky I am."   4th page

 " Today I rode my motorcycle to my college. I attended first two classes and asked Sabana to go for a bike riding. She and I now friends as were before. So we enjoyed the day. We enjoyed 'panipuri', 'ice-cream'. Today I saw her whole face. She is looks like an angel. Her killer pinks lips and deep eyes... " 5th page

  " Today I saw her talking with another guy. I couldn't tolerate it. If he make any relationship with Sabana. No no,it can't be happen. I have to confess that I love her. What will be her answer let's see." 6th page  " I started to took her at my home. And never allow her to come into this room. It must be wonder to her. But when I couldn't tell her face to face. Let's grow her interest to know about the room, why I don't allow her? And one day I will give her a chance to discover the truth." 7th page

  " I don't write daily. When I feel to, I write. I love you Sabana.. I love you Sabana.. I love you Sabana.. I love you.. I love you. I know today you are at my house and in the north - east corner room . And now you are reading my diary. So if you feel the same then give me any sign. The day after tomorrow I will be there. You know we couldn't marry now, our college has not yet completed. I want to be with you Sabana, love you "  Now I have read all the pages and you readers too. I come back to Firoz's room and trying to sleep. How I give him a sign." How idiot Firoz is! he can't even propose a girl. Let's come him back. I will show him". I wake up by 10 am. What I discovered last night! I break fast and come back to my home.

After two days , I am going to college. Today's weather is seems more romantic. And today I have to face Firoz, the idiot . I reached at college by 11 am. Firoz was there in the department but we didn't talk. After classes I looked for Firoz but he was not there in the college campus. Then I go to Firoz's house. Firoz was not in his room. Then I go to the north - east corner. The door was closed. I knocked the door. Few seconds later he opens the door."I love you idiot" I confessed and hugged him . He kissed in my forehead and touches my lips. I can feel his warm breathing. I close my eyes and he kissed in my lips. Then we hugg each other for few minutes. Then I say,  "why can't you propose me? Idiot. "  "Sabana, my Darling, why a girl always expect that a boy will Always propose first? Can't a girl propose first? Have they no courage? " so Mr. Firoz does Aunty know all about it?

"What you think Sabana…? And you readers?"


It was during the second winter of the COVID-19 pandemic that we first learned of a deadly mutated strain of the virus. This strain the most terrifying yet. The virus not only mutated, it evolved. It evolved out of the realm of our understanding. Beyond our cognitive and scientific abilities. It no longer attacked the body; it attacked the mind. A catatonic like psychosis overtook its victims. A sinking heaviness would precipitate indefinite sleep that led to a certain early demise. All who contracted this mutated strain would succumb. It was theorized that the virus was ‘unlocking’ neuro pathways in the brain. Opening up channels previously closed. It started with a surprising increase in those effected by serious mental illness. A measurable surge of individuals displaying newly psychotic behaviors emerged associated with the evolving strain. A certain fatal mutated version however was thought to change the brains chemistry thus triggering a catatonic psychosis. Panic and fear spread faster than the virus, another virus of sorts. Those who became afflicted with the mutated virus would fall prey to the heaviness of sleep and lulling hallucinations. Sleep without waking until the prognosis of death. My job you see is to watch over those afflicted with this mutated strain. The ‘unclaimed’ as we call them. They are the homeless, the abandoned, the mentally ill, the elderly, the forgotten. Those who wither away in slumber, hundreds of them. I witness nightly the peaceful death the body surrenders to when asleep. The work fits with my solitary life. I have no real family to speak of, no significant other, no children, not even a pet. I have cultivated the ability to become invisible in any environment. A gift I have nurtured. I can stealthily move about a room. I have made my presence so small that others continue personal conversations in my presence. I am quiet and keep to myself. I am awkward and unbearably shy.               Nightly I walk the rows of bodies in beds. My friends. They lay perfectly still, relaxed, the easy ebb and flow of natural breath. They lay perfectly still with the exception of one thing. A flickering smile. They all shared this feature. It does not seem to matter that the body was dying because they were happy somewhere deep in the mind. They would pass whilst they slept, the heart would slow over several days despite interventions that should have no physiologically reason not to work. Predictably the heart would slow to such a rate unsustainable with life, but a smile would still affix them all. In rigor mortis and on. When the monitor above a bed would begin to chime, I walk slowly to the bedside to hold the hands of the dying. For it was surely not long. But the happiness in their faces made me sad and only deepened my frown.  One night I walked to the chiming bedside of a women. Her cheeks sunken, pale, dry skin. I silence the monitor and sit, her thin frail hand in mine. Her heart rate slowed. 50, 47, 44, 40, then into the 30s. Here she goes. I gripped her hand tighter. 38, 33, quicker now. I could feel the strong slow beats as her heart made its last powerful flushing strokes. Suddenly her chest filled with air! A loud powerful windy inhale! Her chest raised off the bed before she choked on the air. Her eyes flung open. Her heart raced. Grimacing her body became stiff and seizure like. We locked eyes both realizing the powerful grip we still had on each other’s hand. Her body quickly relaxed and she began to speak, “It’s an island. Oh GOD, an indescribable island! Oh GOD! I was warm from the inside out. I radiated the sun!” Her face grimaced and twisted an ugly contortion. Red blotches appeared on her face and neck, her lips sticking together with a thick white film as she spoke. Sloughing flakes of her lips fell off. She made no tears when she cried.  “The island is everything. Everything you need it to be. I had no pain. None of the physical and finally relief from the pain of my mind.” As she spoke on about the island her eyes fixed on the ceiling tile above us never blinking, not once. Then suddenly, she became forceful, grabbing me tighter, pulling me in close. Her breath was foul, the whites of her eyes yellowed. I recoiled but her grip was stronger than expected. Panic in her eyes, she rapidly spoke, “I have to get back! I could have stayed forever. I don’t have much time I can tell! What have you done?” I shook my head rapidly my mouth parted but unable to speak. I heard the loud alarm of the monitors from above her head. I look up to see her heart rate dropped to 20 then to 15, finally resting in a flat line. But not before we locked eyes again. I saw it then, the island she spoke of. I felt its presence and saw its fleeting reflection in the blacks of her eyes before the gray film of death washed over them.

Her grip on me loosened and her hand fell slack to her side. I sat back stunned. I felt I had just seen something forbidden. But seeing it in her eyes unlocked something in me. What was seen could not be undone. My thoughts, feelings, and emotions all barriers! I saw a place where you can be free from pain and mental anguish. Your body moves freely, smoothly without consciousness you are a pure free ‘being’. One with not a worry or care; because you simple never learned. The island welcomes you, warms you, the waves soothe your sorrows. Washes away years of hurt to reveal only you in your purest form. Stripped of pain both mental and physical. Shangri-La. She had reported a heavy dark shadow descended her, taking energy from every mitochondrial of every cell. “It was welcome. I was not afraid. My mind opened. You let it take you. Race, sex, social status, emotions, this matrix! All barriers! They fall away. And when the heaviness of my eyelids lifted, and it did, I was the most refreshed I have ever been. It was as if I had woken from a crypt like sleep and the cool ocean air was my first re-energizing breath. I was invigorated!”  After, whilst I remain at her bedside, I imagined my pains were gone. I was purely connected to my consciousness; my spirit was free and lifted. I could breathe with ease, my body wrapped in the warm silky tropical ocean air. Feeling only pure love and acceptance. The warm sun filled me from inside out and I radiated! The sweet rhythmic sound of the teal waves crested and crashed around me. Pure tropical beach bliss.               Eyes still locked I removed my ventilator hood slowly and placed it on my lap. My outer gloves then the inner. Gently and methodically, I removed the remainder of my protective equipment until my bare face gazed upon hers. A rare sight these days, one’s bare face.

                   As one could predict, several days later I fell ill. A certain calm washed over me. I felt as if I lay on the islands ocean edge, where every waves slow recoil sunk me deeper into warm wet sand. And when the mental fog begets upon me, I let it. And when the heaviness encroached; eyelids being pulled closed by the eternal weight of deep sleep I found a small dark corner to hide away in. Where I could be certain no one would find my body before its organ’s came to complete rest. And just as the warm darkness descended, I could hear the softly crashing waves and smell the warm briny air. ‘Rest now, tired simple being’ the virus lulled. And I did.