It wasn’t supposed to go like this, I was never meant to leave. I'll take you back to where it all started -- to me and my twin brother. We were as close as any siblings could be. There were never any secrets between us. Because we were born into the royal family, interaction with the villagers was unheard of. From a young age, I knew I wanted to be a warrior, fighting alongside people who I could call my equals. Ethan’s destiny, however, was decided for him at a young age. The first male to be born into the family would be the next ruler to take over from my father. Ethan always had something to complain about -- how I had so much freedom to fight and do things a princess shouldn't. But they focused so much on him that they had no time to bother me. Mother and I had an arrangement that if I finished all my tasks and lessons for the day, she would allow me to get one on one combat lessons. On my 5th birthday, they gifted me Trooper, my horse, and he's been my escape from the chaos in my family ever since. My favourite part of the day was when I finished my lesson. I jumped on Tropper, and just go off into the forest. Trooper has been my horse since before I can remember. Every day we went for a ride, and upon returning I pampered him with treats and a wash. The wind in my face, my brown silky hair flowing behind me, I urged Tropper to move quicker. Birds were chirping as they flew from tree to tree and squirrels clambered up trees, grasping their nuts and vigorously eating them down to nothing. To the side of me, there was a blur of green, as I inhaled the moss and grass, which smelt even better than my mother’s fresh bread. I felt connected with the nature around me, my horse galloping and leaping through the air, picking up speed to find our favourite place in the whole entire kingdom. Even better my ride with Tropper was a place I liked to call my secret garden. It was a space enclosed by willow trees, where overgrown shrubs decorated the entire area, and flowers peaked up in every growth of grass - colours so vibrant, I wished I could hold onto them. A little river lay by the side, with rocks and water flowing down the current. I dipped my feet in the cold water whenever it was hot out. The best thing to do was to lay on the blades of grass, feeling the life all around me, grasping at the green, and breathing in the rich smells-- of recently fallen rain, the earth below me or the newly spurting flowers. The pine trees had a sweet smell and the animals jumping around me peaked Trouper’s curiosity. This was my special place, where I went when I was mad, or just aggravated. Sometimes I went here just to be calm with nothing but myself, Trooper and the nature that enveloped me. I did say that Ethan and I had no secrets, and though he had no clue of my secret garden’s existence, it wasn’t really a secret -- more like a slight withdrawal of information. At least that’s what I tell myself. The forest was where I most felt I belonged. Not amongst the people, or in the castle, but in nature, where I could do what I wished, with nothing holding me back. Nothing but a curfew.

As I emerged from the trees, I was greeted by my brother, with a very serious look painted on his face. “Mia,” Ethan said with a condescending tone. “You can't just go off for two hours, now that I’m in charge around here, and you have your responsibilities. We need to rely on each other,” he sighed a little disappointed. “Sorry, I just got caught up in all of it. If anything you should be happy I wasn't gone for longer,” I chirped. He didn't seem to be pleased with my remark. He prepared a speech.  “So what's the big rush anyway, you look a little grumpy '' I said in a silly voice. “Well, if you're up for it, I have a job for you-”

“Yes, yes I will go, please,” I begged. “I can do your trading thingy, finally! I'm so glad you are in charge now, I can go out and visit the other kingdoms by myself.” I basically shouted with joy, jumping up and down on the spot, like my energy tank just automatically refilled to 100%. “Ok, I’m glad you’re up to it, but you will be going alone. So i need to know you will be okay, otherwise dad will kill me. '' he pleaded. By that time I was nodding my head at him and walking off with a grin spread all across my face. “I have a guy up in Thesal Kingdom and he told me he had some weapons for trade. I need you to go negotiate with him. And be nice- I don't need you to end up in a fight with him. Are we clear?!” he demanded.

“Crystal”, I smirked. “When do I leave?” I said a little too energetically and a bit too excited. “Now,” he laughed, as my gaze followed his hand pointing at the gear I needed, and the money for the trade. Ethan told me that I'm looking for a Mr Walker, an oldish guy with a younger son who might be doing the trade for him. Apparently, he was known around Thesal Kingdom and I could ask anyone for his whereabouts. I know that my brother told me to be cautious, but I was too excited, the thrill of riding in the rain, the smell of fresh grass, and the wet filled my nose with something, you could just not put a price on. It was just me and Trooper, us against the world. I thought we were invincible. As I saw faint lights in the distance, I knew we weren't far from our destination. I slowed Trooper down to a trot. There was no big entrance sign saying “Welcome to Thesal Kingdom”, just a kingdom surrounded by forest. If I wasn't in admiration of the nature-filled land they nurtured, I would have seen how vulnerable they are to attacks. A patrol of soldiers could be a better line of defence. They would even see the enemies coming, not with all the trees blocking their sight of view. As I entered from the greenery around the kingdom, I saw a bustling area, with people all around selling and buying goods. It was so much more chaotic than I thought. Making my way through the crowd I asked a woman where I could find a Mr Walker. She looked at me dead in the eyes before pointing to a little hut in the distance. Standing tall and sturdy I approached the hut with Tropper’ss leash in hand. Knocking on the wooden door, I heard heavy footsteps from inside, slowly coming to answer it. As the door was creaking open, I felt a light tap on my back. “Hello, how may I help you?” said a boy as if it was a rehearsed line. In front of me stood a boy, of my age, and just a head taller, brown scruffy hair and sea blue eyes. I was about to respond when I realised there was someone answering the door for me as well. I turned to see what I guessed to be Mr Walker looking impatiently up at me. He was small! A couple of inches smaller, with a long mane of hair and an overgrown beard. “Oh, sorry. I'm here to do a trade on behalf of King Ethan of Udais I said, almost cautious of their reactions. Mr Walker nodded at the boy as instructed for him to deal with me.  “Hey, I’m Landon, Walker. Sorry my dad was in a bad mood --he doesn't like doing handoffs or trades, so I usually do it for him. Right this way are all our inventory, so just pick the ones you like and pay up, I guess” he said a little nervously and uncomfortably. I couldn't believe when he said he was Landon Walker, I mean I didn't see any resemblance between his father and him. “You can loosen up, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said playfully, as he meekishly giggled. “My name is Amelia, but you can call me Mia if you want,” I said with confidence. In the weapons room, there were swords, bows and arrows of all kinds, and small daggers, easy to conceal under clothing. My instructions were clear-- to get enough weapons, but not to go on a shopping spree with all the gold he gave me to trade with. There was this one sword that just called to me, and I knew I had to get it, hoping Ethan wouldn't get too mad. After my great trade, Landon walked me out, only to find us in a rainstorm. Stuttering he managed to utter “If you don't want to ride back in this weather, you can stay overnight in our house.”  “Oh no, I don't want to burden you or your father. Anyway, I made my way here in the rain, what's the big deal?” I said. Grabbing Troopers leash, a sudden bolt of lighting lit up the sky sending Trooper hysterical. As I tried to calm him down, Landon reoffered to let me stay, and I agreed. The sun painted the sky a caramel colour, and as I sneaked out of the house, trying not to make a sound, I made my way to Trooper. As I packed my bags full of the weapons I had traded for, I mounted Trooper. Positioning myself on his back, I turned at a noise behind me only to realise it was Landon.

“Leaving so soon?” he said.

“Yeah I should be getting back soon, otherwise my brother will be sending a whole battalion out to find me” I laughed.

“Your brother is King Ethan, so you're the princess. Oh I’m so sorry, should I bow or something” he spoke with true concern.

“No, don't worry. I don't even act like royalty, because I guess I don't want my life to be like that. You see, I want to become a warrior, and fight almost everyone who doesn't recognise me and tend to my every need like my mother wants.” I said. “Your kingdom does not seem to be well protected, maybe I could help with that. But I really must go.” I said in quite a rush.

“That would be nice, I'll send a letter to you if any more trades come up. You know you can come here whenever you want to just I guess explore somewhere new. But you're probably busy “I'm not that busy, I will hold you to that promised letter and a free pass to come here. I would like that very much.” I said.

I came back so delighted that it was such a successful trip. I could not believe I hadn’t done this before. I stormed into my brother's room to tell him of my adventure only to find him in his usual brooding state sitting on his bed, lost in his thoughts. “Helloooooo, anyone home” I shouted at him waving my hand in front of his face. He took my hand and lowered it  “I need to tell you something, it's my grand plan. I will rebuild Udais and I need your help” he said with all seriousness. I thought he was joking, but clearly, he wasn’t.  “Umm, okay, then what is your grand plan?” I sat on his bed while he explained the whole thing to me. Ethan told me of how he hated how our parents forced him into leadership, and how they oppressed not only him but everyone in the whole kingdom. I had an urge to defend our parents, but I didn’t want to end up upsetting him. His plan was based on his rage, and his destructive tendencies. He plans to burn everything to the ground, all houses and places in which his parents treasure so much, and rebuild the kingdom from its ashes. Like a phoenix, it is reborn once it burns to ashes to emerge better than before. His plan came from a place that hit home in his heart. I knew from basically the beginning of when he started his plan that I couldn’t let him do this, and I tried to point out to him that I would tell our parents, but he seemed to believe I was bluffing. As I left his room, cautious of his every move, I made sure he didn’t think I would tell our parents. Then I ran to their room to tell them of Ethan’s plan. I knew my mother had concerns about putting him in power and was looking for one little slip up to remove him and put me in his place. I rushed into their room to tell them of Ethan’s plan. They knew exactly what to do. It was like they were waiting for this day their entire lives, a reason Ethan would be unfit to rule. That was the first time I really understood what was going to happen, and I couldn't believe that I just outed and ruined my brother. Before I knew it, my parents had dragged me to the council of 5, 5 people appointed to give punishment to fit a crime one has done.

“In this special case, we would like longer to look over the case. Meanwhile King Ethan- um, just Ethan, should be obtained and locked up in the castle's dungeon.” “Mia, please talk to me,” my mother begged as I tried to shrug her off of me and walked away. I wanted so bad to just run away, forget ever betraying my brother.  “Amelia, talk to me right now” she demanded. I jumped, scared of this sudden force, which I had never seen this face on my mother before.  “What is there to talk about? Huh!” I said with a little too much force.

“I'm sorry you had a bad day. We all have, but we need to start talking about your place in the kingdom now that you are next in line” she explained. Anger surged through me, and I nearly exploded in frustration. Instead, I ran off, and she didn't follow me. I slowed down as I neared my destination, the royal jewels, the gold and silver sparkled against the sunlight, the gems a certain glare I had never seen. In the middle, propped on a glass-encased stool stood the crown. Admiring it, I wondered what it would mean to walk into my brother's place, how he must have felt all those years, where I was just free to do as I pleased. The great honour of ruling Udais, but at what cost. At the cost of my freedom, my happiness, my dreams? Do I do what I must for the sake of this kingdom, or do I go to Thesal Kingdom, I fantasize about that every day. Leading an army, going places no one would recognise me. I could start a whole new life there, no judgement, free of the burdens of leadership, free of the duties I must perform. Giving up the crown is easy, but when I think about what that actually means, the consequences that would come with it. It came. The letter. I could start a whole new life there.


“I’m panicking here!” I say into my phone. I hear my best friend holding in her laughter. “Alright, alright. Sorry. It’s just… there’s no need to panic. She admitted to liking you back!” I roll over to the other end of my bed, pouting. “Yeah, but like… social anxiety. And Maggie is just so perfect and what if I start to be myself around her and she decides I’m too weird and she doesn’t like me anymore-” Amanda cuts me off, tutting into her phone. “Nope. You are not spiralling right now. Not happening,” she says. I frown, hating how easy it is for her to calm me down. Sometimes I just want to be able to spiral and not care and just fall into it. “Alright, whatever. Let’s change the subject,” I say, sitting back up on my bed. I find it hard to sit still while I’m on the phone, having very little to occupy myself without taking the attention from the call itself. Thank goodness my sister isn’t in the room to see me fidgeting every two minutes. “Sure. Tell me how your room is looking now,” Amanda says. I look around the room. Stacie has her stuff set up in one triangle of the room, her bed and desk and bookshelf arranged to fit the space. We had come to the agreement that we would split the room diagonally, giving us more wall space. The closet was split in half, and was on my side of the room, seeing as I had a bunk bed to shove stuff onto instead of a desk. The top bunk worked well to hold all my miscellaneous dishes and school supplies that collected themselves. As of now, all the stuff that would normally be strewn around my bedroom was still packed. “It looks the same as last time you asked. Except Stace organised her little library.” My sister had an obsession with reading, and somehow balanced AP classes as well as reading and a social life. I would never be able to read more than five pages without dying of boredom. Somehow, Amanda agrees with her love of books. “I still wish you read. It’s so much fun,” she says on the other end of the line. “Well, it’s not happening. You can wallow in your books alone,” I tease. I’m about to ask how her holiday is going when I hear my mom holler from downstairs. “Casey, Mark and the kids are here! Get off your phone and come down here!” The doorbell ringing confirms her statement. I roll my eyes, sighing. Amanda must’ve heard through the phone, because she sighs along with me. “I’ll let you go. Try and be friendly,” she adds. “They’re in the same situation as you, y’know.” I nod, even though she can’t see me. “No promises.” We say our goodbyes and I hang up, slipping my phone into my pocket as I trudge down the stairs. I can hear the family through an open window somewhere, and try to tune them out. My mother had gotten remarried earlier in the fall, and the only reason her new husband hadn’t moved in with them had been a need for a new house. While I have a sister already, Mark has three children. A little girl named Margot, and twin boys, Cameron and Kris. It’s not that they are bad people, but going from three people in the house to seven is a lot for anyone. They hadn’t officially moved in yet, they were still living in their old house as everything got sorted out. But it was still too much for me. We had been forced to spend time together before, and the twins seemed to share my enthusiasm for the situation. Margot was really cute and bubbly, and didn’t seem to notice the discomfort whenever the group got together. And Stacie seemed to be having no problem adjusting at all. Of course. She had to be good at everything. As I get to the bottom of the staircase, my mom is reaching the door to greet her husband.

I glance around the foyer, trying to figure out where to stand as everyone comes in and take their winter gear off. It wasn’t snowing hard enough to be a problem, but it was still enough to leave white flakes in their hair and melting on their jackets. I opted to lean against an empty spot on the wall, trying to appear casual. “Welcome! How were the roads hon?” Mom directs the second part to Mark, and they fall into conversation as the kids get settled and head to the living room. I stay against the wall, since it’s close enough to be part of the conversation, but still gives me space. The twins sit on the couch, but Margot runs over to me, wrapping her short arms around my waist. I smile, hugging her back. “Hi Casey!” she squeals, her ponytails bouncing with her movement. Her head barely comes up to my rib cage; she’s only six. “Hey, Margot. Are you excited for Christmas?” I ask as she pulls away to look at me. Her grin is almost contagious. I settle for a small smirk, not wanting to seem like I’m completely enjoying this. Margot is the most tolerable of Mark’s children. It’s not that it’s difficult to get along with the twins, but they’re a year and a half older than me. And they’re boys. Not too much in common there. Mark is alright, but I’m still being stubborn about really getting to know him. My mom says that Dad is alright with it, and that he’s still going to be a part of my life. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to accept a new father figure just yet. “Yes! We’re going to watch movies and have a big dinner and give each other presents!” Margot motions for me to lean closer. “And I get to help you make apple pie,” she whisper-shouts into my ear. “I can’t wait,” I say, feigning total excitement. I look at my mom, who meets my gaze. Don’t mess this up, she seems to say. I shrug, looking back at the living room. The Christmas tree is standing and lit, but there aren’t any ornaments on it yet. Mom decided to wait until Mark and the others got here to put anything on it. We can make new family memories, she had said earlier that week when they were weaving the lights onto the branches. My mood sours a bit at the memory. I look around the house, observing the new decorations Mom and Stacie have been busy setting up. They’ve hung garlands on the pillars by the front door, and candles and strings of lights have been sprinkled around the house. The candles are lit, and the warm scent of cinnamon floats through the air. The sky is already starting to get dark, and the warm lights from the candles cast faint shadows around the room. It’s almost enough for me to enjoy the vibe. Almost. Cameron and Kris are sitting side by side on the couch, looking a bit uncomfortable. Funny, I think to myself. They look as enthusiastic as me . They’re not identical twins, but are quite similar in appearance. They’re both about the same height, and their hair is the same dark brown. Cameron has a bit of a shorter style to his hair, and Kris dresses more confidently. I think of how similar Stacey and I look. Well, how different we look. Stacey has long, blonde hair that she keeps straight. She dresses cute and kawaii, and basically only wears pastels. A huge contrast to my lazy casual-wear style. I have dark hair like my dad, and pixie cut, really short in the back and longer on the top so I can fluff it up. Most days I wear jeans, sweats, and sometimes leggings, along with my signature flannels and a random t-shirt underneath. And I pair it with some crazy earrings. Today I donned some large snowman earrings, with top hats and rainbow scarves. Stace had made fun of them when I bought them, but I had ignored her. Plus, you can never go wrong with rainbow scarfed snowmen. “So, how is school going for you guys?” Mom asks, trying to break the awkward silence. Cameron just shrugs, so Kris pipes up. “School’s pretty good, the teachers are laying off on homework because of the holidays. Though I wouldn’t put it past them to dump a stack on us the minute we go back.” Mom and Mark laugh at the last part. “How about you, Margot? Are you having fun?” Margot nods vigorously. “Yeah, we’re learning about writing our letters really good. I can do the whole alphabet almost!” I smile a bit. Margot is definitely going to become my soft spot. “And I can’t wait to go back and see all my friends! I can tell them about all the fun things we’re going to do together.” My smile falters a bit. The break is almost over already, and then I’ll have to face Maggie at school. When I told her I liked her, it had just slipped out. I hadn’t meant to say it, but then I did. And she had responded in the best way possible. So why was I still so nervous to see her again? Mom jumps up, pulling me from my thoughts. “Ooh, hot chocolate is ready!” she says as she heads into the kitchen, Mark following close behind. I can hear something bubbling on the stove top, and a chocolatey smell wafts through the room. “Make yourselves comfortable,” Mom calls from the kitchen. Margot plops down on the couch beside Stacie and cues up some Christmas cartoons, while the twins exchange glances. I don’t understand the look at first, but they stand up and head towards the stairs, throwing me a sheepish smile as they pass. I take that as a sign that I can go back to my bedroom, and unlock my phone as I take the stairs by twos, finding a couple emails and some snaps. Nothing too important, but I decide to go through my email anyways, for lack of better things to do. The twins turn into their shared room, and I pass to mine. The house is a four bedroom layout, so the twins and Stace and I share rooms. Margot has her own room, down at the end of the hall by mom and Mark’s room. There are a couple bathrooms scattered around the upper level, but Stace and I got the attached bathroom. I sit on my bed, pulling my laptop towards myself to start doing… whatever I ended up doing. A couple days later, when mom calls us all down to the table, my spirits are somewhat lifted. I ended up watching a Christmas movie on Netflix, and though I didn’t pay much attention to it, it provided an idle background sound while I played on my phone. “Alright, everyone sit,” mom is saying when I reach the bottom of the stairs. My chair is still empty, and I’m grateful that she at least left that part of our lives normal. We begin to pile food onto the fancy dinner plates that mom pulled out for the occasion, and there’s sparkling cider since none of the kids are old enough to drink yet. Though, I have no doubt the twins have had alcohol before. I’m about to take a bite of ham when mom stops us. “Alright, girls, this might be a bit different, but Mark and his family,” she gestures to the man sitting beside her, “say grace before eating.” I try to discreetly put my fork down, and Stacie and I share an uncomfortable look. Mom holds Mark’s hand, and the twins and Margot link as well. Stacie and I hold the hands of those flanking us, and Mark starts it. The twins join in, and Margot mumbles the parts she doesn’t know, and perks up at the parts she does. Stacey, mom and I stay quiet, trying to be respectful. It’s a bit weird, but they finish and I pull my hands from Stace and Kris’. “Alright, dig in!” Mark says. I duck my head a bit, ready to eat. “I did the carrots with brown sugar, I hope you like them,” he adds. I don’t voice my hesitation, just try to avoid eating them as long as possible without seeming rude. I gingerly lift my fork to my mouth, and I’m relieved when I realise nobody is paying me any attention. I take the bite, and am pleasantly surprised. The brown sugar makes the carrots sort of soft, and sweet. Mom and the twins are talking about plans for college, and Mark and Stace are talking about extracurriculars. Margot is eating her ham, listening to both conversations. I smile a little, watching her eat her mashed potatoes gleefully. I wake up to small hands shaking my arm. “Casey, wake up!” a young voice says beside me. I open my eyes to see Margot beside my bed, barely outlined by the hall light. The sun is just starting to come up, blinking behind bright snow clouds. I sit up, seeing Stacie getting up from her bed. “Santa came!” Margot says, bouncing a little and tugging at my arm. I smile, pushing the blankets back and blinking away the last cobwebs of sleep. It’s difficult keeping the magic after so many years of not having to pretend, and I almost let slip that I heard Mom and Mark setting presents up last night. But I bite my tongue, and put on a smile. I’m running on like, four hours of sleep, after binging two seasons of Trinkets with Amanda late last night. “Look at all the presents!” Margot bounds towards the tree, draped in sparkling garlands and twinkling lights. We had decorated the day before, and though it had been a bit awkward putting our ornaments on the tree along with the new ones, it had turned out okay. I sit on the couch, in my usual spot, which happens to be closest to the tree. Stace sits beside me, and Margot plops down on the floor in front of the presents. After Margot assures us that everyone is coming down, we wait in silence. The stockings are filled to the brim, and the presents have to be stacked around the tree because of the surplus. Once we are all settled, I go to grab my gift from ‘Santa’, but my mom stops me. “Actually, Case, we’re going to try something different this year.” Mark nods and reaches for the stockings. “We like to do these first,” he passes Kris and Cameron theirs, “and then family gifts,” then Stacie and I get ours, “and presents from Santa come last,” and Margot finally gets hers. She giggles, waiting for something from her father. “Go ahead,” he smiles warmly. We begin to open all the individually wrapped presents, and I come out with some makeup, a couple pairs of funky earrings, and some new earbuds, as well as a bunch of chocolate that was in the bottom of the stocking. We open the family gifts next, and I’m itching to open my ‘Santa’ gift, but mom gives me a look that quells my excitement a bit. I stick it out until the end, and I even get into a bit of conversation with the twins. We start talking about relatives, and I even share a couple stories about my Aunt Reina, Stace piping in at some point about our Grandmas. It was nice. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.


Mike looked up from his glass of and remarked, "remember that game we played against the chapter in South Jersey, where Hank pitched a hissy fit over that strike three call"? His words came out slurred, which is fair since it was his seventh or eighth beer. "Sure", I responded, only slightly less tipsy. "Hank was such as asshole, he looked for reasons to fight every game we played". By the way, I asked, "Where is Hank? I haven't seen him in what, two, three years?" Mike's brother Paul chimed in, "that crusty fucker walked out of here three years ago, on Flag Day." Flag Day, I thought. I looked at him and said, "how could you remember it was Flag Day?" He paused, looked up, and said, "Don't you remember that day? He was pissed about something, as usual, and took the flag hanging on the pole in the Knights hall and started waving it around. Well Jimmy McGrath didn't like it and grabbed it from him." We all looked at Paul, and I said, "Holy Shit, that's right". Jimmy had a real dislike for Hank, and screwing with the flag was the last straw. Then Jimmy moved towards him and swung, popping Hank and he went down like he got hit by Tyson. When he got picked up, he pushed us off and said, "Fuck all you guys, you all suck!" After Hank tumbled out, Paul then said, hey, "Hank got flagged, and it's Flag Day to boot!" I hadn't thought about Hank McCall in a long time and couldn't care less about him, because I didn't much like him either. He was older than us by twenty or thirty years, we were in our early twenties, he was an old guy who liked to get black-out drunk. He was our softball coach, and he drank with us, but there was no real relationship beyond that. I never expected to ever see him again. I was wrong. My life took a dark turn after those somewhat happy years at the Knights. We drank, snorted some coke, smoked weed and spent summer weekends at the Jersey Shore. We were weekend warriors. Somewhere along the way, when most others just drank more or smoked weed regularly, I took a different turn. I dug deeper into coke, and when introduced to free-basing, my plunge to the bottom accelerated. It was the high I was searching for my whole life. Why that was is another story for another time. I lost a couple of Wall Street jobs; lost a girlfriend who I probably would have married if things had been different; surrendered the trust of my family. It was dark and desolate. My luck turned when the truth finally came out. Between my sister and that girl who's heart I broke, they found a way to help me. I entered a rehab in Hoboken, NJ. Not exactly the garden spot of recovery, like Palm Springs or the Mayo, but once you're inside, the outside doesn't much count any more. Recovery was new to me, and one of the first thing an addict needs to do is to admit they have a problem. It should seem obvious to anyone addicted to drugs, to me, that I had a drug problem, but it's not always so simple. So here I sat in a rehab with about 40 other people, some with the same issue I had, others with addictions to alcohol, and still others hooked on both. This rehab must have had a contract with the Ford plant in Linden, NJ. At least ten of the forty were from the plant. Mostly men in their forties and fifties, which is typical for any alcoholic. Women, too, suffer the same plight. It takes some time for alcohol to take its toll. Twenty or thirty years of hard drinking will lead to poor health, loss of jobs and perhaps the worst is what damage it will do to family and friends. And of course getting behind the wheel of a car can be most devastating...potentially destroying the lives of strangers.The decline due to my addition to coke was much faster. It takes everything from you, money, friends, family, jobs and, of course, any sense of self-worth. And it happened quick. I never spent any time in prison, I was lucky that didn't happen to me. Rehab has some similarities, although some would argue it's quite different, and I suppose it is. However, being told where to go, when to eat, when to sleep, hoping for privileges...it seemed like prison to me. But here's the thing, you could leave if you wanted to. There has to be some sense of recognition about what's happening in your life. As is often said in the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, it's a program for people who want it, not for people who need it. Even though I was addicted to cocaine, I learned soon enough that where recovery was most successful was in the rooms of AA. What reinforced this belief was something an addiction counselor explained to me. James Littlejohn, who was a recovering heroin addict himself, laid out the scenario of how my relapse would occur. "Tom, here's how it will happen to you. First, everything will seem good. Your going to meetings, staying clean. Then as time goes on, you begin to attend less and less meetings each week. You decide you're cured. You start going back to bars, promising yourself that you will only have a few beers. You're feeling good, just a little buzzed. You head to the bathroom and in the stall next to you is a guy you used to run with back in the day. So, you promise yourself you'll just snort coke, no free-basing. Of course, it's a cruel lie, and your back where you started, and maybe worse. Relapse is a reality, and once it happens, it gets even tougher to come back to recovery. What James told me stuck in my mind and scared my like nothing else I ever heard. Over the thirty-five days I spent in Rehab, I realized that I wanted to change. I wanted my life back, I wanted my dreams back, too. There were some privileges some of us competed for, like being one of the ten to get in the van to be taken to an AA meeting. The freedom of leaving the Rehab, even for just a couple of hours, felt good. We would be taken to meetings around Hudson County. One evening, we were brought to church basement for an AA meeting in Bayonne. It felt strange at first, like you didn't fit in. What was most unexpected was the smile on the faces of people. The laughter, the hugs, the openness, it all seemed so strange. I grabbed a cup of coffee and a couple of cookies, and settled in. At first, it was hard staying focused on who was speaking. I was looking around, still stunned at the positive vibe around me. I didn't yet have anything to be grateful for. As I looked around, my eyes focused on someone across the large circle of people. Someone from the past that I recognized. I couldn't believe it. Hank sat there. We spoke after the meeting ended. Hank had been sober almost three years, starting shortly after leaving the Knights that evening three years ago. One of the suggestions of AA is to find a sponsor, someone who can show you the ropes. Someone who will take you around to various meetings, listen to your struggles, encourage uou and slam you, when necessary. Hank became my first sponsor and did that for me. We were quite different in many ways, but we had one important thing in common, a desire to stay sober. Hank's been dead a long time now, and so is James Littlejohn, who's wake I attended. But I'm still here having gotten sober on April 28th, 1987. I'm what we like to call, a first time winner, having stayed sober after leaving the rehab. I sometimes think of how many meeting I've attended, it's around three thousand or so, and I needed every one of them.


In the small suburban town of Landash, Ohio, people all seem the same. The same ladies from one church looked like the same ladies from the other church. The children getting off a school bus from one elementary school were indistinguishable from the children getting off a school bus from a different school. Every sedan and SUV looked the same as every other sedan and SUV.

At least that’s the way it felt to 26 soon to be 27-year-old Julia Smith. Even her name was so mundane. So were her looks: average height and weight, shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes. But Julia had done what every other person had done in this small town- born, grew up, went to college in the local college and got a job right in this boring, musty town. She had been on A-B honor roll all through school-but so had most of her classmates. She hadn’t been able to find a job in her field of Psychology and so had settled for working at a local grocery store. Originally, Julia had thought she’d be there a year or so, just to have an income until she had found a ‘real’ job. But here she was four and half years later. Like many of her peers, she found herself still living with her parents. The rent and housing costs in the area were really high and her income did not keep up with that plus the cost of food and her student loans. So, she paid her parents a modest rent and stayed in the finished attic-turned-bedroom. It had been her bedroom her whole life. And her parents, despite getting paid rent, still treated Julia like she was 16 instead of 26. She couldn’t just invite people over, she certainly couldn’t have ‘partners’ come over; and her mom still said, ‘call me when you get there and check in at blank time’.

In fact, on this Friday night she had gone out to the local bars. She’d had a 10-hour day of apologizing for stuff that wasn’t her fault- like why upper-management had told them to re-arrange the store yet again so Miss so-and so couldn’t find the cat-food this week. And her mom still was ‘do you really need to go out? Maybe you should spend your money not on alcohol, I think you should come home now’ Good. Lord. It was 10:35 pm and Julia had only been out a little over an hour and only had one drink. She paid for it and then went outside to call her mom to once again explain that her rent and bills were paid and that she wasn’t a teenager.

Julia looked around for a place where people who were smoking wouldn’t hear her. She knew she wasn’t alone nor the economy her fault, but society still made her feel ashamed of her common situation. She scurried to a half-moon lit side of the aged brick building. She had been looking angrily had her phone screen and hadn’t seen the man sitting behind the building, out of the moonlight and accidentally kicked with her foot.

“Oh my go- I am so sorry. I didn’t see you!” Julia sputtered.

“No worries, hon.” said a man with a deep, honey voice. The voice’s body stood up.

It was someone Julia had never seen before. She didn’t exactly know every person’s name in town, but she usually recognized people.

He had what looked like long hair for a guy, at least guys around Landash, a beard, and was wearing a dark colored duster-like the kind people wore in old westerns. In the dark, she couldn’t make out any more detailed features. Especially when he turned away from her.

Julia looked around for a more private spot quickly. Then she turned back and looked at the man.

The man had stopped and turned back to face her.

“Have to call your boyfriend? Or you need a ride?” the honey voice asked.

“Uh, no, I um, I was actually just about to call m-my um mom” Julia said. She felt her cheeks flare and she stepped out of the moonlight.

“Aw, don’t move. You looked pretty in the moonlight” the honey voice cooed.

Julia felt her cheeks flush even deeper and didn’t move back; she just said “Thank you” softly.

“So, your mom sick or is she just worried about you?” the stranger asked.

Julia started panic-debating in her head. Should she lie to this stranger? She didn’t want to give too much information to a total stranger. But it was just a casual question and he didn’t like, try to grab her or anything. But still you never can tell who the crazy people are. Julia realized she was standing there silently for way too long so she took a chance.

“Ugh, worried about me. ‘Forever her baby’” Julia didn’t mean to mock her mother, but it just came out.

“Are you an adult?” the stranger asked.

“Y-yes” Julia hesitated. That seemed creepy but not creepy at the same time and the conflict made Julia uneasy.

The man chuckled “Heh. I was just asking, like does your mom know you’re an adult? You’re calling to what, ‘check in’ with her at only 10:30?”

“She’s just...I don’t know” Julia shook her head and sighed.

“You know what’ll show your mom you’re an adult?” the man asked.

Julia was nervous but excited “What?” she asked. She might have been taking the bait, she didn’t know. Was he about to insult her by saying ‘move out’ or would he say something incredibly inappropriate?

“By texting her that you’re out and can’t talk right now.”

“ That will show her I’m grown up?” Julia asked, perplexed; maybe even a little let down.

“No, walking to a different bar with me so I can buy you a drink and she doesn’t have to know will” he said smoothly.

“Why a different bar?” Julia wanted to know.

“Why not?” he replied.

Why not, indeed. She was an adult, and her stuff was paid, and she didn’t work tomorrow. Her mom didn’t need to know of every minute or Julia’s life. She quickly texted her mom that she was busy then looked back up to the man.

“Okie” Julia agreed.

Just like that the man took her hand and they headed away from the back of the first bar.

“Isn’t the sky beautiful tonight?” he asked, tilting his head up.

Julia did the same.

He stopped and they both just looked up at the beautiful navy-blue sky lit up by little splatters of diamonds.

“Yeah.” Julia agreed.

They chatted about their favorite times of day and favorite season until they got in front of the other bar.

 In the window light, the man had a light tan, a small freckle on the left of his chin and his beard was well-kempt and shorter than it had looked as a shadow. He had his long light-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail with a streak of teal in it and part of a tattoo was on his neck. His eyes were a bold green- like how vacation water looked in the moonlight. The back of the hand holding Julia’s had a tattoo that looked like it connected up his arm too. His lips and eyelashes were the kind women paid for.

They went inside at the bar the man said, “Ever had a cosmopolitan?”

Julia shook her head-she normally had some kind of seltzer or maybe a light beer.

The bartender came over and asked what they wanted.

“Two cosmos” The man ordered.

The bartender nodded and moved away to make the drinks. When he placed the one in front of Julia, she just stared at it.

It was a fancy drink like they ordered in TV shows! It was light pink, garnished with a lime slice in a martini glass.

The man released Julia’s hand to pick up the drinks and they shuffled past others into a booth towards the window.

Julia took a sniff then a sip of her drink. It tasted strong yet refreshing and tasty; a dangerous drink.

“So, um, what’s your name?” Julia asked. She felt butterflies swirling in her stomach. She had never not called her mom before. Usually, she just agreed to go back home to keep the peace.

“Why do you need my name?” he asked over the rim of his glass with a playful smirk on his lips.

“Um...it’s just...w-why n-not? Are you...wanted or something?”

Now Julia was starting to have doubts; maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Oh, I am definitely ‘wanted’” he said, his smirk intensifying, and he winked at Julia before taking a sip. He bounced his one eyebrow.

Julia felt the blush coming back but she couldn’t hide it now. She went to take another drink then stopped. What if he had put something in it? She was with him the whole time, but she admittedly wasn’t paying attention to his hands. And he hadn’t given her his name.

“Don’t like the drink?” the still stranger asked. His face had a bit of concern or disappointment on it. He leaned forward a bit.

What should she do? Oh geez. Julia bit her lip. 20 minutes ago, she was thinking how dull her town and the people in it were, but now that there’s this intriguing, different person, she was thinking he could be a serial killer. And she had no clue how to handle the situation.

“Um, I-I do, I just never had it, could you taste it and see if they made it right?” She blurted as she shoved the drink towards the man.

He cocked his eyebrow and gingerly took the drink. He looked at her as he brought it to his lips “Or perhaps to see if I put something in it?” he asked with a light smile.

Then he took a drink and swallowed emphatically. He gently handed the drink back out towards Julia.

Her eyes widened and her face fully felt hot. She looked to the window and tried to tuck her body into itself.

He chuckled. "It’s okie. You never can tell who the good or bad weirdos are” he winked again.

“Y-yeah” Julia said and took her drink and to show her good faith in him, took a sip.

“I have an idea. Have you ever been to ‘Star Ridge’?” he asked.

She shook her head. “What’s that?”

“It’s in Freeman Park. But there’s a secret path to get there. It’s a bit of a climb but worth it.” he said. “If you wanted to” he added after taking another sip.

Julia didn’t respond but sipped her drink again too.

 The man had a gentle aura and seemed insightful but that worried Julia too. Someone who could read people so well could use people too. Then her phone buzzed and she apologized to the man. He smiled and waved at her to indicate it was fine for her to check.

It was her mother. Again. Demanding to know why Julia hadn’t answered and that she was to come home, or she was locking the door.

Julia felt her mood darken and she texted back “ Mom. I have a key to the house so unless you’re changing the locks at 11pm, it doesn’t matter. And I am busy, I’m out enjoying myself. I’ll be home when I get home” Julia mashed the send button.

“What’s up?” the man asked with concern, and he gestured toward the phone with the hand holding his drink before bringing it to his soft-looking lips and his fluffy beard.

“Just...parents being parents, I guess.” Julia rolled her eyes and took a big drink.

They sat in silence for a bit, sipping their drinks and when they were both empty, he asked “You want another?”

Julia shook her head “I want to see that ridge in the park you were talking about”

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was a rebellious defiance against her well-meaning but overbearing mother that led Julia to accept going to a park to climb to a ridge at night with a total stranger.

His eyes lit up and he smiled when she said that, and he responded “Okie! Great, I’ll pay for these and be right back then”

Julia smiled back with a nod as she watched him whisk the two empty martini glasses back to the bar.

He returned and they went outside.

Freeman Park was only a few blocks from the bar and instead of going down the paved path into the wooded area, he led Julia through some winding brush and alongside a creek. It was darker under the thick canopy of woods. He was holding Julia lightly by her forearm with one hand and holding his phone light out with the other. She hit and almost tripped over a fallen tree at one point too. The man helped her up. Julia didn’t say much because she was a little wary of being here; she’d never been off the paved path before and had no idea where they were and the woods at night made all kinds of sounds that echoed around them. Owls, scritching, the cracking of twigs beneath their feet. She clutched her own phone in her jacket pocket. The man had been right- it was 20-plus minute climb through the trees.

“Almost there” he said encouragingly when the trees spread out a bit and the sky could be seen again.

He lightly pulled her past some bushes and onto a rockier hillside with the creek still running nearby.

As soon as Julia precariously stepped out of the bushes she gasped.

Julia could see most of the park lit up under the moonlight and the stars were clearer here. It was picturesque and breath-taking. She had never seen nature or beauty like this in real life; only on her screensavers. Now here was this Aladdin-scene of an endless diamond sky and the moon seemed so much closer too. How had she never been here or knew about this?

“WOW!” she breathed, looking around in utter awe.

“I told you it was worth it” the man said, looking around himself.

“It WAS! Wow!” Julia said again. She looked at him with awe for him too “Thank you for showing me this! It’s beautiful!”

“You’re beautiful too” the man said, his hand cupping her cheek and gazing into her eyes.

Julia’s heart skipped a beat. “Th-thank you” she managed.

He stepped closer, she could feel his body heat. His eyes were magnetic, his aura was alluring and his lips were inching closer to hers. She could see his eyes closing and hers were closing too.

But when he got close enough to graze her lips, she pulled her back a bit. Both of their eyes fluttered open a little more.

“What’s your name?” she asked softly, still gazing through her half-closed lids.

The man sighed and fully pulled back. They opened their eyes.

“You want me to kiss you without knowing your name?” Julia asked.

The man sighed again, rolled his eyes to one side and licked his lips nervously.

“I....sigh...when I say my name you won’t want to kiss me anymore” he confessed.

“Why not? I can go first; my name is Julia” Julia told him, hoping that would either make him more comfortable or guilt trip him enough to share his name.

He let go of her cheek and took a full step back. He stared at the ground to one side and quietly stage whispered “My name is.... sigh...Seymour”

He now looked like he was ready for the other shoe to drop.

Julia smiled a little- she had to admit it was hard to match that nerdy name to this more rocker face, but most people didn’t name themselves. She stepped close to him, close enough for their chests to touch and she cupped his face with both of her hands this time to move it into just the right place for her to plant her lips right onto his.

Right before her eyes fully closed, Julia had seen Seymour’s eyes get wide.

A second later, he grabbed her around her waist and pulled her in closer to kiss her back.

They released the kiss with a breath and gazed at each other’s eyes, their noses still just touching.

They stood there a while under the beautiful sapphire sky with dazzling stars all around, lit up under the moon. A gentle breeze passed. And they leaned in and kissed again.

Julia thought maybe she would never text her mom back at night ever again.


Lavinia knew all humans had enough food, clothing, and adequate shelter, as well as a livable water budget to stay clean and hydrated. Hers was a regulated world. Humans had all been told since birth that they would always have enough of the necessities to sustain life for the extent of their experiences on Earth in their lifetime. That was a given and never in doubt. Life had been this way since the arrival of the Helpers long ago. Lavinia now lived and studied at the Helpers’ well-established Institute of Seekers (IS). She was being taught to practice being respectful, responsible, and compassionate in all venues of her life while at IS and even beyond when she received her adult assignment. Being respectful, responsible, and compassionate were basic skills taught at IS. Upon graduation, an IS graduate was guaranteed an assignment within the infrastructure that regulated all humans on Earth and thus kept Earth functioning as a habitable planet. It had not always been thus. History was filled with stories of Earth before the Arrival of the Helpers. These were cautionary tales used to direct human minds, hearts, and energies on a trajectory based on global cooperation for sustainable management all earth’s resources for the common good of the human species everywhere on the planet. This was the way it was in Lavinia’s world. Lately, an odd thing had happened within the walls of IS. A whisper of a pernicious rumor was infecting the minds of some students with Doubt. It was only at the whisper stage, but was already quite unsettling to Lavinia. The rumor was circulating slowly, but steadily. In hushed tones it was saying that the guaranteed future after IS graduation was in question. Thus, the seed had been planted in her heart and mind that perhaps all was not as she and her fellow students had been told. No one knew how the rumor got started, but there it was, a seed of Doubt implanted within her mind. She had tried to dismiss it, but Doubt remained, challenging the Belief that was foundational to her world. The first thing Lavinia noticed was that Doubt brought forth that tricky term “evidence.” Questions arose in her mind. What evidence have you seen of the fulfillment of the IS promise? What evidence have you seen of working graduates? None was always the answer. The truth was that without other kinds of evidence, she was dependent on the Stories from the Story-Holders and on her intuitive abilities to sort out fact from fiction or opinion. She wrestled with these thoughts until she could wrestle no more and finally, fell into a deep, dreamless, but restorative sleep. Meanwhile, by the time she awoke the next day, the seed of Doubt had sprouted into a fragile but potentially powerful fracture in her Belief in the basics of the Healing Way she had been taught all these years of living and studying at IS. This was presenting a transformative conundrum. After all, at IS ultimate Truth was the inherent goal of all Seekers. She did a mental review of the history stories. History said that over ten thousand sun years after the Arrival of the Helpers on Earth, life had improved for the planet, humans and other species as well. The Helpers were benign beings from a far-away planet known as Ethos from the galaxy Zaraluz. These beings heard Earth’s vibrational cry for help across the galaxy boundaries and came to Earth to help. No one in her family lineage had ever traveled to Ethos, though during the last 1000 sun years, some intrepid space traveler pioneers had gotten close. Space hopping hadn’t been possible on Earth for very long, a couple of centuries she thought, maybe. Space pioneering wasn’t a beloved topic for her. Such feats as space hopping didn’t appear in any of the ancient text readings with which she was acquainted. She had read of mystical occurrences in those ancient texts, but not space hopping. She pushed her thoughts further. History told stories about how the Helpers began to regulate and mitigate human behaviors by adapting and adjusting their mindsets to be in alignment with the needs of the human species and the planet which supported them. The ills that had plagued humans for millennia on Earth were finally placed on a healing trajectory. History said that the Helpers knew that the healing of toxic human minds would lead to the healing of toxic human hearts and those healings would lead to the healing of the planet, which at the time of The Arrival, was teetering on the brink of becoming uninhabitable. And then, History said, “The Helpers arrived in a star shower, and the healing began.” There were so many stories of sacrifices and transformations about those times after the Arrival of the Helpers. There were stories of humans cleansing greed and hatred from their minds and hearts. Most of Lavinia’s favorite stories were about cleansed humans surrendering material goods and/or services as a means of aligning themselves with the powerful founding principles of sharing and caring. Thousands of stories were told about caches of essential and luxury goods being voluntarily donated to the Common Good Fund, which was managed by the Helpers during the transition time until IS was firmly entrenched, a sufficient number of humans had been cleansed vibrationally, and trained to assume management of the Common Good Fund. That had all been achieved seamlessly in the first 500 years after the Arrival. All the stories of humans before the Arrival had been passed down orally from generation to generation by the Official Story-Holders, a high-level assignment for IS graduates. Sometimes Lavinia had dreamed of becoming a Story-Holder. After the Arrival, stories had been added by Story-Holders all along the way right up to Lavinia’s present time. All the stories from After the Arrival ended with some version of the traditional ending: “And thus, so onward life traveled and Here we are Now.” The living humans and the stories they told and retold were the only evidence that the Helpers had come long ago to reset the minds and hearts of the humans which resulted thousands of years later in the regulated and healing world that Lavinia knew. All the Helpers left behind after their departure were their stories and the infrastructure for healing which they had established and nurtured. They left no technology nor written texts. Their work was on such a high vibratory rate that their knowledge was transferred by intuition and telepathy. IS was a significant part of that infrastructure for healing, and still running on intuitive and telepathic powers. Lavinia awoke with remnants of the dream stories she had experienced while sleeping still visible in her mind. These remnants evoked the personal story of her life at IS. She had been brought there as a very young child. Eventually, she had been told that her parents sacrificed their claim to her for the Greater Good. The mandated testing for potentially adept Seekers had revealed she had a very high score in that arena. Thus, she had arrived at the intake room of IS and ever since had been cared for, guided, taught a broad range of academic subjects, and trained in the principles and practices of the Healing Way of the Helpers. She was destined to live a life dedicated to the Helpers’ Principles of Wholeness and thereby continue to sustain and elevate the ongoing healing of the planet. In order to keep Earth habitable, all systems regulating humans and other species had to work as an integrated, positive whole. That task had become a duty of the Seekers. Lavinia accepted her destiny. However, when the question of evidence came up, she realized that her devotion to Destiny’s Truth depended on her Belief in the stories. There was no evidence outside of Belief. She was a Seeker-in-Training. She squared her shoulders and finished dressing by pulling on her boots. She had to walk about half a kilometer along a tree-lined path to reach the Morning Exercises Park where IS students gathered every morning for spiritual training and physical yogic exercise. This produced a vibrational energy up flow each morning that was essential in the continuous work of removing toxins from specified areas of earth and the humans living there. As she walked, Lavinia loosened her mind to dive deeper still into the significance of the appearance of Doubt in her sphere and its implantation in her mind. Perhaps, she thought, this recent occurrence of Doubt and questioning was actually part of her Seeker training. Surely, she wasn’t the first to Doubt. She thought about the basic maxim she learned experientially, early in her training: “It matters not what happens to you. What matters is how you respond to what happens.” As she analyzed what had happened, especially the rumor meant to produce Doubt in her mind and heart. She decided it had to be a built-in IS test to determine her readiness to level-up in her training. She pondered deeply how to neutralize and then expel Doubt from her mind and heart. Intuitively, she knew that was the response she needed and wanted to cultivate. She had to use the belief-strengthening techniques she had been taught at IS in order to work this toxin of Doubt out of her system. She knew Doubt could lead her to the precipice of unbelief in the Way of Wholeness and the Common Good Fund, and if not battled from within, ultimately over the precipice she would go into madness and obliteration of all hope of ever becoming a full fledged and vetted Seeker. Yes, this was a test. There was no place for Doubt in the mind and heart of a Seeker.

Being a Seeker meant following the Principles of Wholeness. Principle #1: Believe healing is possible--healing of Self, healing of Others, and healing of the Planet. Principle #2: Do not give up. Strive. Principle #3: Do not surrender to the Darkness. Principle #4: Always lean closer and closer to the Light. Principle #5: Use the Helpers’ training and seek a compassionate way to sustain the positive change you wish to see in yourself and the world around you. Principle #6: Believe and you will find that compassionate way. Her teachers had taught her to follow these principles, and she would find what she sought. These principles would enable her to awaken others to the possibilities present here on Earth dedicated to the healing of human flaws like greed, selfishness, lying, hate, intolerance of biological diversity and lust for control that had brought Earth to the brink of being uninhabitable, which was where Earth’s situation stood when the Helpers arrived. As Lavinia neared the Morning Exercise Park, all her thinking made her decide to immediately begin the belief-strengthening exercises that morning. After all, the Helpers had come and shown her ancestors the way that compassionate healing and clear understanding could be responsibly applied to any problem to root out toxins great and small. Her ancestors had worked devotedly with the Helpers, and together over time, Earth and her humans were healing. The work continued. Balance was being monitored and restored in real time. Lavinia was part of that work. She was grateful that the Helpers had come and stayed long enough to teach the humans how to keep planet Earth habitable. The fact that they turned the work over to well-trained Seekers only added to her gratitude. It was good to know that she and other occupants of Earth were not alone in the vastness of this inter-galactic universe. She took her place amongst her other Seekers-in-Training on the brilliant green clover lawn of the Morning Exercise Park and began the belief-strengthening exercises to remove the toxin of Doubt from her being. As she practiced, she could feel the vibrational energy of Belief in the Stories and in the Way of Wholeness expanding within her. She knew that she would ultimately prevail and succeed in banishing Doubt from her heart and mind. She left the Morning Exercise Park determined, nourished, and very uplifted. She knew she would continue to strive, always lean closer and closer to the Light, and never ever give up until she was free of all Doubt. Only time would tell how long it would take. She would persevere to victory.


THE LONG WALK It an effulgent day, with an edgy sun and few puffy clouds hovering about the sky. But this connatural backdrop contradicts your dusky temperament. With your suitcase in hand, you head for the station. You are about travelling to Akwa Ibom from Abuja, where you spent your Christmas holidays. The holidays had been less favourable to you. Maybe it had been favourable to every other persons you cared less about at the station, but surely it treated you worse. The reason you keep looking searchingly for familiar faces around the bustling station, someone to lift your spirits up. You growl when you found none, and lazily you join the line of chattering passengers qeueing onto the lovomotive train. You exhale at last when the train chauffs and it speakers announces it departure, your departure from a forgettable holiday. Each passing moment you cast a glance at your wrist watch, but in pretense of keeping yourself busy than checking it correct time. The male passenger by your side tries to incite a conversation by asking about your holidays but you ignore him, instead choosing to stare out of the window at the lanky cattle rearers on the open fields, by the sides of the train tracks. Throughout the rest of the journey you are strictly quiet which makes you dooze off to sleep. The train stops at the next station and it wakes you up. You become annoyed when you realise you are not to alight there. As the train resumes it journey again, you try to silence out the metal clankings emanating from the train's engine room. It added more rhythm to the chatterings of other passengers. You realise you have been the only that has been quiet throughout the journey, so you wake the sleeping passenger beside you. You apologize for having ignored him earlier. You strike a conversation pertaining to the sunny weather and the poor state of the train. You realise you shared an opposing view to the passenger's, so you grow quiet with time, ignoring all his efforts to get you back on the conversation. The train stops at the next station, your destination. You alight with a few passengers, and choose not to look back at the departing train. It still bore memories of the miserable days you spent at Abuja. You walk briskly out of the train station, with your luggae slung over your shoulder. You halt the next cab that drives up to you. It driver drives off with you when you notify him of your destination, the bus stop at Uyo. You alight at the bus stop, where wisps of silver-grey smoke, curling out of vehicles mingles with pungent smell of decaying dumps littered around, causing passersby to twist their nose and spit their distaste. But you are untroubled with it. You are about to board a bus from Uyo to Ikot Ekpene. A Toyota Camry with a worn-out body and a fading red colour halts across the road. It driver waves energetically at you, you returned the gesture nonchalantly. ''Oto my man, Oto Oto!'' The driver cries out. He steps out of his car and takes off his cap, revealing his bald crown. He walks up to you with a grin. You silently wished you could reach out and slap off his grin, but you are civilized. He is an old friend from the past, old friends in college. You exchange exchange greetings and make inquiries affectionately. Your friend is a banker; happily married and life treats him fairl, which is visible with his bulky shape and rich attire. Yours is quite the opposite. You relate your life's ordeal to him; your vigourous work as a teacher, the mistake of travelling to Abuja for your holidays, a domineering principal at the school where you teach and the distances you had to cover everyday to work. ''It's life for you. Be a strong man.'' He speaks out loud and confidently. Perhaps, he is God and must have shaped every man's destiny, including yours-once his closest friend. He offers to drive you down to your destination without charges. Coincidentally, he is actually heading for the same destination as you. You excitingly hop into his rose-scented car, like a man Dangote had just willed his wealth to. En route, he suggest a few bottles of liqour, in celebration of an untimely reunion.

Let's drink like old days. He offers, you are in congruence with it. After all the bills are on your companion. The sun disappears over several empty green bottles of liqour in a bar and over you and your drunk friend. Your companion runs out of cash to pay for all the drinks. You are a guileless man and your conscience is knocking on your door. So you open your door and decide to help him out with the last amount you had as your transport fare. Afterall, he offered you a free ride home. The journey continues with both of you sitted in intoxicating silence. Your companion strikes off a conversation pertaining to football, but his views belies yours. Your companion is infuriated and slams his brake. The car stops violently same as your heart, but you are not death. You are shocked and confused. ''Get out of my car, man. Same old you, greedy and a lover of free things''. His words fall like bags of prickles on you. Pride comes in, you obediently and annoyingly step out of your companion's car without begging. Instead, you slam the door violently and walk off with your rumpled clothe and your luggage slung over your shoulder. Your friend drives off blasting black rings of smoke from his car all over you. You curse as his car drives out of sight. The cruel realisation knocks you like a million punches from your favourite kick-boxer. The puzzles fit in; your transport fare, the drinking bar, bottles of liqour you paid for and the lurking darkness. You give up and decide to walk. A huge sign board with, ''Poverty is a sin'' inscribed on it greets you at Ekom Iman junction. It makes you cry and laugh violently at the same time. You smile at every passersby that walks by you and wave at empty red buses, while trotting like a wounded dog into the night's dark garment. Ikot Ekpene your probable destination, or madness your probable outcome. You recall you begun your day's journey with a suitcase in hand, while you headed for the station. Now, you are heading for home on your feet with your suitcase still slung over your back.


I looked at my sleeping 11 year old angel baby girl next to me. "We’re running out of time" , I whispered under my breath, ferociously hitting my hands against the steering wheel. I let out a roar worthy of a lioness, no one in this jungle heard it; it was silent, not wanting to wake my child. Her time was running out, her life was running out, her childhood had come to a sudden stop. No turning back now..."keep driving, how much I should tell her, will she be in pain," My heart felt like it was ripping out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe. We  both were running out of time. Sticky drops of sweat were rolling down between my breasts, the old beaten up car window was open but the stifling breeze coming through it was hitting my face, turning the car into a sweltering sauna. The air conditioning on my 1990 Toyota had been out for years. The red paint had pealed and I had an old grey rope holding the trunk shut. I could barely make rent and food since my husband had passed. I had said a “Hail Mary” and patted the St. Christopher hanging from my mirror before turning the key at the start of this trip. “My God”, was a loving forgiving God and I knew in my heart that I was making the right decision for my daughter. My Catholic Church and our priest had another view. Father Vic had talked and prayed over us to make the right choice, I had. It was the only choice WE had. My God would forgive. I looked at Grace, her forehead beaded in sweat, her blonde hair plastered to her forehead. She was breathing irregular, she needed more water. She rolled over on her side exposing her tiny belly, her brows frowning. I didn't want to wake her, but knew I must. "What was she dreaming about?" "Does she relive the horror every time she slept? "Ever since she told me what had happened I have been living in a nightmare of blackness and fear. “Would I get stopped, will I be arrested?” My mind wondered, I couldn’t help but wonder why I could cross the borders I’d be traveling over to buy a gun, carry a gun in an open carry state, get married, have heart surgery, go to a state where Pot is legal, gamble, visit brothels, buy cheap gas, liquor, lottery tickets or cross borders to hunt with no consequences, but the hammer goes down when it comes to my child. Her life is in danger; her childhood was about to become completely oblivious. We live in Louisiana; the closest legal clinic is at least a 10-hour drive. We have only been on the road for about two hours; Illinois is still eight hours away. This was the longest road trip I have ever taken, but I’d walk through the hells' fires for my little girl. Yes, my precious sleeping 11 year old baby girl is pregnant. With this "Illegal", Supreme Court’s decision to turn over a fifty year old precedent in one day, America has become a Taliban nation for women. The world’s atlas tilted that day. There will be millions of lives imploding. The six Justices did not care; they tossed a dirty bomb into the uteruses of American women and girls across the United States. The “Righteous Evangelicals”, had won; but at what cost to the freedom of American women. The GOP and the so called Republicans that are left put their heads in the sand and screamed, look over here…don’t look at this, look at our horrible immigration policies. It's been over six weeks now, more like eight...how could I have missed it. "I know how, what mother expects her little soccer player, doll playing innocent child could possible get pregnant at eleven years old. I was shocked when she suddenly got her women’s visitor at 10 ½ years old; The Dr. said girls were getting there period earlier these days with the hormones and additives to or food chain. I didn’t think she needed the “Sex” talk at her age, boy was I wrong. I knew last June something was wrong. Grace wasn’t smiling, laughing or sleeping. She was distant and wrapped her arms around herself, rocking for hours on her favorite chair; I couldn’t get through to her. It wasn’t until weeks after her uncle Rob left to go back to Costa Rica that she broke down with heaving sobs. Rob had touched her down there; he put his penis in her tiny Vagina. She had kept silent with his threats of harming me, it had taken me another week to get the funds together I’d need for this trip; my time off work, hotels, gas, and cost of the abortion in the clinic. I could barely make rent and food with my meager income. My job as a waitress was just not cutting it and covid wasn’t helping my bank account either. I always knew my husband’s brother was off; he had a sleazy air about him. I wondered why he had moved to Costa Rica. I believe I know now, his wife never talked about why the sudden divorce and her move across the United states to California. When I tried to confront her, she said “It’s too horrible to talk about, I don’t even want to think about it, Good Bye”, Then she hung up. I didn’t pursue it further. My anger surfaced all over again, if I had only known. If Grace's father was still alive he would have gotten on a plane and killed the son of a bitch! Why did I say yes to him when he wanted to come to Louisiana? My guilt was interrupted, “Mommy are we almost there”? A lonely tear fell down my right cheek, I thought, “No Grace, we are so far away from there”. I said, “Yes, sweetie”, as I slowly started stopping the car at a diner along the side of the road; she needed, food, water, she needed hugs, and she needs an abortion.


I never really believed in participating in dry January. What’s the point? You don’t drink for a month and then come February 1st you're back to your same old self and drinking almost on a daily basis. One month isn’t going to save your liver. I never felt the need to do it until Taylor. Oh Taylor. My best friend- my soulmate. She’s the kind of person that you meet and instantly know that she is going to be in your life forever. Or so I thought. When I got the phone call that she was in the hospital I didn’t expect what I saw. She was 27. I knew she drank a lot. Quite frankly we all did. Years of partying throughout college carried into adulthood where instead of drinking to socialize with your friends you're doing it at home because life is so difficult you just want to feel numb. I’ll never forget the yellow. I walked into the hospital that day, not sure of what to expect and there she was, sitting on the bed surrounded by her family and friends. It wasn’t her though. This person was yellow- not a tint like the color of a leaf dying in the fall. It was yellow like a Simpsons character had jumped off the screen and was sitting in the bed. Our past conversations jumped into my head. She said she was struggling- weren’t we all? She claimed to be an alcoholic- the same way we all did in a joking manner because we all drank more than we should. Our best memories were ones where we drank and acted silly or did something stupid. I didn’t know it was this bad. She was hooked to tubes, restricted from eating because they had to run tests on her. Her dad, who I’ve known most of my life, shared updates with me, all with a positive spin. “She needs to be at this number and she’s currently at this number. It’s not getting better but it’s not getting worse so that’s a good thing.” We sat around her, talking about TV shows and work as if this girl- this amazing, wonderful girl- wasn’t next to us the color of the sun, vomiting and hooked up to more IVs than I’ve seen in my life. Her kidneys were failing so they needed to start dialysis. Just another machine hooked up to keep her alive. She needed to fight. I saw it in her eyes though, she didn’t want to fight anymore. It’s the same look I’ve seen in the face of other alcoholics. If I can’t have the thing that makes me feel better (even though it really doesn’t), then what’s the point of living. In the middle of the night I was awakened by a phone call from her dad. “They are moving Taylor to the ICU. Her heart rate fell really low, and they needed to intubate her.” I rushed down to the hospital to wait with her family. They told me she was put into a medically induced coma. When I visited her, she was on her stomach, her mouth covered by a tube hanging out of it.

A doctor in scrubs and an angry look on his face approached. “I’m sure you know that Taylor is in liver failure which is causing the rest of her organs to fail too. She needs a liver transplant but laws prohibit us from giving her one until she has been sober for six months. We are just going to keep moving forward and hope that her body will start responding to treatment.” How wrong. I get it, in your eyes she was just another alcoholic. But in my eyes she was the best person I knew. Test me, I’ll give her half my liver without waiting. She’s so young. Doesn’t she deserve a second chance? For days I sit at the hospital, working on my laptop, waiting for some sort of absolution. For days her parents hit me with the same story, “It’s improved in this way which isn’t a lot but it’s not any worse.” I believed them. You want to hold on to the thought that everything is going to work out and be okay. On the surface I had hope. But deep down, I actually didn’t.

There came a moment when the doctor talked to me directly. I can’t remember what he said. I suppose it was some sort of defense mechanism to shield me from the unbearable pain. I just remember calling my friend Keisha and telling her, “It’s really bad. You need to come down here.” Somehow, we all knew. Though it had been a week of denial now there was no more ignoring the truth. This was the end. We gathered around her and sang, You are My Sunshine. Tears flowed down my face as I could barely get the words out. I found it to be ironic with the color of her skin. In actuality she was our sunshine. Within minutes of finishing, she was dead. I didn’t want to accept it. She was only 27. She was my best friend. How could my best friend be gone from my life? How could such a young woman die of liver failure? There had to be some sort of reasoning, some sort of explanation.

The only real explanation is the truth. She abused alcohol for far too long and much more than anyone knew. It killed her, the way it kills so many others.

As I look into dry January this year, it’s different. I do it for her. I do it because maybe if she had done more dry days she would still be here. It’s funny, alcohol is the thing I want most and least after losing her. I want to numb the pain, but I don’t want to end up like her. Is the temporary fix really worth the consequences? The booze is gone, out of my life for this dry month of cold and snow. Who knows, it might stay gone forever. All I know is that this dry January is for Taylor.


   Fred licked his lips. Dinner was a special treat, tuna. Made just the way he liked it. The can on the counter hosted a different logo and writing than usual but it tasted great.     “Why didn’t you have tuna tonight?” Fred asked his sister Nicki as he washed his face.     She made a face at him. “Because you are such a pig. You gobble it up and Mom knows that.”     “Did you see what kind it was? Very tasty,” Fred said as he stared at the label again. Fukushima Tuna Company was printed under the fish logo.     “You know I can’t read,” Nicki said. “Ask one of the boys.”      “No, they can’t read either.” With the parting comment, the pair began their nightly bedtime preparations.     Fred woke several times during the night shaking from bad dreams. He tried to be sick but nothing happened. His stomach roiled and heaved like he swallowed something alive for dinner.     Nicki stopped by his bed and poked him. “Wake up sleepy head.”     Fred groaned and rolled onto his side, “Leave me alone. I didn’t get any sleep. All night, my dreams were monsters chasing me. Big teeth and claws.” He shuddered and hugged his pillow.     “Did you win?” Nicki asked bright-eyed with anticipation. “How did you escape?”     “You poked me and I woke up.”     “Well, that’s no fun. Com’on, let’s get going. The boys want to play.” She was bouncing around, looking at him as he lay there feeling ill.     “Later, I promise.” Fred rolled over and pulled his legs up into a ball. “Just let me sleep.”     “I’m telling Mom,” Nicki called as she raced from the room.     Eleanor felt his forehead, ears and stomach all while making comforting noises designed to relax him. “Just sleep, honey. We’ll see how you feel in a little while.” She tucked his blanket more thoroughly around him.     As the afternoon began to wane, Fred finally perked up and appeared from under his blanket. He stretched and realized how much better he felt. The rest solved his problems, whatever they were. Bounding down the stairs, he headed outside to play with his brothers and Nicki.     When their mother called them in for dinner, Fred wasn’t ready to go. He felt full of energy and ran around the yard, jumping and screeching at the top of his lungs. The thumbnail of the moon peaked over the trees at the edge of the fence. Its light was bright and mysterious. It beckoned him to explore and play. Looking around the yard, Fred found a tree next to the fence and climbed up to get over it. As he skipped down the road in the magical moonlight, he noticed every detail. The silvery reflections of the leaves. The smell of the earth and the air.  He snapped his jaws at the non-stop blinking of the lightning bugs. All of it enthralled him.     As dawn began to blush the eastern sky, the moon set to the west. Fred crept to the front door and laid down on the newspaper. He chased the paperboy down the sidewalk earlier, but the boy didn’t want to play, just throw newspapers. The lock turned and the door opened as Fred lay pathetically on the doormat.     Eleanor exclaimed when she saw him, “Freddie, honey, what have you been doing? I was so worried when I saw you weren’t in bed this morning.” She picked him up and carried him inside pressing her lips to his forehead.     After checking him over, she tucked him back into bed and admonished him to be a good boy and get better. Hoping to lose his headache, Fred fell asleep even before he ate breakfast. *****     The pattern continued for several days. Each night Fred skulked about the area, venturing further and further into the neighborhood. He discovered over animals out wandering. One night a possum crossed his path and he tried to get it to play with him, but it fell over frozen. When he poked it to check and give it a nip, the smell of its fur made him gag.     Besides the other animals which he and his siblings never saw during the day, he wandered amazed at the sights and sounds of the night. The rustle of the wings overhead as he crept through the yard. The menacing shadows from the trees waving even when he couldn’t feel a breeze. With heightened eyesight, he realized he could see a mouse creeping around the edge of the garden. While he chased it, he stopped before catching it.     However, morning brought the desire to be in the house. Quiet and tired, Fred felt drained and required time to recuperate. One evening though Nicki commented on his teeth as they washed dishes. Fred looked in the mirror and grinned, stretching his lips back to complete the grotesque smile. She was right. His teeth looked like he was a snake ready to pounce and fill someone with venom. He imagined fangs dripping with blood.     He laughed because what he really wanted was to bite into a can of tuna and suck it dry.

*****     On the night of the full moon, Fred was on the prowl. Trying to bite things around the house and suck them dry was boring. His siblings just wanted to sleep. Disgusted, he climbed the fence to sneak out of the yard and play with the other creatures of the night. In one yard, he found a stone pool and fountain. He played, dipping his feet in the water, running and attacking shadows. After some time, a desperate craving drove him home as he searched to appease the hunger.     Insistent pounding on the front door at dawn brought Eleanor down the stairs tying her bathrobe belt. Her hair a tangle while she covered her yawning mouth. “Who is it?” she called as she stepped on the rug marking the landing. She opened the door to find an irate neighbor yelling at her and glaring at the cats peeking at him from the staircase.     “Where is it?” he screamed, veins bulging in his neck. He tried to push into the house, but she stepped in front of him and held her ground.     “Where is what?” she asked.     “Where is the cat that killed my fish? You are going to owe me thousands.” He shoved a grainy black and white photograph printout into her hands. The picture showed the glowing eyes of an animal, facing a game camera, with something dangling from its mouth. While not a negative with reversed colors, the picture image was distorted though recognizable. The gray and white markings of the face were just visible in the infrared light. The whiskers and pointy ears all combined to identify the perpetrator.     “See….look at that monster.” He grabbed the photograph back from her.

    “I can’t believe he would do something like this.” Eleanor stepped back from the door and looked around at the bodies peering down the staircase. Making up her mind, she walked into the hallway where she could see into the kitchen. There on the floor by an open cabinet door, with groceries strewn about, lay the bloated body of Fred. As she moved into the room, she smelled the overpowering scent of fish. But it wasn’t the residue of orange scales sticking to Fred’s fuzzy face which reeked. It was the pile of blue cans hosting punctures. Liquid pooled on the floor under the pile.

    “I’m sorry, sir,” Eleanor said to the man who followed her into the kitchen. “It appears that we have found the culprit.”     As she rolled Fred over, he burped and opened his eyes sleepily. Eleanor paused as she looked, beyond him and his enormous fangs, over the pile of cans. Some can tops and bottoms hosted jagged holes around the edges like they had been attacked by a screwdriver or hole punch. Others only had two holes. “Well, you didn’t just go after the tuna, did you? You tried some beans, soup and mushrooms. All blue cans. Too bad for you.”     She picked up the cat and dumped him into the nearby bathroom, closing the door to contain him. Then, she headed for her checkbook while formulating an apology, dodging the other cats investigating the kitchen mess.     Fred rolled over on the bathroom floor and smiled as he started to wash his face, giving extra attention to his oversize teeth. He wondered what else would taste good.


Janet staggered in, the crooked, batwing doors banging behind her punctuated her dramatic entrances. A few heads looked up, hands straying from their powder compacts briefly in concern which soon morphed into thinly veiled annoyance once they saw that Janet hadn’t burst in because she had been distressed. Shaking their heads in exasperation, the occupants of the storage room returned to their business. Janet spared a single glance and then burst out, “I need Noel. Right now! Where is she?” Her hands tugged at her corset in impatience until she spotted their bartender’s rugged raven hair in the corner and made a beeline towards her without hesitation. A few gawked at her courage; it was an unspoken rule that you did not disturb Noel when she was meditating.

“Wonder if they’re gonna knock another galley west today. Ain’t it their third this week? Bit risky, I say.” Lotte remarked. No one agreed verbally but that’s what all of them were thinking.

Janet leaped at Noel and shook her frantically. You might have been imagining her with trembling hands, a sheen of sweat on her face and her eyes widened with terror but none of those would be correct. Instead, a wild grin had settled up her lips and her eyes had gone as cold as the blood in her veins. Noel cracked her eyes open, her cream apron fluttered softly as she landed back on the group, in stark contrast to the charcoal murderous intent radiating off her.

“What.” It was a statement. One that also promised a week without her memories, wandering helpless in the canyon at the mercy of nighttime predators if she failed to produce a proper reason for disturbing interrupting Noel’s session. “Well, I-“ “This better be worth it. Because of you I have to wait another 11 days before trying to contact Asa. And by that time her murderer will have beefed another three women!” She balled up the bloodied corset she’d been holding up until now and tossed it aside. “I need you to conjure a storm.”  Janet knew her proverbial clock was ticking. She needed to get her request out now, so she rushed through the rest of her words without stopping. “Not like the last minor storm either. A grand one this time. One that’ll shake Deadwood to its core. I found ‘im. Found the deadbeat who touched Sylvie last time.” Noel frowned and her anger drained away. She could distantly hear that someone was telling her that her shift would be starting in five minutes. Another hour of pretending to be something she wasn’t, watching as her guild had to suffer.

“Go on. And make it snappy.” Janet cheered inwardly but didn’t let it slip as she was prone to do. She had Noel’s attention and she wouldn’t risk losing it. “Heard him. He’s planning to take her with him this time. Went on a bender and was blowing it to his buddies. It was the usual: ropes, drugs and a quick getaway but it was unusually detailed, and he sounded serious even if he was drunk. I wouldn’t have paid him any mind otherwise.” It had been tempting, of course, when Sylvie had cried about it into her shoulder last week. The night had echoed her sorrows. Both Noel and Sylvie’s familiar had mourned the loss of her innocence at such a young age, even if they had known that it was inevitable with the life they lived. Soldiers weren’t that noble, locals weren’t friendly, the law wasn’t an ally and humans that weren’t humane at all. Their magic couldn’t be used every time something like this happened or they’d exhaust themselves of their reserve.

But now, now when Sylvie might be in real danger, when one of their own might be taken from them, Noel’s magic begged her to loosen the rein she had cast over it. Let it go, just once more.

“This is our third this week, right?” She told it to be quiet just a bit longer. An excuse had arrived, but she had to make sure she didn’t give into her urges again. “Who cares about that? My blood’s itching to harden again. It’s getting way too chilled again and I don’t want my appendages to break off again.” It was true. Noel could feel the particles in Janet slowing down, flowing languidly rather than sharply. She would have forced her blood to thaw but Janet had protested against it vehemently several times before like a petulant child at physician’s office. She claimed that it didn’t feel natural and her magic often fell silent in dissent afterwards. It felt as if it had abandoned them. She understood so she didn’t offer. “Meet me at Deadwood Gulch tonight at 9 am sharp. Don’t forget to bring the pest we have to deal with.” Janet winked. Knew that since she had succeeded in convincing Noel to go along with her plan, she could afford to be humorous now so she asked, “Should I lure him in with that potion you brewed yesterday? It’s still fresh so it won’t kill him before we do. Or should I ask May to let loose one of her scents? She said she’d developed a special one lately that worked like a charm on the customers. It’s surprising since she wasn’t supposed to get one until next month.” “Don’t involve May in this. You know she’ll probably create an illusion at the edge of the canyon and entice him into pushing himself off. Just use you ‘feminine wiles’. Never failed us before.” Janet laughed, the kind of laugh where your shoulders shake, and your stomach hurts and you hiccup. It wasn’t often that they were content enough to do it and a few people startled. Smiles, guarded smiles, were common but laughs were hoarded for special occasions. And Janet laughed now, not because of the joke, but because her magic thrummed in pleasure at the prospect of being let out.

She was about to throw in a rejoinder when Lucille reminded Noel that it was her turn. She stood up, strapped on her arm garters, made sure that any residue of her aura was removed and then strove out of the storage room unceremoniously. Janet was amused until she was ambushed by what seemed like a thousand voices begging her to take them along too. The children were especially restless since they wanted to try their abilities anywhere and everywhere and opportunities were rare. She couldn’t wait for tonight too.

“The terrible price of living, ain’t it? To live through others dying?”

          -J.D. Jordan, “Calamity”