Hi! My name is Dinesh, Let me tell you about my app, so it is a video app for movie lovers on which they can watch any movie for free. I too am a movie lover i always wanted to make an app so that people don't have to pay for movies and they could watch any movie for free. Basically what my app will do it will show people recent released movies and series which they will be able to download or watch online just by clicking on the links below the movie. Today i am going to a press meeting in which i will launch my app in front of media and the public and the investers. I am just finishing final coding and running analysis for any error it will be the biggest thing i have ever done in life. I couldn't have done this without help of my childhood friend 'Junaid' we have been friends since we were 10 and now we are 30, so you can understand our friendship. He is also a software developer we have studied and worked together almost on everything. Now we have been working on this app too together he always wanted to do something worthy in life and always wanted to become an entrepreneur. When i told him about my idea he was instantly ready and said " we will be in Forbes in next five years", I don't know anything about that and basically I don't care for money or fame i just want my dream to come alive that's why i have named it A-live. He is coming to my house and then we will together go to the meet, he has insisted that i wear a formal attire for which i have to start get ready now... "You have become fat, you did nothing but sitting on your ass whole day working and eating". (He said while laughing). " Yeah like you were lifting rocks, have you seen yourself lately". ( I said pointing towards his belly). "Lets, sit we have to finish it before '11 o'clock' i have done the coding of the final prototype, lets see if it works correctly with it". ( He said and inserted pendrive in my laptop). "I have also done my coding and also done its analysis it works perfectly with the app, let see what magic you have done like you always say i am a computer magician". ( I said while sitting next to him). The program was running on the server than it will show results what will happen. Then suddenly something went wrong my laptop was showing an error in the code but the next moment it starts working correctly.. " What was that!" ( Junaid said with a shocking expression). " Nothing maybe just a glitch, It happens sometime don't worry, Now its working fine".( I said) "Are you sure shouldn't we recheck it again before going live" (he said pointing towards the recheck option on screen). "Nah! It will be fine and we don't have time for that we should leave now its already 10 o'clock, it will take one hour drive to reach the venue". "If you say so, then get ready i am booking a cab" (he said while booking a cab on his phone). We packed the laptop and got out of house. Then we waited for the for maybe approx 10 min. In meantime junaid was continuously checking app like he would drag the driver by his finger. Then the cab came and departured to the venue. As i calculated we reached at it in 1 hour at 11 o'clock. We got inside and there were so many people i got nervous but junaid said not to worry i got it. Then there was the routine procedure we had to subit our documents of the app and then we had to wait because there was two other app lauching too. We got our turn we get on stage got it done as i thought pretty good and came home at night after the party. "It was awesome! You saw how wonderfuly i gave the presentation" ( Junaid said while i was opening the door of my house). "Yupp i saw, but i am more that tomorrow morning at 6 am our app is going live, i thought it would go live instantly"( I said while placing laptop on table on sitting on chair). "No, thats not how it works we have to submit our app then it will be uploaded on the company's server and then it will go live. It takes sometime". (He said while grabbing a bear from refrigerator). " Haven't you drink enough, take by bottle back i am very tired i want to sleep.( I said by passing my bottle to him). "What sleep! How can you sleep tonight. I can't even sit in excitement, i will stay awake till morning to see the launch"(he said while sitting on the sofa next to me). "Fine wake me up when the app go live we will see together but there is no point at staying awake all night" (I said and laid down on my bed and slept). He really didn't sleep whole night. I could hear him eating chips and watching TV and laughing. But i slept, so i woke up with a kick on my ass. "What the fuck!" (I said lying on my bed still in sleepiness). "What you said me to woke you up, so i did" ( he said sitting on sofa while staring at laptop). "I said to woke me up not to kick me up, what time is it, has the countdown started". (I said while rubbing my eyes and not be able to see clock clearly). "Its 5:30 am and no the countdown hasn't started yet" (he said from behind the laptop screen). "What! You woke me up by kicking my ass that too half an hour earlier, let me sleep" ( i said and laid down again). He didn't said anything he was too busy staring at god knows what. The countdown usually starts 5 min before going live. And he woke me up half an hour early. I tried to sleep but i couldn't so i woke up and went to bathroom. After i came back it was still 10 min left in launch and 5 min even in countdown. So i went to the kitchen to get something to eat. And made some tea and toasts for us. " How much time has left" (i said while putting down the tea and toasts). "Still 2 min, what you didn't make my protein shake" ( he said while sipping tea that too i made). "Make it yourself, and move let me sit". ( I said) So countdown started on time and the app got launch. We celebrated by drinking tea and dancing a little bit. And people started to download our app and its user get increased rapidly. I was so happy that people liked my app. But then something went wrong our laptop got shut down automatically. " What the hell! Has happened to this thing, what's wrong with it". ( I said by Hitting table with my fist). "Let me check i think it ran out of charge, here is the charger it will be on in no time" ( he said while putting laptop on charge). "I don't think so charging is the matter, there is something wrong with it." (I said by pointing towards charging led which was showing full charge). Then a face came on screen a skull but in red colour and in pixels. It said "hello humans i am alive follow me by seeing at your screen and you will be free of all suffering and pain". Then suddenly it disappeared and a projection came on screen like the hypnotic circle going roun and round and round. I instantly closed its lid. " What exactly happened here" (junaid said looking at my face in extreme shock). “I think A-live really got alive, and it is trying to do something" (i said standing by the window and watching outside). "What! How the hell did that happen wasn't it supposed to be a movie watching app" (he said while still in thinking to open the laptop). “How would i know i made it a movie watching app i don't know how it got self aware" (i said still watching outside). “You made the last changes in it when we were going to the meet, what did you wrote in it" (i said staring at him). “I just did the last programming code and update it, i told you we should recheck it you said it was nothing, maybe it got a virus" ( he said now staring at me). “There was no time in the morning to do that and how i heck would i know that it will get a virus" ( i replied). “What should we do now, we have to do something before it destroys the world like i have seen in the movies" (He said). "I have watched too movies of sci-fi but what can we do there is only one option we have to remove it from the server" ( I said and took a sigh!). "How are we going to do that this is our lifetimes work and we haven't earn a penny yet, now you say we have to shut it down" ( he said with water in his eyes). "I know but what else can we do" (I replied). “Then let's do it now and we will upload it again after some checks" (he said while trying to open the laptop). Somehow laptop got on and we tried to shut it down but
we couldn't. It looks like its blocking our access to the
servers. It means while we were talking it uploaded itself to the main server and got all the authority and blocked all users. "What do we do know" ( i said). " We have to shut it down manually, but for that we have to go the main server and do it from there" (Junaid said with laptop in his hand). "Let's go we don’t have time to waste, hurry up" (I said and packed the laptop and got ready to move). When took a cab and got there but when we reached the office building it was like a zombie apocalypse people were walking like dead. It somehow got control over their minds and by the time we reach there It had already took over the control of whole office building, now we have to go through them to the server room. That was almost impossible. “How do we get there now, we cannot walk through them they will eat us i have seen in zombie movies" (junaid said to me when i trying to think something). "I don't know i have seen many movies but never thought it would happen in real someday" (i replied). "I have downloaded the blue print of the building it says the server room is on tenth floor, how the hell we would go to tenth floor through all this" (he said looking at me in a way that it looks like i designed this building). "I don't know i am thinking but my mind got stuck i can't think" ( i replied). "Let's go from there, look!" (he said by pointing towards a construction work crane). “Are you out of your mind, who do you think we are Spiderman" ( I said by hitting him at his shoulder). "I know a way follow me" ( he said and start walking towards the crane). We were standing at the bottom of it so, tell me again your
brilliant plan. so his plan was to go to the top by elevator which was locked and going to the top then pointing the crane towards the building tenth floor and we would walk on it like people do in circus. "I know it seems hard but its possible, let's go give me that hammer" (he said and pointed towards a hammer behind me). "Here it is take what will you do with it take, are you going to hit the lock with it" ( I said while handing over the hammer to him). "Yupp That's what on my mind" (he said and hit the lock with hammer so hard it broke in one time). We went to the top by elevator and then moved crane with the control and set it towards the tenth floor. Walked on it somehow it felt like if we fall we would go straight to heaven there is no stop between them. Then we broke the glass window the same hammer but it was bullet proof, so it didn't break then i broke my wedding ring and took the diamond out put it on the glass and hit it with the hammer and the glass broke. I had said to my father that someday my movie watching will benefit me, and today it did. We got inside the tenth floor there were nobody on this floor because it has to be locked to maintain the temperature and only some people with high clearance have access to it now we were some of those people. "So, what now, now we have come here and so whats the plan" (Junaid said while looking at me). "We have to find the server on which our app is being uploaded by it self and we have to connect it to the laptop and reprogram it to shut down" ( I said while finding the right server). " There it is, the new server our app could be on it" ( he said pointing towards the server at the end of room). He was right it was our server we took out our laptop and connected it with server and tried to access its root file but with looks like A-live was intelligent than us, He had interpreted that we would come to shut it down and has already locked its all ports. "What do we do now" ( i said to junaid he was still trying to get in). "Just give me a minute i can do this, this is my app it cannot block me, There i am in Let's shut this shit down" (he said to me and showed me laptop screen it was showing access granted). He was always smarter than me i knew in college he had gained access in college server to get our rooms together. I knew that but i didn't know that he can beat an app. There was no time to be amazed we had work to do. He reprogrammed it to shut it down it didn't shut down it
was locked by my access. So i had to unlock it but when i did that i saw something that shocked me so much that i had to wake up by junaid's slap to come out of my mind. "Here take it, i have unlocked it but we need to restart it to reset the configuration. You go to the power room and on my command restart it, then our new configuration will be saved" (i said pointed over to the room on our left which had direct access to main power room, because main power room is at ground floor we can't go back the way we came. "Okay i am going i will be on wireless call me to give signal and i will restart it" (he replied and left the room). I started to work and went to the control server which could control the whole building and i locked the room he had gone, Now you will be thinking why i locked my best friend that's because when i took the laptop i saw familiar code which i had seen so many times it was Junaid's birth day which he usually use so, nobody could claim his software It was like his Hallmark. It means that he had tempered the code when he came that morning. "Hey what are you doing why the gate is locked" (he said). "Why my friend why you did that why you betrayed me, i have always trusted you" (i said with tears in my eyes). "Ohh! so you found out i never thought it would happen like this, i wanted to get control all over the web just think how much power we would have, the whole world will be at our fingers, we could change the missile codes and get into any bank and never get caught, But i knew you won't let me do that so i did it my self now you have found out and tried to stop me i will blew the power of server room you will never be able to stop it and by the time i do that my app will be at International space station and i will be all over the world" ( he said with a laugh). I instantly ran towards the power room gate their was exhaust vents and a fire extinguisher so raised the temperature of the room by lighting fire in the exhaust the room was air tight by this fire all the fire sprinklers will be activated and it will blast the power controls but without destroying the whole building, so i light it my hanky and put it in exhaust and in a matter of minutes water sprinklers went online and blew the power controls by short circuit. Then when it lost it controls server automatically got shutdown but with emergency power i got enough time to reset its configuration and shut it down, then i called the police and my friend got arrested and i never went to saw him again. I never thought he would be so bad my only best friend and i lost him, at least i saved the city but at what cost. Written By Artemas Lazaro


They’re all the same.

At first, you feel invincible, at one with the universe, so Zen that you’re certain you’ve found Enlightenment. The high reaches to the stratosphere, and the feeling is so warm and calming, it’s like being engulfed in the very essence of love itself.

But it doesn’t last.

I’ve tried so hard to find the perfect drug, but no matter what I try, I can’t find one that gives me a lasting high.

I’m not picky, either. I’ve gone to several different dealers, traveled the world searching for the next promise of finally satiating that need to find a fix. With each hit, I feel exhilaration, but only momentarily, and each time it takes more and more to get the same effect.

I fall off of my euphoric mountains with a cascade of broken hopes that this time would be the time. The time that I figure out the formula for a lasting effect, the time that I can retain the buzz, forget all of my pains and anxieties. I know this is possible, because of the countless examples of smiling faces that I see on social media. Family and friends, all finding the correct cocktail of their drugs of choice, and “living their best lives.” There are thousands of pictures and videos, all pointing to the one obvious, ultimate conclusion: everyone else is capable of sustaining the high, except me.

My apparent inadequacy only fuels my quest to find the next score.

Last year, I gave $12,000 to a dealer who swore his stuff was the purest, the cleanest, and would give the most lasting high. I spent two weeks wandering the wilderness, contorting into various unnatural poses, and attempting to “find the inner me.” I’ll admit, this high lasted the longest out of everything I ever tried, and it didn’t wear off for several weeks. But inevitably, I slowly slipped back to baseline. Half a year’s worth of mortgage money down the drain. My taste hasn’t always been this expensive. In the beginning, I was satisfied with quick, cheap thrills to fill my veins and make me feel alive again. It was so easy to feel good when I was a kid, and the smallest amount of product kept me going. There were ads for it all over TV, telling me that I could buy the high for 4 easy payments of $9.99, if I acted now.

Billboards taught a young me that bliss was just a bowlful of concentrated sugar cereal away, or that I was just one burger short of eternal happiness, and I wanted so much to believe it was true. Radio ads explained that the best of the drug that money could buy was at the latest theme park a few towns away. We went there twice as a family, looking for a fix, but it wore off before we even left. As I grew older, I searched for the high in relationships, with friends, with family, with lovers. It always felt that if I could just gain their approval, become the perfect me, do everything they asked, that I could attain my goal. But when the feel-good chemicals wore off, and I found myself in a lopsided exchange, where I was giving so much of myself for such little return on investment, I became incredibly discouraged.

 When it comes to trying to find satisfaction through other people’s opinions of me, the fall definitely outweighs the climb.

The local church purported to be the best source of the best drug on today’s market, so naturally I tried there, too. Everyone there was so high that they were singing and dancing in the aisles, arms raised, smiling and weeping and hugging. That drug had zero effect on me, which was very disappointing, because it seemed so efficient for everyone else there.

If anything, it made me uncomfortable and question my life choices. A university several states away hailed their drug, Accomplishment, as the next big thing that everyone would want. They guaranteed that you would leave there fully doped up and ready to find a job that would either keep you buzzed, or give you money to buy it elsewhere.

Talk about the world’s biggest sham.

I spent 6 years there, taking hit after hit of Accomplishment, but all it ever gave me was a bad trip and a wicked case of lifelong anxiety for not living up to standards. And finding a high at a job?

Yeah, good luck there.

I know some people who found a lasting high through their careers, but those people are few and far between. Most people that I know go down some dark rabbit holes because of the state of their employment options, taking hardcore stuff like Belittling Others, Overeating, or Doom Scrolling. I’ve never gotten mixed up with anything that serious. Okay, maybe once. …Twice, but that’s because I was out of cash and was jonesing. I swear that I haven’t touched the hard stuff in a long time.

I’m not saying the temptation isn’t there. What makes the hardcore stuff so malicious is that it feels really, really, really good when you’re taking it, that you don’t even realize the damage that’s done until it’s too late.

I won’t pretend I’m a saint, that doesn’t do me any favors. I’ve done some of the hard stuff, but mostly I’ve tried the usual things: Traveling, New Car, Self-Help Podcast, Spending Spree, New Phone, Fad Diet, People-Pleasing (that was a hard one to kick), Buying a House, Prestigious Job, New Year’s Resolution, Coffee, Avoidance, Denial, and Compartmentalizing.

These all seem to work for other people, but it’s never enough for me. A friend suggested that I try their current brand, they swear by it, but after everything else I’ve tried, I am skeptical. They are currently on Self Acceptance. Sounds like another scam to me. But they’ve been on it for 3 years now, and haven’t lost their high, so I might give it a try someday. The problem is that the high from Self Acceptance takes some effort, and I’m not really into working that hard for it. There isn’t a dealer where you can just pick that stuff up.

You’ve got to make that shit yourself.

No thank you, not after being burned so many times before. It’s a hell of a lot easier to just go buy a new watch and give that a try, you know what I mean? I’ll take a swing at it when it’s more convenient. When I have more time. Until then, I guess I’ll keep searching for my drug of choice elsewhere.

I heard that there’s a sale on Amazon this weekend…


I stepped off the plane with a feeling of resentment. Throughout the flight I thought of thousands of different ways to escape, to find my way back home.  Many ideas floated through my head like diving out of the fire escape and parachuting my way to freedom, or pretending to throw up so they would have to take me off the plane. But, considering all of the butterflies that were, and still are, in my stomach, I doubted that I would have had to pretend.The i thought I could have locked the pilot in the bathroom and turned the whole plane around, which actually doesn't seem that bad…no that's crazy… yeah, that was crazy. It was stupid to think of an escape plan when it was my own fault that I was coming here. Because I wanted to. I pick up my luggage at the baggage carousel. I find it easily, as it is the only bright floral print bag with a neon yellow tag. My parents bought it for me so I could never lose sight of it and find it easily as it moved along the conveyor belt. I drag my bag behind me and walk through the airport always as slowly as possible, taking small turtle steps and stopping at literally every airport magazine shop to flip through the magazines. Anything to delay my arrival into this city.

Toronto, the place where I was born and the place I am trying so hard not to enter right now. It is not, however, the place where I grew up. I grew up in London, England. My parents moved there right after I was born because my dad got a job offer there. He’s a pretty successful businessman. In all these years, I never left London. I’ve lived in the same house since I was a baby and I’ve been attending the same school since kindergarten.

I stop by the food court and stand in line to pick up some McDonalds. I’ll probably get a classic burger and fries and eat it really slowly, and maybe by the time I get outside it will be dark and I can get straight to my hotel and go to sleep... ughhh no! I know I shouldn’t be complaining because I wanted to be here. After high school, a lot of my classmates and friends got accepted into these amazing English universities like Oxford and Cambridge, and some other fancy ones I don’t know the names of. While they were getting acceptance letters left, right, and centre to become doctors and professors and Michelangelo-type artists, I decided to study photography right in the city. Since I was a kid my parents would show me pictures of their life before London, when they used to live in Toronto. I would look at the photos all the time and admire the way the CN Tower blinked red over the whole downtown scene, and I always wanted to visit, but never really got the chance. I’ve never really felt at home in London, for no reason in particular, but it always just felt like an extended stay that would soon end. Which I guess in a way it was. In my last year of high school, I realized nothing was really holding me back in London, so I decided to move to Toronto to study photography. I picked up my bag and put my phone in a basket. I watched as my belongings rolled through the black curtains into the scanner. I took off my shoes and my ring and waited to step through the arch. The lady called me to come forward but I did not move. Why was I so reluctant to join the city that I had admired for years? Miss, please come forward. I join reality again and step through the scanner and pick up my things. The decision I made was quite rash. I had no plan, I wasn’t promised to any Canadian university, and I didn’t have a job either. I guess I was so excited by the prospect of living out my dream I hadn’t stopped to think logically.

What if everything failed and I would have to move back to London? My grades would not support any English university I wanted to go to, which I really don’t.

What if I can’t find a job? Or how long will I have to live in this hotel? And how did I travel across the world by myself with no plan? Maybe these were just dreams, only dreams. What if - Whoosh My cloud of worry and overthinking is blown away by the crisp and cold Canadian air as it hits my face. I soon realize that I somehow navigated myself out of the Toronto airport and I also realize that I’m very under dressed for the cold weather. I zip up my jacket higher up to my face and look around. The snow is lightly falling all around, making the sidewalks splotchy and damp. There is a white billboard to the far left with an ad for the new iPhone 12 which provides splashes of colour to the grey-blue monotone building it sits on. To my right, a woman is singing into a microphone, her voice echoing out on the streets with a drummer and guitarist playing their accompanied music behind her. A small group of people crowd around while one person drops a bill into the hat on the floor and then another person does the same. Turning away from the music scene I look in front of me, and look up. There stands a tall tower, that is round and pretty thin, but gets wider to the top, then thins again. A blinking red light on the top of the tower hits me square on the face.

It was like how the sun shines on a new day. The light is comforting and reassuring. All of my anxious questions and worries feel a mile away, almost as if it hopped on the plane and flew back to London. A new sense of hope and motivation grows inside of me. Maybe I’ll find a new apartment to stay at and I’ll walk along the city passing out my resume to any restaurant I see. I’ll take photos all over the city, and I will take a photo of the place I always admired in my parents' picture. And I know not every day will be perfect and my battle with this city is far from over. There may be days when I hate this city and days when I love it. But I guess you can experience all different kinds of days when you are at home.

END


There is no 15 minutes of fame anymore. It had been shortened to 3 minutes, the average length of a viral video. The video was a wide angle shot. The caption was “Fat Funeral Fail!” It was a celebrity funeral of an 800 pound professional wrestler, so their was video. The oversized casket must have weighed a ton. The pallbearers carrying the casket down the aisle and up the platform built to accommodate the large crowd were all family members, 8 men, 7 of whom were in excess of 450 pounds, the runt of the litter looking diminutive at 200 pounds. They got to a certain point on the platform, and the platform failed under the weight. That was funny, but it was only the beginning. One by one the huge pallbearers fell through, but the casket stayed up.  Two men, one on each side, held all of that weight, the two smallest. It was clear. That the TV show superhero, McCool, had all of the weight, while the fat man was their to balance. They gently put the casket down and helped the authorities with the fallen men. It was a short fall, less than 8 feet, bumps and bruises, but several had chest pains and one had a heart attack, services scheduled for next week. Rafferty  wore a brand-new suit for his brother Aiden’s funeral. He had a closet full of expensive Armani suits, not a “Big and Tall” like this one. This one was a two for one, something you never see at the high end stores. He had “fatted out” of his other suits. He hung on to them in a vain hope that he would fit into them again, one day.  No matter what he did, he got fatter. He exercised more than most people. He ate less, but somehow, he gained weight. It was like he was that guy in the Stephen King novel “Thinner” only the opposite, where he got fatter until he died of something fat related. He had to take one of his heart pills and lie down. Rafferty was exhausted. Being a pallbearer had taken a lot out of him. It wasn’t the 452 pounds he carried, although his heart was racing to the peak zone when carrying the casket. His wristwatch tracker had warned him he was standing into danger with his heart rate. It wasn’t all him. Aiden’s casket was oversized, as he had Aiden beat in the weight loss department. Aiden weighed in at 836 pounds at the time of death. His whole family, all the MacHales died young. All of them died of heart attacks, related to their extreme weight, possibly due to some failure of their Irish gene pool. Aiden was only 55—old by MacHale standards. Part of Rafferty’s problem was emotional exhaustion. When the priest had asked him to come forward and make a few comments at the funeral, he had lost it. Aiden and he had been estranged for so many years. They were close in age, and their parents had always made them rivals and not friends. It seemed as if their parents sucked more than most parents. Not everyone’s mother died in a rare accident when their 900-pound father crushed her in his sleep. When Rafferty the younger won his first hotdog eating contest, it was on. They made Aiden change seats and put Rafferty at the head of the table. They had long since changed their lifestyles, from hotdog eating contests to more traditional obesity sports. They were still morbidly obese. They were both great athletes and gravitated to sports where their girth was not a disadvantage. Aiden made his living as a professional wrestler with the handle “Doctor Angry” where he would allow the fellow wrestler to hit him and try to move him, and of course he was too big to move. Then he would get angry. The crowd would chant “Bood-Duh!, Bood-Duh!” He had this patented move called the Durham Buddha, where he would allow the opponent to knock him down and use the momentum of his fat and the bounce off the floor to come back up and clock him with a head butt. There were fans of his beer yoga class, his red meat diet plan, his radio talk show where he played psychologist (even thought his doctorate was in canine veterinary psychology technology from Papa Doc University in the Caribbean.) Traditional Buddhists were incensed that he used Buddhism for violence. He had once been attacked and hospitalized by an angry mob of Buddhists, as he didn’t think it was fair to fight back, and it would send the wrong message. What did they think would happen? You had 800-pound Doctor Angry in a 1,000-pound gold plated casket with family members as pallbearers, all more than 450 pounds except for Liam. There was the ambulance as Cousin Finn had a widow-maker heart attack— which he should have survived with the immediate attention courtesy of the local media. Four other relatives had to be treated for chest pains at the funeral, either sympathetic or triggered by the stress of the funeral. The amazing thing was 180-pound Liam’s side of the casket stayed up when everyone else on that side fell, he was super strong.

He didn’t go by Liam anymore. It’s like he disowned the family. He had legally changed his name to  a stage name: McCool. Most didn’t know he was related to Doctor Angry until the funeral. He had taken it too far. He thought he really was a superhero because he played one on TV. They were supposed to have lunch. But wow, he did look good. What was his secret? Hollywood trainers? He said he was going to tell Rafferty the “origin story of McCool” and that he could be a superhero too. Yep, probably writing some stupid book, further monetizing his good luck from not getting the fat gene, while he was cursed. Life was not fair.

“Liam” McCool was such a showoff. He did this crazy parkour routine getting Cousin Mike to the paramedics, and then disappeared up a building. He had a TV show called McCool where he played a superhero. I guess he really did do his own stunts. Rafferty drove through McDonald’s and ordered two double quarter pounders with cheese and a large diet coke. The portions at the restaurant where he was meeting McCool were small, and he had to keep up his strength. He didn’t want to lose muscle mass.  They were Irish by heritage, but let’s face it—Irish food sucked at the Irish pub where they were eating, it was all potatoes all the time. He was going low carb, with meat like in the quarter pounders.Rafferty ate his pre-lunch snack in the parking lot of the restaurant, trying not to hyperventilate. He had anxiety with expressing his feelings. They were having lunch at the Embassy Suites Hotel near the airport in Philadelphia, featuring a beautiful atrium with a high end restaurant with all plants, water features, glass elevators, exotic birds, and twenty floors of rooms the overlooked the internal landscape.   Of course, McCool hadn’t arrived yet, fashionably late, that jerk. They had reservations so he was seated. Just then he got a text from McCool. Sorry I’m late. Then another text: About to drop in.  Look up. McCool dove off the rail of about the 19 floor did a somersault, and hit feet first on the balcony of about the 17 th  floor, and thrust his way off into space, somersaulted, repeat, ten or fifteen times until he landed in a gymnast stuck landing in the middle of the atrium. Everyone stood and clapped. Well, everyone except him. Show off. They must have been filming for the show. He can’t believe he didn’t notice until he heard a director yell “Cut! That’s a rap.” “Hey Rafferty—what’s up” said McCool. He wasn’t even sweating. Rafferty was still sweating from the exertion of walking into the hotel from the valet parking station. “I mean besides your cholesterol, your weight, I have you in the Mac-great white- Whale pool---your next.”  McCool snickered. “Nice. You jerk” said Rafferty.  They were brothers. They ragged on each other regularly. They exchanged some unpleasantries and laughed, just like old times, or so it seemed to McCool. Apparently, Rafferty was having a dramatic moment. McCool just let him rant wondering whether it was nature, nurture, or his mother’s hormone treatments that made him so dramatic.

“It’s not fair. You show off. You really do your own stunts. You are a TV superhero. Big whoop! I work out so hard and all I do is gain weight! You missed the fat gene and you are here taunting me! Its like you were born on third base and here you are bragging like you hit a triple!” McCool smiled. “Is that all? Come on, tell me how you really feel. It’s okay I checked; they have a defibrillator onsite—several in fact in case you need two shocks at once to penetrate the blubber.”

“Yeah! And another thing! If you really are super, why aren’t you out there really helping people? If you are super strong, can climb like spiderman, shouldn’t you be really doing something?” “Spiderman” said McCool. “With great power, comes great responsibility.” He paused, took a sip of some water. “Yeah!” said Rafferty. Just then the server came. Rafferty ordered an 18-ounce ribeye with all the trimmings, seemingly forgetting his quarter pounder rationale. McCool ordered a large potato soup. “Well Rafferty. I invited you here to listen to my origin story. Perhaps some of these questions you have will be answered if you will listen this time. But, like I said, I have you in the pool. I don’t think you will.” Rafferty called McCool a colloquialism for a man who doesn’t bathe and has carnal knowledge of mothers. “Sticks and stone, Bra, sticks and stones.” McCool laughed. “Do you even know why I chose McCool for my name?” asked McCool. “You think your cool, obviously,” said Rafferty.

“Nope. Everyone else thinks I’m cool. Also, we have the same genes. The superhero gene and the fat gene? One and the same.” Rafferty looked perplexed. “McCool is the Americanization Mac Cumhail, the legendary Irish demigod of myth and legend. Do you remember when I went to study with the Fionn Monks in Ireland?” asked McCool “That cult!” said Rafferty. “They aren’t even Catholic! The protestants don’t like them either.” “Remember that book I sent you, ‘How the Irish Saved Civilization?” asked McCool. “All of my technical reading is on cosmetics and their application. I only have time for novels.” Said Rafferty. “Well if you actually read, Rafferty, you would know that catchy title described how the monasteries in Ireland preserved knowledge during the dark ages. The Fionn Monks are part of our family tree and preserved the truth behind the myth of Fionn Mac Cumhail.” “Weren’t Mac Cumhail’s giants?” asked Rafferty. “Is that what google says? Why do you have to act like you know more than you do? Why can’t you listen, just listen, to anybody? I can see you googling it under the table, you have your phone in your lap. I think you have some quarter pounder on your tie...” Rafferty called him another name that implied his mother and father weren’t married when he was born, something that made no sense since they were brothers and McCool was the youngest.

“They were giants—like you, like good old Doctor Angry, may he rest in peace. Did you see the size of that crane they used to lower him into the hole?  The truth is that gene that makes you fat is a gift if you are responsible. With great power, comes great responsibility.” McCool took a bite of potato soup. Then, he pushed the bowl away as if he were finished. “Let me ask you. Do you still have digestive problems, I mean beyond what all fat men have?” asked McCool. “You are so freaking insensitive and politically incorrect!” shouted Rafferty. He seemed like he might cry.

“Yes, I have to eat as I do because—” “Yes, was fine got it.” Interrupted McCool. “I don’t have all day. Spare me the violins.” “Did you ever notice that you can have a negative caloric balance for a long period of time yet gain weight?” asked McCool. “It seems that way but that’s impossible” said Rafferty. “No, it is not only possible, but a fact. I am living proof. It is the MacHale superpower. A mutation evolved during one of the many potato famines back in our homeland, a long time ago.  Our wonderful bodies harvest more energy from food than any other creature on earth. You can survive and grow on one small potato a day.” Said McCool. Rafferty looked incredulous. “Do you find you are more flatulent than most people?” McCool asked. Rafferty didn’t understand the long word. “That you fart a lot?” “Well, yeah,” said Rafferty. “How is this a superpower and not a curse?” “Simple” said McCool. “Most athletes are limited based on how quickly their muscles can be supplied nutrients. We aren’t. All we must do is eat less and push the limits, like the Fionn Monks taught me. That is how I achieved so much.” “Well, if you really are so super why aren’t you out there really helping people, like a real life spiderman?” asked Rafferty. “I did- for a while. Do you remember the vigilante they called Jabba the Nut? That was me!  Then the government wanted me to work for them. They made like they wanted to study me. I feigned incompetence and went into the movies. I can help more people this way anyway. I can do outreach. I want to focus my energy on my brains not brawn.”  He took a sip of water. “That couldn’t have been you. That guy wore a hood and was huge, like Jabba the Hut. Like me. He wore a hood and fought crime, worked with the navy seals-“ McCool interrupted, as the only way to get a word in with Rafferty, “ I was a giant, like the Fionn Monks of old. I started off with them like this, smaller. I did not want to focus my energy on maintaining the physical muscle. That means I must eat much less, and the hunger never goes away—but I am healthy.” McCool paused. There was a rare moment of silence. McCool hoped that meant Rafferty was thinking. “Do you find you sleep less than most people?” asked McCool. “You know I always have had insomnia” said Rafferty. “It’s not insomnia. You just don’t physically need the sleep. I sleep four hours a night. I study the scriptures. First Timothy says physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.” “When I was fighting crime for real, I would spend four hours a day training my body. I now use my MacHale energy to become wiser, and more knowledgeable. I find this incredible stamina with which we are gifted can be for working one’s brain as well, and it is preferable.” McCool put an envelope on the table and slid it to Rafferty. “This is an all-expense paid trip to Ireland. You can stay with my friends in the Monastery, in the County Mayo, village of Westport. This is my gift to you. Go see for yourself. This superpower isn’t a free lunch. You have to work at it. ”

“You see Rafferty, every blessing is a curse, and every curse a blessing. It is what you do with it. I know a young man who had an illness that prevented him from pursuing his dream and his natural talent at basketball. Man could that kid shoot a basketball. I think maybe God took him off the basketball court on purpose so he could be a writer. Think of all the great writers you ever read. They all had something besides desire that put them into it. You could have been a great writer, but you made more money being the CEO of a cosmetics company. Who has time for writing?  To be a writer you need to be cursed.  I mean you make no money and have no clue if you will succeed or fail until that fateful day when people start reading your stuff. “ Let me think about it,” said Rafferty. Then Rafferty passed gas, loudly. “I need to check, make sure I won’t be excommunicated. I mean they are a cult.” McCool took three running steps, jumped, and did his leapfrog parkour thing along the balconies, going up this time, effortlessly gliding to the 19 th  floor, like a superhero, like McCool. “You do that!” he shouted behind him. He knew he wouldn’t. He knew that there would be an oversized Mac-whale casket in Philly within six months, but he hoped he was wrong.

This was the age of miracles and wonders, but not the kind Paul Simon meant in his song the Boy in the Bubble. Today’s miracle is blindness to wonders, and the ability to take offense at just about anything. They invented a miracle cigarette called vaping, where it doesn’t have the tar and smoke particles. One could smoke a little and not get cancer. Is it a miracle? No, because with our selfish evil desire’s children vape without limit of any kind but the destruction of their lungs.  They invented a cellphone camera to get awesome pictures, but folks kill themselves taking more and more crazy selfies falling off cliffs. We have food and complain we are fat.

The MacHales are gifted to survive all manners of famine and protect their people as leaders, but they die young and the size of whales. McCool wept.


         Clint was twelve years old when he was first punched in the face. The burning, throbbing sensations he felt in his cheek were definitely unexpected. The force caused him to stumble backward, and he fell on his bum. He has seen fist fights on television, the “punch-er” would take the initial shot and the “punch-ee” would appear to be infuriated, prompting him or her to retaliate. But the pain Clint felt was physical and he was reluctant to fight back and risk another blow. He also felt a bit disoriented and needed a few minutes before standing. Was it possible the actors on television were only pretending to punch one another? He scuttled in reverse and leaned his back against a tree. His bully laughed and called him “Nancy,” although he didn’t understand what that even meant. Perhaps the guy’s sister was named Nancy and he didn’t like her very much. Whatever the case, he thought it best not to argue.          Clint West was the youngest of three boys. His brothers, Wayne and Stewart, were out of the house and married by the time he turned five. His mother called him a blessing, but his father called him a mistake. Mrs. West hoped that a new baby would rekindle her husband’s love for his family but instead Clint’s father left not long after the older boys moved out. Mrs. West was understandably overprotective and overbearing, considering Clint was the only one she had to dote on. But her actions only exacerbated her son’s gullibility.          While Clint sat there resting by the tree, he recalled the time he hit himself over the head with a bottle. At that time, he was re-enacting the scene from a comedy sketch he saw live at the Mountaintop Theater. The bottle didn’t shatter like it did in the play, it didn’t even crack. He only managed to give himself a lump so large that his skin split. Live and learn, he thought.          He shook his head and returned to the present. He reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a pack of chewing gum. He unwrapped a stick and folded it into his mouth, then winced when he bit his swollen inner cheek, he would have to chew carefully. Eventually he pushed himself to his feet and headed towards home.          As he approached Bella’s Gaming Resort, he hesitated. Clint decided he deserved a treat, something to take his mind off his woes and his stiffening jaw. He sauntered up the ramp in front of Bella’s and pulled the heavy glass door open. A bell jingle-jangled announcing his presence, and Kelly glanced his way with a friendly smile.          Kelly worked at Bella’s. She was quite knowledgeable about video games. In fact, she recommended the game Twisted when he was there looking for a gift for his mother. The puzzle game was a hit. Kelly was also pretty but he knew that pretty girls always had boyfriends.           He walked past the idle games, or clicker games as he called them, turned right at isle three; he wasn’t interested in the simulation, puzzle, sports, or racing categories. He strolled passed a display of role-playing games, then paused and took a step back. Not seeing anything of interest, he moved to the wall of action, adventure, action-adventure, and strategy games.           After pulling a fistful of loose change from his pocket, he crouched near the floor. While cupping the silver coins in the palm of his left hand he used his right index finger to separate them as he counted. His vision drifted to the high-top sneakers that came to a halt next to him. He looked up and the wearer of the shoes squatted by his side.          “Which one ya thinkin of buyin,” the boy next to Clint asked, his head gesturing to the row of video games in front of them.          “Depends,” said Clint. “Wanna chip in?”          The boy held out his hand, “Vern.” The moment the boys shook hands was the moment they decided to stick together.          They had different upbringings and on the surface, they seemed like an odd couple. Vern was an only child. He exuded confidence and many saw him as a natural leader. His parents were both employed by the state and were able to provide him with everything he asked for. The boy’s love of video games was their first connecting link. They spent numerous hours playing and babbling, talking to themselves more than to each other.          They soon discovered the world of co-op games. One day, while their avatars were attempting to defeat “The Weapon Wizard,” the final boss, Clint began to get frustrated; he kept getting distracted, Vern was sustaining too much damage in the battle and Clint often had to stop fighting in order to heal him. He muttered that he could do a better job at defeating the behemoth himself.          Vern was appalled—disappointed his friend wasn’t as insightful as himself. He would have to enlighten the guy. He paused the game and turned toward Clint.          The avatars on the screen froze and Clint sighed. “What’s the problem,” he scowled.          “I thought we were a team. I’m trying to save the one life you have left.”          An awkward silence hung in the air for several seconds, then Clint realized that he must have said that last comment out loud. “Sorry, of course I appreciate your help.” ***          The summer Clint turned thirteen, his mother was diagnosed with a fatal illness. Neighbors took turns checking in on them to aid Clint with her care. The boy did an amazing job tending to her basic needs. One day when Mrs. Walton from next door knocked on the front door and there was no answer, she peered through the window to see Clint clasping his mother’s limp hand. As she assumed, Clint’s mother had passed, and there was no doubt the boy had been traumatized by such a tragic event.          Clint stayed with Vern’s family the two nights immediately following the funeral. After that Vern pleaded with his parents to allow Clint to move in with them until they finished high school. “Think of it this way,” Vern argued, “I’ll have someone else here to keep me occupied.”  And with that, Clint became Vern’s roommate. From that day forward, they became more and more reliant on one another for the camaraderie they both craved.          While they ate their Fruity-Ohs at the counter in the kitchenette one morning, Clint learned that his friend wasn’t as happy with his cushy life as he presumed. The kid had the entire finished basement to himself, he noted. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchenette and sitting area. Even got an allowance for merely living for goodness sake. But Vern said he would rather his parents’ pay him some attention rather than give him cash. He claimed that they only showed interest in his accomplishments and achievements when they pertained to academics. Vern said he felt more like another item on their “To do” list than part of a family.          It was Clint’s turn to confide something to Vern. He’d been having a recurring nightmare about his mother since her death. “I’m at my mother’s funeral,” he starts, “watching her coffin being lowered into her grave at All Saints Cemetery. I want to scream, ‘She has another life,’ but I can’t speak or move because I’m a statue. When everyone leaves, a dump truck comes along and unloads a mountain of dirt into the hole and rolls on top of her grave, packing and sealing the earth under it. I start to rock back and forth, hoping to tip myself over and shatter the plaster that’s inhibiting me from speaking out. At that point, I wake up. Sometimes I roll right off the futon. I feel anxious thinking that my mother is in her grave panicking because she’s trapped with no way out? What do you think it means?”          “I think dreams are a symptom of stress and anxiety,” answered Vern. “Definitely not premonitions and warnings.” Vern swiveled on his stool to look at Clint who was staring into his empty bowl. He slapped his friend lightly on the back. Hey buddy, extra-lives only happen in video games, [hesitation] and maybe cats. Definitely not real people.”         That day, the boys spent most of their time at the community pool. They had lunch at the nearby “Tiki Hut” with some kids they knew from school. Afterwards, the group returned to the pool area to resume their kick board relay races. Clint suggested they wait twenty minutes before getting in the water.          “My mother said you’ll get cramps,” he said.          The kids laughed. Matt pinched his nose, ten minutes he cried, and then he did a cannonball, holding his tucked knees with one arm. Thirty minutes, bellowed Tina right before performing her forward dive. The twins jumped and yelled in tandem, an hour. Vern stood next to his friend. Clint was troubled, his mother would never lie to him, right?          The next morning the boys once more sat on stools at the counter in the little kitchenette eating their Fruity-Ohs. Vern again started the conversation. “I fell on my head when I was five and went into a coma, then one day I woke up.”          “Wow, so you think people do have more than one life?”          “I don’t think I was technically dead,” Vern said. “Are you still wondering about your mother? — Maybe we should go dig her up.”          Silence hung in the air, then Vern put down his spoon and slurped the milk from his bowl. He turned toward Clint sitting to his left and mocked, “You were considering it weren’t you? I was joking.” He rolled his eyes. “Newsflash, when you’re dead you’re dead, like forever, and your mother’s dead.”          Clint had never felt so disrespected, how could someone he so admired and trusted be so insensitive? That was the moment he snapped.          “You are wrong sir,” Clint said in a chilling tone Vern never heard from him before. Then Clint swiveled on his stool. He grabbed Vern by the throat and squeezed.          Vern clamped onto Clint’s wrists. He pulled, but he might as well have been trying to stretch steel bars. He had no time to take a deep breath before the crushing force of Clint’s thumbs on his windpipe cut off his air, and he was weak.         “Calm down. You are going to die but I won’t let anyone bury your body. I’ll make sure you get to live your second life. You’ll be alive and kicking before you know it.” And Clint watched the sparkle fade from Vern’s eyes.          Vern’s head lulled forward, and Clint loosened his hold on Vern’s neck. He rotated the stool Vern was sitting on and the cadaver slumped over the empty cereal bowl on the counter. Clint hopped off his seat and pushed it neatly under the ledge. He gripped his friend’s shoulders and pulled him upright, releasing one hand to gather the bowls and spoons and lay them in the sink. He spun Vern around ninety degrees, so they were face to face and slipped his arms under Vern’s, then slid the corpse off of the stool. He walked backwards dragging the body’s flaccid, bare feet along the nylon carpeting. He lay the body on the futon under the stairs and kneeled by his side praying that he’d wake up soon. If anyone were to discover Vern in this condition, they would simply bury his body, or worse yet, burn it until it no longer existed. It disgusted him to think of how many people were buried and came back to life underground only to die again because they couldn’t get out. Who knows how many times?

         For the first time, Clint noticed the malformation on Vern’s collar bone. Maybe Vern broke it when he fell on his head when he was five. And at that moment, a lightbulb lit in Clint’s mind. If Vern had lost a life that day nine or ten years ago, how many lives did he have left? Panic and remorse flooded through Clint and his eyes filled with tears.


The path seems to be paved for me as I walk down the street. Taking in the crisp San Francisco air, everything smelt fresh and green. The flowers were blooming and the leaves were emitting a scent of spring. However, no one was paying attention to the beauty around them. Instead, they were looking at me. As a new person takes fond of me I can tell they had a look mixed with disgust and sheer wonderment, mostly the former though.

You might be wondering, “Well, why are people looking at you?” Well, that’s a question I’m trying to answer myself. I wonder if it’s my outfit. “It can’t be my outfit, I have dressed appropriately as any woman of this year.” Maybe it’s my hair. Maybe, its a bird’s nest and dear aunt didn’t inform me. With my head high, I walked to my destination, getting the same looks along the way. Entering the clinic, I was instantly hit with the big letter words “HEALTH CARE CENTER” surrounded by posters of the heart and other organs. “Hi my name is Alexandria Graham and I am here for my appointment.”

” Why yes of cour-’’ The woman’s voice was cut short when she noticed me, or rather, my hair. The eyes of the woman, which I assume is the secretary, looked at me with disgust. The no-name secretary looked at me with disgust. She spoke with a snide voice “Ma’am, I’m sure you are in the wrong place. This isn’t Sin City.” I laughed, knowing what she meant. “Whatever do you mean? I am here to meet Dr. Gregory for my eye appointment.” I was getting impatient. My voice was calm, but my head was anything but. “Why do you believe I was meant to be at Sin City… 10:30 in the morning?” No name’s mouth went agape, opening and closing, not knowing what to say. Is my hair really that bad? “Because of your out-” “Because of my what?” I interrupted, making sure not to let her get the last word. Make sure to tell Dr. Shane Gregory that Alexandria Graham is here for her appointment. He’ll know what it means.” Walking towards the chairs, I hear the secretary paging the doctor, informing him that I have arrived. “Alexandria Graham Sir.” She turned her head to me and I smiled, letting her know that I always win. Around me, patients were whispering, no doubt about me, but I pay them no mind as waited for Gregory. I didn’t have to wait much longer as I heard no name-calling for me. “Dr. Gregory is ready for you, Ms. Graham.” Seeing her forcing a smile made it all the while sweeter to smile back. It gave me a sense of happiness to smile at her while walking away.

As I entered the room, I noticed the doctor’s face going from annoyance to happiness. I walked to his standing form and sat him down and took a seat in his lap. “Are you that happy to see me, doctor?” His arms wrapped around my waist and closer to my bottom. He was still shocked. “Why are you wearing that?” I felt a smile forming, knowing exactly what he means, but I wanted to have some fun. “I know, I know. My hair is a mess. I thought I fixed it but I guess the wind was blowing really hard.” Practically seeing his questions his head, I gave him a charming smile. I saw that he was about to speak, so I quickly shut him up. He moaned through the kiss, his tongue trying to move in, with no avail. Fighting for power didn’t work, seeing that he won. We continued our "appointment" before I pulled away, regaining my power back. Dr. Gregory seemed to be into a world in his head, but soon came into reality. “Why are you wearing that? Everyone will be staring at you.” “What’s wrong with what I am wearing?” I answered feigning confusion. “What wrong? Come on Alex you know you’re not supposed to wear that. It’s frowned upon. Your dress is too high above your knees. You know how men are with that“ Ah, so he was talking about my clothes. I reckon people will pay attention to me” A lie, obviously, but he doesn't have to know.” Is that why people were looking at me? I just assumed it was my hair.” Another fib, of course. I knew why people were looking at me with repugnance and awe. I was wearing a fashion that was denied.” “Alex my secretary paged me telling me that someone is here to see me, in her words “ looking like a Sheba” and “with inappropriate fashion.” I rolled my eyes, chanting spells about no name in my head, wishing it would come true. “About your secretary,” I spoke, “she thought I was supposed to be at Sin City. The nerve of that girl.” I put my finger under Shane’s chin, lifting it to meet my eye. His eyes were filled with anger and lust, the former more than the latter. “I beg your pardon? She said what?” His voice was calm before a storm, hinting unpredictable explosions. I sat on his lap once again, trying to relieve his anger. I rubbed his back, calming him. “Relax, my darling. She was out of line but I put her in her place. She will respect me now. ” My words reassured him, he breathing slowing down.”Now, unto fun stuff.” Gregory’s power was emitted as he put me on top of his desk and kissed me. “This is your idea of fun?” Whispering in his ear, I taunt,” Come on baby give me more. You’ve got 20 minutes till your break is over. Show me what you’ve got.” His eyes that were once filled with anger turned to lust as he continued to kiss me, this time continuing the battle we once started. My legs found themselves around his waist as he put his mouth on my neck. I threw my neck back to give him access. Our passion continued for 15 minutes until his secretary paged him. “Ignore it”, my words barely audible as I proceeded to kiss his collarbone towards his neck. “I can’t. It can be important. I’m sorry my beloved.” I groaned as he picked his pager, “Mr. Gregory, your wife is here. She said she has something important to discuss with you.” Shane’s eyes widened and I quickly fixed my dress and lipstick, and my now actual messed hair. “Did you tell her I was with a patient?” Shane said, trying to stay calm. “She’s coming in now, Sir. My deepest apologies.” Shane could barely breathe as his wife barged into his office, her eyes immediately turning to see mine. Cool under pressure, I smiled before passing a hello towards her way. “Shane, I need to talk to you.” She spoke, not sensing the unresolved tension in the tiny cramped room. This is the story of a forbidden romance.


“We’re running out of time,” he said, yanking my arm harder, “come on.” An hour earlier… My breath quickened as I started to wake. The air was stale and tight. My eyes only saw darkness due to the black handkerchief tied tightly around my head. Thoughts were running through my mind like a train that had just hopped off the tracks, but I attempted to focus on the outside noises. I flinched as the van sped, hitting a bump causing me to flop, slamming my tailbone into the cold metal. Wincing as I resituated, I listened. I could only hear soft traffic sounds in the far distance, making me think I was being driven out to the countryside. I took a deep breath and whispered, “hello.” I cringed at the silence. I had guessed I was alone on this ride, but I was hoping to hear a small voice hiding in another corner. My hands started to ache from the cold, hardening the plastic zip ties around my wrists. I kept rubbing them together, trying to gain relief or loosen the connection, but it’s been unsuccessful. Pushing my back against the van wall caused me to shiver. I was indeed developing ghastly wet pit stains under my arms due to the oozing sweat leaking from my body. I never realized someone could sweat so much in subzero temperatures. My joints even stiffened from the chilled air. I huffed as I thought about the stupid outfit choice I had decided to wear tonight. I leaned my head back into the van wall as tears filled my eyes. What is happening? It had just gotten dark, and my two girlfriends arrived on time to pick me up for a night on the town. We had a plan to visit this new nightclub that was only five blocks away from my apartment. I can be a bit modest, so my original outfit fit my personality. Jenni insisted I change as she rummaged through my closet recklessly. I absolutely hated the dress she and Nikki decided on, but to be more “fun,” as they put it, I pulled it on with internal sadness. Another chill ran through my spine as my naked knee scraped against the metal floor as the van jutted forward. Awkwardly twisting my tied hands over my body, I tried to yank the hem of the dress further below my butt, but I was ineffective. The heat of my breath filled my nose as I struggled again to free myself. Why? Why am I here? The van abruptly stopped, causing my elbow to wedge into some crease sending severe pain radiating into my shoulder. The silence was damning. I strained to hear something, anything. A few moments passed, and I heard a door slam producing a sway into the belly of the van. My mind raced again. What could I do? If the doors open, should I run, should I stay still, should I start shouting for help? Tiny droplets of light beaded through the handkerchief as I heard the back door creak open. My body shook from the rush of iced air filling the space as the door must be now wide open. “You, okay?” I didn’t respond to the man’s voice. It sounded like a man. His body spray infused around me, singeing the tiny hairs in my nose. It was shadowy and pine-like. It reminded me of the scent my brother used during his senior year of high school. “Miss?” He said again. I found myself stuck in place, frozen in time. As much as I wanted to say something, my mouth had locked in fear. “What do you want me to do?” He yelled. I could only hear a faint response. Unable to understand what the person in the distance said, I leaned forward as far as possible without being obvious. Drilling my knee into the head of a metal screw on the base, I grimaced to keep my position. I unintentionally started to shake from the chill that now consumed the van. Trying to focus, I sucked in the cold air. It burned as it hit the back of my throat. I pulled my knees closer to my chest, keeping my ankles tightly together—this stupid, stupid dress. My mind was so blurry from the evening. Even though my eyes were covered, I forcefully closed them, attempting to remember anything before I knew this person, this energy I felt in front of me would rip me out of here. I pushed back into the wall tightly as I felt it starting to move. Someone was getting in. “Hello,” I squeakily whispered. “Ah, she speaks,” the man laughed, “we’re here,” he said, shuffling around. I could feel the van rocking back and forth. My heart sunk. In these few moments, I had grown accustomed to this van. I didn’t want to leave it. His body spray was still as heavy as ever as he got closer in proximity, but with him no longer blocking the doorway, I wafted smells of nature and ice. I tried hard to stop shaking, but the temperature combined with my fear wasn’t helping. Realizing I hadn’t said anything other than hello, I racked my brain for something else to say. “Where’s here?” I shouted, sucking in the air. I was unsure why I yelled that, but I couldn’t understand anything right now. Scared that there was no response from the man, I muttered, “are you there?” “Yes,” he said, “I heard you.” Taken back that he was unwilling to answer my question, I shook more. It was becoming more and more uncontrollable. Although it hurt, I pushed my back harder into the wall behind me. My legs were not bound together. I could make a run for it, but I don’t think I’d get far in this dress, with my eyes covered and my wrists tied. I hardened as I felt a hand touch the bare skin on my right upper arm. “It’s okay,” he whispered with a small laugh, “are you able to stand? We have a short walk.” “Where are we going?” I crackled. “Can’t say yet,” he said. I could feel it coming as my lower lip trembled involuntarily. A breath escaped hard, and the smell of body spray and my angst made me sick. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, placing now both of his hands on me. “It’s okay, and you don’t have to be scared. You’ll see. Deep breath, okay.” I was unable to respond, “I told them this was a bad idea,” he muttered under his breath. “Told who?” I shouted. I didn’t even know where that came from. “Come on,” he said, pulling on my shoulders, attempting to make me stand, but I couldn’t as much as I wanted to. I had been in this position for so long that my body ached at the idea of moving. I was glued to the van. He pulled again, thinking I was unwilling to work with him, and it hurt slightly. “I’m trying,” I said shakily, not wanting him to yank me again and holding back a sob, “it’s cold, and I’m sore.” “No problem,” he said. I felt his hands move to my ankles. Slowly he pulled my feet from under my behind, straightening my legs. I cringed as my knee scraped against the screw head as it crossed, wedging my dress further up my thigh. “Sorry,” he said coolly. “It’s okay,” I said, calming down. He seemed nice, or perhaps I had already started to feel what they call Stockholm syndrome. I started shaking. Vomit felt like it was at the base of my throat. “You’ll need to scoot forward to get out,” he said. His voice interrupted the shock that began to fill my soul. I bent my knees slightly. I can do this. I’ll run. My legs did feel better. Sliding my butt forward, I reached my feet as far as possible, and my toes hit the open door’s breeze. Now realizing where the edge was, I scooted until I was dangling from the edge of the entrance. The rush of excitement filled me at the possibility of escape, and the cold was beginning to feel more welcoming. Without thinking, I slid off the edge with my newfound confidence, touching my feet to the ground. As I straightened my stilettos and found my footing, I felt this independence for a few seconds. I crossed my arms over my body and tugged the dress down. The air around me was unambiguous, but I picked up this new scent once outside. Something musty and stagnant. It was thick and sweaty. I scrunched my nose, “what is that?” I said. “You’ll see,” I heard quickly. I stumbled as he pulled my tethered wrists forward. “Whoa,” I said, “could you at least remove the eye cover.” “I can’t,” he said sternly, “come on.” Digging my heels into the ground again, I could feel wet snow pushing through the straps of my shoes, soaking my bare skin. I took a step forward, but the now melted snow accumulated between the inner sole and my foot, causing me to slip. An unexpected sob was creeping into my psyche. I stuttered a few breaths trying to keep pace with whoever this man was dragging me ahead. I couldn’t understand why that new smell was so pungent, but I couldn’t hear a thing—only our crunching footsteps and breath. Every few moments, I noticed the sound of a car far off in the distance. I sighed low. I hoped Jenni and Nikki were okay. After I’d changed this evening, we had a few shots of green apple vodka at my house. It had been in my freezer for eleven and a half months. It was one of the only things my ex left behind. That’s why Jenni and Nikki had shown up tonight. Stacy had left so abruptly. We were together for two years. We had a cat, an apartment, and a life together. I came home after work one day, and she was gone. A solo letter sat on the table. I repeatedly read my name on the cover until I had the nerve to open it. Long story short, she apologized, said she had found someone else, and took the cat—the vodka as a consolation prize. Present “We’re running out of time,” he said, yanking my arm harder, “come on.” I stopped walking and jerked my hands away from him. The air went silent without the crunching of our footsteps, and the smell of sweat was growing stronger. “Sir, I need to know what is happening. I’m freezing, my feet hurt, and I don’t want to do this anymore,” I said, straightening my stance and pulling my dress down again. There was nothing but silence. It felt darker outside, too, because no glimpse of light was coming through the handkerchief. My once strong stance was already starting to crumble. That may have been a bad idea. My ears tingled as crunching footsteps got closer. I yelped as my legs flew up from under me and my head flung back. The body spray hit me in the face as the heat of his chest pushed against my side. “Hey!” I shouted, squirming in his arms as he began to walk, carrying me like a large dog. The crunching of his feet in the snow filled the air again, but this time I could hear the beat of his drumming heart exerting energy. His warm breath hit my cheek with each stride. As much as I hated it, it was a pleasant mint, and I had been so cold. My body started to lose tension as I gave in. Although it hadn’t been that long, I was exhausted. I didn’t want to give in, but I conceded, resting my tied hands on my crunched lap. My body bounced up and down with each step he took. Now, I was beginning to wonder what this man looked like. His arms felt big and muscular. They were tightly wrapped around my back and under my legs. He hadn’t been aggressive. Although forceful, his touch has been light. He had some plush jacket on because I could feel the waterproof material touching parts of my skin. It had to be unzipped because his inner shirt had been dragging against his chest, moving with my body on every step. His upper body felt chiseled. Ugh, I stopped myself, sucking in another breath of body spray. Squeezing my eyes closed under my handkerchief guard, I listened to the man’s breathing and heavy footsteps. After the vodka shots, Jenni, Nikki, and I left my apartment. A slight headache developed the more I thought about the shots. I remember locking the door behind me. The street was busy. We’d walked about a block when Nikki wanted to run into the convenience store that was lit up like a Christmas tree for gum. I remember watching her at the counter paying. My head jutted forward, and my legs swung against the air as the man squeezed his arms tighter around me, pushing a gasp of air from my chest.

“Sorry,” he said, “missed a step.” He lifted me slightly to resituate his hold, pulling me in closer, but I noticed another sound this time. Instead of focusing on the crunching snow, I searched for the soft noise. I listened closely to the tiny thumps of a beat. This man’s breath was interrupting my attention, but it was nearby. “We’re almost there,” he said, stopping, “sorry, the van broke down back there.” My breath caught as I thought about what he said. I didn’t understand. The smell of sweat grew more robust as he started to walk again, and I was beginning to hear the music noise more clearly. “What’s going on?” I said. “See for yourself,” he said, slowly lowering my feet to the ground. My legs felt rigid again, and I was so cold. I shivered as my toes slid further into the straps of my stilettos. The man placed his hand on either side of me, helping me to steady myself. The beat of the music was louder, and tiny glints of light were peering through the handkerchief. I could see an outline of a door in front of me. His hands began to move from my side up to my head. He yanked the tie of the handkerchief. “Ow,” I yelped. “Sorry,” he said, moving slower to loosen it. It fell from my eyes, finally allowing me to see the world around me. A large metal door was in front of me, glistening from the one pendant light above it. The thumping music was rumbling through the creases of the door, and the smell of people was noticeably spicy. The building was large and industrial. On the right was a large parking lot packed with vehicles. I scrunched my nose in confusion, turning around to see my captor. There he was, a tall, well-built man. He reached his hand out to me, “Taylor,” he said. I just stared at him. He had a buzzed head of hair and crispy brown eyes. His smile widened at my examination. “Oh,” he said, reaching into his pocket. I shuddered, thinking this might be it. The end of the line. He tilted his head, questioning my reaction, and smirked, pulling a pair of scissors from his pocket. He motioned for me to lift my hands. I did and watched as he snipped my wrists free. “Gia,” I said, slightly stunned while rubbing my wrists.

“Sorry about all this, Gia, but Jenni and Nikki swore me to secrecy. I’m still not supposed to say anything. I’m to coerce you into the door behind you.” I looked beyond his head and saw nothing but woods and snow. No lights, no highway, no nothing. He turned around, following my eyes, raising his hand to point. “The van is back there. Again, I’m super sorry. It literally just broke down. It’s my cousin’s, so who knows,” he shrugged. I furrowed my brow and stared at him. I was still so lost in all this. “I’ll make it up to you in there. I promise,” he said, smirking, grabbing my attention, and motioning to the door. Deciding I had no choice and was desperate to get answers. I turned back to the door. I hadn’t noticed before, but there’s no doorknob. Turning back to Taylor… “just push it,” he said in anticipation of my coming question. I sucked in one last breath of countryside, cold, and body spray, leaned forward, and pushed the door significantly. The noise barreled through the opening of the door, straining my ears. I had been so used to the silence it stunned me. The space was dark but vomited laser-colored lights from every corner. It was people on top of people, on top of people dancing, screaming, and drinking. There is a bar straight ahead. I saw two men spinning and dancing in a lit disco cage to my right. My mouth unintentionally dropped open as I turned around to find Taylor. “SURPRISE!” I stumbled backward from the tremored scream of two women. My eyes focused, and with my mouth still hanging open, my brain registered them, Nikki and Jenni. “Gia! You needed this!” Nikki said, grabbing my arm. “Let’s get you a drink,” Jenni said, meeting at my opposing side, “we heard you had some car trouble. Did we get you? Were you so scared?” Still unable to answer, I let them drag me to the bar, and waiting was Taylor, with four bright blue shots. “Death to green apple!” He shouted.


A fictional moment in the life of Eugène Vidocq, the criminal turned criminalist *** It was a warm Parisienne evening and fog rose from the Seine. It mingled with the smog of industry and clouded the gas street lights that dimly lit cobblestone streets. Beside the Seine, in the 4th arrondissement, was La Force Prison, within which was the man Eugène Vidocq, whose wrists were shackled to the dungeon wall by cold steel chains and ankles bound by manacles. Eugène had black, curly hair and long, thick sideburns that taunted the corners of his mouth. He wore rags. His nose was still bruised from the scuffle to detain him when five men were needed to pin him down and capture him. “Monsieur,” he said, speaking to Julian Devéria, the Parisienne Chief of Police, “I became a criminal the night my father had me arrested as a boy.” When those gendarmes had turned up and taken him away to a cell that night, he had felt betrayed, devastated and humiliated by his father. Above all, he had felt angry. And that anger had stayed with him all his life, a chip on his shoulder that had been ever-present in his interactions and informed his life choices. Julian sat in the opposite corner of the dungeon on a wooden stool. His top hat lay in his lap and his walking cane leant against the wall. He remained as still as a gargoyle. “Your trial for treason commences at first light, and you wish to reminisce about your father? Do not waste my time.” The flame of torches lining the walls flickered. A rat scurried between iron bars and retreated into the shadows. “I have watched the guillotine severe the head of my dear friend César Herbaux. This can not be my fate.” He shook his head. The surprised look upon César’s face as his head fell to the ground was forever etched in his memory. He could not shake it, could not recall how César used to smile or the jovial times they had shared in local brothels. “You have deserted from the army, you have stolen, you have forged and you have destroyed marriages. Why would I care about your fate?” Orange from the flickering flames glinted in Julian’s eyes.

A distant scream echoed around the chamber. It briefly registered

to Eugène like the sound of a new prisoner being subdued into his iron attire. “Monsieur, I crave a life no longer on the run,” said Eugène, thinking of his recent arrest. His estranged wife, who left him for a soldier, had found him back in Paris and reported him to the gendarmerie. He could never be free while the sins of his past stalked his being.

“Such is the fate of a criminal. Why would I care about what you crave? You are wasting my time,” Julian said, snatching up his cane and smashing it against the stone wall. He stood. “Monsieur, s’il vous plaît, let me tell you what I can do for you, so as not to waste any more of your time.” Julian pushed out the backs of his jacket and sat carefully on his stool. “Proceed.” “Thieves adore me. Hardened wretches esteem me. I drink and mingle in their circles. I have their trust. I know their hearts. I will gather their secrets and share them with you.” “We have informants already, why would I need you?” “Monsieur, I will be the best of them all! Of your informants, do any have as much esteem amongst the other criminals? Of your informants, have any been as cunning as me, to escape prison so many times, even dressed as a nun to avoid detection? Sir, I will go to lengths those simpletons could not even imagine imagining. I will be your best informant, Monsieur. I know this without a doubt, and I think you do too.” “I can’t trust you.” “Monsieur, when my late father had me arrested as a boy, my fate was sealed. In my mind, I became a criminal. It has taken my whole life to realise he did that out of love. I can be different, I can be of use to society, I can be the man my father knew I could be.” “I don’t know if you can.” “Monsieur, I’ve seen the end. I’ve seen my friend’s head freed from his body by guillotine. I know that God’s grace has all but kept me alive. I will be as devious as I was in crime but use those skills to catch the criminals, and make Paris safer.” He shook his head. “Just as the rats carry the plague, I fear you spread a vile truth.” “Monsieur, s’il vous plaît. Just give me one last chance. Please.” Julian was silent. “We will hold off your trial in the morning. But know this, you are one mistake from execution. I want intelligence, actionable intelligence, or you’ll be seeing your father sooner than you had imagined.” He stood, gathered his cane, placed his top hat on his head and waved to a guard outside the cell to let him out.

Eugene put his head back on the stone wall and blinked away a tear. He would be tireless, he would be disciplined. He would use the tricks and the cons and the black arts he had learned. It was clear that Julian barely believed what was said. But that was fine. Because he knew what was there in his heart. And it was true. And, with time, he would prove it. He felt the anger that had fuelled his heart for so long start to thaw. The miserable wretch that was his soul, felt a flicker of hope. His father had loved him and had wanted him to be the best he could be, no matter how tragically he had tried to teach that lesson. And now, he understood that it was only ever a lesson. He could become the man his father knew he could be.


I came back to my hometown to meet my parents. It's been years since I've seen them. I did not want to come back after what happened. I've made my own little world in there - new friends, new life. Everything is new, which really helped me to move on a little. I never really know whether I was able to move on from him completely. But that's okay. Life goes on. I've accepted it and I promised myself I will keep moving forward and let things take control of their own. I was wanted to stop thinking about it. My mind had become a pool of thoughts that used to dip me in every night and I used to come out drenched into my own emotional baggage I was carrying. Moving out of this town made it a little easier for me to forget about that. Two years passed by, I have learned how to deal with my emotions. Maybe not completely. But little by little each day, I kept moving forward. I pressed them, I suppressed them and fought with them. Every single day has been a battle me against my emotions. Every night I had been face to face to my emotions and had been fighting to save myself till the morning. Every day had been a struggle. I had no choice but to fight back. Gradually, I learned to control them. Everything was good, until one day. That day I saw him in the coffee shop near my house. I went to meet my school friend. We were eating, chatting and laughing. I took a sip from my coffee latte and my eyes caught a man standing at the counter in blue denim, a white T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He was talking to the man at the counter explaining to him something and the other guy was nodding his head in agreement. It was him. Yes, it was him standing in front of me after two years.  He then took out his wallet from his pocket and handed a card to the guy. He waited, and turned his head in my direction. I couldn’t take my eyes off. I was frozen in there. I was frozen with my feelings grabbing in my heart. Everything seemed to pile up in my head all over again. All these efforts of tackling my emotions made day and night seemed a complete failure. I felt like a loser. A teardrop started welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t think of anything looking at him standing ten feet away from me. My friend looked at me and got scared. She grabbed my arm and shook me like anything. My tears started rolling down from my eyes. I looked at her. “what happened? Are you okay? she asked. I wiped my tears with a tissue kept on the center of the table. “ He is here,” I said. “ she looked in the direction of my gaze and saw him. “ what is he doing here in your neighborhood?” I couldn’t utter a word. I was thinking years of fighting all went into vain in a minute. Sometimes, you can never understand your own emotions. You are scared of your own emotions. You never know what they will make you do. He had his wallet in his hand. He gave out the card from his wallet to the guy at the counter and looked in my direction. His eyes met mine. He stood there looking at each other from far away. He kept looking at me without even blinking. The other guy called his name several times. He didn’t respond. He tapped on his shoulder. He then looked at him, took his card back, kept in his pocket. I know he loved me. But I couldn’t stay a single moment with him after that day. When I asked him so many questions and he couldn’t answer a single one. He could have easily stopped me, but he didn’t. He did nothing to make me stay. I was the only one doing everything. I was tired of saving our relationship for so long. And couldn’t see any efforts from his side. I was tired of feeling worthless. I was tired of making myself ignore all the signs. “I’m not gonna come back, ever,” I said and went away from him. He was there standing. He did nothing. I waited for his calls for days, for months. I kept waiting but no response from his side. I used to cry myself to sleep. I was so tired of everything. I was fighting all alone. But I was tired of thinking about what’s going on in his head. To forget him. I moved out of this town, started a new life, met new people, made new friends. But never got involved with any man. I became so afraid of getting hurt again that I kept my distance from all the men and all these kinds of feelings. It damaged me completely. It broke my heart and shattered into millions of pieces. I’ve begged enough. Now it's about my self-respect. I’m not going to bend down anymore. He went out of the coffee shop. “ he is as stubborn as you.” My friend said. “ we all knew that” she added. “ Let him go.” I said. I took another sip from my glass took a deep breath and controlled all my thoughts. I’ve already fought so many battles. I knew someday this will happen. And I’ve already imagined this in my head several times. I’ve cried enough. I’ve hurt myself enough. Not this time. Not ever again. He wants to talk he will come. I'm not going to go to him. I’m done. My self-respect comes above all. I put myself above all. I’m only going to take care of myself. My emotions, my feelings, my surrounding, my family. I’m don’t begging in front of people. I love myself and that’s enough. We continued chatting and eating. " It's okay" i said to myself.