Out in the middle of western Arizona sits a lonesome little town called Saddlesore. Founded in 1864 by a couple of prospectors looking for copper and gold, it eventually grew to a population of one hundred and ten. It consists of a general store that sells just about anything a person could need, as well as a small five-pew Baptist church that hardly anyone attends. There is also Chinese laundry and a schoolhouse. At one end of the street is the Sheriff’s office.  At the other is the most prominent building in town- The Glass Slipper Saloon. One hot and dusty August day, a man wearing a three-piece suit and a derby rides into town on a burro. His name is Stanley Miles. As he ties his minuscule beast to the hitching post, he spots a sign advertising the need for a bartender. “Looky there, Hercules, I think we found ourselves a job!” He straightens up his five foot four frame, dusts the trail dust from his clothes, and wipes the tip of his shoes on the back of his pants legs before entering the saloon.  Just as he is about to push open the swinging doors, he must step aside for a funeral procession passing through. Out of respect, he places his derby over his heart. The last person in line stops to blow his nose and wipe away tears.

“ I’m so sorry,” Miles says. “Was he a good friend of yours?” The man finishes wiping his large red nose, “He was a friend to everybody. He was the bartender.” The man snuffles, and when he sees the procession is far enough away, he races back inside the saloon and starts finishing all the drinks left on the bar. Miles approaches him and asks, “ How did the bartender die?” “Sa-Same as all the others. Shot by a st-stray(hic) bullet during a gunfight.” He then smacks his lips as he looks up and down the bar for another drink. Miles snaps his head around. “Gus, you worthless drunk, you’re gonna pay for them drinks!” Shouts the owner of the saloon. “Don’t got to! Them drinks was already-ready paid for. (hic) Gus then starts going from table to table, looking for more. The owner screws up his face and growls. Turning his attention to Miles, he looks him up and down and barks, “And who are you, stranger?” Snapping to attention, Miles replies, “I, Sir, am Stanley Miles, and my mighty stead, Hercules and I have presently arrived but a few minutes ago.” The owner squints through the saloon’s stained glass window to see the little burro tied up. Hitching his thumb in that direction, he sneers, “You mean that fat little long-eared dog out there?”                                                                         “ Hercules is a wonderful and reliable friend; we’ve traveled far together.” The owner scratches his head.  “Well, I just can’t imagine what could have lured you to come all the way out here to the hottest, dustiest, most miserable hell-hole on earth. You look more suited for a tellers box or perhaps a preacher’s box back east.” “Presently, I’m looking for work. That’s when I saw your ad in the window there.” The man stifles a laugh.

           Miles asks indignantly, “I beg your pardon, but are you the proprietor by any chance?”     “Yeah, I’m Roland James Baker. And quite frankly, I don’t think you’re suited for the job. As you just witnessed, it is somewhat dangerous and demanding. “Did the Sheriff arrest the man that did it? Miles asked.                                                     Gus snorts, “Twas the Sheriff that done shot him. The man the Sheriff was playing poker with said he-he was cheating! (hic) That’s wh-when the gun fi-fi-fight started. The Sheriff took a p-p-potshot at the guy but missed and(hic) shot the bartender.” “That’s right,” confirms Baker. “ When those boys come back from Boot Hill and take a look at you, well, let’s just say I see no need to remove the ad from the window.” “If you feel that way, why not test me?” “Alright, I will. Go grab Gus over there and throw him out of here by the set of his pants.” Miles approaches Gus and politely asks him to leave. Gus ignores him. Baker shouts, “I said to throw him out. You’re not a waiter at some tea party!”  Miles nods and rubs his hands together in preparation to grab Gus. But as intoxicated as Gus is, he still manages to artfully dodge every attempt. “Whatcha doing? Leave me alone! Get away from me!” Gus complains and pushes Miles so hard in the chest as to send him flying across the saloon floor, where he lands at Baker’s feet. Baker looks down at Miles and says only one word, “Pitiful.” Miles scrambles to his feet, “Let me have one more try.” Turning, he calls to Gus sweetly, “Oh, Gus, would you come here, please?” Gus squints suspiciously at Miles through red and watery eyes. “What you want now?” “I just what to talk with you for a moment.” Miles crooks his finger repeatedly, “Come.” Gus staggers over and stops in front of Miles, swaying slightly. “Would you be so kind as to bend down further?” Gus adopts a foolish grin and bends down to Miles’ level. Miles hits Gus with a mighty uppercut with no warning whatsoever, knocking the unsuspecting drunk out cold. He then grabs Gus’s collar, drags him into the street, and leaves him in the dirt. Miles returns, dusting his hand together, “Well? Is that more of what you had in mind?” Satisfied, Baker nobs his head. “You got a place to stay?” Miles shakes his head no. “Alright, then. You can use the room behind the bar. Your job is to serve drinks, keep the money in the cash drawer safe, and wash the dirty glasses. I’ll give you the room and all the pickled eggs and sandwiches you can eat.” “What about pay?” What about it?’

“Do I get any?” “No. But you can keep all the tips you’ll be getting from serving drinks.” Baker smiles to himself because he knows that these boys don’t tip. “You’ll be on your own, so, what do say, is it a deal?” “Deal!” Miles smiles.

… Miles fetches Hercules and brings him around back to the stable. He puts him in a small stall in the back and gives him hay and water. Then, untieing his saddlebags and he enters the saloon through the back door. Walking down the hall, he comes to a storage room that would be his living quarters. After Miles unpacks, he finds a green visor, some arm garters, and a white apron that comes down to his ankles. He returns to the front of the saloon and takes his place behind the bar just as the men return from the funeral. Big Mac Maclaughlin, who stands six foot seven, approaches the bar and, looking this way and that, yells to Baker, “Say, RJ. When I seen the sign was gone, I thought maybe you had hired a new bartender. So, how come I don’t see one?” Standing directly in front of Big Mac, Miles looks up and clears his throat. Big Mac’s eyes grow wide, and his mouth drops open. “RJ! You hiring kids now? Aw, that ain’t right!” Miles reaches under the bar, grabs a sizeable wooden mallet, crooks his finger, and calls Big Mac closer. When Mac leans down, Miles smashes his head with the mallet, dropping him to the floor. “A little respect, if you please!” Miles shouts. Then looking up, he observes six pistols pointing at him. Miles glares at the men and barks, “What?” Confused, the men start mumbling to one another. “What does he mean “what”? Does he expect us to answer? Answer what? Right! Giving up, the men return their guns to their holsters and order drinks. Things are going well for Miles until one day toward the end of October when a man comes rushing in, all excited. “Barkeep! Three shots of whiskey, I’m in a terrible hurry!” Miles pours the three drinks without spilling a drop. “So, why in such a rush?” “Don’t cha know? It’s starting to snow in the mountains, and the prospector Mean Moses Malone will be heading down soon. He’s the meanest, nastiest, most horrible man in the world! Mean Moses hates all people or any manner of civilization there is. He has destroyed entire towns in a night! And the thing Mean Moses Malone hates the most is bartenders.”  Miles’s jaw drops. “Bartenders? Why bartenders of all people?” “Don’t know,” says the stranger while grabbing the bottle off the bar. “Bye.” Miles watches him run into the street, yelling, “Mean Moses Malone is coming! Run for your lives!” Immediately the saloon empties. Baker comes up behind Miles and puts his hand on Miles’s shoulder to comfort him. “Don’t pay no mind to that fella. He’s just trying to scare you.” “Then why did everyone else leave so suddenly?” “Can’t say. Maybe there’s a church meeting tonight or something.” Miles stares at Baker dubiously. “Bye the way, I may have forgotten to tell you, but I’ll be away until the end of the month visiting my sick aunt in Tucson. I expect you to be here when I get back!”  Baker leaves, and Miles looks out through the swinging doors. The town is empty, with nothing but the wind blowing dust and tumbleweeds down the street. The next day Miles is alone in the bar when he hears the sound of thundering hooves beating a path toward the saloon. He runs to the front window and looks out and sees a mountain of a man riding a wild buffalo while cracking two rattlesnakes like bullwhips! Instead of tying it up, he reins the buffalo into a skidding stop and punches it in the jaw, knocking it out. Pointing at it, he commands, “Stay!”                                                                                Miles races back to the bar and ducks down. The colossal man kicks in the swinging doors, knocking one off its hinges. Miles feels the floorboards rattle with each step the man takes. Peering over the edge of his apron, Miles sees thick fingers grab the top of the mahogany bar and tip it away. The giant looks down at Miles and roars, “WHISKEY!” Miles grabs the stepstool and reaches for the best bottle of whiskey in the house. Swallowing hard, Miles hands it to him. Miles watches in awe, for the giant doesn’t pull the cork out with his teeth but bites the glass neck from the bottle and spits it out! The brute drains the entire bottle in one gulp. Then the man turns to leave without paying! Miles grips the bar in an attempt to quell his knocking knees. “Hey!” His voice cracks. “Just a minute! You can’t just come in here and drink up all my whiskey and not pay! That’s stealing!”  The man turns and slams the bar with his fist so hard you can hear the wood split. “I ain’t got no money.” “Then you shouldn’t have drunk my whiskey!” Miles squeaks. “You know what I think? I think of how disappointed your poor sainted mother must be seeing you act like this.” “She was a whore.” This somewhat stymies Miles, but he pushes on. “Well, despite that, she was still your mother. A mother who loved her little baby boy.  Who scrapped by trying to make a living at any cost and devoted all her efforts to see that you had a better life than she did. You were her hope and dream for a better future, but look what you’ve done to those hopes and dreams.” The whiskey is starting to kick in, and the mammoth of a man is feeling sentimental. As a tear escapes his eye, he whispers in a low and quavering voice, “I miss my Mommy.” Miles sees he has gained the upper hand and strikes home. “It’s not too late !” his voice rises in a crescendo. “You can change your ways and make your mother proud of you again. She can hold her head up and say, “That’s my Boy ! Then in time, people will stop calling you Mean Moses Malone and call you friend instead.” The man’s head springs up, “What’d you just call me?” He whirls around and looks out the single-hanging swinging door to the street beyond. When he turns back to Miles, Miles can see his eyes are full of terror. “I almost forgot! I have to get out of here!  Mean Moses Malone will be here any minute!” Miles’s eyes roll up into his head as he collapses to the floor.


{ note: this is my first story so there could be mistakes but enjoy anyways :) } Lucas followed Vera through the dark depths of the sewer tunnels. The stench seeped through the grubby brick walls in a way that made his eyes water. He knew that the girl in front of him felt it too but she didn’t utter a word;

they both knew that journeying through the surface was like an act of suicide. Vera looked back at the boy, her plump lips formed into a thin line. He always thought that Vera was beautiful. With her slim figure and her wavy brunette locks cascading down her back. Even dressed in filthy rags and the prominent dark circles formed underneath her eyes. Even as she led him through this filthy tunnel to who knows where, risking both of their lives, he still found her as flawless as ever. Vera broke the silence.

“We must hurry-”

At the same instant a detonation was heard, causing the walls to quiver violently. The sewage water was like brown slime; it sloshed and hugged at their ankles. Lucas would have gagged if he wasn’t focused on the screams and crashes echoing from the surface. Rats scurried down from the end of the tunnel, their red eyes glowed in the dark as they let out helpless squeaks. Vera urged him to keep walking. More screams. More crashes. More rats; Lucas couldn’t take it. His eyes grew moist and he tucked a few blonde strands behind his ear.

“All those innocent people…” He let out through clenched teeth.

“Things change, Lucas,” Vera said solemnly. “Hopefully for us, they change for the better.” “No, we need to turn back or we’ll end up like them!” He gestured to the top of the tunnel. “I thought you trusted me on this. We would never survive in that slum of a home!”

Lucas looked at her in disbelief. Of course he trusted her, but not even he would be insane enough to continue with this. Everyone knows that you can’t escape from this nightmare that they call the Apocalypse. But it wasn’t a nightmare, it was real. They wouldn’t even be able to make it out of the city in one piece, instead they would make new additions to the pile of bodies littered across the streets. But if this is what Vera wanted, he would have to trust her. He owed her that much after everything they have both been through. After all, they only have each other. It was just them against the world now, or what’s left of it. They couldn’t afford any arguments or distrust in each other.

“Gross,” Lucas muttered bitterly as his feet sank deeper. “We’ve been walking for ages, where does this tunnel even lead to?”

“Hopefully out of the city.”

“ Hopefully? You mean you don’t even know where we’re going?”

“I know that we’re away from the slums and that’s all that matters.” Vera didn’t have a reckless mindset, Lucas knew that for sure. So he didn’t question when she woke him up one morning and told him to pack what was left of their things, saying they were leaving for good. She hated living in the slums, what with all the hundreds of other families herded like sheep in the same area, in fear of their lives. In fear that one day those giant machines would come marching over and- Lucas shuddered even at the thought of it. Everyone was only concerned about their own safety and wouldn’t hesitate to choose their own life over another's. That was simply the way things were now since the Apocalypse.

“Oof!” Confused as to why Vera stopped, Lucas was about to question her but gaped when his vision met the sight in front of them. Gone was the rest of the filthy sewage tunnel and in its place was a mountain of debris and rubble. It piled up in enormous chunks that went above the sewers and into the surface of the city. Vera turned to Lucas, a spark in her eyes lit strong and firm. The blonde-haired boy’s eyes widened so much he could practically feel them popping out.

“Vera, if you’re thinking…”

“What other choice do we have?”

Vera placed a single frayed shoe on a slab of rubble amongst the debris hill. She stared up at the endless path that could possibly lead to their extermination but looked back at Lucas with a glint in her eye. He couldn’t quite fathom what it was: Pleading? Determination? Further up the hill she went and reached out a hand to him. He let out a deep sigh as he looked back and stared into the black oblivion. No turning back now. He grasped onto the brunette's outstretched arm and carefully climbed up to her, his barely covered feet squelching with each step.

Hums and buzzes from flies echoed in their ears which would have annoyed them any other day, but right now it was the least of their worries.

“Agh!” Vera shrieked as her steps made an unusual squelching noise and she was left tumbling over the destroyed bricks and metal. As he rushed to help her, Lucas almost heaved out his insides at the red liquid staining the brunette’s shoe. He peered down to what was only a few inches away from his own feet, only to be met with soulless orbs staring straight into his eyes. His breathing hitched and the hand that was gripping onto Vera trembled. Now we know what caused the flies. He barely heard the girl in front of him let out a sob and pull him away from the sight.

After who knows how long they’ve been climbing for, the hill was getting a lot steeper that they could pretty much slide off it. But they could see the top and in this way, they would be able to journey through the surface. Vera looked back at Lucas with a genuine smile. The blonde-haired boy couldn’t help himself; he smiled back. Gosh, she was ravishing when she smiled.

The brunette started to climb onto the now damaged road of the surface, stretching her hand out to the boy below her. She took in her surroundings, eyes widening in realisation.

“I know this area! The exiting gate should be just-” More crashes and explosions. But this time, it was a lot closer.

“Vera!”

Lucas breathed heavily and tried to look through the dust circulating his vision. His entire body crumbled and ached like the rubble around him. The sound of machines whirring caught his attention and it was at that point that his heart refused to beat. No… it can’t be! Limping through the fog of debris and dust, Lucas desperately clawed through the now broken buildings. She was right there; we were so close. He halted as a pale

hand weakly stretched out from beneath the rocks. It trembled and shook vigorously, trying to find some way to lift itself up. At that moment, Lucas had never sprinted so fast in his life. He couldn’t care less anymore if he passed through decaying bodies of innocent civilians or how the synced mechanic marches echoed louder throughout the city.

“Vera, oh gosh!” Lucas quickly brushed off the soil and filth covering her limp body. Parts of her brown hair were stained in deep red and more of the liquid oozed freely down the side of her head.

“I thought we were gonna make it,” she coughed out blood. “Guess I was wrong.”

Machines whirred and whined, their heavy stomps vibrating through the rubble ground. Lucas bit back a whimper. They are getting closer now. He kneeled next to Vera’s weak body and gripped onto her frail hands tightly.

“If we run now, we can make it!”

Vera smiled faintly at the idea and shook her head at him. A single tear danced down her cheek and her cracked lips trembled slightly as she stared up at the blonde-haired boy. She took in his features one last time, savouring it in her mind and then pulled him closer towards her until their lips met.

Lucas couldn’t stop the sob that broke free from his lips. He knew the kiss was a seal of fate. Though it was a different fate from all of those fairy tales and movies. This was real life.

So as their lips parted for a split second, they leaned in again despite the machines nearing them. They stopped marching, and in a coordinated fashion, took aim at what was left of the city.

Lucas smiled. This was where he needed to be.


It was the beautifully crafted wooden sign in the distance that caught my eye. Arriving, I pulled in, parked in front of the diner, shut the car off and sat for a moment. It was still early, but these places open at the crack of dawn. Always. So, I wanted to get the feel of this business before I went on to my next writing assignment. It was to be a visit of two eateries in one day. My first one was the local diner, The Bauernof, and the second one was the newly opened restaurant on the other side of town, Regal Royalty. I heard that new place has brought in an upscale city vibe, after only being in the area for a short time. It was pricy for the average local person, but the restaurant was seeing an overflow of out of towners since it was in the scenic tour guide of New Hampshire’s best of the best. That crowd brought in the big bucks. How to capture this unique scene in a good way, on paper, was key. It needed to blend somehow with the rural character of this quaint town. I would not and could not blow the story out of proportion. Making it larger than life was not my aim. Two totally different eateries serving guests in their own unique way, would be the way to capture the feel of local first, tourism second. Unfortunately, from what has already been reported, Regal Royalty was more than just the top chef upscale food place to go, it was ‘who’ was dining there with an important status or claim to fame.

Since I had more than a TV dinner mentality, my boss put me on this story. I began writing for our town newspaper when it started from scratch some years ago. Back then it was a compilation of whatever each of us offered and brought to the table but in a story of interest for the community. I found people to interview at a local shop, the town hall, or the dog park who just liked to chat which led to finding something in our conversation to write about leading to a compelling story. It is a trait that I have developed, to engage anyone in a fun way that opened the door to want to share what was going on in their world, whether it was at the office, home or somewhere else. There was always a connection woven into the story that resonated with town folks. This would be my first assignment in another town, as it was a new investment of interest to our expanding publication area.

With notebook in hand, my audio recording up to date on my smart phone, I ventured into the diner. First impressions are lasting impressions and what I felt was real; the soft glow of the lights, country music playing, and the best subtle aroma of a blend of baked fruit, ginger and cinnamon spices. Serve me up! A young lady greeted me and said, “Good morning. Just sit anywhere you like.” I hung my coat on an old-fashioned coat rack then proceeded to slide into the nearest tiny booth as she poured me a fresh hot cup of Joe. It was a cute booth for two and a spot that would be really nice to share a breakfast with someone special. The window looked out onto the east side where the sun was just creeping up. You could pay me a million bucks for that view. It was just a moment that made me relax, and to ponder life in the day ahead. All that while enjoying my first dark roast coffee of the day. I looked around at the homey feel of the place with decorated lanterns, the right color palette everywhere and the timeless wooden décor. The young lady came back and offered to refill my cup, asking if I would like to see a menu. I thanked her but wanted to know if the owner was available. We were interested in highlighting this unique diner by offering an upcoming story for the town newspaper, I told her with a smile. She only slightly smiled in response and said, “I’ll be right back.” That was it. Hmm. I got the feeling something was off but knew to wait and not critique my instincts. Yet.

The owner, an older woman who I knew by name only as, Mariam Goodnow, came out of the kitchen. She paused to speak quietly to the young lady, and I saw her head nodding. I am sure the owner was addressing the daily to-do list to keep ahead of the food requests of the morning customers as the door now opened more frequently. As she passed several older gentlemen, she smiled and welcomed them, giving them a hearty pat on the back. Regulars were my guess, and that was a good sign. Note taken.

I went to stand up and she waved, “Freut mich! Please, stay, I will sit with you. I never seem to get a minute by myself, so I’ll enjoy this moment.”

I thanked her and began my intro telling her of my story idea for the newspaper and our opportunity to shed some positive light on this diner and the other new restaurant in town.

That is when I saw a light go out. I was perplexed when she folded her hands, her lips pressed tight together, and she looked off to the side.

“I take it I said something that was not agreeable. Are you okay with a story and a promotion of your diner? It seems like everyone around here loves The Bauernhof. I am so ready to write a great reflection of your place, to highlight your farm to table efforts and by supporting local.” I apologized by being too blunt, but she stopped me before I said more.

Two pieces of Bienenstich Kuchen were suddenly on the table. My jaw dropped, as this was my grandmother’s prize treat, always. Mariam smiled. “Please, let’s take a moment before we talk. I have a feeling that you might like my family recipe.” She could not help but grin at my little kid reaction. “Guten appetit!”

With satisfied happiness, I finished the unexpected treat and thanked Mariam heartily. “You already made my day! I hope I can do the same for you with a nice writeup piece for the paper.”

Mariam sighed and told me something surprisingly sad.

When she finished revealing what prompted her emotions to take ahold of what she felt strongly about, I was in shock. It seemed like the new restaurant, Regal Royalty, was focusing on reviews and literally created a “vanity plate” to keep enticing a steady entourage of high-class customers to their restaurant. I did some digging and discovered that the posted comments for the diner on the same promotional advertising site as the restaurant were given very poor marks by way of fake reviews while the new restaurant was applauded for bringing its upscale quality improvements to the tourism market. High reviews = lots of money.

By the time I left, she had my assurance that the story written for The Bauernhof would be far above the one for Regal Royalty. Two can play the game and whoever is marketing under false pretenses to trash another’s business would pay the cost in what is known as the actual truth.

Now on to the next story book chapter with Regal Royalty. What will that reveal?

It was now mid-morning as I pulled into their parking area located a fair distance away. The entry sign stated the front door was only for VIP. So, the back door was for the nobodies? I guess it was too early for a formal escort to meet and greet a guest and to provide their weekend famous horse and carriage ride to the main entrance. I strode up and with panache, opened the front door and walked right into the building.

Immediately, I was confronted by someone with a very negative tone in the way he spoke to me.

“Excuse me.” He came right over, blocking my view of the door to the dining area. “Is there something I can help you with?” With arms folded, he faced me, turned his lip up and I couldn’t help but just smile in exchange for that lovely first impression.

And he was the manager?

“Good morning!” I cheerfully introduced myself and extended my hand as I explained the reason being here at this early hour. I drew my hand back since that was not a receptive gesture. I mentioned the owner by name and asked if he had time in his schedule for an interview. I mentioned the story about the restaurant that I was in the process of writing for the newspaper’s special feature section.

The man, who didn’t bother to mention his name only said, “Wait here.” Oh, boy. This was a whole lot different than I expected. Ten minutes went by, and this same person approached and told me to follow him. Great. We walked through a darkened hallway, turned and went down a flight of stairs. Is this the basement? He turned a light on and at the next door stopped and knocked. A voice answered to come in, and the manager only gave me a chin up to follow behind. This was not at all what I thought.

Apparently, this was the restaurant’s main office which included the security videos in and around the entire building and the property. The owner at least was more cordial than his manager, as he stood, introduced himself and shook my hand. Big surprise there.

He spoke first. “Well, I hear there will be a story in the newspaper giving us some more publicity highlighting the upcoming tourist season. Do I have that right? Our 5-star reviews have been excellent.” I agreed and further explained the reason for my visit.

“A few minutes would be okay. I’m sure you already know how we have already expanded our image to meet the demands of the tourists. We give more to get more, if you know what I mean. Unlike some other place nearby that can’t seem to get enough people through their barn door.” He laughed at his own humorous way to criticize The Bauernhof. He proceeded to rub his fingers together to mimic the money factor. “We’ll go through the upstairs gala area for a quick tour.”

Following him back upstairs, I couldn’t help but feel the unwelcome vibe. He paused by a fancy door and told me, “Please don’t touch anything. We have an important private guest list this evening and everything needs to be according to our standards of elegance.” Okay, I get it. We went through several rooms so I could get a sense of the décor and ambiance. It was like lusterless frosting on a cake, crusty, icy, and overly sweetened. I pretended to be excited in writing the review and gave him a thumbs up as I was escorted out the front door. Walking back to the car, I could only shake my head in amazement of the personalities of everyone including some of the wait staff. Several watched us by giving me the stink eye with added smirks. I guess the word was out about how, in their smug opinion, we were trying to make Regal Royalty a big story only to use the restaurant to make the newspaper more popular. They had no idea how my first impression was going to be a game changer. I can and will write a story without reservation or hesitation. The owner’s fake way to glamourize every square inch of the place didn’t sit well with me. It was all just eyewash. Star reviews? You’d better believe it. I’ll clear that fake bright sky and bring in the real picture. Storm clouds.


Her hair was as blonde as the sun, and her eyes as silver as the moon. She wore our usual black dress just like everyone else at our school, but the way her sharp chin and bright eyes contrasted with it, she was as beautiful as time itself. She smiled, and curtsied right then and there in front of me, leaving me only to blink. My own hair was as red as a lion’s mane, or perhaps a dying tiger lily. My eyes looked like little olives, in both shape and color. But somehow, she had chosen to curtsy to me.

“Hello,” she said, her smile bright and burning like my hair. “My name is Noemi. I will be sharing your dormitory.” I nodded, clumsily curtsying in response. “I’m Emila,” I muttered under my breath, my tangled hair flopping onto my face. “Welcome, I guess.” “But aren’t you new here as well, Ms. Emila?” She was so dainty, so delicate. It would hurt me to tell her I had misspoken, and even more to tell her I had lied. So I simply shrugged, letting her presume what she wanted to.

“Ah, I see. You must have come earlier, then.”

I nodded, breaking eye contact with her as I ran up the stairs. She smiled, rushing after me with her clicking shoes. “Ms. Emila,” she said, as I flopped myself onto the bed closer to the window. “I would really like it if we could get to know each other since we will be spending so much time together. Where are you from?” I brought the blanket over my face as I tried to drown in my disappointment. “I’m from Atoria,” I grumbled out, letting my distaste show. “And I don’t need a friend.” Noemi let out a chuckle, leaning her head back. “Oh, Ms. Emila. Everyone needs a friend. Especially in such a dreary place as this.” This time, it was my turn to laugh. “You call this place dreary?” I asked her, bringing my head up from under the blanket. “Roasir is beautiful. When we were walking through the streets this morning, all I could think about were the bright buildings and cobblestones. I-” She laughed again, and I blushed, my cheeks turning only a shade lighter than my hair. “Never mind,” I said, bringing my head down once more. “It doesn’t matter.” “Of course it matters, Ms. Emila.” She paused, looking out the window I had chosen my bed by. It was a small window, but the room was easily large enough for the two of us. I would have preferred a room alone, though. I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t need friends in Roasir. “I only meant that this room was quite drafty. You see, I am from Calintera. We have the same cobblestones, but ours are-” “In hexagons, yes, I know.” I grumbled it out again. I didn’t want her to see how fascinating the pavement was to me, especially not here at the academy. Here, our interests must solely be on our studies and becoming proper ladies, not on architecture or anything else of the sort.

Here, we are trapped.

I blame it on the war, for tearing the world apart. But Noemi probably doesn’t care. She probably only focuses on her studies and the way the world should be.

I yawned, turning towards the window. The view was lovely, though I doubt Noemi noticed. The sun was setting in the sky, and the moon’s faint glow and pale sickle shape reigned over the town. The oranges of the sunset looked beautiful against the blue roofs of Roasir.

“Night, Noemi,” I said, closing the curtain. “We better get to sleep. First day’s tomorrow.” She smiled. “Goodnight, Ms. Emila.” ۞۞۞ I woke up to the calls of birds flying over our dormitory, swooping over the sky. Noemi glanced my way from her bed by the door, already putting on her shoes. “Hello again, Ms. Emila,” she said, giving me a small wave. I smiled back at her, quickly frowning when she wasn’t looking. Silently, I began to get dressed for the day.

She sat there on her bed the whole time, looking away from me. Waiting to come to class together.

I laughed. “Noemi, you can go on,” I said, strapping on my boots. “You don’t need to wait for me.” She smiled, scrunching her bright silver eyes. “But I want to,” she said, holding out her hand to help me up. “Is that alright, Ms. Emila?” I shrugged. “You don’t have to call me Ms., either,” I said. “Just Emila is fine.” She nodded, her hair tied up in a neat bun. “Alright, Emila,” she said, still waiting for me to take her hand. “Let’s go to class.” I ignore it, bringing myself up on my own.

۞۞۞ One night, I ran away.

I watched to make sure Noemi was sleeping, carefully opening the door. I slipped on my boots once I got outside, so as to make sure no one heard me leaving. I rushed out, running through the streets, the moon now full, looking just like Noemi’s silver eyes.

As soon as I got out of the building, I laughed. I laughed and laughed, running through the town, dodging honking cars and even the occasional horse and carriage. Finally, I was free, and I knew exactly what I wanted to see.

Silently, I ran as fast as I could towards the old clock tower in the center of town, hoping to get a glimpse of the stained glass windows on the side of the clock. I gasped, seeing the lights from inside the building, where the clockmaker slaves away, fixing the gears so the clock can run properly.

Every night in Roasir, I hear the clock strike midnight. I wanted to go see it, to see the stained glass where the clockmaker works. But I never could, as we were never let out.

I smiled.

Suddenly, I felt someone’s arm on my shoulder, I gasped, my heart beating rapidly as I turned around to see who it was.

“The clock is quite beautiful, Emila.” I frowned, squinting at her face. Her pale silver eyes and bright blonde hair illuminated the sky with the moon, so I knew exactly who she was, but I wanted to see her expression.

I wanted to see if she would turn me in.

“You know, M- I mean, Emila, if it weren’t for the war, I would have liked to be an artist. I used to paint all the time at home in Calintera, even pictures of our own clock tower.” I stared at her while she stared at the clock. “Yeah,” I said. “I would have been an architect. I love even the smallest details of new places. My dream is to craft my own city skyline.” Then, I remembered who I was talking to. “You won’t turn me in, right?” I asked. She laughed, a bright smile coming over her face. “Of course not, Emila. We’re friends now.” I turned my attention away from her face and back towards the face of the clock. “Yeah,” I said, reaching to take her hand. “Friends.” Together, we stared at the clock until the sun rose again, the wind blowing as we laughed and spoke about the war and our dreams until it was time for class to start.


Night was beginning again and sure enough, an orangish, redlining began to strum the edges of a dusty horizon. Far off somewhere amid the endless miles of dunes walked a half-dead corpse, treading upon what so long ago thrived. But now in every direction, sand stretched across this barren wasteland, engulfing the so-called world few inhabited. What lived, killed, and what was killed, rotted alongside the souls of the living. Each grain of sand this corpse-like-traveler kicked up was one of sin and pain, a breeding ground for death and despair. And with each step one took echos from beneath strained in your ears, begging and grasping for anything. Hell couldn’t have been any closer.

Klunk, Klunk, klunk, klunk. “Daum this bad.” Cliunch, cliunch. “Daum this is really bad. Did that old, mute codger tell me to take a left at the crossroad or was it a right…Daum.”

The traveler had crossed many deserts all part of the whole, not one was any different than another. The traveler sought a town that rested beyond the red of a sand dune somewhere seemingly past infinity. This town was supposedly large in size and in number. And the city had golden gates that stretched miles across hairs of green grass. The glimmer and magnitude of the gates were marveled by all who stood facing it from any direction. And the inhabitants that resided peacefully within the city’s marvelous gates, were mostly in the older stages of life. Yet despite their old, grouchy, highly envied lives, the residents kindly welcomed all who sought their heavenly oasis or so he was told once long ago by his mother.

Eventually making up his mind, the weary traveler decided to stay left at the fork and slowly, yet surely, he made his way, sticking to the dirty beaten path he has tread upon for so long.

The traveler had walked many miles, day after day, month after month, and year after year, and not once had he come across a town that met such a description. Yet the traveler stayed upon this path, completely relying on hope and the whisper of a fairy tale ingrained within his heart.

On the verge of yielding his search, the traveling man crawled to peer over one last reddish sand dune, and to the world’s wonder there stretching off into the desert a magnificent gate, a gate that seemed impossible, until now, to find. The man broke down upon his knees and wept until the sun had fully dissipated into the horizon.

His search had come to an end. After traveling seven years upon this wasted world his seemingly endless search had reaped benefits. The traveler made his way closer and closer to the city’s gates, hardly believing what his eyes made out.

“Surely.” he said to himself, “Surely this is it, this must be it, Surely.”

The traveler, now sprinting toward the gates, yelped out into the night, begging the sun to rise once again so as to cast light upon the golden egg of the blood-stained world. In fact, he believed if the sun did at once rise again he would welcome death in any torturous way. Eventually, the man couldn’t stand to wait in the dark any longer, he must reach the town, he must reach the heaven on hell.

Two figures in soldier’s armor approached the traveler steadily with spears and spoke out, “What is it that you seek young vagabond?” The traveler still stained by the tears from before responded with the words spoken by a transformed man: “I seek a life within your city of gold and green. A permanent stay if at all possible. For I am exhausted and tired of traveling upon this desolate, life straining world. Since the very day I found out that there was a city such as this hidden amongst the dirt, I have yearned to learn more about it. So I could be in this very spot, talking to you. ” The two soldiers glanced at one another, then in unison, both took off their helmets and placed them upon the grains of hell beneath their feet. “Welcome, we will humbly accept your request.”

The two soldiers, leaving their helmets stranded in the abyss, turned towards the gates, and instantly cracks of something bright unlike light began to seep through the crevices of the opening masterpiece. The brightness of the inside overwhelmed the traveler so much so that the two gatesmen had to pick him up and carry him inside. Within the walls, there were wondrous pieces of art and sculptures. And houses of gold and silver-lined the city streets, each leading in different directions and met up in many different ways.

Instantly the two solders dissipated back into the night, possibly to retrieve their helmets from before, but neither one returned.

The traveler gradually regained his bearings and as soon as he did he noticed the difference of color upon the ground. Thereupon the ground was grass, the greenest of its kind. The traveler flopped upon the strands in ecstasy, crying out-loud in triumph. Upon the grass not far from the traveler, a group of children danced and sang merely. The words the children used in their melodies were recognizable to the traveler but put together with the melody, each word sounded similar to an infant's speech. And Old folks trod grudgingly past each other block after block going somewhere, but where too would never be determined. The brightness that once overwhelmed the traveler from before now yielded to darkness which swiftly swept over the buildings and citizens in only a moment's notice, yet the children and old folk’s actions were completely unfazed by any change of any sort. The traveler, shocked by all that had taken place, stooped around upon the firm soil bewildered and frightened. The world he dreamed of for so long ago seemed so different than what appeared before him now. The gates he envied to see for so long, that were only a few footsteps behind him, had vanished from sight along with the brightness he saw once he first entered the gates.

From up ahead an old man approached the traveler, he wore long silk stockings and a baggy suit with columns of buttons running down the sides of his sleeves. And his body stretched outward farther than it did upward. “Hello, there good sir! You must be the stranger the guards picked up outside the gates. Is that right?” Mumblelishly, the traveler managed to make out somewhat of a yes to the old man. “Alright, ok ok, and they did mention to me that you’d wish to live here freely, is this also valid?” “Yes”, said the traveler once again, this time with a slightly more lively tone to it. “Righteo, then lastly…, I assume then that you do have something to give to the rest of the residents in compensation for allowing you to live alongside us?” “Huh”, said the traveler still utterly confused by the changes in his surroundings and now, even more so, bewildered by the previous statement. “I asked you, dear sir, do you have anything to give to us in compensation, for allowing you to live here.” “No sir, I do not.” responded the traveler monotonously, looking now at the rounded man. “So, you have nothing, is that truly true?” “Yes sir, that is correct. I have nothing of worth to give anyone in this town, nothing at all. I was told by many that this town was free of charge to dwell in, but it appears now that I am here, I would be mistaken." An impish grin consisting of both fire and malice rose upon the rounded man's face. "Indeed, you would be mistaken, no place as such lies on this earth. This world is consumed by evil, and evil is all it will ever be." The ground beneath the two began to tremble, and spurts of sand gushed up from beneath, smothering the grass and the soil. Yet the children didn't relent from singing, neither did they hesitate from laughing. Not even the old folks faltered when they walked through the sand pits, which we're building up all across the ground. Fear along with sand gripped the wanderer's body, and there was nothing he could do about it, for the roundish man he had once been conversing with dissolved into the sand which was gushing out from almost every place, there was absolutely nothing that he could change. Nothing at all... And so with that thought in mind, the young man leaned back and embraced the sand upon which he will forever lay.


As Faith sat at her desk reviewing her travel plans for the year, she couldn’t really complain. She loved how much travel was involved in her marketing role at the prestigious publishing house she worked for and she felt this year she had completed lucked out. A trip to New Orleans in April followed by a few Italian trips and Alaska later in the year. These academics really wanted a ‘good old jolly’ away from their families, with whatever shenanigans that involved. Last year at a Russian studies conference, Faith couldn’t believe how much flirting and presumably bed swapping seemed to have gone on. Everyone in their best suits in meetings during the day and then as the hotel announced ‘cocktail time’, things usually turned into a scene from a Baz Luhrman film: ties got loosened, ladies let everything down. At this said conference, Faith had been approached by several ancient academics. One of her journal editors who she had unfortunately been asked to keep an eye on and ‘wine and dine’ said after too much vodka ‘if I were forty years younger, I’d have a crack.’ She felt quite nauseous at the comment but also a bit sad for him: a long haul flight in his eighties must have been hard on him. Fortunately, Faith found that if he drank too much at the conference, she could say ‘Do you know what Alan, I may just have room service tonight. Shall I arrange something similar for you?’ and he usually complied. She remembered one Russian academic at the conference who was quite persistent and kept coming round to her booth in the exhibition hall. ‘Would you let me take you for dinner? I would really like to get to know you.’ Her response was always the same ‘That sounds lovely. Would you mind if I bring my Editor Alan?’ pointing to the octogenarian. ‘I’m meant to be accompanying him to dinner.’ ‘Oh, I see, well I hoped we may have been able to spend some time alone together.’ Seriously, I feel like I’m in Ancient Rome. Everyone seems sex mad. Another reason, Faith was always on best behaviour was out of some misguided loyalty to her boyfriend back at home. Faith had been with Eddie since their final year together at Oxford and while she knew that the spark had extinguished and they were both firmly ‘mates with benefits’, neither of them had had the confidence to break it off as they were still quite fond of each other. So she carried on with her travelling and he carried on working his way up the corporate ladder at the IT firm he worked at. As she packed up her bag to fly out to New Orleans the next day, she said to Eddie ‘Shall I call you when I get there?’ ‘Don’t worry we can catch up when you get back.’ There were times when Faith never felt so alone. She lived in a house share with Eddie and his friend Simon but felt increasingly like their mother. The next morning, she rang her mum on the way to the airport. ‘Morning mum, it’s me.’ ‘Hello love, how are you? You sound a bit sad. Is everything ok?’ Trying to hold back the tears Faith said ‘Yep fine. Will be good to get away. Need to have a think about things.’ ‘Is all ok with Eddie?’ ‘Oh yes, all fine. He’s so jealous I’m off and has asked me to call him every day.’ She felt awful for the blatant lie but didn’t want to worry her.’ ‘I’ll have to come on one of your trips. Where is this conference next year?’ ‘Boston.’ ‘Ooh yes I do fancy that.’ ‘Definitely, we can tag on some extra time to shop and explore and it’s quite a short flight.’ ‘Ok darling. Have a great time and give me a call when you get to the hotel if you get chance. It doesn’t matter what time.’ ‘Ok mum. Love you.’ ‘Love you too darling and get a taxi everywhere. Don’t walk anywhere on your own.’ ‘No mum, speak soon.’ She loved her mum so much but sometimes found talking to her confirmed how she was really feeling, and it definitely highlighted just how alone she felt in her relationship with Eddie. He just didn’t give two hoots. As soon as she arrived at the airport, she loved to pretend she was in a film or TV series. She could be anyone she wanted for the next five days in the US. On previous trips when she’d arrived at various hotels, waitresses had approached her at breakfast and said ‘Ma’am, are you from the airline? Or ‘Ma’am, are you here for the shoot?’ And she went along with it as it was exciting to pretend to be someone completely different for a few days. It wasn’t that she hated her life, but she felt directionless, and her loveless relationship was really starting to get her down. As she settled down in her seat, checked her phone for any messages on the remote chance there may be something from Eddie, she switched her phone off, got her soft grey pashmina and wrapped it round her shoulders before taking out her notepad, pen and a few novels. A beautiful air hostess approached her, ‘Madam I don’t know if this would be of interest, but we have a spare seat in business if you’d like to move?’ ‘Oh, that sounds wonderful thank you so much’ as she grabbed all her belongings. The hostess who had the kindest of faces showed her how to adjust her seat for more room and then added. ‘And can I tempt you with something to drink? Champagne, wine, Bloody Mary?’ ‘Oh, this just gets better and better. Would a glass of bubbly be ok?’ ‘Of course, sweetie and you just let me know if you need more and I’ll keep it coming.’ Faith couldn’t believe it. This never happened to her. Maybe a change of fortune was on its way. The flight was one of the most relaxed she had experienced and on arrival she jumped in a cab to her hotel. She always tried to stay awake for as long as possible but thought it may be tricky after a few glasses of bubbly. The Marriott hotel was hosting the conference and for ease Faith had booked herself a room in the same hotel. She dropped everything in her room and then went to explore and grab a coffee and some fresh air. She located the gym was as she found a workout helped with jet flag. As she approached her company booth, she saw lots of boxes with books and journals as well as the stand. A huge relief as she could count the times she’d turned up to a conference and boxes had gone missing or were stuck in customs. She headed back to her room and called her mum who sounded relieved she’s arrived safely. She promised to pop into Sephora and pick up some nice eye make-up and her mum sounded delighted. Fatigue was really starting to set in, but she was determined to try and stay awake. Maybe if she popped out and then ordered room service when she got back? Her huge bed was looking so appealing now and she found it increasingly hard to summon the energy to do anything but lie back on the mountain of soft cushions and pillows and watch TV. Maybe a cup of tea in her room and she could peruse the menu. She always loved to order a huge salad with lots of meat on it and a large glass of white wine. She found herself becoming more and more sluggish, so she grabbed the phone and ordered room service to arrive in the next hour. As she switched on the TV, she got sucked into an episode of Greys anatomy . Why is Mcdreamy and in fact all of the characters so good looking? How do they have time to work out and work all the hours required of a junior doctor? She felt her eyes start to close when a knock on the door said, ‘Good evening, madam… room service.’ She jumped up and let the young chap in who laid a huge tray on her desk. ‘One superfood salad, a bottle of sparkling water and a large glass of Pinot grigio.’ ‘Amazing thank you so much.’ She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt she sounded like The Queen. ‘Please may I ask you to sign here?’ ‘Of course, thank you.’ Faith changed into her sumptuous white robe provided by the hotel, brought her tray to the bed and got under the covers. This indulgence was something she loved about travel. She didn’t have to cook for two ungrateful boys, and she had sole control of the remote control rather than having to watch Band of Brothers again. As she sipped her Pinot it felt like nectar of the gods and she enjoyed the enormous salad before slowing sinking…. When she came round, the TV still on, bits of salad dressing on her chin and an acidic taste in her mouth from the wine, she looked over at her clock to see it was 2am. She brushed her teeth, changed into her pyjamas and attempted to go back to sleep. Tomorrow would be such a long day if she didn’t. She lay there feeling like it was 7am which it was in the UK and time to get up and get going. This was useless. She put on her gym gear and decided to head down to the lobby for an explore. She was surprised to see how many people were around, a mix of jet-lagged conference attendees slumped in the lounge bar and then those who were just coming back from a night on the town. She said hello to the concierge and said. ‘I’m just popping out for a stroll. Is it safe is I just stay in the area?’ ‘Absolutely miss, you need to keep your wits about you but if you stay on canal street where it’s lit, it’ll be fine.’ ‘Ok thank you.’ Faith wasn’t sure she was in her right mind so decided she’d just head out for ten or fifteen minutes. Canal street was littered with bars and as she headed down further into the French quarter, she couldn’t help but stop and stare at the architecture which looked so familiar from the countless classic films she’d seen. It really felt like she was on a film set. She was also aware of the volume of drunk twenty something year-olds and feeling slightly uneasy, decided to head back to the hotel. As she headed back in the concierge nodded to her and checked that all was ok. It was so nice to receive a bit of kindness so far from home. She went back to her room and managed to fall asleep for a few more hours. At five, she was raring to go, so ate a protein bar and hit the gym for an hour before ordering breakfast to her room. She headed down to the exhibition hall and looked at the space trying to work out how best to tackle. Her company preferred the designated marketing person to assemble the units which were tall and a bit fiddly so as she stood and stared for a while, a chap came over to offer some help. ‘Hi, I’m Ted, one of your authors. Can I help you set anything up?’ ‘Hi, I’m Faith. Pleasure to meet you. That would be amazing thank you.’ He got stuck in and Faith couldn’t help but notice how absolutely gorgeous he was. Blond, blue eyed and muscles to die for. ‘You are so kind, honestly, I’ll be fine with the rest. I’ll have to put your book in a prominent place now.’ ‘Ha! Very kind. Well, I’ll try and find out where my sessions are being held but lovely to meet you and I’m sure I’ll see you during the breakout sessions.’ ‘Thank you again.’ Ted loitered for a bit and then headed off. The girl on the booth next to her said ‘Goodness you’ve got an admirer.’ ‘Oh no, just one of our authors’ As she unpacked the huge volume of books and journals, she picked up Ted’s book and placed it in the most prominent spot. She mentioned it to everyone who came by. As the first coffee break started and attendees made their way through, Faith found herself talking to so many charming people. A group of chaps came up and introduced themselves as Editors of one of the journals she had on display. They were intrigued to know more about Faith and kept teasing her saying ‘That is definitely an Alabama accent. Isn’t it Jo?’ ‘Oh, it is, Faith looks like she’s from Alabama.’ ‘Ha! Stop it you lot.’ As she laughed hysterically and let out a small snort, she turned and Ted was there. ‘Oh hey’ ‘Hello, it seems this is the booth to be at.’ ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’ She said blushing. ‘I came to see if you needed anything. Can I get you a coffee or wait at the booth if you want to stretch your legs.’ ‘Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you.’ Faith couldn’t believe how kind he was as well as incredibly delicious on all fronts. ‘Well let me know. I don’t have a session again till twelve, so I have another hour.’ ‘I may just head out for a second if you don’t mind. Price lists are here and we’re having cocktails at the booth at five if anyone fancies it.’ When she returned to the booth, Ted was certainly working his charm and there was quite a group of students purchasing texts. ‘Wow thank you. I really needed to stand outside for five minutes. I lose all track of time in these halls.’ ‘No problem at all. Have I earnt a cocktail later then?’ ‘Oh yes definitely, maybe even two.’ As Ted left and she watched him closely, pull out some papers from his leather satchel, she thought ‘goodness nice chaps do exist.’ At four thirty, the trolley of drinks was brought over, and a very smart barman said, ‘Would you like me to make you one Ma’am?’ ‘Oh, that’s ok. I’ll be on the floor if I start early. I mean, no that’s ok, I’ll wait.’ Faith was so relieved when she saw Ted turn up with his incredible smile. Would you like a hand at all?’ ‘No, you just enjoy.’ As they chatted about New Orleans and how magical it was, Ted asked ‘I don’t know if you have any plans, but would you like to explore the area with me later?’ ‘Oh yes, I’d love that. I did go out in the early hours this morning but would feel safer with a companion.’ ‘Yes, it gets a bit spicy around Bourbon Street. Shall I meet you in the lobby at seven?’ ‘Sounds great’ By the time the punters had dispersed, it was six thirty, so Faith ran to the elevator, ran to her room, jumped into the shower and put her black halter neck dress on. Mmm is this too much? she wondered but then thought oh sod it, when do I ever have chance to dress up and with that realising she was five mins late, headed to the escalator which took you to the reception. She smiled as she saw Ted heading up the escalator to meet her. ‘Sorry Ted, those academics and their cocktails!’ ‘Don’t worry. Wow you look …wow.’ Blushing she said, ‘so do you, you also look wow’ and they giggled. Despite trying to sound quite casual about ‘exploring the area’ Ted had organised for the two of them to take a cruise down the Mississippi and when Faith felt the cool breeze, Ted leant in and wrapped his jacket around her. They hopped off the ferry and headed to a bar where a band were playing lots of Charles Mingus tracks. After they’d finished their drinks, Ted offered Faith his hand and they stood up and enjoyed a slow dance towards the end of the set. They walked around the historic quarter passing Anne Rice’s home and ended up in a very low-key restaurant where Ted found a very intimate table for the two of them. Throughout the dinner, all Faith could think about was kissing him and perhaps more. As they strolled back to the hotel and headed to a white part of the lounge, Ted said ‘would you like me to take you upstairs?’ With that she lunged herself at him and they walked to the elevator. As there were quite a few conference attendees in the elevator, she controlled herself until they got to her room.  Undressing each other, he said ‘I’ve wanted to do this since I laid eyes on you.’ ‘Me too’ and with that they made love into the small hours. On waking, she wasn’t sure where Ted was and assumed, he had probably left and that was it but a few moments later, she had a knock on the door. ‘Morning, sorry to wake you. I forgot to take a card. I popped out for lattes and cinnamon rolls.’ ‘Are you actually the perfect man in real life or is this just a conference facade?’ He kissed her deeply and then they fell back into bed. As the conference ended and the two of them had spent the most glorious time together, Faith felt very sad at the thought that it all had to end. Ted kissed her right up until she got into her cab to the airport and said, ‘I’ll call you when you’re back.’ ‘I’d love that.’ ‘Someone’s had a good time in N'Awlins’ the cab driver said. With that, Faith couldn’t stop smiling all the way home filled with the hope she needed.


“I never thought it was possible for a person to be so damn arrogant!” Zed screamed as he slammed the front door of his house. “Your ass better stay on your own damn asteroid or I’ll kick it all the way to one of Jupiter’s moons!” Through the blinds of his window, Zed glared at the abyss of space outside his personal asteroid upon which his house sits. His eyes zoned in on the house of his one and only neighbor, Mandy. Across the asteroid belt, he saw Mandy’s front door fly open and her step out in a space suit with a brick in hand. She threw the brick and shattered Zed’s window as it landed in his living room. A tight vacuum sucked in from the broken window. Grumbling under his breath, Zed slapped some Flex Tape ™ on it. “Crazy woman,” he muttered, then looked down at the brick. There was a note on it. Crouching down, he picked up the note. I didn’t steal your damn duster! Zed scoffed. “That’s just what a duster-stealer would say,” yelling louder so Mandy could hear him this time, he added. “I know you stole my duster ten years ago! I bet my house on it!” “As if!” Mandy hollered back. “That duster took forever to be shipped here from Earth, Mandy! I’m getting it back!” “I ain’t no thief!” “Yeah, right,” Zed remarked under his breath. Staring at the mess of glass in his living room, Zed realized he had spent enough time arguing and definitely has to swept up this mess. “Damn, when does that woman ever stop causing problems for me.” Zed glared at his closet door. Space-spider webs covered the knob. He hasn’t cleaned anything in years. Signing, he twisted it open and saw its crooked shelves propped up by a singular wooden broom. Slowly, just as he thought the broom was free from being Altas, and was about to carefully make his exit, the shelves can clamoring down. “Juck!” He cursed as debris cluttered at his feet. Something tapped his ankle. As he looked down, his eyes widened. It was the feather-duster. “Oh, juck.” Zed paced around his living room with the blinds closed and the duster in hand. “ Oh, juck. Oh, juck. Oh, juck. ” What the juck was he supposed to do? Apologize for his wrong actions? Admit he was wrong? To Mandy?? No! Those were all horrible options! Then, he stopped pacing a sly smile grew on his face. “What if Mandy never knows it was here?” He cracked open his blinds and peeled at Mandy’s house. “Because I’m going to sneak it into her house before she ever finds out.” Zed didn’t bother to wait until ‘night’ or anything because what night? He’s in space ! Instead, he immediately suited up and floated under the asteroids, out of sight, to Mandy’s house. He entered through a window in the basement. His weak muscles barely pulled him through the vacuum as he flopped onto the floor. “Man,” he mumbled as he stood up. “These houses were not designed for space.” After fumbling around looking for the staircase upstairs, Zed just ended up wiggling off a loose vent panel and shimming his body through the vent. He peeked out the occasional vent, using it to navigate through the house. Finally, he found himself in Mandy’s master bedroom while she was taking a shower. Zed pounded his fingers through the vent and tries to shake it off, but the metal held firm. “Juck!” He cursed as he heard the water turn off. Mandy would come out of the bathroom any minute now. Rushed to get out, he left the duster inside the air vent and shimmered back to the basement, went out the window, and made his daring escape by floating casually back to his house. Goosebumps run up and down Mandy’s arms. “Why is it so cold in here?” She asked herself as she pulled on a second sweater. “Geez, don’t tell me there’s something wrong with the furnace again. Ugh! It’s going to take so long to get a repairman here!” Mandy drastically pounded on the thermostat, but the temperature stayed the same. Then, she heard a quick rat-a-tat-tat-tat coming from her air vent. Slowly, she crept over to it, wondering if something was inside. She used her nails to unscrew the vent and remove it. Inside, she pulled out… the feather duster. Mandy went white. “ Oh, juck. Oh, juck. Oh, juck. Oh, juck .” She softly cursed to herself. She had been the one with the feather duster, she thought. Mandy began pacing. What the juck was she supposed to do? Apologize for her wrong actions? Admit she was wrong? To Zed?? No! Those were all horrible options! Mandy’s Mind scrambled for a solution. Wait a minute, she thought, if I hide it in Zed’s house, he’ll never know … Mandy broke into Zed’s house from a sky light on the roof because I guess just juck breaking and entering laws in space, right? Tiptoeing around, she looked for any convincing hiding spot to but the duster. A hungry stomach lead her to the kitchen. As she stole all of Zed’s leftover pizza, an idea hit her. Underneath the fridge! Who cleans under there? Quickly, she stuffed the pizza in her mouth and the duster under the fridge as Zed’s footsteps approached. She dove behind the couch for cover as Zed opened the fridge looking for his leftover pizza. “What?” He asked himself. “I don’t remember eating it…” Mandy nibbled on the crust in silence. Zed tsked and closed the door. Instead, he grabbed a glass and filled with ice. Mandy’s eyes widened in horror as a cube slipped and slid under the fridge. Zed groaned and swiped underneath… only to have his hand find the feather duster. With a fearful expression of his own, Zed pulled it out. Oh juck! I thought I hide this in Mandy’s house! What is this some kind of boomerang duster? Zed thought. Swiftly, Zed grabbed his space suit and headed out the door. After it slammed shut, Mandy emerged from her hiding spot and watched from the window Zed hiding the duster back inside her house. “That punk!” She exclaimed, ironically. “How dare he tried to shift the blame and hide the duster in my house!” Zed came back inside his house to find a Mandy with a crooked grin sitting on his couch. “What are you doing here, Mandy?” He asked. “What were you doing in my house?” She remarked. His face paled. “Nothing.” Mandy wagged her finger in front of his face. “I don’t think so. You were hiding the duster because you were the one who had it along.” “Ok, fine!” He confessed. “I found the feather duster but--wait a minute, how did you get into my house without me knowing? And how did you get back here just as I hide it?” He stepped closer. “And how did you know I was even hiding it, or that I had it?” “I--well,” Mandy stuttered. “You hid it in my house first!” Zed declared. “I so did not!” She shouted. “How do I know you didn’t hide it first!” Zed gasped. “Like I would ever do something so scandalous as that!” He lied. “I just saw you hiding it,” she snapped. He crossed his arms. “That doesn’t prove anything. You don’t know if it was originally in my house!” “And you can’t prove it was in mine!” She hollered back. “You wanna bet!” Zed screamed with a red face. Mandy stuck her finger in Zed’s face, opened her mouth to say something before a confused expression flickered across her face as something outside the window caught the corner of her eye. “Wait a second, where’s the duster now?” “It’s in your house.” Mandy glanced back at the object. It was the duster . Just floating in space. “No it’s not.” Mandy pointed. “It’s right there.” Zed twisted his neck to see it. “ Oh, juck .” I must have forgotten to close the window all the way . “I guess that’s one way to solve the problem.”


Jane stared at the screen, eyes wide, bright blues and greens flashing on her face. On the television, a little boy and his grandfather rowed along the shore. In the distance, smoke danced out of a chimney, melting into the bright blue sky. The boy smiled at his grandfather as the pair turned the little boat, nestling it into a nook in the rocky shore, just below the house. “Here we are, Tony. You do the honours,” said the old man. Beaming, Tony reached out and grabbed a jutting stone. It gave way, sliding downwards, and the roar of rushing water filled Jane’s ears. A secret door opened, revealing a brightly lit cave with a dock for the boat. The current, engineered to be just strong enough to carry the boat, guided Tony and his grandfather to the dock. Tony then pressed his hand against the wall of the cave, and another door opened with a rumble. Behind it, a spiralling staircase was lit by flickering orange lights. “Home sweet home,” murmured the grandfather as the two of them climbed up the stairs. The image faded to black, and a familiar song started playing. House of Secrets will return next week on AniTV . Up next, “The Hide and Seekers”. Jane switched off the TV with a sigh. Each episode felt shorter than the last. She shivered and glanced around the room, hoping to locate a blanket; the couch and the TV were the only pieces of furniture left. Rows of boxes were stacked precariously high against the walls, each one of them carefully labelled. No blanket in sight, but her jacket was resting on a small box marked “JANE’S ROOM” in big, blue, bold letters. “Jane! Give me a hand in the kitchen, will you?” bellowed her father. With a sigh, the young girl grabbed her jacket and headed to the kitchen. The gentle rumble of the old family car had lulled Jane to sleep. The car was crawling around narrow mountain paths; under its wheels, the asphalt had grown weary and cracked and finally, had given way to a dirt road. A particularly deep pothole startled her awake. Blinking sleep away from her eyes, she stretched and rubbed the part of her shoulder that had been pressed against the car wall. Her neck hurt, too, and she leaned back, squirming to find a more comfortable position, before grabbing her tablet from the adjacent seat. Today, on House of Secrets … “Jane, darling, would you mind using headphones? I’m trying to concentrate on the road,” said her mother. “Sorry, Mom,” mumbled Jane. She rooted around the backpack at her feet and found the headphones at the very bottom. Pensive, Jane began fumbling with the cord in an attempt to untangle it. Though the sun was setting, light still outlined the jagged rocks on the side of the path, and the immense forest below. The town they were moving to was just beyond the mountain, and, from the pictures Jane had seen, full of beautiful old houses. She smiled to herself as she plugged the headphones in. Maybe the new house will be full of secrets, too . It was dark when they finally reached the house, too dark to see much beyond the ring of light cast by the streetlight next to the gate. Jane’s mom pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight to guide her family to the front door. Gravel crunched under their feet as they stepped into the gloom of the front yard; Jane peered ahead, her head full of the mysteries the house might reveal. Once they reached the door, her father switched on the porch light, and amber shadows danced around the doorstep. Inside, the light was bright and cold, pouring down from brand new lamps. The young girl blinked as she stepped into a hallway leading to the kitchen, her eyes adjusting to the change. Though the house itself was old, the interior had been recently renovated, and she could see no hidden nooks or suspicious markings on the walls—nothing like the cottage in House of Secrets . As they stepped into the kitchen, her mother ran her fingers along the marble counters and the smooth wooden table and nodded, satisfied. “You’ll have plenty of time to explore the house tomorrow, Janey”, said Jane’s father, noticing the look on his daughter’s face. “You should sleep, now,” added her mother. “There’s mattresses in the bedrooms and I brought pillows and bed sheets last time I visited. We’ll unload the stuff in the car in the morning, before the movers arrive.” That night, Jane curled up on her mattress and stared at the smooth, white walls. The wooden floors were perfectly polished, with no creaky boards or uneven corners that might reveal a trapdoor. She sighed, pulled her tablet and headphones out of her bag, and let the comforting theme song of House of Secrets wash over her. There were no curtains on the windows yet, and, when the first rays of sunlight streamed into the room and woke Jane up, she found that her cheek was pressed against the tablet, her headphones a tangled mess next to her head. She’d slept in the same skirt and t-shirt she had been wearing the day before; they smelled like sweat and long car trips. With a yawn, she reached into her bag for a change of clothes, and headed downstairs in practical jeans and a fresh t-shirt. Her father had insisted on bringing the coffee machine and a few bags of coffee with them in the car; the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen and coaxed a smile out of Jane. The house, much bigger than the family’s old apartment, came with a few sparse pieces of furniture, like the wooden table in the kitchen or the TV stand in the living room. Not empty, but not quite liveable, either: it was an odd place, this half-furnished house, but not in the way Jane had wished. Since the kitchen chairs were with the movers, presumably being trucked along some treacherous mountain road, she settled for the sleek steel stools at the kitchen counter and accepted her mug of coffee with a grateful nod. “I added a pinch of cinnamon, just how you like it. Your mom went to the bakery to get breakfast. She’ll be back soon, I think,” said her father. It was decided that toast would along great with the coffee and would provide an excellent excuse to test out the brand-new toaster oven. When breakfast was over with and the dishes were loaded in the dishwasher, Jane and her parents began unloading the suitcases they had brought with them; while they were placing clothes, pillows, and various knick-knacks in the different rooms, Jane kept her eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. She even checked behind the refrigerator when they unloaded the few groceries they had brought. Nothing. All the surfaces were smooth and shiny and perfect, the rooms square and sensible, with no nooks and crannies where secrets might lurk. A perfectly normal, boring house. That evening, after the movers had left, Jane’s mother decided to order pizza as a reward. Though there were still boxes strewn about here and there, it had been a long day of unpacking, and everyone was tired.

“Chin up, Janey,” said her father. “I’ll help you explore more tomorrow. We’re bound to come across some kind of secret. Or you could take a walk around. There are beautiful lakes around here, and a whole forest for you to explore just outside the town.” Jane nodded, unconvinced. Her mother playfully nudged her shoulder. “Aren’t you a little old to be looking for secret doors and hidden passages, anyway?” The next day confirmed her first impression. There was nothing of interest in the house. She and her father had searched high and low, knocking on the walls and floors and sounding out the ceilings with a broom. No hollow sounds. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” said her mother when they came back to the kitchen, broom in hand. “This just isn’t that kind of house, I think.” “S’alright,” mumbled Jane. “You’re probably right, anyway. I’m getting a little old for this.” Today, on House of Secrets… Jane sighed. This was her third episode of the night; it was getting late, and yet sleep still escaped her. Shrugging off the covers, she headed downstairs, and made herself a cup of fragrant tea. The grass in the garden, still wet after a rainy day, glistened in the moonlight. Her parents had left a window open, and the night air was cool and inviting. Without bothering to put on shoes, she slipped outside, cup in hand, and took a deep breath. The wooden patio creaked under her feet as she stepped off it and onto the grass. Wait. She took a step back. Creaked ? Jane set her tea down and gave the wood a cautious knock. Hollow. Her heart raced. The patio was nothing more than a slab of wood on the ground where her mother had carefully arranged lawn furniture. There was no reason for it to sound hollow, unless… She took out her phone, using its flashlight to scrutinize the wooden planks. There, in the corner, half-hidden by some creeping weeds. A piece of wood was jutting out. Sucking in her breath, she pressed it down. There was another creak, and a piece of the patio moved. Jane pressed harder, and, slowly, painfully, a section of the planks slid back, revealing an ancient-looking trap door. The young girl squealed, then covered her mouth with a cautious glance at her parents’ window. Please don’t let it be locked… She reached for the handle with trembling fingers, and bit back another squeal of excitement. The trapdoor was heavy, but unlocked, and she opened it after a quick struggle, revealing a ladder that plunged in the darkness below. Carefully, suppressing the urge to run, she headed back to the house for shoes and a proper flashlight. At the bottom of the ladder, Jane found a musty-smelling tunnel. She wrinkled her nose but pressed on, shivering. Water droplets dripped from the ceiling, echoes bouncing around the tunnel as they crashed on the stone ground. Her flashlight did little to clear the darkness ahead, but at least the tunnel seemed man-made, and, unlike the passages in House of Secrets , it ran straight underground, with no twists and turns and fake exits made to trick inexperienced explorers. After what felt like an eternity, Jane finally reached a cul-de-sac. There were no other paths, no visible exits. It had to be a secret door. Pointing her flashlight first at the walls, then at the floor, the young girl quickly found what she was looking for. The stone floor was uniform and smooth, except for a small indent right behind her. She pushed into it with her foot, and, as she suspected, a hidden door opened, sending dust flying around the cul-de-sac. What she had not been expecting, however, was the gust of cold air that greeted her. Hanging plants and bushy shrubs half-blocked the way. Clutching her flashlight, Jane stepped out into the open and let out a gasp. The door was concealed right into a cliff; up above, Jane could see the outline of the town—and her house. In front of her, a starry lake spread out, its waters dark as the night. Other than the one she had just taken, she could see no paths that led to or from it. The End.


The alarm went off and wake her. “Is it already 07:00?”, she thought as her eyes opened up unwillingly. Not that she had slept much. The nights seemed so shorter, now that she had to wake up early again. She made her way to the bathroom to wash up. While she was brushing her teeth, she noticed a couple more pimples creeping under the surface of her skin near her chin. Her acne had shown up a few weeks earlier, but it was a long time ago when it actually had started. Maybe junior high school? She doesn’t even remember. “Some concealer and powder will do it…”, she murmured, covering them up.            The house had already begun to wake up too. The sound of the TV playing the morning cartoons and the smell of freshly made espresso filled the living room. “Good morning my little bunny”, she said, kissing her 5-year-old sister while she was still snoozing on the couch. “Good morning Alice”, the little girl muffled, before returning her attention to the screen. Her mother was sitting – as always – on the side of the window, smoking and drinking her coffee. Black. Alice couldn’t understand the people who enjoyed their coffee like this. She always had to add at least two tablespoons of sugar, otherwise, it would taste like poison to her. This time, she added only one though. She needed something stronger than usual to get her going today. “Good morning” “There she is. I made you a sandwich”. Her mother nodded to the kitchen counter, where a ham – cheese sandwich was waiting for her. “Thanks mum”, she kissed her cheek, “but I think I’m going to wrap this up and eat it later”. “Whatever you want my love. It’s a little chilly outside, so don’t forget to get a jacket”            Alice agreed quietly, as she returned to her room to get ready to go. She loved them, but the truth is that she was tired of them. They were locked up for one year and half together and they were a full house: her little sister, Gracie, a hyper 5-year-old; her other sister, June who was in her first year of college; her mother, Analise, a woman who balanced work and family; and her step-father, Owen,            Gracie’s dad and a goofy guy who fit in their little family right in. Oh and of course, their dog, Nova. Five people and a dog it’s not a small crowd, just so you know.            Checking herself on the mirror, she muttered to herself: “Keys, money, phone, mask… Oh”. She doesn’t need that anymore. She looked her bare face and felt… well, naked. But it was stupid to wear a mask when she didn’t have to. “Just in case…” she murmured putting it in her bag. The streets were still quiet. It was the time right before the traffic began, when everyone was heading to work or school. Alice had to take the subway. She had a good one hour and two more buses to get to her university. Walking around on the open without her mask felt normal. She used to take long walks during the lockdown and she always had her mask down her chin. After all, the point of going out only for a walk was to get some fresh air. Although, when she got on the first bus, before the subway, the feeling of not having a protection on her was disturbing. “It’s fine.”, she calmed herself down. “I have nothing to worry about, the pandemic is over, no one’s wearing a mask right now, so chill.”            Her thoughts were so loud, she didn’t realize that was her stop. She jumped from her seat and nearly made it through the closing doors. Once she was out again, she felt her breathing slowing down and her heartbeat steadier. But that was only because she almost lost her stop. Right? Entering the subway, a new wave of panic started to form in her body. She immediately put her hand into her bag, to grab her mask, but she stopped herself short, since no one else was wearing one. “This is ridiculous, I’m being hypochondriac.”, she thought as she reached the ticket machine.            She took her ticket from the touchscreen machine and took a step back from the line, to get her sanitizer. The problem was she couldn’t find it. Not in her bag, not in her pockets, not anywhere. Her heartbeat became slightly faster and her eyebrows did that little frown they do when she gets anxious. “Hey, bottom line, I didn’t need that thing before this virus, I only washed my hands when I got home. No big dea- Oh thank god!”, she sighed inside her head as she teared open a wet wipe she found in her bottom of her bag. A train arrived in the station and she hopped in. As she sat, she couldn’t shake away the feeling she was exposed. She looked nervously around the wagon. She spotted an old woman and a middle-aged man were wearing a mask and she felt the need to do the same. “I’ll look really stupid to put on a mask now. It wouldn’t make a difference, anyway, I’ve already breathed the air in here.”.            Her playlist did a good job of distracting her, while the train went from station to station. With her eyes closed, she hummed the lyrics of her favorite songs. Even though she had relaxed a bit, little drops of sweat had formed on her forehead. Alice only noticed, when she put a lock of hair behind her ear and it was damp. “Do they turn the heat up in here or something?”. Then, she noticed where the train was. Only in the middle of her route. Was it always that long? And was it always so closed in here? She had a long time to take that route. Things were a little easier for her classes last year. Yes, she missed the actual university, the large auditoriums and the last-minute coffee dates with her fellow students. But it was also much easier to wake up at 08:45 and have a class fifteen minutes later, in your PJs with a hot cup of coffee in your hands. Her thoughts took over again and she started to feel the air in the wagon fade away. Fortunately, she hid her mouth inside of her jacket discreetly and she made it to her station. She almost knocked over a poor man on her way out, quickly taking the stairs up.            The morning sun hit her face and she took a deep breath, feeling her heart slowing down. Looking around again, she came to realize that the hectic hour of the morning had begun. People were going and coming her way, car honks fill the air and the only thing she wanted to do, was to put on her mask, because these people were walking way to close to her. Seeing a dozen of people wearing one, she put on her mask, shamelessly. She had one more bus to catch and she couldn’t get all sweaty again.            The ride went by quickly, without any fear and panic. When she finally arrived at her university building, she went straight to the cafeteria to get more coffee. “OH MY GOD!”, she heard a familiar voice fill the room. She turned around to see one of her best friends running to her. “I missed this so much!”, Nadia squealed going in for a huge bear hug. “Hey little Scout!”, she exclaimed, returning the hug reluctantly. “It’s been so long. Videocalls aren’t the same with this.” She’s right, it’s been so long since they saw each other in person. They didn’t live close. In fact, they lived on opposite sides of the city and with the lockdown it wasn’t easy to meet up. They did it once, when Alice went over to Nadia’s place for a sleepover. It didn’t bother her back then, when they slept in the same bed or ate popcorn from the same bowl. Why did she get anxious about that hug now? “I see you’re keeping your pandemic habits”, Nadia chuckled. “Huh? Oh, yeah I guess.”. Alice had forgotten she wore her mask. She was so used to it; she didn’t even bother to take it off when she got off the bus. “Old habits die hard”, she mumbled as she took the mask off. “I get it, but it’s been two months without any sign of the virus, you don’t have to worry about it now.”            Alice genuinely enjoyed hearing Nadia spiraling about the trips she planned to do now that they could travel again. She even thought of planning a trip of her own. It would be nice to get back out there again. To see more than her town and especially her neighborhood’s parks. The auditorium was full of students for the big announcement. Some of them were sitting in the short stairs sideways of the seats, some on the small spaces in front of the big windows and some were standing up. Alice’s heart warmed up a little, seeing familiar faces around the room, even though she didn’t really know them. Nadia nudged her to get closer to the podium, but she noticed that students were sitting really near to each other there. “Nuh, you go ahead, I’m good here”, she said standing up behind the crowd. “Fine, I’ll go further alone anyways. I’ll be right back after, don’t leave!” Alice smiled at her short friend making her way to the front.            Finally, the dean appeared on the podium and addressed to the crowd. “Good morning our beloved students. It’s been a while since we’ve all been in here together and I’m very grateful, we finally get the chance to meet again in person. I know you’re all here for the announcement about your practice as a mandatory procedure to complete your studies and get your degree. I’m happy to announce that one hundred of you will get positions in institutions and clinics.” Whispers fill the auditorium immediately. “One hundred?” “Is he serious? Does he know we are six hundred that we’re waiting to get our degree?” “Great, with my luck, I’ll get a position in two years.” The dean tries to speak up from the voices. “Please, settle down. I’m aware that the number I’m giving to you, it’s not the number is should be. You should all be able to do your practice in the right semester. Unfortunately, even though the pandemic is over, the Health department is very cautious with the reintegration of their employees. They won’t risk putting more students in clinics and places where sick people could get sicker. For any other questions, please…”            She didn’t hear after that. She couldn’t before the only thing she heard were the blood in her ears, buzzing like crazy. She stormed out of the auditorium without waiting for Nadia. She texted her she had to leave and she went to the bus station. She put on her mask without even thinking or questioning that action of hers. On the way home, the only thing she could feel was frustration. How could they do that? She already lost a year because of this stupid pandemic and now she might lose another one. Her body felt numb and her violent thoughts tired her mind. But at least she was wearing her mask, so she was safe at the time being.            As soon as she returned to her house, June called her from her room. “What?” “Can you get me a glass of water?” “Dude, what the heck, I just came home, I’m tired. Go get it yourself!” “Come on! I won’t bring you anything the next time you ask me!”, June shouted as Alice made a way for her room. “Hey honey, how did it go?”, her mother stopped her in the hallway. “Awful, now for the love of God, everybody leave me alone, I don’t want to talk about it!”. And with these last words, she locked herself in her room.            After fifteen minutes of crying, one hour of staring at the wall and a long phone call with her best friend, Alice came out of her room. She went to the living room, where Gracie was sleeping happily on the couch and her mum was watching her series without someone annoying her. Alice made a sign to her mum to scootch over and she slid next to her, putting her head in her lap. “Do you want to talk about it now?”, Analise softly asked, as she caressed her daughter’s hair. “Not really. I’m just really tired of this situation.” “What situation?” “The pandemic.” “But the pandemic is over.” “It doesn’t feel like it…”


Let me be honest. I am disabled. I am missing an eye, a foot, and my mind. My mind, I debate with myself if I am missing or not. But I am assured by the Shrink I was taken to that I am dead. And? He wanted for me to pay him money for my visits. So? I took him some place. How? Shh. I am what I am. Afterwards, instead of visits costing me money. He prescribed pills, and that was that. I did not have to go to his office. What did I show him? I showed him the truth about reality. Scary? Sure, I suppose if you were him. Makes you realize you are in a game called life and someone else might be playing you. And you are not winning the game. Which is awkward. And me? Oh, I am a Non playing avatar these days. Why? When I play, I expect things to happen. And now? I doubt if two people will read this. And? One will ignore the sh. And the other will yawn and not realize the truths I am writing about. Truth one. According to a very smart man. The secret of light is a secret. Meaning? Read the book. If you can understand the poetry. You can walk away with this as truth. You eat plants, plants eat light. Wola, you are nothing more than a stabilized energy or avatar playing in this game. Truth two? Anything you see is dead. Sh.. That is a secret you have to live with the rest of your life if you got this far into the story. Don’t believe me. Read the Zombie galaxy or is our Milky Way galaxy a zombie? Then ask yourself one question. And realize the answer. If you can not find the question to ask. The question is if all I see is dead or stabilized. Does that mean I too am dead? The realization from that answer is awkward and absurd. But I assure you the answer is what it is. When did I start talking to the dead? I think when I was four or younger. I spoke to a lot of dead people. If you want, you too can do that. Go to an old folks’ home and talk with a person. They are all dying to get out of here nowadays. However, a very long time ago. In galaxy not like this one. But in another reality, they had wonderful stories to tell a youngster. Tales of working on New Deal writing project. Tales of writing the real-life story of Butch Cassidy. Tales of a train bound to Saint Peters burg to save the Czar. Tales that would blow your mind. And? Well, I listened I was a kid. What else was I to do? And? I wonder. Those tales got me through some rough realities. Now I talk to the dead a bit more or less because they want to escape their hell. Which is not nice, I suppose. But they are in hell. I can tell you hell is real. It is not a nice place to live in. Nor vacation in. Or anything else, for that matter. So, paranormal? Well, that is a matter of opinion. If you died, say when you were born and somehow ended up in someone else’s body. Who is to blame for that? I am not sure anymore. To be honest, I am not sure. Oh, how old am I? In this body 50. According to the internet and my writings since 2016? Something like 4.5 billion years old. Laugh with me. You see, I wrote a lot. I write a lot. I journal even more. According to journals, I awoke in Sagittarius 2016. And Well, I lost 1.2 billion people in my reality. I am quite sure deagel.com had 8.5 billion people and US had 365 million US citizens and numerous illegals. Now? Who knows? I am, after all, just writing what I wrote then repeating things with memories? Or data? Am I real or just data that is the sad question, is it not? Paranormal? Sure, I guess that is what I am talking about. What did I learn in a billion years? That everything is possible and those opposing the will or Fate of God should stop what they are doing and pray forgiveness. Outside of that? Who knows? I don’t. Am I talking about Mandala effect? In a sense, the wheel of time. Which way is the galaxy turning? Clockwise or counter clockwise? Which way does a soul spin when moving from a dead reality into the day of judgment? That is the awkward part of this story, is it not? For me being 4.5 billion years old or talking to the dead? Either case is absurd and wildly illogical. In yet? Here I am and here you are. And? Tomorrow you might be hell and I need to say. Pray repent. Beyond that. Believe in Jesus? Who else can save you. Let me tell you about hell. People won’t like you there. It is awful in a sense like Wheel of Thrones book where in alternative reality Rand finds people have changed from good to evil. Sadness. You can not trust people. And those trustworthy? Well, usually end up in jail, dead, suicide, or in AA if they are lucky. Meaning? The world has lost hope, faith, and trust. Not a very nice place to live. I assure you. And? Beyond that? I can tell you Hillary Clinton did not lie about Abe Lincoln being a senator. For I am sure he was a senator in my reality, too. What does that mean to us here and now? I suppose this is one day in reality when a paranormal person passes through saying HI and Goodbye. And you might catch a glimpse of the idea. But the knowledge that this life is already all dead and gone? I am not sure. I don’t know. Fate is real, so saving you is beyond my scope of this story. And my soul? Judgment day or? Well, that is the kicker the bible has changed here too and? Who knows what is possible with God or Adonai? I sure did not expect to be on Orion's arm nor Orion Nebula after all for years I assure I was told was on Sagittarius.