“So I’m in the library and I stumble across this book.” As he is saying this, the large man holds out a small leather volume, that is clearly old, and has seen better days. He is a big man; nearly 190 centimeters tall with broad shoulders and tipping the scales at 18 stone. The man hands the book to a small figure and continues; “I mean I literally stumble on the thing.” The one now holding the book smiles brightly and opens the old volume as the bigger man keeps talking. “It must have fallen off its’ shelf;” he continues, “I snatched it up; along with the amphorae, and high tailed it out of there before the security detail could glom onto my presence.” The small figure is leafing through the book and says “amphoriskoi.” The big man cocks his head and says, “beg pardon?” Pecht tells him in his high, soft voice; “technically since it is such a small example of an amphorae; the proper term is amphoriskoi.” The bruiser has a slight smile on his face and says “potayto – potahto, Mr. Pecht.” The Pixie looks at his man and says “you know Gerald, I can’t recall how many times over the years, I have told you that Pecht will do.” The smaller figure looks expectantly at the big man and asks; “so you did get the amphorae?” “Yes sir Mr. Pecht;” the large man says with a grin on his face as he reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out a small glass vessel. The amphorae seems tiny in his large hands. Of course it is only about 12 centimeters tall with two delicate handles on either side of the tapered neck. It is translucent sea green with the handles in emerald. As he hands the smooth glass amphorae over; Gerald can’t help but think to himself; that the thing always smells like the sea. “Mr. Pecht sir?;” the big man questions his smaller boss, “how is it that Miss Bella can’t seem to hold on to this thing?” The Pixie shrugged his small shoulders, and Gerald continued;” I believe this is the third time in as many decades that I have had to retrieve it from someone or somewhere.” The small figure ran the glass amphorae gently through his nimble fingers and spoke; “at least this posh gentleman were just a collector; and had no nefarious motives like that Italian from the South side of the city.” Gerald shivered; despite the relative warmth of the small apartment. The mention of that man made him recall when he had first met Mr. Pecht: that had been nearly a hundred years ago. It had in fact been the very night that he had been killed by Vittorio in one of the back rooms of the Italian eatery that the troubleshooter had secretly owned. He clearly remembered tackling the Italian devil because the other man had been stalking his friend Teague; and had taken out the ivory handled razor that he had used to kill dozens of men. Gerald recalled his friend; and the years they worked for Mr. Penrose, who ran the West side of the city for quite a while. Teague had been, maybe slightly smaller than Gerald himself; and to this day, he was the toughest man that Gerald had yet to meet. He remembered thinking that he would take his friend Teague over any man; even if they were armed, but if he were taken unawares by someone like Vittorio… that could be a different story. So, he had tackled the Italian and very shortly after that; had been lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Teague had found Gerald and held him as the bruiser’s life seeped from him. Over the years; he had asked the Pixie several times to explain what he actually did that brought him back. Gerald always just thought of it as a miracle. Pecht had to basically “dumb it down” tremendously. Even then; the closest he could come to something that Gerald could understand, was to say that he shared a part of himself with the enterprise man. Pecht would not say “soul”; because he consistently would assert that since he was not a man, he technically did not possess a “soul”. Long story short: Gerald had ceased working for Mr. Penrose, and his enterprise, and started working for Mr. Pecht, the Pixie. He remembered one of the very first things he had learned about his new boss was that pixies and fairies don’t get along: sort of like the Chinese and Japanese. But that didn’t stop the Pixie from falling in love with one. Her name was Tenkha; though Gerald usually referred to her as Miss Bella. It was odd; since that was part of how Vittorio had spoken of her many years ago. The bruiser remembered the handsome Italian say that she was his Tenkha Bella: Gerald knew that bella meant beautiful in Italian. That was just one of the unusual things in store for Gerald after Mr. Pecht had brought him back; and shared part of his “self” with the enterprise man. Gerald found that he understood languages. He could read and write and communicate with anyone in any language. To Gerald; that had been miraculous, because he now knew that he had been dyslexic in his prior life but Mr. Pecht had fixed that. He remembered the Pixie saying something along the lines of something being not quite right in Gerald’s head, so he fixed it. He had found that he also could understand animals to a certain extent. He was no Dr. Doolittle; but he could communicate with most animals. He also never got ill; and oh yeah, he didn’t seem to age. So; all in all, Gerald thought “miracle” was a pretty good term. Mr. Pecht mentioned nefarious intent in regards to the amphorae. That was pertinent because he knew that if someone possessed the small glass jar; then they could exert influence over the sea nymph Tenkha who was the love of Mr. Pecht’s ridiculously long life. He remembered that the original intent of Vittorio was to use the amphorae’s hold over Miss Bella to have her paramour, the Pixie; come over to the Italians’ side. The small fae had provided Pixie Dust that the chefs in the eatery used to enhance the food. This meant that people would be willing to do whatever they must; including paying exorbitant prices, to enjoy the delicious food. In fact; the Italians had been using too heavy a concentration of Pixie Dust, and eating the food became an addiction as insidious as Heroin. The Pixie was polishing the amphorae and preparing to place it in a cleverly concealed safe. As his boss was doing that, Gerald had taken the book and was admiring it. The small volume was actually several hundred years old; written in Olde English, and had been inscribed by hand. There were beautiful illustrations that were still astonishingly colorful, considering how old the book was. He had read through most of the book in the short time it was in his possession. He could remember hating to read as a boy because he had been dyslexic, and he would get headaches if he tried to read or concentrate on anything for more than five or ten minutes at a time. One of the advantages of the “miracle” that had brought him back was that he had been cured of that particular learning disability. The book had many tales, what most would consider folklore: and some of them had made Gerald question his relationship with the Pixie. He found a spot near the middle of the book: it contained information that he wanted to discuss with Pecht. Gerald waited till after his small boss had secreted away the amphoroskoi before he said;”Mr. Pecht sir, there’s something I would like to discuss with you.” The Pixie raised an eyebrow and said;”of course Lad. And what would that be?” Gerald handed the small volume over to his boss: it was open to an illustration of several warriors and a small figure in blue. Pecht examined the intricate artwork; because the illustrations in the book were certainly that. Gerald noticed the expression on the Pixies’ face as the small figure appreciated the drawing. “I remember you telling me that story Mr. Pecht sir;” Gerald said to the Pixie. “It was a group of young warriors who happened upon you; and you convinced them that you were blue because of the drink you had brewed.” Pecht smiled broadly in remembrance as his man continued. “You told them that the potion kept you safe and whole in battle, but in fact, it kept you three sheets to the wind.” “You have to admit Gerald;”Pecht told the big man, “it is a funny thing.” The bruiser nodded in the affirmative because it was in fact, a funny thing. “The thing is, Mr. Pecht, sir”he said, “it goes on and on about the trickster god and how he would do anything to further his own ends.” Pecht kept his eye on Gerald and said; “I think the same could be said of just about anyone; be they man, woman, or Pixie.” “Something occurred to me;” the bruiser said, “actually several somethings.” Pecht looked up at his man and asked” and what would those be lad?” “Well;” Gerald said, “I’m going to be one hundred twenty six years old this November, and I’ve lived in three centuries so far.” Pecht smiled and interrupted with, “that’s cute! Talk to me when you’ve lived in forty five.” Gerald shook his head slowly in awe. He knew that his boss was old; but seldom thought about just how much history the Pixie had seen. The big man kept on; “the main thing that occurred to me: was that you knew.” He looked the Pixie in the eye when he said this. “Knew what?” the Pixie said with a convincing look of ignorance on his fae visage. “Don’t try it Sir. I’ve known you too long.” Pecht shrugged his slight shoulders as Gerald continued. “You knew that Vittorio was going to take her.” Pecht looked slightly dismayed. “That was a long time ago lad.” Gerald slowly shook his head in the negative and said;”that doesn’t matter.” The big man took a moment to survey the small lavishly appointed apartment before turning his gaze back on the millenia old figure from folklore. “She wasn’t my mum;” Gerald said, “but Teague’s mother was the grandest lady I have known my whole life.” Pecht agreed with; “the Mrs. was quite the lady, you’re not wrong there lad.” “You knew that Vittorio was going to take her; and you did nothing?” Gerald asked his boss. The Pixie said;”she came out of it none the worse for wear lad.” Gerald nodded but asked; “but did you know she would be ok?” He continued; “you know what that beast did to me. Did you know she would be ok?” Pecht considered for a moment before he answered; “honestly lad: I did not.” Geralds’ face flushed: he sighed, and he asked; “then how could you have done that?” the big man started to pace; “they both could have been killed by that monster.” “I’m sorry lad;” Pecht told his man, “I needed Teague to take care of the situation; and having his mother in peril, made certain that he would do what needed to be done.” A troubled look crossed Geralds’ broad face and he said; “I don’t know if I can be here.” Pecht looked up at his man and asked; “what do you mean Gerald?” The big man looked around and said;”I need some time.” “Time for what lad?” the Pixie asked. “I just need some time Sir.” He stopped pacing and looked down at the old fae; “I need some time away to think.” The Pixie looked a little distressed and said; “but I need you here lad.” Gerald considered for a moment and told his boss;”I honestly believe there is nothing you can’t do Sir: you don’t need me.” “Don’t worry;” he said to his small boss, “if Miss Bella loses her amphoriskoi again: I’ll get it back for her.” Pecht looked troubled and asked; “are you sure about this Gerald?” The big man considered for a moment and said; “yes Sir Mr. Pecht; I am sure.” The Pixie thrust his small chin up at the big man and said; “what if I say no? What if I don’t let you go?” Gerald looked down at the much older, smaller figure, shook his head and softly said; “I don’t think you will.” The Pixie looked down at his small, fancy shoes and in his soft, high voice agreed; “you’re right: I don’t think I will.” The big man turned away and started toward the door. As he reached the door the ancient Pixie called out; “Gerald: you take care.” The former enterprise man looked back and said; “you do the same Pecht.” And then he left.


Cautiously, Hanna picked her way through the crowded hallways of her high school. Keeping her head down and her eyes trained firmly on the floor, she mumbled barely audible excuses to her peers as she crept past. None of them seemed to notice her, but at least with her head bowed she couldn’t see how they stared at her with their haughty expressions.

Above her head, the school speakers crackled to life with the overly-enthusiastic voice of Carol Reems. “Fellow Lincoln High students! Remember that the cast list for the spring musical was posted this morning. Let’s break a leg!” Drawn to the far end of the hallway, Hanna continued sliding past people, brushing her elbow against a few thick backpacks stuffed with textbooks. Wincing in pain as she collided head on with one such bag, she stumbled back a pace, blinking in surprise. “S-Sorry,” she managed, pushing past the tall boy who blocked her way.

Finally reaching her destination, Hanna faltered. Nothing would make her happier in life than to be part of the spring production. It was her senior year and she wanted to take a few risks, make herself gain a little confidence before college. Though, truth be told, it was all her mother’s idea. She worried about Hanna going off to college without learning how to look people in the eye, without being able to tell people what she wanted to say. Hesitantly, Hanna raised her eyes a few centimeters and stared at the corked bulletin board. Few things in life were fair, Hanna knew, but she had been so looking forward to seeing her name in black flowing script on the cast list pinned up on the wall. Hanna swiped at her face, the scratchy wool of her sweater causing her eyes to water in irritation. Salty tears beaded on her eyelashes. How could she not have made the list, even as an extra?

She had studied for days! Every afternoon once school let out, she took a shuttle bus to the local library. Until 6pm when her dad picked her up in his beat-up minivan, she devoured every book the library had on acting. She knew the techniques inside and out. Surely that counted for something! Swallowing down her tears, Hanna backed away from the board, shaking her head in disbelief.

She recalled her audition perfectly. For weeks, she had practiced in the mirror in her bedroom, mouthing the words until they felt natural coming from her mouth. When no one else was home, she even practiced her delivery. Her diction and pronunciation were perfect! But the audition… Hanna shuddered just to think of that horrid day. Sitting in the rows of theater seats in the auditorium, she tried to ignore all the students talking around her. Each one of them was positive they would land a starring role in the musical. They held scene scripts loosely in their hands, smiling carefree at one another. She wondered to herself then if some of them even knew what the production was about. They certainly didn’t seem as prepared as she was. One by one, Hanna watched her classmates go up on stage and fumble through the lines, eyes darting down to the scripts every five seconds. As if they had never read the material before.

Grinning to herself, Hanna tried to make herself relax. She had this in the bag.

“Hanna Reems,” the director called out, scratching his head with the end of his pen. He glanced sadly at his empty coffee mug sitting on the table. These auditions always took too much time. Squaring her shoulders, Hanna climbed the steps onto the blacked out stage. “This is my castle,” she muttered to herself, practicing one last time the opening line, “and you were not invited to the ball!”

“Are you ready, Hanna?” The director, her science teacher Mr. Hob asked. “You can begin when you take your place center stage.”

Nodding, Hanna lowered her hand to her side, knowing she wouldn’t need to glance at the script. “This -” she muttered, her voice soft inside the huge auditorium. Bashful, she cleared her throat, trying to play her sudden nervousness off as a warm up exercise.

“This is my -” Hanna tried again. Her voice faded off. Mr Hob glanced up from his notes, a furrow of tiredness creasing his brow. Shaking her head, Hanna giggled, a high noise rising from deep in her lungs. “I’m okay,” she squeaked.

“It’s alright, Hanna,” Mr. Hob replied after a few more failed attempts at delivering the lines. “Thank you for coming.” Waving his hand in the direction of the stage stairs, he nodded, giving her a chance to clear the stage for the next student.

Slowly, Hanna felt her feet follow the path, going heavily down each step.

Now, backing away from the judgemental bulletin board, Hanna found herself blinking in disbelief. Surely there had been a mistake! She knew the lines better than anyone. With a jolt of decisiveness, she turned on her heel, pushing more forcefully through the crowded hallways. It was simple, she thought, she just had to prove to Mr. Hob that she should be in the show. Why should it matter if sometimes she couldn’t get the words she planned so carefully in her mind to come out of her mouth? She would practice harder, that was all. Every problem could be solved through practice and sheer determination. Those few friends who knew Hanna well would have described her as ‘quiet’. Never likely to be outspoken. Too afraid to tell others what she really thought for fear she’d be judged. They also had told her, many times, that she overthought every situation, dreaming up the worst possible conclusions until she was too tied up in knots to find a way out. Suffice to say, if they hadn’t been in classes of their own at the moment Hanna strode through the halls of Lincoln High, they would stare at Hanna as she passed by, wondering where their shy friend disappeared to.

Coming to Mr. Hob’s classroom, Hanna took a deep breath. Knocking softly on the wooden door to announce her presence, she opened the door another few inches until she could peek her head through. “Mr. Hob,” she began softly, noting that he was sitting alone at his desk, bent over a stack of papers.

I’d like to talk to you, she thought, the words stuck in her throat. If you have a moment. I know I didn’t showcase myself well at my audition, but I’d really appreciate it if you could give me another chance. You see, I’ve spent the past month researching and practicing the script. I really think I could be a useful addition to the cast. Please, if you could try to find a place for me, even a small role, I’d be grateful. Hanna breathed out, waiting for a response that would never come. She stood in the doorway another moment, trying to get up the courage to present her well-prepared speech. She knew Mr. Hob was nice, and if he could, he’d give her a role. Maybe a job helping with the set at least. All she had to do was say the words. But some words are easier thought than said aloud.


It was just like any other day; on the day it all went wrong. The bustling life of London city flourished. People, noise, cars. Everywhere. Tourists, all gathered around Big Ben and the London Eye, citizens rushing and pushing, desperately trying to get to work. There were the early risers, dotted on benches, observing the world around them as if they were not just as much a part of it. There were the late partiers, the elderly, the young, the families, the homeless, the businessmen. All of them living in the same place at the same time, and all of them completely unaware of the chaos that would shortly ensue. After the chaos, there would be silence, but not that of the peaceful sort. The silence would be deafening, in the similar sort of way to that of the screams and sounds of collapsing buildings minutes earlier. And then there would be the girl. Whose story will most likely never be told by anyone, except by the person who had betrayed her trust the most; the person who had caused everything to all go wrong ------------------------------------------------------ She sat behind the cold steel bars of the prison cell; eyes fixed blankly on the plain white wall in front of her. Beside her, three figures sat hunched over in the corner of the cell, whispering among themselves. A man stood outside the room, staring at the four. A short woman stood beside him; hair stretched into a tight bun, lips stained red, jewels adorning her ears. She glanced at the man, trying to read him, trying to understand anything about this unknown man who had just appeared, as if from nowhere. She got nothing. He was just as blank as the white walls of the cell in front of them. “I need you to understand sir, we can’t let this matter go unsettled.” “I know.” Nothing. Not a flicker of emotion. Not even for a second. His face revealed nothing about what he was thinking or feeling, almost as if he were feeling nothing at all. As if he were numb. “There will be a severe penalty for them, especially the girl.” “I know.” Face still blank, his expression solely fixed on the figures inside the cell. “ Sir, I’m not sure you are understanding the severity of this situation, they blew up seven buildings and killed forty-two people. They’ll be on trial, due to some conflicting evidence that has been found, but they are inevitably going to be found guilty; sentenced to life in prison. Or worse, if the court allows it ” “I know .” The woman sighed, her exhaustion seeping through. It had been a long day filled with endless paperwork and interviews. The last thing she needed to be dealing with was this mysterious man who was somehow linked to a group of possible terrorists. Or at least, a man important enough to be given high enough security clearance to be able to see them. “I’ll be back in a minute, you may talk to them if you so please, but there will be guards in the room at all times.” The woman mumbled, shaking her head slightly before leaving the room. The man glanced at the three huddled figures and the girl for a moment more before entering the room. The three immediately stopped whispering and snapped their gazes to him, while the girl remained staring blankly ahead. “Aria, what happened?” he questioned. No reply. He sighed. Things had changed a lot since the two had last seen each other, and things hadn’t exactly ended on the most civil of terms. “Sister, please I need you to talk to me so that I can try and help-“ “I need no help from the likes of you, brother.” She sneered. “I remember quite clearly where that got me last time.” Her eyes were filled with so much hatred, it seemed to seep into his soul, causing him to suppress a shudder. “Look, you know I didn’t mean for things to end like that.” “No. You look, I don’t want your help. Not now, not ever. And if that means that I shall die, then so be it. I would rather die than ever see you again. You are no brother to me; you lost that title years ago when you betrayed me. When you betrayed all of us.” “I swear, I didn't mean to. I was just trying to-” “In case it wasn’t clear enough when I said it the first time, I’ll say it again. I. Don’t. Want. Anything. To. Do. With. You.” “Aria,” he pleaded. “Please, don’t do this. I can’t lose my sister too.” “Just leave me alone, you brought this upon yourself.” She turned back to face the wall, her face warped with rage and annoyance. He glanced at the three boys in the corner momentarily, who looked at him with just as much hatred, before sighing in misery and turning to leave the room. The woman had returned and was waiting outside when he exited. “Do you know the girl personally?” She asked, curious as to who this man was, and how he was linked to the girl inside of the cell who had almost single-handedly brought down London. “I saw you were talking to her.” “I knew all of them,” he murmured. “At least, I thought I did. Once. A long time ago.” “Who are they?” His face was grim, a crumpled smile spread across his lips as he answered. “They were the people who were going to change this world. For the better.” He spared one last gaze at the people who were once his everything, before leaving the building. He was officially alone in the world; he had no one left. He had never meant for it to turn out like this, he had never meant to betray them. In his mind, it had been the best plan of action among many that would have led to an inevitable death for all of them. If everything could’ve just gone according to his plan all those years ago, none of this would’ve happened. His parents wouldn’t have died, the group wouldn’t be in prison and he would still have his sister. But no, things all just had to go terribly wrong.


Campfire Lit. I sit down to rest, replenishing what I will need as I enter what will surely be the most menacing part of the castle. The mage told me this part runs adjacent to the Chasm, which is filled with the soulless undead. I am told the halls are filled with soldiers, roaming as husks of their former selves as they walk aimlessly and kill mercilessly. I stand up and prepare for my journey. I put on my heavy armor and pick up my double-bladed sword. Carefully, I pass through a decrepit archway. On either side is a wall just tall enough to block my view. Once I enter, I see the chasm on my right. To my left, a tall wall runs, with windows and balconies. I say a quick prayer to the gods and soldier on. Already, I am ambushed by the undead. They each wear heavy, but worn armor. Not much of a threat. But one has glowing eyes. I recognize the glow. These ones are the most dangerous. The Corrupted. Like other undead, they will stop at nothing to kill; but these ones are possessed by a presence from the Land Below. A presence that takes hold of all that is hollow. I hold my large sword up with both hands. The blades of the undead clash with both blades protruding from the handle my hands grip with all their might. As the metal hits, I thrust the weapon to knock them back. I spin the blade around me, taking out any enemies nearby. They dissolve in a puff of smoke. I thrust my blade into a few more foot soldiers and watch them disappear. Suddenly, the sword of the Corrupted Undead hits me from behind, knocking me down. I roll over just in time to avoid his next blow. His sword is probably taller than I am. I get up and dodge, narrowly avoiding his next attack, and thrash my sword in his direction, but I'm too far away to hit him. His sword slashes across my chest before he comes back quickly for a thrust. I feel the cold metal run right through my chest and I know this is the end. He pulls the sword out and I fall to my knees. I try to move, but I can feel everything in my body shutting down. I fell backward. Before my vision goes black, I see my blood pooled on the floor. The last thing I see is the purple glow of my killer's eyes... You awaken, renewed. I find myself at the campfire by the archway. My gear is worn and the fragments of soul I collected from my kills are gone. As I rest again at the fire, I repair everything and recognize there is only one way to get those soul fragments back. I need to kill the Corrupted Undead, this time before he kills me. If I respawn without killing him first, I lose the fragments forever. I head into the battlefield once again, prepared for the ambush. I make short work of the regular undead and prepare to face the Corrupted once again. This time, I know what to do. I dodge first, facing him from a distance. Quickly, I try to remember his weakness. The weakness of any Corrupted Undead. Fire. I pull out a fire bomb and throw it in his direction. It catches, causing the large knight to flinch and scream. In the chaos, I strike, fully aware of how quickly his health must be draining, but more importantly, how fast he'll recover. I dodge again, throw another bomb, and strike. I repeat this until he falls. The screams of the undead trapped within the Land Below escape his mouth, filling the area and bouncing off the walls. He falls with a loud thud. I continue, taking out more undead. A few are able to do some damage, especially with long-reaching spears and crossbows. By the time I exit a narrow hallway and enter a large foyer, I am almost out of health potions. The path to this area widens to a platform up some steps, ending with a large door. Still to my right is an outlook to the chasm. I hear the screams of the undead. There are only a few soldiers in the large foyer and I dread to think what's behind the doorway. It was clearly made for someone much larger than myself. Before I can think about what might lie ahead, I hear armor. Someone is running toward me. Someone much faster than any regular undead. I narrowly avoid the sword of a knight. This one is clearly much better at fighting than any undead. I slash my sword toward them and they dodge, masterfully, I might add. As I strike again, they parry my sword with their shield, knocking it away before thrusting a sword deep in my chest. I quickly recover and dodge their next attack and drink a healing potion. "I was saving those," I say, out of breath. "You won't need them in a second," the knight says. She sounds determined and, most importantly, alive. "Not if I get rid of you," I say back. We run toward each other and before she can strike, I slam my sword in her direction, hitting the ground, but knocking her back with the force of the swing before lifting the sword and striking her upward. "So you are a skilled fighter," she observes. "But, methinks, not skilled enough." She slashes me with her sword, doing a little damage. As I strike, she dodges, but I follow, rolling in her direction. She recovers from the roll faster, taking the advantage and waving her sword at me, but I roll again, this time behind her, and stab her through the back. She falls and I take the opportunity for a heavy attack. This final blow does the trick and she finally falls. "You will fall, like the others," she says as she fades. "Maybe in another life," I retort. I watch her body vanish. It's almost a shame. I enjoyed fighting someone like me. With the battle done, I head to the large door and open it. Inside, I see a large lump of cloth in the middle of a giant room. The room itself was clearly built for a king, with different kinds of royal cloth tapestries hanging over the windows. Candles were lit along the walls, but the room was still dark. Around the cloth, though, was pure darkness. It was as if the light, no matter how strong, faded around the lump. In that moment, I had a terrifying realization. "The eater of light," I said. "The Fallen King of Lothbrooke." As if on cue, the king rose, standing so tall I couldn't see his face. All six of his arms came out from under the cloth, each holding a sword at least three times as long as I am tall. His eyes were glowing a sinister purple, marking his corruption. The king who was supposed to save us all. It was clear he was behind the corruption of the kingdom. I run toward him, not yet sure what my plan was. Maybe I'd strike at his ankles, doing enough damage to bring him down. Before I could, though, he jumped out of the way, clearly more agile than he looked, and slashed all six swords in my direction. I couldn't even react. I was dead before I could even register what happened. You awaken, renewed. I sit at the camp fire, once again repairing and replenishing. How can I face such a large, corrupted beast? The king was practically bred for combat, and was at least twenty times my height. Maybe if I had help... Again, I headed into the castle. The Corrupted Undead was gone, but many soldiers remained. I dodge, slash, and run through the area, making it once again to the large foyer. "You again?" I hear a voice say. It was the knight from before. "You? I thought I killed you," I say. "You wish. I can come back just as often as I please!" she says as she attacks. "Need redemption, do you?" We each thrash, thrust and roll, each dealing damage to the other. I have to admit, it's nice to find another soul relatively in tact. "What will it take to be rid of you?" I ask. "Die and never come back," she answers. I don't take her advice, again striking her down. "You'll see me again..." I head once again into the room of the fallen king. I'm finally able to hit him, but it does almost nothing. He strikes, this time with only two swords, but it's more than enough. You awaken, renewed. I rest and replenish. I fight. I make it to the foyer, ready to face the knight. "I tire of this game," I say to her, but not sure if I mean it. "I never tire of the battle," she says as she attacks. I do, I want to say, but maybe not of her. "What do you hope to accomplish? What are you trying to protect?" "My kingdom," she says. "One day the king will rise again and save us all. It is written!" I know exactly what prophecy she was referring to. "The false prophet Tiddles speaks of resurrection," I say, emphasizing false . "Your king is truly fallen." "He will be restored," she says, thrusting her sword at me, hitting my armor. "What is your name?" I ask. "I am Sun Hand Ada," she says, proud of the title. She comes from the Guild of the Sun, a powerful group. "Very nice to meet you," I bow. "Now die!" We fight some more before I strike her and she falls once again. "The gods do not bless thee. You will return..." I head into the battle with the king once again, this time lasting a whole thirty seconds. You awaken, renewed. I rest, replenish, and fight. This time, though, I use more health potions. I feel unprepared, nearly being struck down by simple undead soldiers. I am weak when I meet Ada. "Now the tables shall turn!" she says. I eye the way into the chasm below. There is no way I'll let her kill me, I have a reputation now. "I do not think so," I laugh. "I might not survive this fight. But I will not give you the satisfaction!" I run and jump into the chasm. As I fall, I hear Ada above. "You fool," she laughs. You awaken, renewed. I rest. Replenish. Fight. I reach Ada. "You would willingly take your own life to prevent me from gaining the satisfaction of victory?" she asks. I smile in response. She shrugs and takes off her helmet. Her short brown hair falls to her shoulders. The features of her face are perfectly chiseled, her eyes sharp and her smile blinding. "So be it." She runs to the chasm's edge and jumps, screaming in delight as she falls. I shake my head and laugh. "Who's the fool now?" I eye the doorway to the king. I realize I need fire. But more so, I need someone with me to draw his attention. Moreover, though, the thought of finishing the fight alone paints a lonely scene; that of a warrior walking a path with no one to share it with. A warrior, no matter how hollow, should share their path with one matching their desire for the fight. And once I leave this part of the castle, I might never see Ada again. I have stared into the abyss of companionship and found it warmer than I expected. Looking into the chasm, I take the plunge. You awaken, renewed. "What will it take for you to fight by my side?" I ask Ada. "Me? Fight by the side with the likes of you?" she laughs. "It is a silly thought. And I could never betray my king!" "He is corrupted, and I fear he will further corrupt this land if he continues to live!" I tell her. "Maybe we can be allies in another life," she retorts. "But right now, I will not fight against my king." "We have already spent several lives fighting, and could spend infinitely more, nothing ever changing," I say. "Don't you want to see change? Cleanse the kingdom once and for all?" She thinks for a moment. "Is that your only reason for asking for my sword?" The question surprises me. I have grown fond of our battles. It has been wonderful to fight with one so fierce, and relieving to find one in possession of most of their marbles. I just didn't consider that she felt the same. "I could use a companion like you... on the battlefield, I mean." "Yes... I suppose our skills compliment each other," she says shyly. "In battle, of course." "Of course." We pause awkwardly. "Will you fight by my side? Purge the corruption from this land, and help light the Flame of Life?" I ask. "Under one condition," she says. "You must sacrifice ten thousand soul fragments to me." "I do believe I have them," I say slowly. "Is this a trick to finally kill me? Do you only wish satisfaction?" "I wish to survive this battle," she says. "If the corruption is as you say, those soul fragments could protect me from it." "And me?" "You shall me fine. I could sacrifice my life to save my kingdom. Risk being corrupted. But I suddenly wish to live. To see... what comes after." I think on it for a second. What comes after. Maybe there is more to this undead life. Perhaps we could have a life after. Together. My heart swells at the thought and a feeling overcomes me. Not love, maybe. The warmth of companionship. I prepare the soul fragments before spreading out my arms. "To another life." "To another life," she says before thrusting her sword through my chest. It takes a couple tries, but I finally fall, hearing a giggle as I do. "So this is what victory feels like," she laughs. My vision goes dark. I would smile if I could. You awaken, renewed. When I reach Ada, she doesn't attack. We walk to the doorway together. "What becomes of us once this battle is finished?" she asks. "Well," I say shyly. "I had hoped you might aid me in my journey. Share my glory, perhaps. Maybe..." "That sounds wonderful." "We must survive, first." "Yes, of course," She says. "You keep his attention, I will exploit his weakness." "Fire?" "Fire." We walk in and the fallen king rises. Ada screams a battle cry as she runs to him, dodging his many strikes. She works to simply keep his attention and avoid the blades. I throw a fire bomb at the king and he screams in pain, turning his attention to me. I run, hoping for Ada to get his attention back. I do not wait long before she strikes and he turns away from me. I throw another bomb and we repeat the process until the corrupted souls within the king scream in agony. Several leave the king's body to attack Ada and I, and we struggle to dodge them as the king continues attacking. "This will not be the future of my kingdom!" she screams "I will not submit!" Her sword glows with the light of the sun and the blade catches fire. A blessing from her guild. She nods to me and I recognize the plan. I would draw his attention, she would attack, using his weakness. Still dodging the souls coming from the king, I attack him once and run to keep his back to Ada. She slashes at the king and he finally falls. His head lies next to Ada and she plunges her blade through his skull, dealing one final blow. As she does, corrupted souls fill the room, the force of them knocking me to the ground and blinding me for a moment. When I get up, I watch the body of the king dissolve before me, the souls now gone from the room. "He's dead," I say. "We have cleansed this land. We have claimed victory. Ada, we can link the Flame of Life!" No answer. Her head is still down and she grips the sword that once pierced the king's skull. "Ada?" She looks up and I gasp. Her eyes glow a sinister purple. "Oh, Ada," I say stepping back. She screams when she sees me, but the screams are no longer hers. Whatever corruption was purged from the fallen king has now made its way into Ada. My souls weren't enough. She rushes toward me and I dodge. She strikes me as soon as I recover from the roll and immediately thrusts her sword at me again. She is no longer holding back. I keep moving, striking her where I can, but fully aware that once she falls now, she will never come back. "We would have been so good together, you and I," I say, still dodging her attacks. Her glowing eyes face me and she lets out another scream. This time, it sounded more like her. A scream of agony. A pain worse than any death either of us have faced so far. I realize what needs to be done. No matter the cost. "You finally tire of the battle," I say. "Now, you may rest. Victory is yours." I attack, slashing at her several times, knocking her back and drawing splashes of blood that soak my armor. "Maybe we'll meet again one day," my voice shakes. I thrust my sword through her chest and she screams, her own voice breaking through. I catch her and caress her head. As the souls leave her body, she smiles up at me. Slowly, the life leaves her eyes. Her face is stuck in a permanent expression of satisfaction when she goes. And within seconds, her body dissolves in my arms and I am left only with her sword. "Maybe in another life."


"The Wallet" The afternoon rush hour was slower than usual, and as Tina’s mind raced with all that she had left to do before Christmas in two days, she found herself the recipient of a honking pickup truck riding her bumper. “Yeah, I’m moving,” she responded angrily. “Can’t wait a second then, can you?” Glaring at the driver who then passed her with a whoosh in the left-hand lane, she swore under her breath. “Season to be jolly – really?” Continuing her steady but slow trek to her exit, she saw the daylight dim and the dark settle upon the city. Up at dawn in the dark and home early evening in the dark. Was there even an ounce of light in her life anymore? Her apartment was a block away now and Tina sighed heavily in remembrance of all she had left to do this day. She’d pay the sitter, make her son a quick dinner and then see if her mother could watch him again tonight so she might search the department stores for that expensive Dino Dinosaur toy Clay had been begging Santa to bring. All this yet to do, when her only desire was to crawl into her bed and get a good night’s sleep. ‘Oh well’, she moaned, such were the joys of single motherhood. No money, no sleep and work, work, work. Mother came over begrudgingly saying she had a really bad headache and she hoped Clay might go to bed soon. Tina bathed and dressed him in his cute dinosaur pajamas and thanked her mom. Didn’t grandparents want to spend time with their grandchildren? Her mom apparently had too many already and Clay the last one to arrive, probably had not made the grade lately. Digging out her keys and trudging through the gray slush that once was white snow, Tina’s eyes focused on a black blob near her car’s trunk. Kicking it with her foot, she realized it wasn’t trash. When she bent to examine it, she discovered it was a leather wallet. Tina picked it up timidly, and then looked around her. Who might have lost this, she wondered? One of her neighbors? No one was in sight. Unlocking her car and sitting still in the dark vehicle, she turned on the overhead light. Opening the wallet, she saw a driver’s license with a name she did not recognize, a few credit cards and then the cash. Removing the thick wad, Tina’s eyes grew enormous. What? There had to be hundreds here. She counted it then, looking around her and locking her car doors. Whoa! She counted it again. $500.00. $500.00!! Tina sat back and closed her eyes. What a windfall. This could totally make her son’s Christmas so much more thrilling! She could even pay her rent on time and buy that new coat she had eyed recently at the department store. This was a miracle she deserved. Opening her eyes and looking out her window again to see if anyone was around, she started her car. Shopping would not be a pain now. It was such a wonderful turn of fate. She was rich - for an evening anyway. Seeing a nearby McDonalds drive through ahead, Tina made her way to it. Yes, a Big Mac was in order. Her favorite sandwich she rarely had an extra dime for. Opening the wallet to pay for the meal, she was surprised when the teenage girl at the drive-up, pay window smiled and said that the car ahead of her had already paid for her meal. What? “Oh, you know, that thing on the Christian radio,” the young girl said in a sing-song voice. “Bless someone unknown today! Make their Christmas!” Tina’s eyes widened. “Someone already paid for this?” “Yes,” the young girl repeated.  “Now, as they say on the radio program, pay it forward!” Tina pulled ahead stunned and retrieved her food from a young man wearing braces. He was smiling broadly, apparently knowing she was the recipient of the previous car owner’s generosity, for he handed her an envelope with her food.   As she pulled over to eat the sandwich, Tina shook her head in disbelief.  The envelope had an invitation to a local church and wished her a Merry Christmas. “Wow! This certainly is my lucky day,” she said loudly to no one but the car’s interior. “Now for Dino Dinosaur”. The Target parking lot was packed, and she took a deep breath before leaving her car. She had to brave the crowds for Clay and his Christmas. It was only once a year, and now she had the money to buy six Dino Dinosaurs if she chose. Heading into the back of the store where the toy section was located, Tina grimaced. There was one Dino left on the top shelf. As she searched for a clerk to help her retrieve it, she noticed a tall man reach for it. The clerk, who certainly looked unenthusiastic to reach up to the top shelf, shook his head at her, knowing that now he was not needed. The tall man had Dino now in his cart. But Tina was not deterred, replying authoritatively, “I’m sure you have another one of these back in your stockroom. Could you please check? My son has to have this dinosaur for Christmas! Has to!!” The red vested clerk just shook his head and frowned saying, “Sorry, ma’am, it’s a popular item. That was the last one.” Tina stared at the man who was walking to the checkout with the last Dino Dinosaur. Traipsing close behind him she exclaimed, “Sir! Sir, excuse me!” Tina saw the man turn to face her with a quizzical look on his face. “Sir, would you consider selling me that?” The tall man was white haired, bearded and his dark eyes crinkled as he answered, “What young lady? You want to buy this from me? Why, I haven’t even paid for it yet?” Tina blushed and put on her best smile. “Sir, my son is so sure Santa is bringing this to him. I’d pay you double once you purchase to have it!” “Really?” The man stroked his beard and winked at her. “I’m told it is a popular toy so maybe triple would be better. Triple the price, yes, for that price I will sell it to you.” Tina took a deep breath. Triple the price?  Well, she now had the money so she could make the deal. “Ah, ok. I’ll meet you at the register. The two walked together and Tina watched the man pay for the toy and his other purchases. As they left the store and stood out front near the big red Target balls, the man handed Tina the bag with Dino in. As Tina began to dig out the money from the black wallet she had found, the elderly man laughed heartily and proclaimed, “Merry Christmas young lady! Consider this a gift from Santa to your son. My grandson will never miss this. I wish you and your son a blessed Christmas day! Remember the reason for the season, will you? The gift at Christmas God gave to us, we can never repay except to bless others.” Tina stood with her mouth open, hanging onto the gift as if it were a precious gem. Really? He was giving this to her? Blinking as she watched him walk away, she grinned profusely. She had Dino. She also had not spent a dime to get him. What? What kind of generosity was this? The reason for the season? She hadn’t thought lately about any reason for this season except the Santa myth. Was there something more she should know about this Christmas season? She watched as the man walked to his car and unlocked it. The car was not a Cadillac or even an SUV, but a dented, black, old model Honda.  Looking down at the cement under her feet, Tina felt a tinge of regret in planning on using the black wallet’s money. Shaking her head to rid herself of the guilt, she found her vehicle and got in. “I’ve got Clay’s Christmas!” Driving quickly home, Tina turned on the radio and finally found, after rummaging through the variety of radio channels, a peaceful Christmas song she found herself humming to, “ Away in A Manger ”. She remembered this from her younger days when she and her family attended a church service at Christmas time. Tina had always liked the tune and now she listened to the words a bit more closely. Not paying attention to her speed, she found herself the victim of blue lights flashing brightly behind her. Had she been speeding? She was so overjoyed to have Dino beside her she hadn’t paid much attention to her speedometer. Pulling over as soon as she found a space to do so, she blew out her breath. Guess her Christmas luck was waning. Wonder how much this ticket would be? After handing over her license, insurance and registration to the stern looking officer she heard him say, “Only a warning now, ma’am. Watch your speed please. Want everyone out there to be safe this Christmas.” Tina stared at him for a moment, thanked him and added, “Merry Christmas officer.” Arriving home and relieving her mother, Tina sat quietly in her apartment staring at her small, tabletop Christmas tree.  Again, her luck this evening left her speechless. Might she actually be experiencing what Christmas was truly all about? Eventually crawling into her warm, narrow bed that evening, Tina could not fall asleep. The day had been long, and she should be exhausted. Yet, her mind churned with her good fortune today. She hadn’t spent a dime, got a free dinner, obtained Clay’s present and then escaped a speeding fine - not to mention the wallet she had found which still lay in her purse. She tossed and turned, until finally she sat up with a jolt and declared loudly. “You’re better than this! Tina Ledbetter you are better than this! The world is a hard horrible place at times, but you don’t have to be!” Throwing the covers off her nightgown clad self, Tina padded barefoot to the kitchen where her purse lay on the counter. Removing the wallet from her purse she drew out the driver's license and looked at it closely. She didn’t recognize whose picture was there, nor the address, but she would do what she could tomorrow to return this to the rightful owner.  Sighing heavily, Tina returned to bed and now slept like a baby. Amazingly, she awoke without the alarm clock ringing and with a contented smile on her face. Today she would do the right thing. Today she would make someone else’s day. It felt wonderful! On her lunch break, Tina walked into the local police precinct and explained to the officer who greeted her why she had come in. The officer took the wallet, located the driver's license and looked up at her after he counted the money it held. “Whew” he exclaimed his eyes wide. “Someone sure must be missing this! Lady, you are certainly a saint to turn this in. Honesty is a rare quality now- a -days. Now if you would please give me your name and contact information, in case the owner wishes to thank you himself, or just in case the wallet is not claimed.” Tina nodded, gave the officer her information and left the precinct with a light heart. Although that money would have done she and Clay a world of good, it just wasn’t right to keep it. The generosity of others last evening had reminded her there was still good in this world. It was refreshing and her spirit soared with the reminder. Christmas morning deemed bright sunshine and a sleepy Tina crawled out of bed to hear the gleeful chattering of Clay in the next room as he discovered Santa had brought his Dino Dinosaur. Stepping out to view Clay’s happiness, she thought of the white bearded man in Target and smiled to herself, wondering how his Christmas morning had turned out. Was his grandson as happy as Clay seemed to be? Walking to Clay’s side, she ruffled his blond curls and sat on the floor near him to watch him play. Finally, she urged him to dress so they might go over to her mother’s house and have brunch with her siblings and their families.  Leaving the apartment, Tina found an envelope tacked to her apartment door. As she opened the envelope slowly, curious who might have left this, three green bills fell to her feet with a sticky note, upon which was written “thank you.”   Retrieving them from the ground she gasped. Three, crisp one hundred-dollar bills gleamed in her hand. As she and Clay drove to her mother’s home several miles away, Clay asked from the backseat, “Mama, what is Christmas all about anyway? Is it Santa’s birthday?” Tina looked back at her son clutching Dino Dinosaur tightly and said confidently, “Why Clay, it is about being loving, kind and generous to others just as God has been to us today. Christmas is Jesus’ birthday.” Looking back at Clay to see his reaction to her answer, she saw him smile and kiss his Dino on top of his purple head before exclaiming, “Yes, Mama I understand. Then Jesus gave me a present I guess, huh? Santa brought it though, right?” Tina smiled, her three-year-old son was so young, yet she might teach him soon the real meaning they celebrated Christmas. Tina helped her mother serve the brunch and as they all sat down to enjoy the meal, Tina paused and looked around. Her sisters, their husbands and nieces and nephews were digging in hungrily while her mother picked at her food. “I’d like to say a prayer of gratitude, if you can all pause a moment.” Faces looked up and some smiled. Others looked confused. Tina began, “Thank you God for blessing us with this food, family and wonderful Christmas Day. Amen.” Clay smiled at her, his mouth full of food and Dino in his lap with a spot of egg on his purple, Dinosaur head. “Ah mama, that is a nice prayer,” he chirped after swallowing. Later in the kitchen, Tina approached her mom as they looked at the mess of dishes in the sink. “Mom, I have a little something additional for you,” Tina said quietly. Tina’s mother smiled her tired smile and shook her head. “Oh Tina, you already gave me a gift. Why I love the scent of Wind Song! Thank you, you remember I have loved that scent for a long time.” “No, mom. There is something else.” Tina’s mom pulled a face and then shook her head. “I’ve got all I need with my family here today.” Tina stuffed a bill into her mom’s apron pocket and replied, “Yeah, mom. I know you do. Here is a little something extra though for you. I love you, mom. Now you can get that coat you really need.” Tina’s mom retrieved the $100 bill from her apron pocket and stared at her daughter. Her eyes teary, she shook her head slowly. “What? Surely you can use this for Clay or something you need!” “Merry Christmas, mom. Enjoy! I’m headed out to play with the kids.” Tina left her mom staring at the money, her face clouded with doubt. Tina and Clay drove home satiated. Driving a bit below the speed limit and humming to herself, Tina noticed the truck behind her, right on her bumper, until finally it had an open lane to pass her. Rushing by Tina's vehicle, the driver looked at her and gave her a middle finger, mouthing something ugly. Biting her tongue, Tina gave him the peace sign in return and looked at Clay with a smile. “Some folks just need a bit of kindness, Clay. A bit of Christmas spirit today.” Clay nodded and gave Dino a kiss on his purple, fuzzy head.


It all began one snowy December afternoon. Jason Fox was at his house arguing with his mother. “I am not a kid! I am eighteen!” Exclaimed Jason.

“Your behavior is very childish! Go to your room!” Sophie (Jason’s mom) exclaimed.

“Yes ma’am,” Jason said sarcastically and stomped to his room. Ethan was in an alleyway, making a phone call that would change the rest of his life.

“Ethan, I want you to break into that car at the Fox families’ house, and sabotage the lock mechanism and the engine function,” Maverick (a criminal in jail) whispered into the phone he had hidden in his jail cell, “Remember if you don’t do what I say, your parents will get it!”

“ On my way there now, Maverick!” Ethan replied into the phone boldly, (but feeling so nervous and upset on the inside that he had to do this, since he would never want to hurt anybody). Ethan headed over to Jason’s house and sabotaged the lock mechanism and the engine of the Fox family’s car.

            Jason got in his car on his way to the coffee shop for his date with Harmony (his girlfriend). He was driving over the train tracks when all of a sudden, his car stalled. The barriers on the train track went down and the train was almost there. “Oh no, oh no! I can’t believe this!” Jason thought as he tried to open his doors. “I knew the lock was acting funny earlier! What am I going to do?” He thought to himself as he realized the doors were not going to budge.  He picked up the wrench that was in the back seat and started banging on the windows, but they wouldn’t break, since, after all, they were bulletproof. The train started blowing its whistle trying to stop. It couldn’t stop fast enough and was heading straight for him! Ethan was sitting behind a bush watching this, unsure if he could go through with this.

“I can't just watch him die! I can't believe this, but I am going to go save him!” Ethan thought to himself. Ethan ran to the car with a metal pole in his hands and started banging on the window. After what felt like forever, he banged a hole in the window, and the glass shattered everywhere. He pulled Jason out of the car, through the window, and out of the way right as the train hit Jason’s car! Jason sat on the ground beside the tracks, but far enough that he couldn’t get hurt. Ethan was wearing a hoodie and a bandana across the bottom part of his face so that Jason couldn’t see more than his eyes.

“A-r--re you o-o-ok?” Ethan asked with a terrified expression in his eyes, and his voice trembling as he thought about how much worse this could have been.

“Yes, thanks to you though! If you hadn’t shown up, I would have died!” Jason exclaimed.

“Y-y-your welcome!” Ethan replied nervously hoping that Jason wouldn’t ask any questions.

“What’s your name?” Jason asked him.

“Uhm....” Ethan was still in too much shock to give a proper answer, so he decided to just run, “I gotta run!” Ethan replied as he started to run away.

“Come back!” Jason yelled as he began to run after him. Ethan ran as fast as he could but eventually got cornered by Jason in an alley. “Why are you running? You just saved my life! I am not going to get you in trouble. Please just tell me your name and take off the hoodie!” Jason shouted at him.

“I…I… can’t tell you! I am already going to be in enough trouble for helping you if…finds out!” Ethan said leaving the blank in the sentence. “Just let me through! I don’t want to hurt you!” He exclaimed while pulling out a sharp knife. Jason’s phone started ringing. “Turn it off, don’t answer it or I will use this!” Ethan exclaimed pointing the knife at Jason threateningly.

“Ok, ok!” Jason exclaimed as he declined Harmony’s call. “Now, promise me that you will not call the police, let me pass, and I will put the knife away,” Ethan replied sternly still grasping the knife tightly. “I-I promise!” Jason replied stepping back. Ethan put the knife away and ran past Jason into the dense fog that had enveloped the city. Jason went and stared at what used to be his car and shivered.

“That could have been me! I could have been wrecked along with the car! I need to find this guy and repay him for helping me!” Jason thought to himself. Ten minutes later, when Jason arrived home, he explained what had happened to him. Harmony had been sitting with Amy (Jason’s sister) trying to figure out what had happened to him. “Jason! I was so worried about you! I could not find you anywhere and I started hacking camera footage (since she was a detective) throughout the city with Harmony!” Amy exclaimed as she hugged Jason. “I am fine thanks to that guy in the hoodie, I just wish I knew who he is,” Jason said thoughtfully.

“Jason! We were literally about to have our first date! No more almost dying! Ok?!” Harmony exclaimed as she hugged him.

“OK Harmony, I’ll try!” Jason replied jokingly as he hugged her, unaware of the fact that he would be in another similar situation soon.

 “I am just going to run to the restroom,” Harmony said. When she got to the restroom, she called the police and told them the area where Ethan was. This was not good…             Ethan was running through the different alleyways trying to find a place to spend the night when he heard the police sirens. He ran as fast as he possibly could and went inside a broken-down mansion that was abandoned. “I can’t believe he called the police after all that! I saved his life! I could have let him die, but no, I had to save him! He stabbed me in the back!” Ethan shouted into the lonely old house. The mice scampered around, frightened by Ethan’s shouting. He started planning his revenge with an icy-cold heart full of hurt and sadness. He was already extremely hurt by Maverick. When Ethan was 8 years old, his parents went missing, and Maverick had found him. Maverick raised him and then (when Ethan was 15) told him that he had kidnapped his parents and the only way he could ever see them again was if he worked for him. Ethan was 18 now and still trying to save his parents. He had never felt so betrayed. Even now, he had risked his parents’ lives to save Jason and then Jason had gone and called the police on him after he had promised he wouldn’t! It was not right! This world was never fair or nice, so why should he be?

            Harmony came out of the restroom and tried to convince Jason not to go look for the guy who saved him (since she thought he would be in jail by the time Jason went out), but Jason wouldn’t listen. He went out into the night to search for the guy who saved him. He searched alleyway after alleyway until he came upon a broken-down mansion in the woods. Jason opened the creaky door and walked into a huge cobweb. The huge mansion was eerily silent. It appeared as if no one had been in there for years. However, Ethan was peeking out from inside one of the closets with a knife in his hand waiting for just the right moment. Jason walked around the house climbing up the stairs as the stairs creaked. The creaking of the stairs sounded almost like they were warning him to leave. Upstairs there were four bedrooms all broken down and dilapidated. Ethan had gotten out of the closet and was sneaking around behind Jason as quietly as possible. Each creek of the stairs from Jason sounded so loud to the silence that was otherwise super thick. Jason entered into one of the rooms and just then Ethan jumped out with the knife. Ethan had Jason cornered and had a knife in his hand! “I should never have saved you in the first place! You stabbed me in the back and called the police!” Ethan exclaimed with a dangerous glint of rage and anger in his eyes while pointing the knife at Jason. Jason stood there in the corner confused, scared, and unsure what to do next.  “What are you talking about?!” Jason exclaimed very confused, “I never called the police.”

“Sure, you didn’t. Then why were they there ten minutes after you left!” Ethan exclaimed back, shifting the knife around in his hand. He stood there staring at Jason with rage burning in his eyes. Jason stood there staring blankly at Ethan with his face as pale as a sheet. “Well? I am waiting! Where is your brilliant explanation, or your excuses?” Ethan ranted as he folded his arms and stuck the knife it in his pocket while waiting for an explanation. Jason didn’t want to let Ethan get away again and certainly didn’t want to get stabbed, so, not knowing what better to do (since he had become very impatient and scared) he rushed at Ethan and tried to take away the knife. Jason knocked Ethan down to the ground. They were rolling around on the floor fighting over the knife. “Give it to me!” Jason shouted losing his breath.

“Never! I need it!” Ethan shouted back. While they rolled around Jason had finally gotten the knife in his hand, but at the same time (since Jason was on top of Ethan), the knife stuck deep into Ethan’s shoulder. “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! I HAD THE KNIFE THE WHOLE TIME AND DIDN’T STAB YOU!” Ethan exclaimed through clenched teeth, trying not to look wimpy.

“I-i-it was an accident! Ahhhh… what do I do?!” Jason exclaimed as he ran over and stared at the knife uneasily.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!” Ethan exclaimed as he held the knife that was in his shoulder. He wasn’t going to pull it out since he knew better. Jason grabbed his phone and was about to call 911.

“Don’t call the police! They will take me to jail since you broke your promise and called the cops!” Ethan shouted at Jason.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I never called the cops!” Jason exclaimed while thinking. “Uhm... who do I call? I got it! My mom is a detective, she will know what to do!” Jason exclaimed as he phoned her. While he was calling her, he grabbed a dusty first aid kit and took out some alcohol wipes. “This is going to burn a lot, but that knife of yours looks very rusty, and that cut is deep!” Jason said as he rubbed the alcohol wipes on the wound.

“AHHHH,” Ethan screamed. Jason’s mom didn’t answer the phone, so Jason called his sister Amy instead. Amy answered the phone.

“Amy, I-I-I messed up big time and need you and Harmony to come help now! I was impatient and...knife…blood…help…mansion!” Was all Amy could hear over the phone as she and Harmony raced to the car and started driving there.  Jason sat there in shock at all that had happened. Ethan’s shoulder was bleeding badly and had begun to hurt even worse. “What are we going to do? If you don’t mind me interrupting your peaceful relaxation time, I have a knife in my shoulder and am bleeding a lot! I kind of need your help, and kind of judging how this is all your fault maybe you should get over here and help me!” Ethan shouted at Jason.  “Sure, it is partly my fault, but not fully my fault! You are the one who jumped out of nowhere with the knife in the first place!” Jason shouted back. “If you hadn’t called the cops, I wouldn’t have brought out the knife in the first place!” Ethan exclaimed. “But that’s just it! I never called the cops! The only ones who know about what happened are my sister and my girlfriend,” Jason exclaimed back. “Maybe it was one of them, I don't know, and don’t think so! But it wasn’t me!”

“I guess I believe you. Now please if you don’t mind, I could use some of that gauze in the first aid kit for my shoulder,” Ethan said as calmly as anyone possibly could while having a knife stuck in their shoulder. Jason took the gauze and pressed it tightly on the wound. Ethan flinched in pain. “I guess I should be saying thank you for helping me with my wound since you could have just left me here,” Ethan said thoughtfully as he clenched his teeth due to the pain.

“It is kind of my fault that you have a knife in your shoulder in the first place. I came here to thank you for saving my life and ended up hurting yours! How ironic! How is your shoulder feeling now?” “About as good as a shoulder that has a knife in it can feel!” Ethan said sarcastically.

Just then, Amy and Harmony arrived. “I’ll wait in the car, I don’t like blood,” Harmony said to Amy. Amy ran inside with a stitching kit.

“Are you going to fix him yourself?” Jason asked Amy full of disbelief.

“Yes, I learned with Mom how to deal with situations like these,” Amy replied as she opened the kit. “How old are you?” Ethan asked judgingly.

“I am 16, and if you have a problem with that let me know. But if you don’t want to end up in jail or dead from blood loss, I am your best and only option,” Amy replied boldly. “YOU ARE ONLY SIXTEEN! I am eighteen, and would never trust myself, how am I supposed to trust you?” Ethan exclaimed.

“For one, I am not you, so you don’t have to worry about anything. Second, I am your best option, so let’s hurry up and get this over with. I have no pain medication, so this is going to hurt… a lot,” Amy said boldly as she grasped the knife. She then pulled out the knife. “AHHHHHHHHHhhhh!” Ethan screamed in pain as the knife was removed. Amy had to take off Ethan’s hoodie and t-shirt. Amy then used the kit and stitched up Ethan’s wound fast. Ethan lay there in indescribable pain as he tried to be brave but couldn’t take the pain anymore.

“You are going to be ok, come with us to our house where we can help you get some food, water, and a soft bed to sleep on,” Jason said to Ethan. Amy and Jason helped Ethan up. Ethan went with Jason, Amy, and Harmony back to their house. They gave him soup to eat and water to drink (since he was so skinny and in desperate need of food). Amy and Jason told their mom that Ethan was a friend from school, and never told her about his wound. Nobody ever figured out who had called the police. Ethan and Jason went on to become good friends. Amy and Ethan went on to possibly become more than friends.  They all decided that they would help Ethan find his parents and put an end to Maverick and his plots. But, for now, Ethan just needed a soft bed, some nice sheets, and a good night’s sleep.


Heavy bass thumps in my ears in time with my footsteps. My arms ache from the relentless motion of the broom. Dirt tickles the inside of my nose. Sweat trickles down my brow. Light filters through the cloudy air, millions of otherwise invisible particles brought to light by the single slanting ray. I pause what I’m doing to look around the room, the uneven layer of dirt showing no sign of the two hours I have been sweeping. Red fingers rip the long white cord from my ears forcefully. Eardrums throbbing with the missing melody, I let my phone hit the ground with a thump. I choose to ignore the cloud of dust the arises when it makes contact. Just like I’m choosing to ignore the reason that I’m here. Just being here, in this room enlarges the gaping hole in my chest. A long sigh pours from my open lips as my frustration mounts. Tiny explosions appear with my feet, destroying the minuscule city of mud below me. Cobwebs stretch out their feathery arms in the corners of the room, gripping tightly. The ancient door creaks and squeals as it opens, slashing through the silence that hangs over the room. The prehistoric red Honda, that some might call a car, is parked hazardously across the driveway greets me. Faded paint greets my outstretched palm as I dig through my pocket with the other. Lint sticks to my fingertips, but they are otherwise empty. Slapping my pockets as if that will reveal a new hiding place for my keys, I groan again. Vivid memories of placing the keys in my pocket make me grit my teeth. Gravel skitters from underneath my feet as I walk back up the cracked pavement. The uneven floorboards fill my vision as I search for the escaped object—all of the furniture was moved from this house years ago, after the accident. From outside sirens wail down the street, red and blue shining through the dirty glass. The loud whine of a car horn pierces through the thin walls. Dull metal winks at me from the underside of a dust bunny so large that it probably took years to accumulate. Pulling my keys from beneath it I walk back towards the door. The keychain I’ve had since I was six thumps in my palm, the soft surface doing little to soothe me. Parked next to my lame excuse for a car is a glistening black sports car. Each bumper is shined to the point of perfection. From the driver’s side, steps a man in a black tuxedo. Each hair on his head is firmly in place, gelled into a helmet. He ignores me gawking and instead goes to open the door for his passenger. Whether from my nightmares or my dreams I am not sure, but a tall man steps from the open door. Familiarity washes over me as panic rolls inside my gut. I can’t decide whether to take a step back or to run into his arms. His already broad smile widens as he takes in my reaction. “Well?” The question hangs in the air, suspended by my ongoing denial about the situation. A choked sound flees my throat as I back away. The damp mustiness of the house greets me again, but each movement causes the floor to creak so badly that there is no point in hiding. Eyes smarting, I turn to the silhouette in the open doorway. “Soph,” His smile has faded, and concern now overwhelms his features; his dark brows are pulled down over light eyes filled with tears. The resemblance from our childhood hasn’t quite worn off. “No. No, no, no.” My hands lock firmly into my hair, the dark curls catching on my shaking fingers. A sob threatens to break loose as I step closer. “How are you here?” The words are nearly drowned by my shaking voice. “You were gone…” My voice breaks, “we—we had a funeral!” Hot warmth races down my face before I can stop it. Although it happened years ago, the memory still hurts sharp fragments of glass cutting into the corners of my mind. The too-bright sun and the clusters of people speaking in hushed tones. What seemed like millions of condolences blowing through me. The relentless whispers from the corners of the room from people unsure of how to respond to the empty casket. The unsure glances of people mentally comparing us. “Soph. Sophia. I am here now.” His voice drips over me like warm chocolate. “I promise.” “How? How can you promise me something like that? You were supposed to be here for me three years ago. But you disappeared.

You left me.

Mom and Dad can’t even look at me now. Mom starts crying. Dad looks through me.” The cavern in my chest opens again, wider than ever. The officer’s voice plays through my mind again, filled with sorrow and compassion,

Is this the home of Cameron Reed? I am so sorry… There was an accident… Ice on the roads… through the side of the bridge… No body…

His voice breaks as he speaks as if played on an old record, “Why are you here?” His eyes are filled with so much pain that I can’t look at him, “You know that everyone avoids this place, right? Small children walk by it and start crying and their mothers take their hands and hold them tighter. Because of what happened to you.” Curls are tossed into his eyes with a shake of his head. “I am sorry. I really am, but I’m not supposed to even be here, let alone be talking to you about…” He gestures limply at our surroundings. Heavy footsteps pass through the open doorway. The shadow of a mountainous figure teeters over me, balanced on the edge of a cliff. It swoops down like a bird of prey shrouding me in darkness. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” My brother whispers the words over and over, trying to convince himself of his innocence. Panic rolls in my stomach as I process the words. The quiet murmur of his voice like the melody playing earlier. The footsteps a throbbing, thrumming bass line. Large gloved hands grab my forearms violently. A sharp prick in my neck makes the world go black.


Everly was a sensible young woman, and it was because of that that she was able to accept her imminent death. She sat on a bench at the park near her apartment with a hot cup of tea. The warm mug kept her fingers warm, but her ears were still freezing. She should have worn a hat. It was unfortunate that she wasn’t going to be alive the next morning. Everly would’ve liked to be able to open her Christmas presents. She hoped that her murder wouldn’t ruin Christmas forever for her family and friends. She’d have to include that in her letters to them. “Don’t let my murder ruin your holiday spirit!” But what else could she do? Her assasination would chase her forever, might as well deal with it head on. At least the sunrise was beautiful. Not everything was disappointing today.

The comfortable silence was ruined by a buzzing in her pocket. Everly took her phone out of her jacket pocket, and answered it.

“Hello?” Everly responded, struggling to keep her teeth from chattering.

“Good morning, dear,” It was her mother. “I hope I didn’t wake you up this early in the morning.” “Not at all, I’ve been awake for some time now.” “Oh good. Are you coming to the Christmas party tonight?” “Yes, don’t worry. I’ll be there, Mom.” “Then I’ll see you tonight.” Her mother hung up the phone.

Of course her mother called to nag her about attending the party. Everly couldn’t quite bring herself to be annoyed, though. When you knew that you were about to leave the world forever, you had a sudden appreciation for everything. Like sunrises. Or nagging mothers. Everly’s mother did have a point, though. A couple years before, Everly had been going through a bit of a rebellious stage and didn’t attend the party. Her mother wouldn’t forget it.

Everly left the park reluctantly and headed back to her apartment. Her parents had never understood why she rented such a cheap apartment when she was so rich. She admired the festive wreaths on her neighbors’ doors. If only she had the holiday spirit to do any decorating. A young man knocked on her door as she approached.

“How can I help you?” Everly asked politely.

“Oh!” The man spun around. It was James, the most attractive bachelor of the year. He was wealthy, well-mannered and very sought after. He was also one of Everly’s oldest friends. “There you are!” Everly greeted him with a hug. “Come on in.” James followed her into her apartment. “Looks like you’re quite the grinch, unlike your dear mother.” “I don’t have anything against decorations, I just don’t have time to enjoy them. I’m hardly ever here. Why bother?” James shrugged. “Fair point. Most young, single people don’t have the same holiday experience as they did when they were kids.”

“True. Have you come to visit me with something pressing? Or can you wait a couple minutes?” “I can wait a bit.” James looked a bit nervous, which was odd for him. He was the sort of man that took charge, that was confident.

Everly pointed to the kitchen. “Make me breakfast while I take a shower.” It wasn’t a question, but an order.

James stuttered, but Everly was already heading to the bathroom. Everly heard him sigh, but then started to rummage through the kitchen. Everly smiled to herself. She could always manage to get away with telling James what to do.

Everly had tied up her golden hair in a messy bun, but her hair would need to look a lot better at the party. But maybe if she had messy hair her mother would forget about her “magical green eyes” and scold her instead. Her cousin laughed about her mother’s obsession over Everly’s green eyes, and she tried to ignore it. She had never gotten over the embarrassment.

Everly took a quick shower as to not keep James waiting too long. Everly didn’t wonder that much about why he had come to visit her. She didn’t dwell on things like that. She got dressed and brushed out her hair so it would dry neatly.

“What feast have you prepared for me?” she asked James. Everly sat down on one of her two total chairs. She didn’t get that many visitors.

James, the excellent cook he was, made her ramen. She grinned. This was the sort of meal Everly reserved for emergencies, like late nights or extra-busy mornings.

“Sorry, I’m not much of a cook.” James looked a bit sheepish.

“No worries. Anyways, what was it you wanted to ask me?” Everly started to eat the noodles, expertly using her chopsticks. She went through a phase where she only ate with chopsticks, much to her parents dismay. They weren’t pleased with her when the meal was soup.

“Will you marry me?”

She choked on her noodles, accidentally inhaling some of them. She stood and made her way to grab a glass of water. She chased her food down with a full glass. Normally she would have thought that James was merely fooling around, messing with her, but he had seemed especially nervous. It was the type of situation that if she had been drinking a beverage, she would’ve accidentally spat it all in his face.

“What?” Not the most eloquent response, but it was all she could manage. Her soon-to-be murder lingered in the back of her mind. She couldn’t possibly say yes and then go and get herself killed, now could she? “Oh not like that. See… I hate asking this of you. We’ve run into some financial troubles…” James trailed off, embarrassed. She suddenly understood what he was asking her. They had never gone down a romantic path, so that motivator wouldn’t have made sense. “Never mind, it’s stupid really…”

“Though I am unable to accept your gracious offer, I’ll try to think of something to help you.” Everly would have to secure a contract or two on his behalf or something of the sort. She had plenty of money, and could likely leave behind some money for him as well.

James was still blushing, but was significantly less fidgety. He stood, thanked her and let himself out.

When she was younger she and her cousin always thought that Christmastime was the most romantic time of the year. They had always dreamed of being proposed to nearing or on the holiday, but now that it actually happened, it all felt bittersweet. Everly would see her cousin, May, later at the party. She would be one of Everly’s biggest regrets. They had always been incredibly close, and leaving her behind, victim to a harsh world, didn’t have her excited. May was a bit younger than her, but too innocent for her age. She was the sort of person that expected goodness out of everyone and would be upset when it didn’t work out that way. Everly could only hope that her death wouldn’t break her.

Everly went and blow dried her hair the rest of the way, and curled it. She would have to do something a bit more elaborate for tonight, but for the moment it was good enough. She stuffed a bin of bobby pins into her backpack-purse and went off. Her single jacket wasn’t keeping her all that warm, but it was most certainly stylish. Everly noted the rose petals that were on the ground, and wondered why they were there. Maybe some florist had walked by, dropping petals as they went along. But too many were on the ground. It was like a trail, the very same path that she took every day. She glanced up, and saw a middle-aged man on one knee, hand out, almost as if he was beckoning to her.

“Everly, my love!” The man shouted. “Finally, you have arrived!”

What was going on? Everly had never seen the man before in her life. She stopped, confused.

“Marry me!” The man said quite forcefully. This was the second marriage proposal this morning. Certainly there was a law against such a thing.

“Do I know you?” Everly asked politely, very obviously bewildered.

“No, but I have loved you from afar for a long time…” The man continued on, but Everly stopped listening. The problem with having a strong social media presence was that you ended up attracting creepy stalkers. It was chilling, realizing that this man must have found out where she lived and made note of her daily route. “Please, I beg you, marry me!” “No, thanks.” Everly continued walking, dodging the many rose petals. The man wasn’t deterred. He stepped closer to her, and attempted to grab her hand. Everly never had time for things like this, and most certainly not today. “This is your last warning, sir. Leave me alone.” “Everly!” The man got even closer.

With razor sharp precision, Everly whipped out her pepper spray and sprayed the man. He cried out in pain. “I did warn you,” She said unapologetically.

Everly continued on her path, ignoring the people who had pulled out their phones to record the incident. It would undoubtedly be a big story on the internet in five minutes. She wondered if she’d be painted as the villain or victim. There wasn’t really any true way to tell.

The walk to the tall, looming building where she worked, wasn’t long.

Everly had a brunch meeting with her assistant, Varrick. All the female employees at the office giggled endlessly whenever he was around, but Everly had never seen the appeal. Sure, the man was attractive, but he still wasn’t her type.

“Morning, Miss Winston,” Varrick greeted respectfully. “It’s the coffee you like today.” Thank goodness for that. Everly wasn’t sure what she would do if she would end up dying without good coffee that morning. To face one’s permanent end without it would be truly horrifying. Varrick had already set out all of the papers that she needed to sign today. Everly wondered how her assistant would take her death. She didn’t think he resented having her as a boss, but would he be at all disturbed that she met her end?

“There was something that I wanted to ask you, Everly.” This was new. Her assistant had never addressed her with her first name before. Since she didn’t respond, he continued. “Everly, I’ve loved you for a very long time. I’ve been your assistant for three years now, and I’ve loved every minute of it. I don’t have any family or close friends, but you have always been a bright spot in my life.” This was quite all of a sudden. Everly immediately felt shame, shame because she didn’t know the first thing about Varrick. She had never bothered to get to know him, talk to him about anything that wasn’t work related.

“Will you, Everly Winston, marry a fool like me?” He got down on one knee. Another marriage proposal? This was beginning to become quite a nuisance.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to say no.” It was clear that Everly’s words hurt Varrick more than her pepper spray had hurt the previous proposer. “I am flattered, and I hope you find love. I wish you all the best, Varrick.” With that, she left. Everly had finished putting all her affairs in order at the office, it was just unfortunate that she hadn’t managed to avoid the third marriage proposal that morning. At least her question had been answered. Varrick, her wonderfully reliable assistant, would mourn her death. Everly truly hoped that he would find love and happiness. She’d have to leave behind a letter for him as well. Thanking him, for the brilliant job he did. Everly still had several things to accomplish before attending her mother’s Christmas party.

She checked her phone, only to find a multitude of notifications. What had happened? It was yet another marriage proposal. Everly sifted through it all on the taxi ride to a lunch with her aunt and an important client. Apparently, she had caught a famous star’s attention. Enough attention for him to propose to her over the internet. At first she thought that it was another account, pretending to be him, but that unfortunately wasn’t the case. There was a video of the star making a rather lengthy speech, asking for her hand in marriage. It was as if the entire internet exploded, talking about Everly Winston and the two marriage proposals in one day.

They didn’t even know half of that. Quite literally.

Refusing to give the media any more attention, Everly got out of the car and tipped the driver generously. She didn’t doubt that he knew who she was, but hadn’t said anything about it. Hadn’t asked her view on the multiple proposals. If he had, it was quite possible that she would have throttled him. People who minded their own business earned Everly’s generosity. She wasn’t feeling well, so Everly was especially grateful for his silence. Food at fancy restaurants was constantly disappointing. She could cook much better food at home, and it would cost significantly less. Her company was equally disappointing. Her aunt-- May’s mother-- wasn’t the sort of woman Everly would ever want to sit down and chat with. The client was a tubbly, elderly man that had already said multiple sexist, racist, homophobic things. He came across off as the wealthy, entitled, evil politician type. Everly debated just leaving. Surely she couldn’t expect herself to deal with such a scumbag on her last day that she had to live.

“Winston. Your aunt has so graciously offered to arrange this meeting so I could ask you something.” Everly hated the way the man’s eyes scanned her, objectifying her.

“Yes?” She forced herself to plaster on a smile, but she didn’t succeed at making it look convincing.

The man didn’t seem to notice or care about Everly’s obvious grimace. “I’d like to marry you. It would be mutually beneficial.” This time Everly had been sipping soda. This time she managed to spit it all over him. She probably took too much amusement from the man’s horrified expression. Everly didn’t even bother to reply. A fifth marriage proposal. It was like the universe knew that since Everly was working with limited time. She gave a dirty look to her aunt, and just looked at the man with utter disgust. If she had agreed she’d likely be his third or fourth wife.

Everly left the restaurant, not paying her share for the meal and soda that she had spat all over the slimy man. Five marriage proposals . If she didn’t already know that she was about to lose her life, she’d go take the time to file some restraining orders. If she had more time, maybe she’d take the time to make fun of the star who had proposed to her as a media stunt. Maybe she’d have time to say yes to him, to revel in the whole drama of it. But time wasn’t a luxury she had anymore. Whether she liked it or not, she was dying.

✹✹✹ The party was boring. Per usual. It didn’t help that Everly could feel her body deteriorating. She felt better, though, when she caught sight of Jemma.

Jemma. She was the sort of woman that intimidated everyone, the sort of woman that felt like danger. And Everly loved her.

“Jemma!” Everly was thankful that she hadn’t worn tall heels. She caught up to Jemma. “Will you come out to the gardens with me? There is something I want to ask you.” They walked to the gardens, perhaps a bit slower than Everly would’ve liked. “The poison in my system, is really taking effect now is it?” Everly said conversationally.

Jemma froze.

“Ah, don’t worry. I don’t blame you. Honestly, it’s easier to come to terms with having your killer be someone that you love and understand.” Everly had known for a long time. Had accepted the poison-spiked drink Jemma had given her the day before.

Jemma looked sick. “They were going to kill my baby sisters…” She trailed off, not looking like her usual, fearless self. Everly already knew that Jemma had been forced into an impossible position. Her family would suffer if she failed to end Everly’s life.

“I know.” Everly looked content. “I tried to figure out a way to save them, you know.” Jemma looked like she was going to cry. “Everly,” She choked out.

Everly sat down on a stone bench, unable to keep on standing. Her legs were shaking now, incapable to sustain her weight. “This must be very hard for you, isn’t it?” Jemma stood, and started to turn away. Everly grabbed her hand, and pulled her close. “You love me, and were forced to kill me. The least you could do is stay.” Her voice sounded like rocks scraping together, nothing like the calm demeanor she’d managed all day. “I don’t want to die.” Tears were already falling down Jemma’s face. “I’m sorry,” Her voice was shaky. “Please, Jemma, marry me.” Everly finally made a marriage proposal of her own. “Don’t say yes unless you’d actually marry me. If I wasn’t about to die.” Jemma said yes. Everly pulled out rings, and struggled to put one on Jemma’s finger. Her hands were shaking now.

The women kissed, both of their faces wet with tears.

✹✹✹ Everly’s funeral was grand. It was very clear that she was aware that she was going to soon meet her end. She had prepared for her own death very well. Many people attended and mourned the magnificent woman. She had been proposed to five times on the day of her death, but as far as anyone could tell, she had declined all of them. But that didn’t explain the ring on Everly’s finger, declaring her engagement to someone.

No one saw the gaunt woman lurking in the shadows, neither did they see the matching ring on her finger.


“Tonight is Ana’s last night. She has been with us for forty-seven years. Thank you for everything, Ana! Ladies and gentlemen, Ana Jackson!” Ana stepped to the microphone and looked at the full theater below her. Her chest swelled as the whole theater stood up and started applauding.

“Thank you. Thank you so much!” She wanted to say something clever, something touching, but nothing came out. She just stood there, listening to the applause getting louder and louder. She remembered the day she joined the theater, she was only a few years older that Juliet. This made her chuckle inside as she recalled the actor who played Romeo was middle-aged and balding.

“Go home, grandpa!” a teenage boy at the back shouted as Romeo entered the stage. They say you must always choose one person in the audience to look at during the performance, and she looked at the girl sitting next to the boy. She was young and beautiful, giddy with love.

I wonder what happened with them …

She could always tell when it was someone’s first time at the theater. Very few are completely out of place like the teenage boy. The others look at the stage with wide eyes. They glow. They turn to the person next to them often. “Did you see that? Did you feel what I felt?” they say without words. She knew the feeling well, it has never left her. Every time was like the first time.

She looked at the audience, and she could see them. Fireflies glowing in the dark. They will come back. *** The first play she saw was Cabaret. She was sitting in the front row, so close to the stage she could touch it if she just leaned forward a little. She could see the stitching on the costumes, the sweat running down dancers’ legs. They were singing for her, dancing for her. She could swear they were all looking only at her.

♫ “Maybe this time, I'll be lucky. Maybe this time, he'll stay. For the first time love won't hurry away …” ♫ The lyrics hit Ana hard. Her high school sweetheart had left her just a few weeks before, and, although it wasn’t a Romeo and Juliet kind of love, she could feel this wouldn’t be the last time. Sally was looking straight at her now, she wasn’t imagining things. With every note they were mourning past and future loves together. Ana bought the Cabaret record. She had a little bowler hat she had bought at the charity store, and her late grandfather’s walking stick. Whenever she was alone at home, she would put the record on at full blast, dim the lights, and sing. ♫ “Money makes the world go around, the world go around, the world! “ ♫ She would tip her hat and hit the floor with the stick. Oh, but who needs money, and who needs the world to go round when you can have magic like this? Theatre was a safe place for magic, for singing and dancing, crying and laughing, even cursing. But then she remembered how expensive the front row ticket was, and how she had to lie where she was going, and then lie about her age to get in …

There was another way. She was going to make theater her home. And she did. Forty-seven years of pure magic. *** Ana named her son Tony, after the Tony Awards. The father was one of those loves that hurried away, the one she and Sally sang about all those years ago.

When she was pregnant she would play her records, and the baby would kick in time with the tune. When he was seven, she took him to see Annie. “I don’t want to leave!” he said when the play was over. When she asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he said a violin. It was just the two of them and their love of theater. He was such a good child, always studying or practicing his violin. She remembered the day the screeching noises turned into music and he ran downstairs. “Mom! Did you hear that? I don’t sound like I am torturing mice anymore!”

He loved musicals, Hair was his favorite. He grew his hair and knew all the lyrics by heart. ♫ “Let the sunshine, let the sunshine in!” ♫ He would sing at the top of his voice. ♫ “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine!” ♫ Anna would sing back. “Mom, you are ruining the song!” he would laugh.

She remembered the day he was accepted to play in the theater orchestra. She cried tears of joy, after a very long time. *** The crowd was still applauding. It felt like hours, but she knew it was only minutes. Time has a funny way of expanding to accommodate memories, and more random memories started flooding in.

The time she fell off the stage and broke her leg; she couldn’t work for months and it broke her heart.

The time she saw something shiny between the seats; it turned out to be an engagement ring. A very grateful young man came to collect it and brought her the biggest bunch of flowers.

The time she found an old book on the theater floor, love letter for a bookmark. No one came to claim it. She felt sad at the thought of books and love letters not being wanted.

The time she saw Phantom of the Opera for the first time and the giant chandelier was lowered over the audience – how the blood drained from her face and her heart started racing. The time Tony saw Phantom of the Opera for the first time and the giant chandelier was lowered over the audience – how his face went white and he gasped. The time Tony played for the first time in their theater, and every time after that. The time theaters were closed for months on end because of the pandemic … She still went in every day. Everything had to be ready for the reopening, even if nobody knew when that would be. The beautiful dark red seats were empty, but she could still feel the magic. She would go onto the stage, look at the sea of clean, plush seats, and shout: “We will be back! You will be back!” And now they were back. A girl to the left looked just like the giddy teenage girl from the Romeo and Juliet story. Imagine if that was her daughter, or granddaughter! Another girl, in the front row, was leaning towards the stage. Tony was standing to the side of the stage, smiling and waving at her.

They were back, applauding her … Her! Ana Jackson, the theater cleaner. She bowed and left the stage.