That girl who was laying quietly, and covered in darkness was Ichiko Yamada, she was laying very peacefully, unaware about her current condition. After staying unstirred for a while, she opened her eyes and look around to find where was she. She try her best to view the situation, but the vast amount of darkness create things harder to understand. She was unable to see anything but she try to figure out the circumstance. She didn't have any memories left about how she appeared that place. The last thing she remembered was, a sweet kiss on her lips by her husband, when she was heading to his workplace. She couldn't recognise anything after that, she blacked out completely. But then, she felt light behind herself, she's frighten to move but a male voice occurs from behind it was, "Are you alright Yamada-san . You are moving so, I think maybe you are alright. Let's move miss . We had to cover a long path." When she turns around she saw a silver hair colored guy, standing behind her, watching her with his deep and emotionless red eyes. He's wearing a white waistcoat, and a long black long jacket. The warmth she felt before was coming out from a vintage lantern which he was holding. Ichiko was confused about her situation and don't know what to do, 'Cause according to the schedule she has to be on her working desk but she was sleeping in that weird dark place and when she somehow handle that uncanny trauma, a male character popped out in that place and ordering her to follow him and head somewhere. How and why she did that, there is no sense to follow a stranger. She wasn't afraid but she don't want to go after him. So then, she take a deep breath and denies his offer. He can't look good after hearing that answer. He said, "Think about it Yamada- san, it's your lose if you can't follow me." And Ichiko , after hearing that rude reply, reacted aggressively and said, " I don't know who you are and where you come from and I even don't know what's that place how could I go after a stranger?" That guy nodded his head a bit and reply to that angry lady, "You don't know me? And you don't know why you are there? And you are right, how could a lady trust a stranger that she just meet and started following him" He take a deep breath and sigh. He view her for a while, and maybe he was thinking about the next step he had to do, He took out his hand towards her and tells, " I tells you everything, but for that you had to follow me. I insist Yamada-san please come after me. " Ichiko is still suspicious about that man but when she saw his cold eyes, she somehow agreed about that proposal. She stood up and ready to follow him. That person light up the path with that vintage lantern and both were continuously walking on it. She want to ask many questions to him but she is confused how to start, and then that guy asked her, " back then you were exploding with lots of questions but you weren't asking any of it that time, why? Are you perhaps confused what to ask first." It looked like that guy read her mind she blushed a bit about that and tell her that, " it's not that, I am confused over a silly thing, actually I don't know how to start the conversation with a stranger that you just meet." He turns his head towards her and tells her, "as I thought, you were a lively girl and yet stubborn kid, like your parents." And both were started walking again. While walking, she denying those facts and stared telling him those tags weren't true but she stopped, when she noticed he tells, "like your parents." She immediately asked, "how you know my parents." That simple question from her, stops his feet for a while, he sigh and continue guiding there way. Both were quietly walking behind each other and the atmosphere around them is getting stressed. She wanted an answer to him but, she couldn't make it and she keep her moth shut. The pin drop silence breaks with a reply by that man, " Let's starts with something simple. My name is Azrael . And the answer of your pervious question is a bit complicated and........ I am terrified, maybe the answers weren't suitable of your expectations." And after that, he spit out the truth, " Yamada-san you..... Hit by a truck and.... now your body is in deep unconsciousness. After hearing that answer, Ichiko chuckled and tells him, "you aren't good with jokes, Azrael . And specially with those cold eyes it looks so lame." And she couldn't stops giggling. The whole place has only hearing her wild laughter. She laughing like crazy or maybe she is waiting for Azrael to join but he's stuck with his emotionless face like he's telling her ' Believe me, it's true'. After those laughs faded, she realised he isn't fooling around. The sentence he spit out is pure truth. It's a shock for her. She come close to him and ask that question again but that time she's serious and shaking. 'Cause she know what he is going to answer. She want to ask more questions to him But before that he tells, " you don't need to get that upset Yamada-san , your body stills breathing but your soul loses it's way and if we cross that path maybe we reach the place where your body is and after that you may continue your life. And I, the spirit guardian led you that place for sure." She was relived after hearing that, she still had a chance to behold her family again. She sigh of relief. She looked again that silver hair guy and give him a smile. That smile tells him, 'let's continue our journey.' --------------------- It's been a while now since they started there journey. But she hear some weird moans of a girl. She asks that guy about them and he reply, "the path we are travelling is connected with other people's memory, you could call it a void of memories and sometimes we also, view or listen there memories, maybe Yamada-san you just hear is someone's old sexual experience. Now she felt embarrassed about those screams. She was mumbling, 'please stop, please stop.' and after a bit those moans were converts into talks, Ichiko is curious that what that young couple talking about and she asks to Azrael , "did you know what they are talking about." He is continually walking. And he ask a question in his reply, "Are you perhaps a gossiper? You looked interested." She refuse that fact by, 'I am just curious and nothing and nothing at all.' He tells her, don't stressed like that he's just teasing her and if she want to hear the conversation he allow that. She come close to that place where those voices come from and there is a small window, she peeks in it and she saw a classroom. A young teen couple were talking about a girl. "Jeez, your girlfriend is so dumb. She believed in that silly excuse for staying at school. She is an idiot. " You are right baby, she is a moron. She even believed that my first time was with her. She is such an idiot." "Yes, she is a stupid bitch." She can't see properly his face 'cause those were very old memories, but she felt sorry for his girlfriend. She took his head out of that window and her expressions tells, how bad she's feeling for that poor girlfriend. Azrael who is just behind her watched everything but can't be able to tell anything except, " we had to continue." They were started walking again and he said, "you are the lady with golden heart and 'cause of that you think about other's a lot. It's bad for you. But, it's not your fault. You were just mirroring your mother." And after that short conversation both were continued covering there paths quietly. Both were again started walking. And as much as they cover the path the quantity of those voices were increasing. That time that silent void turns into a local fish market. "It's like everyone is talking." Ichiko notice a thing, she can't just peek into anyone's memory and the reason Azrael explain is, "those memories only viewed by those people who were connected to the owner of those recollections." And she thinking about that fuck boy, that is he connected to her or not. She felt dejected but then she heard a familiar voice, it comes out of a window, she peeks in and it's her aunt's memories. It's the funeral of Ichiko's parents. Ichiko is sitting on a bench when her aunt pick her. She smiles that at least she witnessed a good memory. But her smile curved back into a straight line when she heard the complete conversation between her uncle and aunt. " Machiko , you don't like Kanako-san at all. So, why did you took her daughter home?" "'Cause I want her to earn money." "You, want her to earn money? Are you out of your mind? You want a child to work to get you that shit money?" " No! Not yet, I treat her like my own daughter and soon when she grown up and started working she send money for her old and unhealthy aunt and I also teach her all housework so, she could help her ill aunt when she want. Don't you think dear, it's a good plan. And top of that, I heard Kanako-san telling her husband about there insurance. The amount is enough to pay my dear Io-chan's college fee. Now you know honey why I let that orphan girl stay in my home." "You can't, it's wrong that money belongs to that child." "I said, enough. Conversation is over now, you dare to open that mouth in front of anyone, clear my honey." After hearing that talk, her facial expressions changed. Her legs felt numb and she fell down. She started crying and sobbing, Azrael who was standing behind her back as always, watching it with those expressionless eyes. She was crying and sobbing but she stops all of a sudden. She heard again a familiar voice. It was a moan. She stands up and started stepping up to reach that window but Azrael stops her with words, "please, stop right there Yamada-san you can't handle that." But she wasn't listening, she know what kind of memory she was going to view but she want to look who was that girl, who stole her husband. She come near that window and her face has no emoticons. Just pale and sorrowful face and nothing at all. She peeked and it was, Io-chan. Her husband merging his body with her cousin sister. She took out her head and stand silently. First, she smiles and then she started laughing and chuckling louder and louder the place which is echoing with strange voices is now resonating only by those laughs. But slowly those chuckles were converted into tears and sobs of sorrow. She sit down on the floor, took her legs in and started crying. After couple of time she looked up and she find Azrael looking her. She cover her eyes again with her arm and ask, " Azrael , where I went wrong? Is am I not lovable? Or am I can't planed anything? Or is it....." And he replied with his emotionless face, " Did you want to hear truth or just want me to comfort you?" She sense the deep meaning behind that simple question and think about it. The conclusion she finds out is, 'she want to know, the truth.' She wipe her tears and stand up near Azrael . After looking her eyes, he know what she wanted to hear. And he tell "You were wrong about many things, you went with your aunt to live with her, but you know that your parents didn't like her. She treated you and your cousin unequally, but you never questioned about it. You loved playing violin and you had talent too but you leave it 'cause of the fee. You marry your first boyfriend, but you already catch him flirting with other ladies. And then the biggest mistake you made is, you changed your job 'cause you wanted to spend more time with your husband. Yamada-san , you planed everything from the started, everything. You planed and organized everything to prevent yourself hurting. You know that, your aunt treating you unfairly but you continued living with her 'cause you wanted things to be normal. You marry your boyfriend although you know he may cheat you someday but, you can't cut ties with him 'cause you afraid to get your heart broken again. Yamada-san, you may plan everything but things run as it could. It may not be possible, that things run as they prepared. You love someone and sometimes they break your heart. It's hard to handle it but that's how life and love works. It's a part of life you can't deny that. You are a pure hearted person and you love everyone that was your mistake, and trust me those weren't flattering word, that's the truth." Her few tears were flowing down, some were stuck in middle and some still waiting to flow. But with those tears she looks happy. And all tears were flow down at once and she hugged the person who is standing in front of her. While holding him she still sobbing but that time words were different, she is thanking Azrael for leading the path. And after a bit she leaves his warmth, she felt a bit embarrassed and she also apologies for hugging him. But the path is completed and behind that door her new life is waiting for her. Azrael took Ichiko's soul to her destiny and the time was to go back to there life again. ×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× Lee's Thoughts, "Stick with a backstabber 'cause of love. But deep inside we know that, you did it because you don't want to hurt yourself anymore. But seriously it's foolishness not love Ichiko. " Ichiko , made big mistakes in her life and after she know the truth she regretted her decisions. We had to learn from Ichiko's mistakes. And choose people wisely.


Matthew has very little to offer.

He is a starving artist who lives in a van.

He is often late to everything and when he gets there he smells of weed covered with patchouli.

Although we grew up together, we are complete opposites and the five years between us further the divide. I am often early.

I never drink or smoke and I definitely don’t live in my car.

I live in a three bedroom condo in New York by the Hudson River.

My home is immaculate, my wife is beautiful, I drive a Mercedes - Benz, and my job is high paying. I take after my mom.

She was an amazing woman.

She traveled the world making deals and raking in the money so my father, my brother, and I could live well.

When she was home we would go to the spa or fancy meals or take my brother to the amusement parks. My brother takes after my father.

Always late, always dreaming, always taking the long way home even though they knew I had dinner waiting.

Those two lived on a whole other planet. I will never understand how my parents got together.

How does a hard working, driven woman even notice such a lazy, unfocused man?

My mother said it was at college but what courses could they have possibly met in?

My mother studied economics and business and my father was all art and communications. I was worried about my father now.

My brother, too.

Mother was no longer the bolt that could hold those nuts together.

Her departure was swift.

She had barely gotten the diagnosis and she was already gone. Of course, she had arranged everything for her funeral ahead of time.

My father couldn’t manage it.

He was lost without her before she was even gone.

When I picked the two of them up for the funeral neither was ready.

It was like they had forgotten how to function.

I got there early, of course, so I was able to help them.

I picked out their clothes and tied their ties and found their shoes.

I put my fear and sorrow aside.

I had to focus on moving us forward. After the funeral, I stayed. My wife flew home but I feared they weren't ready to be alone.

It took about a week to get them back on track.

My sorrow was replaced by exasperation,

my fear by frustration.

It was late the night before I was scheduled to fly out when brother came to me offering a ride to the airport.

Every ounce of me wanted to say no but this gesture was all my brother had to offer and I knew that.

Even though I did not want to miss my flight I couldn't take that away from him. I woke him early the next morning with a tap on his van door and some very dark coffee.

The windshield was cracked and I worried I would break it.

He had lived in this van for years on our parents’ property.

Both of them so proud of this derelict as he floundered about ‘creating’. I prodded him forward into his routine.

I checked my watch one hundred times. When it was time to leave I hugged my father.

I made

promises to return that I wasn't sure I would or could keep.

My heart ached for his loss.

My mind worried about his ability to care for himself and my reckless brother. Surprisingly we got on the road on time.

It was about an hours drive for my brother.

I would have done it in 40.

The radio played.

We were quiet.

I was thinking about everything I had to do when I got home.

I was thinking about all the meetings and appointments and chores that awaited me. My brother, without a word, pulled over to the side of the highway and turned off the radio.

Smoked billowed from under the hood.

I jumped out of the van grabbing at my things.

My brother sat in his seat immobile.

I yelled at him to get the hell out but he didnt move.

I threw my stuff to the ground and grabbed at him. “Move, Matthew, MOVE!”

I could see tears streaming down his face.

I unclicked his belt and ran to the other side of the van.

“Matthew, you have to help me!

Help me, Matthew, please!”

His eyes met mine and he fell onto me.

We moved slowly to the back of the van and onto the shoulder. He fell to the ground openly sobbing.

“I couldn’t fix it, I couldn’t save her!

I can’t even get you to the airport!

I’m so sorry.”

My heart broke then.

Emotions I was not able to manage before came pouring out.

I choked and gasped for air.

It felt like every part of my body would crumble into pieces. His sobbing was silenced as mine hit a crescendo.

My lungs heaving with every breath, he held me while I exorcized the pain from my body.

He held me until I stopped shaking, until I could breathe again. He held me until I felt my pieces coming back together. We sat on the shoulder of the highway, leaning into each other.

We remembered our childhood and laughed about our father’s antics.

Time passed and my plane surely flew away as we remembered my mother.

My brother told wild stories I had forgotten about.

We laughed about our father’s antics and cried some more about our loss. I looked at my brother and I understood the love my mother had for my father.

The adoration for someone so wildly different.

The comfort in someone who can offer so much more than you are able to give yourself and who does this with no expectation. I knew then that we would be okay. I realized that my brother had offered me so much more than a ride to the airport: he offered me the opportunity to break and become whole again.


That's the thing about this city; it was built in a spot where the veil between dimensions was thin. It was commonplace for people or things to pass through a temporary hole in the veil and land into our city. You would think that living in a town like this that I would have already seen it all. It's my job to find, catalog, and determine what to do with our city's new residents. The newly minted Rican City occupants, or veilers, as most people call them, are usually relatively easy to find homes and jobs for. For the most part, they are mostly just like people from our own dimension, although sometimes their outer figures can vary drastically. They tended to be as smart or smarter than those who are from this dimension. The veilers live out their new lives in our little city as happy as they were in their original dimension. But sometimes, things didn't end so well. Some of the veilers just did not fit into our little metropolis. It was also my job to deal with that didn't fit in as well. But I try not to focus on those times. "Tazzi? Have you found anything yet?" The voice of Reis, the dispatcher on duty, came over my com. His voice was accompanied by the ever-present clank of his abacuses. Reis is one of the older veilers to have come through. His home dimension wasn't as advanced as ours; he couldn't quite get the hang of the technology here. He still preferred to use a lot of the older tech. "I just got here, Reis." I rolled my eyes. "I need some time to find our new guest." "Well, hurry up. It is rapidly turning into a bad night. We've already gotten word of another four breaches. I am running out of recovery agents to send out." "You know recoveries happen at their own pace," I replied, hanging up my mic, ignoring the faint sound of Reis's response. I climbed out of my beat-up old Toyota and observed the old building that the breach alarm had signaled that someone had crossed over in. Its two large towers reminded me of an old-timey castle looming over me. I pulled a flashlight from my purse and headed for the front door of the towering building. The door was thankfully unlocked. I was grateful I did not need to use my rusty lock picking skills. My partner, Elyas, usually handled that part of the job. A recovery gone wrong had sidelined Elyas with a bum leg. Elyas had still tried to be in the field, cane and all until Reis had shot down that plan. Recoveries didn't often get violent, but the risk was too great for someone whose mobility was compromised.

Opening the heavy oak front door, I found myself in a dusty, empty living room. I scanned the spacious room, looking for signs of where the newest veiler was hiding. There were no gaps in the heavy dust on the floor; whoever was in here hadn't moved around much.

"Hello, anyone here?" I called out; I had long since learned my lesson about scaring new veilers. "I know you must be scared. I am not here to harm you." The creak of a door across the room made me jump. I was glad that Elyas was not here to see me get scared. He would never let me live down, jumping at the bumps in the night. After everything we had seen, you would think I couldn't be scared by the unknown anymore. * Hello? * The voice in my head was hesitant. * Where am I? One moment I was walking my cat down the road, and the next, I am here in this…place. * Great, another telepathic race. It was always so weird having someone else's voice in my head. Not to mention, they were always a headache to rehome. They had so many different requirements for their living space. Reis would be just thrilled with the extra work. "You are in Rican City. Can you come out where I can see you?" The cracked closet door across the room pushed open further, and a tall figure entered my flashlight beam. The being could best be described as a humanoid fish. The tall being also held a smaller furry creature on a leash. He had said that it was a cat, but this was the first time I had seen a cat with eight legs. * I have never heard of a Rican City .* He drew closer to me, his yellow eyes shining in my flashlight beam. He was about my height but was covered in shiny green scales. * Who are you ?* "It's a long story." I held out my hand, "Care to come back with me to the office? My name is Tazzi." * Do I have a choice ?* his tone was amused, and he made no motion to shake my hand. * My name is Calu, and this is my cat, Kuki. * Right, a telepathic fish and his eight-legged cat, this is a new one. "Well, you can always stay here. But coming with me will get you your answers, and we will be able to help you." I dropped my hand back to my side. "But I can't force you to come with me." Reis wouldn't be happy with me leaving an undocumented veiler in the city, but it wouldn't be the first time I had made a field decision that one was no danger. Calu took a moment and then nodded, * I will come with you to this 'office' * "Great! Follow me." I led the way out to my old Toyota. Calu followed me out of the house; I could tell that he was scanning the whole area. I wonder how different his own dimension was then mine. I always loved to hear about the other veilers' homes. "Climb on in." I opened the passenger door and gestured for him to get in. I may not be able to read his fish face, but his body language told me he had no clue what this thing that I was telling him to get into was. Calu slowly got into my car, clutching his cat. I got a random flash of his fear that the car door would slam shut. That he would be trapped and eaten by the strange beast I had told him to climb into.  I gave him what I hoped he would view as a reassuring smile as I closed his door and hurried to my side and got in. Once I was in the car, I felt relief flowing from him. The strange beast would probably not be going to eat him if I was getting in it as well. "Ok, when I turn the car on, it is going to be loud but don't be scared." I told him, "It's just the engine starting." He nodded slowly, clutching Kuki on his lap, its eight legs all bent up under itself. Even with my warning, he still jumped a bit when the roar of the engine started. He tightened his hold on the cat his in lap, and it let out a low growl in protest. He loosened his grip and patted the cat on its head in the way of apology. "Tazzi, you better have that veiler all ready to go." Reis's voice came over my com again, sounding harried; he even didn't stop for me to respond. "We have breeches all over the city. There isn't time for you to come back to the office. Head over to Kozak's diner. He has something locked up in his freezer." "Ok, we are headed over there now." I had to hide a laugh at Calu's look of fright at the sound of Reis's disembodied voice over the com. "I have a telepath with me that will need a proper home that accepts pets." "Of course, you would. Any other impossible tasks you want to throw at me tonight?" With that, Reis disconnected the line. "All right, Calu, let's go find who else is new to this city of ours, shall we?" Calu gave me a look that I could not read, but I could feel his acceptance. Calu didn't talk during our drive, but I could feel his wonder at all the different things that he was seeing through the window as we made the short trip to the diner. I wonder how he would react to knowing he was in a different dimension. I wish I had the time to tell him everything now. * Your surface thoughts are very telling ,* Calu said suddenly. * I understand now that I am in a different dimension than my own. * he looked down at his cat * And also that there is no known way for us to get back .* "I'm sorry." There was not really anything else I could say. Our scientists had been searching for years to find out how to return the various veilers to their own dimensions and recover any lost from ours. But try as they might; they still had no idea how the tears in the veil worked. It didn't stop them from doing different experiments to find out. Many people were worried that their attempts might make the veil even more unstable.

The rest of the drive was in silence; soon enough, we were pulling in outside of Kozak's dinner. Kozak was another veiler, but he was human enough. Most people didn't even know he was a Veiler, and he liked it that way. He never really talked about his dimension, but I had gotten the impression that he was glad to have left it behind.

The bells in the entrance jingled when I opened the door to the diner. Inside it looked as though a tornado had torn through the room. The display case that usually sat on the counter was smashed on the ground. All the baked goods that it usually held were scattered on the floor. The rest of the diner was in similar disarray. Kozak was seated at one of the only remaining tables that was still in one piece. The rest of the diner was in similar disarray. Kozak's pet, Skeeter, was joyfully eating all the broken glass and other trash off the floor. Skeeter was one of the veilers that came through that wasn't humanoid. But we had found a job for him here are at the diner eating, well, anything. He was basically a bigger, hungrier dog. Kozak looked up, and at the sight of me, threw up his hands. "Freaking finally! The thing in my freezer chased away all my customers! No one will come back in until you remove that...that behemoth!" "Well, I am here now." I shrugged. "It has been a busy night." He sparred a looked at Calu, who had insisted on coming in with me, obviously decided that Calu was not worth his time and looked back at me, "Where is Elyas? It's not like you to be out alone. Is this…person…your new partner?" "Elyas is laid up. Recovery went bad." "This recovery is going to go bad, mark my words!" Kozak threw his hands up, "Just get that thing out of my freezer!" With that, he stomped out of the diner. Skeeter was prancing out behind him, a broken chair still clenched in his jaws, his thick tail waving happily. "Let's go see this 'behemoth' shall we?" I grinned at Calu. * He is scared.*  Calu tilted his head, * And hungry .* "Can you read everyone…and everything?" I asked him as we headed towards the locked freezer. * Most people I can…read as you say. I can get their surface emotions at the very least .* Calu might make a valuable recovery agent. I should bring that up to Reis when I bring all of my charges into the office. Stopping at the freezer door, I glanced back to Calu to make sure that he was far enough away to be safe if this did go as wrong as Kozak had predicted. The creature might just be scared enough to do something dangerous. Elyas would have told me that I should have brought some sort of weapon, but I've found weapons to just make the situation worse. Scared veilers and the threat of violence rarely ended well. Elyas' busted leg as case in point. A blast of cold air when I opened the freezer door sent shivers down my spine. That shiver got stronger when I caught sight of the veiler that was locked within. The being was seven, maybe eight feet tall; even in the freezer's six-foot ceiling, he was being forced to hunch over. He was almost shaped more like an overly large bear mixed with a crocodile. He was clutching the remains of what looked like a donut in his front claws. The donut crumbs on his scaly face made me laugh. At the sudden noise from me, he retreated further into the freezer, whimpering and pulling his long tail tight along his body.  "Shh.. it is ok. We aren't going to hurt you." I held up my hands, trying to soothe him; when my hands came up, he squealed and pushed himself further into the freezer. I quickly dropped my hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." This was as good as time as any to see if Calu would make a good agent; maybe his telepathy could get through to the obviously scared giant. I looked over to the fish in question, "Can you tell him we won't hurt him?" Calu nodded and looked at the giant figure. After a few moments, the being's green eyes opened back up and looked at us. Calu started to slowly approach him. When he got within arm's reach, he reached out his hand towards the frightened veiler. *His name is Hachie.* Calu said *He says he is five cycles old. He would like some more of these sugared pastries and also out of this cold box.* "We can do that. I saw some unsmushed donuts on the counter." I said, "And I would like to get out of the freezer too." Calu slowly reached up and took Hachie's finger. Hachie's hand was easily three times the size of Calu's. Together we all carefully exited the freezer and came back into the central area of the diner. Kozak was back in the building, sweeping up what little debris that Skeeter had not eaten. When he saw us come out of the back, his eyes got wide. "That…thing is even bigger than I remember." "That 'things' name is Hachie. He is just a kid." I had forgotten how much I didn't like Kozak. For a veiler, he was remarkably intolerant to any beings that looked different to him. If they couldn't pass as humans, they were just things to him. Less than things, if I was being honest. So that I wouldn't be tempted to smash Kozak's face in, I turned to the donut box and retrieved it from the counter, took one out, and handed it to Hachie. Hachie made happy purring noise as he took a surprisingly small bite of the pastry. "Are you going to pay for those?" Kozak was glaring at me down his nose. "Consider it payment for removing Hachie from your freezer." I didn't give him time to respond as I headed for the exit. Getting Hachie out of the diner required him to do some creative stretching that I was glad I didn't need to attempt. But we got him out without further damaging the building. I rewarded him with another donut. Outside, I realized we had a bigger problem. There was no way he would ever fit in my small, beat-up Toyota. "Hey, Reis," I said, opening a com line. "You better have that veiler out of the freezer." Reis's voice was as impatient as ever. "I do, but there is a problem."  "That is the name of the game, hit me." "He is an eight-foot-tall five-year-old veiler." There was a long beat. "Right. I will have Wally there with a truck as soon as I can." * Hachie will require more pastries. * Calu showed me the rapidly emptying donut box. "Have Wally pick up some donuts, will ya? The kid loves them." "Don't we all." Reis laughed, and then the click of the com told me that he had disconnected. I sat on the hood of my car, watching the telepathic fish creature take his eight-legged cat out of my car to show the eight-foot toddler who was still munching on some donuts. I had to laugh; I guess that was really the thing about this city. It could still surprise me even after all of these years.


-Somewhere in London, 1829-   The darkness of the forest started to recede, losing to the fire and torches of the town. As he sprinted away, his steps were hushed on the stone roads, rather than the twigs of the woodland that would crack under his bare feet. His shoes were down by the pond, where he had taken them off to try and stifle his footfall, however he regretted not bringing them, as his skin was now cut with small rocks and covered with splinters.   Pete, was his name, was relieved of not having to carry anything as he ran, bearing the bags of money no longer. Somehow, someone had known of their plans, him and Ida, and had tipped off the bank to alert them of the couple's intent. This is why instead of them being together, with the money, quietly leaving town on a carriage, they were seperated, the money hidden and both on the run. Pete had no idea where Ida was, but he knew exactly what to do. Just as they had discussed.By this time, he was out of breath and his legs were in pain, but he felt a rush of adrenaline, and he continued until he made it to his destination.

  It was a small old tower, that was composed of a door to go in, a tall staircase, yet another door, and finally a rather minute room. As he entered the tower, and locked the door with a key hidden in the unprepossessing shrub just outside, he quickly ran up the cold stone steps, and set foot in the room. It was a messy place, with papers bearing writing and drawings on them, mainly of one particular building, the bank. However he paid no attention to this, and instead took a piece of blank parchment, a quill and some ink. He then began to write as fast as the wet ink would allow him.

To My Lovely Bonnie:  -I write to you in sorrow, as I will not be able to visit you this week.  Realisation fell upon me that I came down with a sickness, and I shall not be able to leave my home for a bit of time.  Even though I want to see you once again, I wish to keep your health safe more.  Do not bother worrying however, since- But he then stopped writing when a sudden loud banging came upon the door at the bottom of the tower. He heard incomprehensible shouting, and the knocking grew louder, till a tumultuous banging took place. The Peelers, those who guarded the banks, found him. This did not terminate his original intent however, hoping to have enough time to finish his letter and throw it out the window, in aspiration Ida would obtain the simple piece of parchment. Even if it meant getting caught, resulting in his demise. -since I do not think it will be too bad, and I'll be fine in a few days time.

 Beatrice is doing well (on a side note), and seemed to be happy enough with the adjustment. The food is splendid and the forest is a congenial place for walks.  And she will be thrilled to see you once more!

 Rats have started to come through the interstice in the wall we were trying to fix last week. I filled it in with stone, so hopefully they won't come in anymore.  Every day is always filled with joy here, with the sunshine and very friendly townsfo- But then Pete heard a few muffled yells and the knocking then ceased. His heartbeat quickened, and he set a chair below the doorknob to block whoever would try to enter. A droplet of sweat fell onto his nose, so he took a rag thrown aside and wiped his face, then sat back down. He had to make sure Ida had a way to find the money and live her life, with his existence only a mere memory. He stopped and thought that was not what he wanted at all, but realised it was better for her to have it than anyone else. So the Peelers would not have the satisfaction of catching them.

-townsfolk. Lots of love is sent from I and Beatrice.

-Clyde As these last words were jotted down, he perused the letter, to ensure it would have any meaning to only her. He grinned as he read it however, and thought I don’t even know a Beatrice, which was indeed accurate.

  You see, this letter was for Ida, and Ida only. The young couple had chosen two random names to use in letters, in the event that they would get seperated. Bonnie and Clyde.

  They did not discuss however where one would hide the money, as Pete had to, in case they got seperated. So, once Pete had the bags of money and Ida took care of the additional Peelers, he ran away, which led him into the woodland near the edge of town. As soon as he set foot on the damp moss, he knew where to hide the money.

  It was a week before their heist, and after reviewing their plans, the lovers went out to the edge of the small town, into the immense forest. With no particular destination in mind, they wandered all day, until they came upon a small pond. It had a giant fallen tree above it, closer to the side, that they used to sit on. It was only when Pete almost fell over they saw that behind it was a partially destroyed barrel. Upon closer observation, Ida noticed it was a very old wine barrel, and that some of the wooden planks on the top had fallen in. It also happened to be a bizarre colour of wood, instead of the usual brown, it was an almost blood red barrel. As they observed it, they never thought that would be the last time they would set their eyes upon it while feeling content, during the halcyon days before the heist.   However, when Pete was running in the forest, looking for the place to hide the money for Ida, he passed the pond, and sighed in relief. He had found his hiding place. The red barrel. Carefully placing the money on a plank of wood inside the ‘carcass’ of the barrel, he ran. The feeling of wind caressed his face, transporting him to a different time, a different place, with a different plan. Something he did not like. No, not at all. Improvisation.   And that is what brings us back to the room, the room in the tower, the tower in the village, the village outside the gloom and shadow of the tree’s. He had finished writing this letter filled with utter nonsense, but that held critical information, of where the money was. Pete knew he could not risk writing it plainly in the letter, in case it fell in the wrong hands. And Ida was probably the smartest person he ever knew, smarter than him, and at only 17 years young too. So this was why he wrote a code. If she found the letter, addressed to a girl named Bonnie from a guy named Clyde, she would know it's for her. And then she would figure out that it's a code. A simple code, but even if someone else figured it out, they would never know that it's for money. Because once you read the first letters of every paragraph -try it you'll see- it says RED BAREL, or red barrel. Now in the message it was in fact just one phrase with R, but he knew Ida would know what it meant.

  Pete could imagine her smiling when she figured it out, running with the letter in hand into the woods. And it was at that thought he came back to his senses, by taking a deep breath, and praying no one was outside the door waiting to kill him. He could hear the cicadas outside, and a few shouts in the distance, but the rest of the town seemed so calm. How he wished he was one of those kids sleeping in a nice bed, only worrying about school and the next day's weather. He slammed the door open, and rushed down the stairs two at a time, almost tripping twice. But as he spiraled down the staircase he knew something was wrong. The crisp breeze was drifting in from outside and the smell of campfire was also to be noticed. But right before he took one more step and would be able to see the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. He had never smelled anything quite as horrid, horrendous, grim as this smell. The smell of blood. He closed his eyes so firmly shut they started to water.

  He took two more steps down, and opened his eyes. As he correctly guessed the door was opened, and there was blood on the ground. The latter of which was from a gruesome scene, with four visible bodies laying, dead on the ground, weapons astray, their bodies blemished by scratches of various sizes. He slowly walked out into the middle of this act of pure wickedness. There was one more body sitting against the wall, held up by a spear going straight through him and seen on the other side in between two bricks. Two of the men had arrows sticking out, one had two on his arm and stomach, the other had one going straight through his head. Pete felt like he should puke, but he had not eaten in hours, depriving him of the feeling of being a normal human in this situation. He closed his eyelids once more, not on purpose this time, but of fatigue. He put his hand against the wall, transferring some of his weight off his bloody and sore feet.

His notice was soon afterwards attracted to the last two bodies however, mainly out of curiosity. He turned around, and saw them. Several large scratches littering their skin, with one man having an axe sticking out of his stomach, the other had no presence of a weapon beside him. Pete let out a sound he never thought he would have to in his life, a whimper. Bizarrely, he only had one thought in his head, in fact a word. Clyde, his made up name. I am Clyde. I am Clyde. He repeated to himself, for no particular reason. The letter for who he now thought was only Bonnie and no more, was crumpled in his hand, after gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.

A presentiment of death came upon his thoughts, washing away what little hue of red and bronze from his face, turning it as white as snow. Instead of running back in the street where he could hear people coming, but in the tower. Clearly he was not thinking straight, as they would link the bloodbath to whoever was in that tower, but in the moment the thought never crossed his mind. He raced back up the stairs, while simultaneously trying to calm down. But a horrible, horrible image crossed his mind. He stopped with no hesitation, on one of the flat landings beside one of the large and dark holes acting as a window.

  He turned to face the descent of the stairs. Whoever opened that door… Well he had definitely locked it. And the lock was not broken when he went down. Whoever had opened it… Had a key. And whoever opened it… Must be in the tower. No. he thought. It can't be. She wouldn't. “SHE WOULDN'T!” he yelled to try and convince himself. To try and rid that thought in his head. That it was- That it was all… Bonn- But was quickly cut off from a dagger coming out of his chest.A shadow stepped out of the opening. The blade retracted, and as Clyde fell onto his knees, his hands held his wound as the letter drifted harmlessly to the floor. While falling flat onto his stomach, he leaned and was able to face his attacker. He gaped in shock while staring at the beautiful face he once loved. Bonnie. She smiled as she held the bloody dagger, and said “Sorry baby, but I need to make a livin’.” while looking at the weapon. She cocked her head towards him, and said. “You will be dying soon, but I still have the time to make your life hell. Before you go back down.”. Her smile faded. “So where did you hide the money?”, repeating it twice in a sweeter voice then natural, twiddling the dagger with her finger.

  Betrayal. That was what he felt. Betrayal and loathing. How she must have used him this whole time. He would die before letting her know. He let the blood flow from the wound in his chest, while the hole in his back also seeped blood out in the cracks of cement. He slowly moved his hand towards the fallen letter, in hopes of hiding it. He managed to grab it between his fingers, but she very quickly saw what he was doing and snatched the parchment. “And what would this be?” she said teasingly. Opening the piece of bloody paper, she saw the random phrases, and realised what it was. Clyde felt woozy, and knew he lost too much blood. However, just as Bonnie chuckled and muttered something about how it was too easy, Clyde smiled. While grabbing it, he had managed to smudge half of the first words, deleting the code.   Bonnie did not appear to realise this, and she walked down a few steps and said “Bye Chief.”, a nickname she had given him when they first met. Clyde watched as the figure of the person he once knew walked down the stairs, smiling at the thought that she would never get the money, but it was for the next adventurous couple, or little kid wandering by the barrel to find.   And then, without another thought, he then slipped back into the darkness of the woodland he once came out of.


Ellie examined herself in the mirror. Her long, blonde hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail, and her eyes were sunken in from stress. She sighed, tightened her ponytail even more, and exited the small bathroom. She trudged down the long hallway and re-entered the head master’s office, where her mother and father were waiting for her.

“Hello, Miss Elaina,” The headmaster greeted, sitting straight up with her hands folded on her desk. “Hello, Mrs..” Ellie glanced at her name plaque. “Rothschild.” “Ms,” She was corrected. She nodded awkwardly and sank into the giant, pleather chair in front of Ms. Rothschild. “So,” The headmaster began. “Elaina will be enrolled into our seventh grade gifted program, and she will be on the third floor of the boarding house. Her extracurricular activities will include soccer, French, and pottery. She will be on fall break in October, and it will be two weeks long. She is expected to complete all of the homework given for that break. Any questions?”

Ellie’s parents looked stunned. They shook their heads, and Ms. Rothschild smiled. “Great! Well, we’ll get her to her room then. Say your goodbyes, and I will have my assistant walk her to the boarding house.” Ellie looked at her mom and dad, and gave them reluctant hugs. They had tears in their eyes, and she wondered why. They were the reason this was happening, they could stop it at any time. Once the goodbyes were over, Ellie followed a small woman named Miss Scotts out of the building and into another, taller one. They walked up two flights of stairs, and got to a room with the number 83 carved into a metal plaque.

“Here is your room,” The woman squeaked. Ellie nodded at her, and entered the small dorm room. It had two creaky metal beds, and a small window in between. Off to the side, there was an old, particle board desk and dresser set, and a tiny closet. Ellie unpacked her small suitcase, and then sat on the left bed to read a book. She hadn’t even been reading for five minutes when the door to the room flew open. In bounced a petite, redheaded girl.

“Hello!” The girl chirped. “I’m Shelby!” “Hello, Shelby,” Ellie responded, and introduced herself.

“Well, I guess we’re roommates,” Shelby smiled. Ellie smiled back, in spite of herself. Shelby’s attitude was infectious. For the next few hours, Shelby and Ellie lounged in their room. At about 5 o’clock, they decided to go explore. But, when they left the room, they couldn’t find the stairwell. They brushed it off, and went back to their room.  Later that evening, they were called down for dinner. They headed down the stairs, and went across the courtyard into the cafeteria. They sat down at the tables, and ate ravenously, exhausted and hungry from the long travel to St. Mary’s. Ellie was so hungry, she almost didn’t notice the teachers whispering amongst themselves. But she did, and pointed it out to Shelby. Shelby shrugged it off.

“They’re probably just gossiping about something.” Ellie nodded, not completely convinced.

They went to bed at 9 o’clock, because that was their curfew. Ellie laid in bed, not tired at all. She could hear Shelby snoring, and it made her giggle. Suddenly, she heard loud creaking. She listened hard. It sounded almost like the building was.. Moving. But Ellie knew that wasn’t possible. After about three minutes, the creaking stopped. Ellie was confused, but decided not to question it. She flipped over, and finally fell asleep.

In the morning, they woke up at 7 o’clock. They got ready for their lessons, and went into the cafeteria. They all entered at the same time, and noticed none of the teachers were there. They sat down at the tables, and suddenly food appeared on the table. The girls gasped. Where did it come from? Ms. Rothschild appeared at the front of the room. “Hello, girls. I am sure you’re all confused; let me explain. There are 300 of you, all young women. Now, this might come as a surprise, but you are all beginning witches.” The girls looked at each other in disbelief. She was joking, right? “No, I am not joking. You all have a very rare blood type. That blood type is F positive, and it ensures that you are descendants of Merlin. A lot of people don’t believe in him, but you girls.. You ARE him. Now, of course you will still learn the normal school subjects. But you will also be learning how to hone your powers.”

The girls were shocked. This was NOT what they were expecting when they arrived at the St. Mary’s. Girls started trying to use their powers, making things float and bounce around the entire cafeteria. Ms. Rothschild watched, laughing slightly at their delight. Ellie looked over at Shelby. Ellie concentrated hard, and Shelby’s ice water floated into the air, before dropping back down onto the table. They grinned widely at each other. They could get used to this whole ‘witch’ thing.

After breakfast, the horde of girls rushed to their first classes, excited to learn. Ellie and Shelby had a potion-making class first, and they chose two large, plush seats to sit in. They held hands, and listened intently as the teacher explained the ‘level one’ potion that they were going to practice making. It was meant to turn a teenager into a toddler for five minutes. The girls worked hard; mixing together cinnamon with frog tongues and tree roots. Once they were all done, the teacher looked into all of their cauldrons, nodding. Then she turned to the students. “Drink them,” She demanded. The girls were shocked, but did as they were told. Suddenly, they were all little toddlers! They could think like girls their age, but appeared to be three years old. After the potions wore off, their teacher smiled. “Well done, girls. You are dismissed.” Shelby and Ellie joined hands, hurrying to their next class and chattering excitedly. This was going to be a fun school year.


Anchor aweigh with the booty ahoy I climbed aboard the Jolly Roger. It was most definitely enormous and mighty, but it was a relatively new ship on the dock made from unfamiliar ingredients that I assumed would be of the highest quality. Burly and daring men danced on board, crying about the tale of the seven seas in unison. They seemed delighted and rather jubilant, unlike my divergent attitude, which excited me. The wind whistled sonorously like a bagpipe in rhythm, accentuating the pride of the unrestrained jolly roger flag. Not so long after, the ship set sail for the hidden treasure situated near an old remote island. I could not gain information regarding the glory, and the pirates didn't seem to entertain me. Our captain(pirate), a very mysterious man, never seemed to come out of his room or, to be precise, never communicated with the menacing men who never seemed to stop fighting. The journey was exceedingly alarming to me; I was always expected for the unexpected, yet my instinct always reminded me that something was peculiar about the weather. Our captain has yet to introduce himself, the odd behavior of the men, and the devoid of tone and excitement frightened me. The cold flowing breeze brushed against my skin, slightly numbing my body and disheveling my hair, which I found exasperating. The abnormal raging ocean violently trashed around, seeding fear into everyone on deck. In an instant, a shadowy figure emerged from the inn, as the light slowly exposed his frame, which was starting to ascent on deck. Pirates observed as he came into visibility, the captain asserts, "IN THE QUEST FOR THE TREASURE ISLAND, WE W-WILL DOCK RIGHT NEAR THE BENBOW PORT IN AN HOURS FROM NOW" With that speech, he left, without entertaining questions. Indeed he had already established the hierarchy, but his voice hinted something was in disarray. He struggled with his sentences. Our captain's a well-groomed man, and a had a proliferating amount of skills. One of the finest may I add and feared across the seven seas. But never once did he seem so eccentric. Night had befallen, every pirate on deck was heading into their inns, but since I was the skipper, I was required to check the tides, current location.  The sea calmed down after the aggressive activity that occurred during the day. The scene was almost tranquil and serene, just like how the clouds float on the pleasant days of spring. I dragged myself to the inn while jerking my body to not pass out until I overheard a few men leaning beside barrels. My current state would not let me stay awake any longer, but I succumbed to my tendency of butting into conversations. I lay beside and heard them squabble. "eye dont think the captain can take this ship over, blody he cannt talk" shouted grunt. "aye, you're right if I think so myself, how bout we overthrow this captain and seize the treasure? I NEED THAT TREASURE," cried Black dog. The rum was taking effect on them, and I ran back to the inn and slept. The next morning, I awoke and noticed a clash between the captain and Black dog. The men shouted at each other as they clashed notoriously. Black Dog insisted on stealing the treasure and taking control of the Jolly roger. The captain blatantly refused and charged forward. Black dog and his men retaliated, grabbing their pistols and swords. Followed by this, the opposing men in favor of the captain fought in defense. I have grasped my flintlock and primed to defend myself and aided the wounded. Suddenly, Black dog charged towards me with his bloodthirsty aura, I was vulnerable, and there was nothing I could do. Simultaneously, the captain shielded me and told me to rush to safety as he gave me a glass that seemed to contain a map. With no time to waste, I ran and hid in one of the inns and locked the door. I sat down in panic and slowly passed out from dehydration. "wake up, littl boy, GIVE ME THAT SCROLL YOU ARE HIDING," shouted Black dog. I lurched up from the wall and was surrounded by Black dog and his men. I had no choice but to surrender. With nothing left for me to give, I thought I would be killed; I reminisced all the previous events and dreamed of how I could free and languid like the white clouds in the sky. I felt the sword as it brushed my neck and down to my chest. "You are a lucky boy; I won't kill you just yet. You see, we don't have any other skipper in this ship, so how will we navigate round the treasure. Now, won't you help little Jimmy?, If you do a great job, you too will be rewarded," exclaimed Black Dog. "S-Sure I'll help…." said I "good Jimmy, now help us with the treasure," said Black Dog With that talk, he and his men left the room with joy. The captain had been overthrown, and I was now in their endeavor. The cold air, the smell of blood, and sweat made me sick. I was in a state of turmoil. These heinous, wicked men showed no remorse as they stomped and ordered around the deck. I have severely injured myself, and I could barely walk. I trudged down the deck and saw the state of the ship. It was disastrous. Dead bodies rolled around and smothered with a concoction of body fluids. It was one of the most horrific moments of my life. This incident was unanticipated, so I ran back to help those in need. In the days that followed, I helped around the Jolly Roger and did my jobs as a skipper would do. The pirates would grow impatient day by day, and the need for treasure grew with every passing second. Black Dog often lost his patience and almost made someone walk the plank. The sky was ever so calm. No deadly storms and raging tides occur during that day. The following day, we arrived at the shore and docked it near the tropical lake that was connected by the sea. The pirate obsession with the treasure was crystal clear, and so was his attitude. He often burst with anger when we were unable to pinpoint the location of the buried treasure. After a few days of searching and scavenging, we had finally found the buried treasure; Black Dog jumped in joy, as well as the other pirates. I was happy because I was going to receive some of the treasure. We marched to the ship and lifted our anchors to escape this island with the prize. Black dog kept most of the money, and the rest was split between the other pirates and me. The treasure value was a staggering 500 million quids. I received 25 million quids for which I was excessively happy. Each of us departed and went our own separate ways after we reached land. Black Dog mysteriously disappeared and abandoned the Jolly Rodger after getting the treasure. His attitude shocked me, but I soon disremembered it and left to fulfill my desires in life. After a few years, with my money, I was able to afford a house and start my own family in London. I often still go to watch clouds while I reminisced the whole eventful journey. It was ridiculous, but every now and then, I am haunted by Black Dog and the other souls of the dead pirates. And that is my journey in the Jolly Roger with a pirate who had a strange obsession with a not so mythical treasure.


Thirty seconds until the bell rings. Just one more period. I can do this. I give myself the once-over in the bathroom mirror and head back down the hall. All around me, students are rushing to beat the bell. I walk slowly, enjoying the last few seconds of solitude before I enter my room. Once I cross this threshold, I am Miss. Ka'eo. And like my namesake suggests, I am strong. At least, I pretend to be in front of my students. I can hear the soft murmur of my tenth-graders in the classroom. They know at any moment, I will pop through the doorway with a big smile and chalk-covered slacks. And once I’m in the room, all eyes remain on me. It may be an introvert’s worst nightmare, but it’s my daily routine. I take one last steadying breath and stroll confidently into the classroom. I quickly scan the students while being careful to avoid eye contact. I greet them, instruct them to turn to page 103 of their textbooks and click on the projector. Ah, the projector. I use it frequently, not just for its technology, but because it gives me an excuse to turn down the lights. A little less light shining on me makes presentations more comfortable. Must be an introvert thing. As we move through the lesson, I repeat the words I practiced the night before. Every night, I run through my lectures for the following day. Being prepared gives me confidence and allows me to feel comfortable spending hours in the spotlight. The thought of presenting without the words already running through my mind or visual materials to divert attention makes my heart flutter. Each time I run through my lessons, I sound and appear more confident. Not only am I practicing my public speaking, but I am practicing my extroversion. Or, rather, the extroverted facade I display while on school property. After forty minutes of my voice echoing through the classroom, the lesson comes to an end, and I am right on schedule. I pause, taking another look at my pupils. They are fading, and I’m not surprised. It’s Friday afternoon, and the last thing on their minds is structural functionalism in a society. I lock eyes with one girl, Sama, sitting in the back row. She keeps to herself and doesn’t participate in class discussions. But based on her essays and test scores, I know she is following along. Sama is like me, and while other teachers may demand her to be more vocal, I let her remain comfortable. I know that going to school and spending hours with her peers exhausts her, and I know not to confuse her silence with carelessness. But when Sama does raise her hand and contribute, every ear listens. When she chooses to speak, she picks her words carefully, and she brings up excellent points. And because of that, I let her be. If there is anyone who understands the difficulties of an introvert living in an extroverted world, it is me. I glance at my watch to see there is less than one minute of class remaining. The students are getting restless, and they want to start their weekend. I don’t blame them, as I’m looking forward to a solo kayak venture myself. I ask for questions just as the sound of the dismissal bell emerges from the intercom. The students jump up, even Sama. Before she leaves, she waves softly, and I nod back. Within moments, I am alone in the classroom. Finally. I sit down at my desk, lean my elbows on the worn-down wood, and gently rub my temples. It was a long week filled with volunteer events, assemblies, and lectures. Physically, I’m fine; mentally, I am drained.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my classroom phone blinking red. I have a voicemail from Mrs. Saetang, the mother of one of my below-average students. She wants to come in around four o’clock to discuss her son’s academic performance. It’s already quarter to four, which means it’s too late to cancel.

I scurry out of the classroom and down the hallway to the teacher’s lounge. It’s empty, and I release a soft sigh of relief. I quickly fill a cup with hot water and gently drop a green tea bag into it. I cradle the cup in my hands to not spill a drop as I briskly walk back to my desk. Two minutes of solitude remain, and I settle into my desk to sip my tea. The steam feels good against my lips and the hot liquid makes me feel warm. I hear authoritative footsteps moving towards my door and brace myself for Mrs. Saetang. She’s a nice woman, but she’s the opposite of me in every way. Mrs. Saetang does not knock; she lets herself straight into the classroom and plops down at the desk closest to mine. I smile warmly and she immediately launches into a story about a woman cutting her off on the drive over. She uses explicative language and talks with her hands. I nod and shake my head appropriately, letting her go on. She continues for nearly three minutes, and I can’t help but wonder if she notices that I have not spoken one word since she arrived. Finally, after nearly five minutes of storytelling, she pauses long enough for me to get a word in. I point out some of my concerns for her son’s academic scores and areas he needs to start working hard to improve. But I can tell she is not listening; Mrs. Saetang is nodding along, just waiting to interject. As soon as I stop speaking, she chimes in with more unnecessary chatter. The minutes drag on as I listen to Mrs. Saetang overshare the personal details of her life. I offer a few words of advice, but I know she won’t hear them. Mrs. Saetang scheduled this meeting to talk, not listen. So I let her. As our time dwindles, I hand her a learning guide and tell her to look it over when she has the opportunity. She asks if she should come back next week to review the information, but I quickly tell her my schedule is full. Instead, I jot down my email address and tell her to contact me that way. She nods, then exclaims she is late for dinner with her girlfriends. I wave as she hustles out the door, gently closing it behind her. By this time, it’s nearly five o’clock and time for me to head home. I gather my belongings and pull out my AirPods. Wearing earbuds tells the world you don’t want to talk, and after an hour with Mrs. Saetang, I need the AirPods to be my shields. Whoever invented earphones was definitely an introvert , I think to myself as I wiggle the devices deep into my ears.

I walk briskly down the hallway, listening to Coldplay’s tender harmonies flood through my ears. I fly down the stairs and rip open the door leading to the back lot. I am just about to reach my car when I hear, over my music, someone shouting my name. I whip around, and my heart sinks. It’s Aran, president of the teacher’s association and chairman of catching me at the worst possible moment. I already know he’s going to ask for a favor, as that’s the only time he seeks me out. I was right: they want to recruit me into helping put on the school’s upcoming spring dance. According to Aran, they could really benefit from my creative eye in coming up with this year’s theme for the school dance. And, of course, they are always looking for more chaperones for the dance floor. They thought I would make the perfect fit since I get along so well with my students. I’m smiling politely at Aran as he babbles on, feeling tempted to agree just so I can escape. Finally, he pauses and I let him know I’ll have to peek at my calendar before committing. He nods excitedly and says he’ll track me down on Monday. By then I’ll have decided to suck it up and help or have come up with a valid reason to decline. Satisfied with my answer, Aran waves goodbye and shuffles away, saying something about needing to find another teacher for the fine arts committee. The moment his back turns away, I slip into my car and lock the doors. I drive in silence, feeling overwhelmed by the day’s unexpected activity. I need moments of solitude, even if they are brief, to collect my thoughts and recharge. But today, the silence was scarce, and I’m feeling depleted. My apartment feels cool and dark, and I immediately flop down on the couch. I lay there peacefully, thinking about the day’s events. As my mind wanders, I decide to treat myself to dinner-and-a-movie night. And by dinner, I mean ordering Gaeng Daeng online from my favorite restaurant. And by movie, I mean finishing the true-crime novel I’ve been working through for the past three weeks. To others, this type of Friday might be called “lame” or “low-key”. But to me, it is perfect. I sit up and grab my phone just as my stomach starts to grumble. As I glance down, I see a row of text messages. It’s a group chat with the teachers from the school, and they are all at a local pub celebrating Katina’s birthday. Katina wants to know when I’m arriving, and she’s saving me a stool at the bar. My heart sinks, and I let out a soft groan. Katina is a good friend, and I don’t want to be rude or disappoint her. So I stand up from the couch and decide to reschedule my introverted Friday night. Instead, I run a brush through my hair, slip into a leather jacket, and pop on a fresh coat of lipstick.

I can do this.


Tom dropped his empty beer can at his feet, letting it loudly clang amongst the others as he cracked open a new one, taking a sip before setting it down on the tattered armrest. Can’t hear a thing, where’s the damn remote ? He plunged his hands into the crevice on either side of the armchair’s fat cushion until his fingertips brushed against hard plastic.With considerable effort he gripped it between two outstretched fingers and was able to drag it up from the depths below. His head spun a little, and he was unsure whether it came from the exertion or the booze. He wasn’t particularly accustomed to either. On an ordinary day, after work he would have curled up on the couch with a new book, or watched that documentary on underground farming he’d been meaning to watch. But of course, today was no ordinary day. Today was the summer equinox, which meant that the AstroLottery was today, which meant that Tom was racked with anxious jitters and needed a drink or three to take the edge off. It wasn’t working, so now he was just anxious and tipsy. He pointed the remote at the screen and held the Volume Up button until the man on the television was shouting into the room.

“THANKS AGAIN FOR JOINING US, THOSE IN THE STUDIO AND THOSE WATCHING FROM HOME. I KNOW THE SOLAR FLARES HAVE PUT A DAMPER ON SOME OF TODAY’S PLANNED ACTIVITIES, BUT I HOPE YOU’RE STILL FINDING WAYS TO KEEP THE CELEBRATION ALIVE.”

Tom’s ears were beginning to ring, so he turned the volume back down, drinking more of his beer. Surely they must make the announcement soon?

“We remind everyone how important this annual event is to the health and safety of our world, and everyone living on it,” the TV man continued, smiling towards his female co-host. “Every year, from time immemorial, we’ve sent brave warriors off this Earth to celebrate our devotion to the Astral Gods, and this year is no different.”

“Well we haven’t had rockets since time immemorial, so that seems unlikely,” Tom muttered at the screen, punctuating the end of his sentence with a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a burp.

“I think we’ve waited long enough. I’m excited, aren’t you Charlene?” The host didn’t wait for Charlene to respond before turning back to the camera as he was handed a large envelope from someone off-screen. “Now is the moment you’ve all been waiting for. This year’s Solar Champion is… Emily Garbrandt!”

Her name flashed on the screen, emblazoned on a picture of the burning sun.

“Wow, a lady Sun Sacrifice? It’s been a while since we’ve had one of those, hasn’t it Charlene? When was the last one, ‘39? Congratulations Emily! Environmental Protection Services will be contacting you shortly about your prize. Once again, thank you Emily. Your sacrifice ensures another year in which our homes will not burn, and out seas will not boil.”

Tom threw his now-empty beer can at the man’s stupid, empty grin. There were sharks with fewer teeth, and more sense, than that idiot. The camera panned over to the female host, now holding an envelope of her own.

Just one more name .

“As for our Lunar Champion, we’re looking for someone extra special this year, given the unprecedented flooding we’ve witnessed over these past 12 months. Let’s hope that this year’s champion is better able to appease the Moon God better than last year’s Champion.” She cracked the envelope, pausing for dramatic effect.

“This year, our Lunar Champion, who will be sent to the moon to make the rain go away and keep the monsoons at bay is… Tom Thompson!”

Tom sat slack jawed, as his stupid name flashed across the stupid screen, placed upon a picture of the moon so stupid, they’d given it eyes and a mouth. Every year he’d dreaded the possibility that he’d be chosen for this inane superstition. A testament to mankind’s delusions. And here it finally was. He was to be the Man on the Moon.

He hated this world.

A knock at the door interrupted his panic, and a man called out. “Congratulations, Lunar Champion! We are here to escort you to our facilities in Florida, where we will prepare you for your journey!”

Well that was quick.

“He’s not here!” Tom called out in a panicked falsetto as he stumbled up from his seat, sending empty cans clattering across the room. “This is Mrs. Thompson. Tom’s just stepped out to get some milk, you might be able to catch him if you go hurry!”

“Tom, we know you’re not married, why don’t you just open the door and talk with us”

What an immensely stupid plan that was , Tom thought as he searched the room for an alternate exit, knowing that living in an apartment meant there was only one: the window.

Something heavy thudded against the door as Tom ran to the window and struggled to take out the screen.

“Tom, we know how nervous some people get when declared champion…”

THUD.

“So we’re just going to help open the door for you to get you ready for the celebration…”

THUD.

“You won’t be needing this door anymore, anyway.”

With a final crash, the door burst open and two men in suits stepped in as Tom finally pried the screen off and stuck one leg out the window. The wind outside whipped, and the intense heat was already beginning to burn Tom’s exposed skin. His stomach fell as he looked at the drop he faced to the street below. Smog billowed out of unseen pipes, rising to sting his eyes and nose.

“Now don’t do anything crazy, Champ,” one of the men said as he crept towards Tom. “You don’t want to go out like that, do you? Out in that mess? Come on back inside, and we’ll make sure you go out like a true champion.”

Tom looked again out the window. He supposed it didn’t matter at this point. He was done for anyway. He had no family, little in the way of friends. No one who’d really miss him. At least this way he’d get to see the moon up close. Cautiously, Tom started to lean himself back into the apartment.

“That’s it,” the man said. “One small step…”

“Don’t you dare,” Tom interrupted.

*****

The journey to the Florida launch pad where the rockets were housed was not what Tom thought befitted a Lunar Champion. From his home they’d taken a taxi, and then two flights - economy class - to the airport in Melbourne, Florida, all the way squished between the shoulders of his two EPS chauffeurs who seemed determined to never let him out of their sight. Even at the airport bathroom, they’d sidled up to urinals next to his when he went to take a pee.

“What exactly do you think I could do in here?” he’d asked, and they’d had the audacity to look at him as if he was the odd one. Once they arrived in Florida, Tom was shocked at how hot it was, and was grateful that he wasn’t the one being sent into the sun. Intellectually, he knew the whole world was getting hotter every year, but knowing wasn’t the same as feeling the heat in a godforsaken place like Florida. Outside, the pavement bubbled underfoot, and passers-by wore thick rubberized suits to protect against the radiation. Occasionally Tom could glimpse their faces through the little window in the front, all red and sweaty. Tom was not a thin man himself, and felt as though he had sweat several years of weight away.

Soon they arrived at the NASA centre, and his escorts parked in a large, empty parking garage. EPS had bought out NASA a few years ago, when the country had stopped caring about science enough to properly fund it. EPS had kept the name though, and had simply changed what it stood for. Now it was the National Astronomical Sacrifice Association. It coordinated exactly two launches each year.

The three of them walked through the internal maze of the NASA building. Inside, the air-conditioning was on full blast, causing Tom’s skin to prickle and his hair to stand on end. The halls were empty, although all the lights and computers were on.

“You know, this is half the problem,” Tom said, gesturing as they turned down yet another empty hallway. “The energy it must take to keep this place cool, not to mention all the lights. We should try shutting some of this off, maybe don’t waste so much, see if that fixes the problem.”

The two men shared a glance over Tom’s head before looking down at him, laughing.

“I’m sure the Sun God will just accept that.” One of the men said. He pulled his shoulders up to his ears, and deepened his voice. “Go ahead, turn off the light’s. I don’t need a sacrifice this year.”

“Well, that’s an argument,” Tom replied, their laughter echoing through the corridor.

Eventually they came upon a larger room, where already there stood a pretty young woman, flanked by her own pair of EPS henchmen. Evidently it was customary to have the two Champions meet, talk, and share some last minute wisdom. Tom walked towards where she stood, clutching both her elbows and looking down at the floor.

“You’re Emily, right? The Sun Champion.”

She gave a terse nod.

“Name’s Tom.” He thumbed his chest. “Moon Champ.”

Silence. Tom teetered back and forth from heel to toe, trying to find something to comfort this young woman with which he only had one, unavoidable thing in common. As was often the case in such uncomfortable circumstances, he reached for humor.

“Makes sense that you’re the Sun Champion and not me.” He said. “You’re much hotter than I am.” He gestured to his thinning hair and considerable girth.

“We’re going to die,” she cried, as she looked up at him, her face wet with tears.

Really bungled that one, didn’t you Tom.

Mercifully, the henchman must have realized there was nothing more to be gained from this meeting, as they were shuffled apart down two separate corridors. At the end of the hallway they stopped at a set of double doors. Tom’s two guards opened a pair of lockers nearby, and each began donning sets of radiation jumpsuits. Apparently they were going outside.

“Where’s mine?” Tom asked.

“Do you really need one?”

“That’s fair.”

Once fully suited, the two men opened the doors and escorted Tom out onto the tarmac. Finally now there was the faintest element of fanfare. Just off to the right of the tarmac sat a big, wide tent, with a bright yellow roof and thick, clear plastic walls. Tom could see a number of people mingling inside. It looked as though there was a buffet table, and some of the people appeared to be wearing party hats. Idiots come to revel in this madness . Tom raised a hand to give them what he hoped was a condescending wave, but brought it down quickly when his exposed palm began burning in the sun. He quickened his pace towards what he knew was his destination: the rocket.

The rocket was smaller than he had expected. He supposed it didn’t need to be anything fancy. There wasn’t going to be a return trip. Next to the rocket was one of those rolling staircases, like the kind they used to get people on and off airplanes. On the side of his ship he saw they had painted that ridiculous face of the moon. The one from the television, with eyes and a mouth. Its eyes followed him until he stood directly beneath the rocket, thankful for its shade. If he wanted he could reach up and touch its stupid mouth.

Something about the face made Tom suddenly very angry at the absurdity of this whole thing. Why should he go quietly along with this charade? Did going along with this nonsense make him somehow complicit? Had he also abandoned reason?

“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, crossing his arms. “You know that this is ridiculous right? There is no Moon God. No Sun God. How many years has this blasted tradition existed, sending people off into space? And yet the world keeps getting hotter, and the storms keep getting more frequent. Could hardly say it's been working, can you? Don’t you see? It isn’t about a Sun God or a Moon God. It is our fault that the world is this way. We are the gods we ought to be appeasing!”

He watched as a look of puzzlement crossed both their faces, as if he had spoken in an ancient and foreign language, and they struggled to translate it into their own. Finally, after a long pause, the taller of the two spoke.

“No, I don’t think so. Why would we have a rocket if there was no Moon God?”

Tom truly could not think of an argument against that, and decided that perhaps it was time for him to go. He gave one last look to the tarmac and watched as the horizon shimmered under the midday heat, before climbing the stairway leading to the top of the rocket. At the top he saw a round capsule window, about 3 feet across, was currently popped open. Peering inside, he could see just a single seat facing straight forward in the direction of the rocket’s flight. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this out, so he sat down, and began fashioning the multiple seatbelts.

“Wait!” A voice called from just outside the rocket.

“What is it?” Tom said, his hand hovering above the latch of his seatbelt. Have they heeded my words?

“You forgot your helmet,” the tall man said as he reached the top of the stairs, leaning into the capsule to hand Tom an astronaut’s helmet.

“Thanks.”

Once buckled in, Tom placed the helmet over his head and tightened the straps, hoping it was sufficient to keep him conscious for the full journey. The capsule window began to close with a pneumatic hiss, and the sound of the seal being made was reassuring, albeit final. Tom heard a rumble, and through the very side of the window could see a small grey streak lifting into the sky. Goodbye Emily.

He heard the stairs being wheeled away from the rocket and he waited, staring up at the open sky. He expected some kind of countdown, and so he was startled when suddenly the rocket began to shake, and a great noise began building up behind him. His whole body rattled as the rocket began to lift from the ground, slowly at first, but building speed. Faster and faster he climbed, clouds buffeting past the capsule window. As they broke through the cloud cover, climbing higher now than any plane he’d ever been on, he couldn’t help but let out an uncharacteristic ‘whoop’ of excitement.

Behind him, the rocket pressed noisily on, propelling them forward and pushing Tom deeper into his seat. Through the window the light began to dim, as if the day had decided to abruptly pack up and leave. Soon he was high enough, far enough out into the darkness, that he was certain he’d left the Earth’s atmosphere. Stars, unseen to all but the precious few who’d gone this far, blinked into view. Tom struggled to lean his head forward against the force pushing it back, wanting to take in as much of the view as he could.

They were turning now, the thrusters behind him giving syncopated bursts as they fired in strange patterns until finally he was facing it. Her. The moon. For the first time in his life, he felt that he could appreciate its size. From Earth, the moon felt like some small, inconsequential thing. An astronomical afterthought. Out here, however, it had its own magnificence. As they drew closer,and the moon filled more of Tom’s window, he studied its face, full of pockmarks and craters. Without an atmosphere like Earth’s to protect it, the moon was vulnerable to strikes by passing space rock, taking damage from whatever debris might chance upon it. Looking at the moon now, Tom felt as though he was reading its story written in braille, and wished he was able to understand it. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, and the abuse she’d taken.

Chief among the scars on the moon’s surface, Tom could see a deep, black crater. Closer now, Tom could see strange sculptures around the base of the crater. Metal. Large, gnarled sheets. He squinted, and was certain he could see the outline of the drawn moon face along a discarded piece of hull. This was the crash site. From here he could see cracks, branching out from the centre of the impact site like the branches of a spider’s web. Moon river, Audrey Hepburn sang in the back of his skull. Some of the crevices were so deep, he couldn’t see the bottom, but it was clear now that they covered the moon’s surface. After so many rocket launches, the moon was close to crumbling.

They were close now. The moon filled the entirety of the capsule window and the rocket showed no signs of slowing. Details emerged and rushed out to meet Tom. A seat. A broken window. A helmet.

It’s alright. Tom thought. It’s okay if you break. You’ve done well by us. None of this is your fault. I hope it ends for you soon.

With a final effort, Tom unbuckled his seatbelt and removed his helmet, throwing it to the ground beside him. Just before the rocket met the surface of the moon, he planted his feet on the back of his chair and pushed off, throwing himself into the impact in the hopes that he might be the last Lunar Champion.


From the Shadows “Are you ready to take your medicine?” I asked my Momma on a gloomy Saturday morning. “Well, I can’t say no can I?” she laughed, taking the pills from my hand. Shaking my head I was about to go and read the newspaper when Poppa came into the room. “I’m gonna be going to town today, I’ve got something I gotta do,” he said, kissing my mom on the cheek and hugging me. He was in a good mood for good reason, because going to town was always special. I lived in the country with my Momma and Poppa...and three brothers. There was Michael, who just turned 15 and the was oldest, then Judah, who was 12, and Charlie who was 6. I myself was 11. Living in a house full of boys was definitely no fun, especially since I’m homeschooled. We just live so far from town. The nearest urban town was a 2 hour drive by car from us, so we normally went to town only once every 2-3 weeks. “Can I go! Can I go?!” screeched my brother Charlie. He may seem cute, but he really was a little devil - screaming and crying whenever something isn’t going the way he wants it to. I feel guilty, but sometimes I wish Charlie and the rest of my brothers would just disappear.

“Sorry buddy, not today,” he answered, patting Charlie on the head. I could tell he was about to start a fit, but dad gave him such a look that Charlie knew that he better shut up if he knew what’s good for him. At that moment, Michael and Judah ran in. “Hey we heard you’re going to town, can we go Pop?” asked Judah. “I’m already 15 so I can practice my driving skills,” he continued but Poppa cut him off. “No one’s going to town with me today, understood?” he said sternly, but not angrily. “Yes Poppa,” they all answered as I nodded my head. My brothers rushed back outside to continue whatever they were doing. Poppa leaned his head near mine and whispered, “We all know the real reason those two wanna go,” as he winked at me and I giggled. Obviously, the two of them just wanted to look at the girls in town. Then Poppa left, leaving me all alone with Momma again. *

*

* Poppa came back around 5 with a giant smile on his face. He also came back with a gigantic, black piano. It was really big, like really, really big. Though I haven’t seen very many pianos in my life, or actually any but the one in old Mrs. Fitzgerald’s yard. But that wasn’t all. “And… I’ve invited all of our neighbors over to celebrate this momentous day,” he said. “All the invitations were already sent out, and they’re coming tomorrow at 12!” My jaw dropped. The only time we invite all our neighbors over is for Memorial Day because they all live at least 45 minutes away. My brothers all went crazy, running around the house - but Michael swore he would kill me if I told anyone about his burst of emotion. I just shrugged, I don’t really care about what he thinks is embarrassing, potential drama.

Dinner was boisterous and even Momma was excited, talking about what we should all wear. Once everyone was done we started getting ready for bed. I don’t like nighttime. I don’t like the dark - no, I hate the dark. It is insanely spooky and even having to get some water or go to the bathroom is scary for me during the night. I know I sound like a wussy, but people don’t understand that part of the reason is our house. Our house is super old. I believe that it was built about a century ago by my father’s great grandfather. The floorboards creak, the walls seem to shake, the doors rattle, and the house itself seems to groan - especially when it is stormy outside. I am always so hot at night because I’m constantly hiding under the covers. My parents think night-lights are dumb and are for baby’s so I don’t have one. The light from the stars sometimes shines through my curtains which makes things even worse because of all the shadows it creates in my room. Sometimes, I’m convinced that they move.

This night though felt strange, it felt especially bone-chilling. The shadows seemed to be on the move which is why I decided to wear earplugs to bed and stay under the covers all night long. Little did I know that I would be regretting that more than anything the next day. *

*

* “Where’s my baby? Where’s my baby boy?!” sobbed my mother hysterically. We had woken up to the worst thing imaginable - Charlie was missing. Gone. Lost. Nowhere to be found. We had searched the whole house, the barn, and even the old tractor out in the field. Poppa had immediately left to look for him, going to town a second day in a row. I couldn’t believe that just yesterday I had wished for my brothers to disappear. I said it but obviously, I hadn’t meant it, but here’s what happened. Now, we weren’t very religious people but today we all were praying. I was trying not to beat myself over this possible curse I had started and the fact that maybe, just maybe I would’ve heard what happened to Charlie if not for my stupid fear and stupid earplugs. Our celebration, obviously, didn’t happen. However, a couple of our neighbors still came over to drop off food when they heard the horrible news. We would be eating casserole for a while. All day we moped around and tried to figure out what had happened. Why would someone take Charlie? For money? Blackmail? There is just no way I can believe he ran away. Charlie was scared of the dark and anyway, he loved his life - he’s only 6! When night came around everyone was terribly stressed. Father had come back with no news. He had printed posters to put up around town and had gotten some locks to set up around the house. We spent all day setting up security systems and by dinner everyone was emotionally and physically tired. We were all too scared to sleep, but eventually we were just too tired and decided to turn in. We discussed whether or not we should sleep in our own rooms or all together, but we decided that whoever took Charlie probably would’ve taken more of us if they wanted to the first night. Besides, coming back two nights in a row is very risky. It took me quite a while to fall asleep, but right before I did I heard some music - probably from Michael’s room since he loves falling asleep to music. I tossed and turned all night long, watching the shadows dance on my walls as if coaxing me. I was parched but I was way to scared to get out of bed to get water. The house groaned all night long and the storm outside wasn’t helping except that someone would probably not want to travel through all this rain - I felt slightly safer because of it. No matter, I was just trying to distract myself. The only thing I could think of was poor Charlie until I dozed off until morning. I woke with a start to a screech and a thud. I sprinted to where I heard the noises came from and it was Michael’s room. I saw my Momma on the floor, she had past out - and no Michael. “Oh no no no…” I muttered under my breath, standing in place, completely blank. After my mind starting working again I yelled: DAD! HELP!” as I ran out of the room and saw dad and Judah running in. “He’s gone! He’s gone! There’s nothing I could do! And mom...mom” I tried to explain but couldn’t stop sobbing. “I-I...Mom-mom...medecine,” I tried to get out. Why couldn’t I speak! “It’s gonna be okay honey,” my Poppa said, trying to calm me down. “We’ll go straight to the hospital. And so, for the third day in a row, Poppa went to town except with two crying children. *

*

* It was 6pm. Poppa and I were on our way home. Judah decided to stay with Momma in the hospital since Poppa couldn’t. Poppa and I had to go back to the house and pack cause we were getting out of there as soon as possible. But, that also meant we had to spend another night in the house. “We’re gonna have to pull an all-nighter honey,” Poppa told me. “I know this isn’t the way you wanted to, but we’re gonna have to do it,” he continued to explain. I wasn’t hearing a word he was saying though. I was almost too scared to breathe.

Back at the hospital, Poppa said that either me or Judah had to stay with Momma. We had asked why both of us can’t stay but he said something about safety with numbers and that we could never be alone. Poppa said that maybe I should be the one to stay, but Judah basically had a mental breakdown at the thought which left me to be the mature one. “It’s okay, Poppa,” I told him. “Judah can stay. I’ll go with you,” and I did after Poppa asked me if I’m sure about a thousand more times. Obviously I wasn’t, but unlike Judah I kept my mental break down in my head. Entering the house was like entering a living nightmare. The house seemed to be extra loud and the shadows seemed to be monsters who were more prominent than ever. Poppa and I tried to be productive and pack, but eventually we had to stop because it was obvious nothing was getting done. We got into comfier clothes - not pajamas because we couldn’t get comfy - and went into Poppa and Momma’s room. We brought snacks, drinks, entertainment, lamps, and weapons so we could be as prepared as possible for the long, long night. We barricaded the door and windows and made sure all the lights were off in the house so no one could see that people were there - except our room which we put five pairs of curtains on. We had brought so much to do but we mostly just sat in silence listening to wind that was rattling the window. Occasionally we snacked or had a drink, but that was it. I suppose that not sleeping well for two nights isn’t going to help when you’re trying to pull an all-nighter - as well as sitting in silence. So, before I knew it, I was waking up to see my Poppa was asleep - and I had been as well! The problem was, I really had to use the bathroom. We had been locked in the room since 9pm and it was 3am and I had been drinking Sprite. The door was barricaded, but I knew I couldn’t wait so I quickly and quietly removed the chair from under the doorknob, opened the door then closed it, and ran two steps across the hall to get to the bathroom where I locked the door.

Luckily, the bathroom had a night-light. No one wants to turn the light on in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and get blinded as well as wake up. This was especially good because I hadn’t brought a flashlight or lantern with me. I quickly relieved myself and was about to go back to the room when I heard something. Music. Then I realized that it was the same music I had heard last night! I had thought it came from Michael’s room, but now that I strained my ears...it was coming from the living room. Oh my god I thought it’s the piano . Normally, I was terrified of the dark but I actually felt strangely calm. I opened the door and walked over to the living room. I had been right. It was the piano - except no one was playing it. The keys were moving themselves as if trying to teach me how to play. I went over and sat down on the slick, black bench and tried to copy the keys. The piano led me through simple patterns at first, then got more and more complex. I was feeling so happy and relaxed that I hadn’t noticed how long I was there for - and frankly, I didn’t care. All of a sudden, from behind, my father jumped out, chair in hand, right as a giant metal crane grabbed my face. I tried to yell but I couldn’t. The shadows were coming back and I noticed how I was being lifted by the black metal crane or hand - that was coming out of the piano. I could see my father bashing the piano with the chair, but it wasn’t working. I realized that I was completely off the ground and the crane started to retract. The hand I screamed in my head hit the hand Poppa! Hit the hand! I tried extending my arm to give Poppa a clue and as I did I crashed to the ground. He had hit the hand. Gasping for breath, Poppa grabbed the hand and ripped it out of the piano and as he did something magical happened. From the piano tumbled Charlie and Michael. As if regaining consciousness of what had happened Charlie, Michael, and I all rubbed our eyes as Poppa continued to bash the piano with the very broken chair. Michale and I ran to the dining table and grabbed another chair each and helped break the piano with Poppa and Charlie ran to the kitchen to drink as much water as he possibly could. *

*

* “Momma! Judah!” yelled Michael and Charlie as they ran into the hospital room. “You’re not gonna believe what happened!” they yelled, interrupting each other. The morning of the piano fiasco we all set off to go to the hospital and bring Momma and Judah home (because the hospital called Poppa in the morning saying she was free to leave).

“Fourth day in a row,” whispered Poppa to me. “Might as well have been living here this whole time!” he laughed and I smiled at him.

“Let’s just say I’m completely on board with that idea,” I answered. I can say, for sure, that I’m never going to learn how to play the piano.