He watched in his rearview mirror as the dusty sand swirled behind their SUV. The home they shared for the first five years of their marriage quickly faded as they drove away for the last time. Sneaking in as many glances as he could before it disappeared, taking in the last glimpses of their street. How many times had they traveled this road together? He drove along, reminiscing when they first walked through the house, before it was completely their own. How in love they had been, with each other too. Now, their house keys rested in the hands of the realtor. He sighed. The sun was hot and bright, sending bursts of blinding light through the tropical trees. Reaching for the visor was tempting, but he didn’t want to miss a single view, in any direction, from any angle. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Brilliant blue without a speck of white. Punching off the AC, he rolled down the window, letting the warm breeze rush through his sun-kissed, blond hair. He closed his eyes behind his aviator sunglasses, only for a moment, to feel the wind on his face as if he were still at the beach. As a direct reflex, he wiggled his toes within his shoes, wishing there was sand between them. He sighed, again. “Jake!” His wife yelled from the passenger seat. He veered the SUV back into their lane. “Sorry, I had my eyes closed.” He didn’t have to look over to know she was glaring at him. He could feel her stare burning hotter than sun rays into the side of his face. The oceanic byway connecting to the mainland stretched out before them. The slight incline brought more of the bright sky into view. Seagulls squawked overhead. With two fingers guiding the steering wheel, his arm rested on the sill of the door in the hot sun. The wind tossing their hair about. Soaking up as much as he could before the temperature would drop, the sun would cease to exist, and the clouds would block the blue sky forever. At least, that’s how he painted it in his mind. Northern Vermont, the brink of Canada. The bridge was congested. Without letting his wife notice, he flashed his eyes around in all directions every chance he got. Taking it all in for the final time. As the vehicle descended down the other side, the island sunk out of sight in his mirrors. He looked out at the water, the gentle waves, one more time before gliding onto the mainland. The ocean was gone. He knew not when he’d see it again.

While Jake let out another sigh, his wife took a deep breath, reinforced with elation. What he couldn’t understand was how she was unperturbed to leave this beautiful island. Their beach life, the salt life. Weekends spent in the sand and seasons in the sun. Kissing in the waves at sunset. Midnights whispering on the shore. Just them, and the ocean. Their balcony door would lay open while the ocean breeze rolled over them in their slumber. His chest tightened with emotion. If he glanced back in his rearview mirror now, there would be no sign left of what he was already missing. Jake loved the heat. The hot sand. The hot sun. The sweat. The humidity. His tan skin turned bronze in the summer with a sheen of blond hair over his body. Emma could never understand what there was to love about being hot all year. Even though she grew up on the island, she never got used to it. Sure, beach life was wonderful, but the heat was not. The only break she got from the heat was from November through March. It wasn’t nearly long enough. Now, they were heading north, where three months a year would reach the upper 70’s. It would be cool or cold for most of the year. She could hardly wait. Each mile felt like a hundred. Every molecule in her body was swarming with excitement. Autumn, she would finally experience autumn! Winter and snow. They'd be arriving right at the beginning of the fall foliage.

Emma reached over, placing her hand on his arm. “I know this is hard for you. I know how much you love the ocean. But we’ll be happy in Vermont. You’ll see. As long as we have each other, our home is wherever we are together.” Gently giving his firm forearm a squeeze, she offered an encouraging smile. She was right. He flipped his hand over, palm up, and she entwined their fingers. Emma had an unfailing ability to see the positive side of anything they faced. With her, and God, there was nothing they couldn’t get through. Though this hurtle made his heart ache, she was with him. That was all that truly mattered.

They took their time heading up north, turning the twenty-four hour drive into several days. There was no rush. Emma was anxious, of course. Nevertheless, they wanted to enjoy the journey. Jake had plans to stop along the coast, anywhere they could, to use up every last chance at a glimpse of the ocean before Vermont.

He loved his job, but now he resented it for uprooting his feet from the sand and planting them in the mountains along the upper edges of the country. Landlocked. Except for maybe a lake. There would be no more pristine, white beaches. Just mucky waters littered with dead fish. At least, that’s how he painted it in his mind, again.

He tilted his head, “You know what isn’t fair?” He said to his wife. “That two blonde beach babes had to move to Vermont.” He tittered. Emma let out a huff of laughter. “Oh stop it,” she smiled, “you’ll be fine. You love your job, you’ll love it up there too. Now we’ll be blonde lake babes.” Laughing at herself, she snorted, making her laugh more.

A smile crept across Jake’s face, he adored his wife. He snuck a peek at her, she was more beautiful than the ocean. What was he complaining about? Once they entered into Vermont, their journey home would be three more hours. Neither of them were willing to stop until they reached their new house. They wanted their first steps in the state to be on their own property. As reluctant as he was, he couldn’t deny the nipping sensation of adventure. Emma made the suggestion of stopping just before entering Vermont so she could change into a new autumn outfit. Thrilled she had been when shopping for her new wardrobe for the new seasons they’d experience here.

The drive grew increasingly more beautiful. Even for Jake, it was hard not to notice. Nearly at every bend Emma would say, “Look how picturesque!”

The repetitiveness of the statement grinded his gears. If she says ’picturesque’ one more time... he thought to himself as he clenched his teeth.

The green leaves slowly faded the more north they drove. Emma’s face was nearly glued to her window, mouth gaping, as they wound through the hills and passed through mountains. “Look, Jake! Look how beautiful that tree is!” She shouted as she pointed to a tree which turned to shades of golds and reds, earlier than the rest. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” He chuckled to himself and looked at her, her face pressed against the glass. “Yes.” He said as the corner of his mouth tipped up. She was. They rode in silence once they turned on to their new street. For several moments they both stopped breathing as the numbers on the mailboxes grew closer and closer to theirs. Emma gasped when their home came into view. Placing her hand against her chest, “Oh, Jake, just look at it.”

He marveled in her excitement before turning his gaze to their homestead. He sucked in a breath. It was beautiful. A white, colonial home towered over him, with blue shutters and a white picket fence lining the yard. Much more stately than in pictures and videos they'd seen of it. It was the kind of house and yard people imagine when they hear the words American Dream. Shoving the door open, her boots hovered over the freshly fallen leaves on the driveway as she slowly slid off the seat. She heard the crunch of the leaves under her feet for the first time. Closing her eyes, she took in the moment. Jake watched her from his driver’s seat, cherishing her child-like innocence. Letting out a puff of air, he opened his door and stepped out. Surprisingly, the leaves had a satisfying crunch. The slamming of the door was the only sound. It was so quiet . The air was different. Thicker. Richer. On the wisp of the back end of a breeze, there was no scent of sunscreen, tanning oil, or lemonade, but of leaves, pine, and earth.

He filled his lungs and closed his eyes. There were no crashing waves, or lapping of water. No voices of mindless chatter. No seagulls screeching. He turned in the direction of fluttering wings. A bird he didn’t recognize flew away, probably secretly mocking the newcomers. Looking down his light-colored, ripped at the knee jeans, to his canvas boat shoes, he kicked an acorn across the driveway. Then noticing the sticks, twigs, leaves and other natural debris that littered the driveway and yard. His shoulders slumped. He’d have an actual yard to maintain now.

They walked the red brick walkway leading to the front door. He slid the key in, pushed the door open, and gestured for his wife to enter first. But she didn’t, she gave him a blank stare. “Aren’t you going to carry me over the threshold?” She asked. He opened his mouth to protest, and thought better of it. Just because he was miserable, doesn’t mean he had to drag her down too. Scooping her off her feet, he carried her in. A smile couldn’t help but fill his face. She would always be his bride. As Jake unpacked his suitcase in their bedroom, his eyebrows flickered. “Hey, Emm?” She stepped out of their master bathroom. “Hmm?” He raised his hands, a fistful of plaid shirts in each grip. “Where did my regular shirts go?” “Your regular shirts are beach shirts, you’ll stick out like a sore thumb out here. I packed them away and replaced them with attire you will actually need.” “But I’m going to look like a lumberjack.” He whined. “We’re not beach bums anymore.” She said with a smirk. Over the next several weeks, they unloaded, unpacked, and unboxed their belongings. Slowly and surely, their house turned into a home. Emma picked the paint, he picked the supplies. She hummed and buzzed around the house. Her happy spirit and her outlook on life began to trickle into him as well. One afternoon she overheard Jake whistling, an expression of happiness. It had been months since she last heard his pleasant tunes. Every morning there was a chill in the house. Even the chill felt different. Not the kind of chill from an AC unit, but one that came with the changing of the leaves. The kind of chill that made a spouse want to curl up with their loved one under the blankets. Jake scooted over, and Emma, sleepily and instinctively, nestled into him. He liked this newfound chill. Never had either of them ever had a fireplace in their house. Keeping up with chopping firewood was a thought Jake dreaded. Much to his surprise, little by little he enjoyed the task. The days he didn’t work, he lumbered out to the backyard to do his lumberjacking. The misty mornings brought a sense of calm and tranquility. Much like the crashing of the waves once did. Out here he was in the wilderness, not on a crowded beach. The silence from the hills engulfed him. It was the sound of silence he was beginning to appreciate. Comfort in the quiet. With each swing of the axe, and the cracking of the wood, he felt more manly. Two slices of wood flew to each side, he swiped his beading forehead with the back of his hand. He felt something staring at him. Probably some wild beast ready to pounce and sink its teeth into him. He looked around. No beast. A figure on the porch caught his attention, and he turned sharply. His wife was leaning against the wooden rail of the porch. With that look in her eyes, she looked ready to pounce. “Why are you smiling?” He asked, wondering how long she’d been watching him. Emma took a sip from the warm mug between her hands before answering. “I knew those handsome beach muscles weren’t just for show.”

Rolling his eyes, he dismissed her comment, and continued chopping. She took the opportunity to take in her fill of her husband. His black v-neck hugged his body. His broad shoulders tapered into a trim waist. With every swing of the axe, the short sleeves snugged around his biceps. And those jeans. They hugged his thighs during his axing stance.

“Let's explore something other than the town today. I heard about a hiking trail.” Hiking? He thought to himself. “Do we have to?” She arched an eyebrow. He huffed. “You’re right. Let’s explore.”

The trail winding through the forest was beautiful. The cliffs. The rock formations. The autumn colors. The leaves covering the pathway. All of it. Whether he liked it or not, Vermont was growing on him. The thought perplexed him. He couldn’t stop it, and could no longer deny it. This was his life now.

They rounded a horseshoe bend in the side of the mountain. A wall of rocks and ledges jutted up out of the ground along to their right. And on their left, was a long way down. Jake leaned over, and gulped.

They came across no other hikers. Jake felt oddly alone. Did everyone else know something they didn’t? What if they got lost? What if they got attacked and eaten by a bear? Emma’s perky voice pulled him from his unsettling fears.

“Autumn has the most gorgeous colors I have ever seen!” She turned to him, her face written with pure joy. “These colors didn’t exist where we came from. Look what we’ve been missing.” She said, looking up at the trees growing out from the rocks towering over them. It was nearly impossible for Jake not to appreciate what she adored. Her enthusiasm reached the depths of his being. Ever since they received the news his job was relocating him, her zing for life made up for his dispirited moods. His current entertainment came from watching her discover her autumn soul. A rumble of thunder stopped them dead in their tracks. No wonder there were no other hikers, all must have known there was a storm brewing. How foolish of him not to think to check the weather before venturing out. He put Emma at risk because of his carelessness. Emma turned to him, as the thunder trembled the ground beneath their feet. A worried look replaced the jovial smile. “We’re in the middle of a mountain, what are we going to do?” No sooner did she finish her question when the rush of rain could be heard sweeping through the trees. They whipped their heads around in the direction of the sound to see the rain coming for them. Jake grabbed her hand and began running the way they just came. Did he really think they’d outrun the rain?

Seconds later the cold rain hit their backs. Darting under the nearest rock ledge, he and Emma attempted cover. For a moment, Jake was in awe of the sight unfolding in front of him, the rain pouring from the clouds through the center of the horseshoe bend. He saw through the rain as if he were behind glass. Watching the rain plummet through the gorge. The moment of awe ended when the rain water began to spill over the rock ledge, splashing fresh mud on their new hiking boots and trickling water from the rocks soaked their heads and shirts. Staying dry was out of the question. Something let loose in Jake that changed him. He relinquished. His life came to fruition. All that he’d been trying to deny erupted through the surface. How could anyone not love a life such as this? A life of change, as with the seasons, he would now come to enjoy. With every season comes change and acceptance of the inevitable. So gone was his life of predictability. Eager to look ahead. Eager for the next mountain to climb. Rain water rushes forward, and never looks back. His sudden outburst of laughter startled Emma. She stared questionably as he laughed harder. Pushing himself off of the rock wall, he stepped out into the pouring rain, threw his hands out to his sides, palms up, and tilted his head back. Smiling, he let the cold rain soak through to his soul. Everything was out of his control. He was at peace with his new life. Emma remained under the rock, baffled. “Have you gone mad?” She shouted over the rain. “No, just the opposite.” He looked at her. “Come here.” He tugged her wrist, pulling her into the rain with him. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with all the passion he’d been lacking.

Emma melted. Nothing existed but them, the rain, the mountain, and God. She pulled from his lips. “What’s gotten into you?” She asked as she fingered his hair dripping with mountain rain water.

“All of this has gotten into me. This is the great outdoors. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” Her eyes widened. “Even the beach?” “Even the beach.” A life looking forward, instead of wanting the reflection in the rearview mirror.


By the time I realized a storm was coming in, it was already too late to make it to the shelter. It had come on fast, faster than I had ever seen, and I had lived out here over ten years. I thought I knew the weather patterns but apparently I did not. An hour ago the sky was clear, with not a cloud in sight. Now the wind whipped my hair around my head and half the dome overhead was filled with the towering shape of a massive cumulonimbus, lightning jigging and jagging within it. Pieces of plants and trees flew in the wind that buffeted me as I ran toward home and my scalp prickled with fear as I sensed a tornado behind me. I ran faster, my feet barely touching the ground as I nearly flew over it, but it wasn’t fast enough. The twister picked me up as easily as if I weighed nothing at all, holding me in its grip and flinging me around in a crazy, uncontrollable spiral. I saw the pig coming, kicking and squealing and heading right for me in the chaos of the swirling vortex, but there was no time, let alone any means to avoid him. I squeezed my eyes shut and cringed right before the solid bulk of him slammed into me and the darkness rose up and snatched me away.          I had been out in the orchard, picking apples. We only had a few trees and I cherished the job as my own, enjoying the solitude of the upper field. Lately the accusing eyes of my husband were too much for me to bear and I had to admit I’d been finding more reasons to stay away from the house. Buying this farm had been Gavin’s idea, but I was the one who was finding myself in this land. He had hurt himself more than a year ago and as limited as he was in his wheelchair, he couldn’t follow me to the upper field. Gavin had become a different person after his accident and now he wanted to sell the farm and move back to the city to be closer to his doctors. I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave. I loved this place, it was my home. I wasn’t so sure about Gavin anymore but the land, yeah, I was sure about that.          It’s not a huge place, only twenty five acres, but it’s sweetly situated in the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains, perfectly nestled in a valley between two minor ridges. Our fields are mostly wheat and alfalfa, but back behind the house and barn, a virgin tangle of tall pines mixed with Aspen and Cottonwood march along our border almost all the way across, cradling its cluster of structures like a jewel. The barn stands just behind the house with only a breezeway between them. Before his accident, Gavin had liked that he could get there quickly if he had to check out a downed fence, missing livestock, or anything else on their acreage that needed his attention. With the barn right there he could saddle a horse and be anywhere on their property in minutes. Now he rarely leaves the house, preferring to wait for me if he needs anything. He has refused my every suggestion to hire help of any kind and relies solely on me for everything. It’s getting old. I can't take care of him and the farm. There’s just too much to do. I woke up just in time to witness my landing. The tornado swung me by a tall cedar tree, sticking me into a nook between branches as gently as a mother setting down her newborn baby. It continued on down tornado alley without so much as a by-your-leave , leaving me staring down one hundred and fifty feet of trunk at the forest floor beneath me. My hair raising trip to the ground was a nightmare I will never forget, taking me the better part of an hour, and I blew a sigh of relief when my feet finally hit the ground. My adventure inside the whirlwind had stripped me of both my shoes and my socks, leaving me in only my shorts and tank top. It was almost dark and not knowing where I was, I decided to hunker down for the night. I would find my way home in the morning.          After spending a sleepless night shivering, huddled beneath the branches of my cedar, I was stiff as I made my way up to higher ground to try and figure out where I was. I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth, my clothing damp with dew, as I stumbled over the uneven ground. Morning sunbeams began peeking between the trees I was walking through, and I lingered in the patches I came across, trying to warm up enough to stop the shivering. It was hurting my teeth and clenching my jaw was only making it sore. When I came to the clearing at the top of the ridge and the sun shone full in my face, bathing me with its rays, I stopped and closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation. When I opened them a few moments later, I knew exactly where I was. Directly in front of me on top of the next crest was a rock formation I recognized. I had been there before. The real estate agent had brought me and Gavin here before taking us to tour the ranch thirteen years ago. It was apparently some kind of historic spot where the Native American chiefs from the local tribes were said to have had some kind of confrontation with some of the pioneers in the early eighteen hundreds. Their agent had told them the story mysteriously, in hushed tones, like teenagers around a campfire.          The story went that when white men initially came to this area, there were only a few of them at first. The local villages tried to incorporate the new families into their territory, tolerating them as long as they stayed to themselves and committed no major faux pas, even trading with them and treating them like guests. It was said that one brave fell in love with Rosemary Williams, the daughter of one of the settlers, carrying her away with him, as was their custom. The Williams men hunted them down and brought the couple up onto the highest ridge, calling out the chiefs of the tribe to come attend the impromptu trial. The matter could not be resolved and the two parties fell upon each other, resulting in the slaughter of all the natives and most of the colonists as well. They say Rose could not be consoled at the death of her brave and was overcome with grief. Evading her father, she flung herself from the pinnacle. When the surviving Williams’s went to retrieve her body, it could not be found. Afterwards, many people claimed to see a ghostly, hysterical woman throwing herself off of the precipice. At some point a monument had been erected naming it Weeping Maiden Rock. As such places often end up, it became a popular, if dangerous local teen hangout.          The Rock was deserted at the moment but I was relieved to see it because it meant home was only a few hour's walk away. I started out, warm after standing in the sun, and picked my way down the hill carefully in my bare feet. By the time I got to the top of Maiden Rock, they were stinging and sore. Stopping to rest was not an option, though. I knew I had been gone long enough to make Gavin worry, and there were probably numerous police and helpful neighbors combing the hills looking for me, as well. Following a smooth vein of rock, I got too close to the edge, my weight causing it to crumble beneath me, and before I even had time to be afraid, I landed with a jolt in the scree at the bottom of the cliff. Looking up in surprise, I could barely see the top of the rock far above my head. I couldn’t understand what had just happened to me. I was completely unhurt! How was that possible? I was thinking I should be dead and wondered if I was for a few minutes before I got up and dusted myself off. I continued limping toward home, so focused on picking my way through the rocks and thorns, I only dimly noticed the impossibility of the landscape I was walking through. With the tenderness of my feet increasing, it was late afternoon before I topped the hill above my farm. As I descended the upper field, I began noticing changes. Little things at first, then as I rounded the corner of the barn what I saw stopped me dead in my tracks. The yard was completely different! The corrals we kept our horses in had vanished and the barn and house looked brand new, each with what looked like a fresh coat of paint. I experienced a fleeting surge of hope that Gavin had people rounding up our horses, but I had no idea where we would put them when they brought them back. When I stepped around to the front of the house I stopped again as I saw the lush new lawn and flower beds in front of the house. What had Gavin done and how had he done it so quickly? Setting my jaw, I resolutely stomped toward the house to have it out with him. If he thought he was going to sell this place out from under me, he had another thing coming.          The house was cool and dim when I opened the door and I stopped just inside to let my eyes adjust and to listen for a clue to where Gavin was. He usually spent most of his days in the den, watching TV, but I didn't hear it on. I stepped into the hallway, feeling the cool wood soothe my poor battered feet as I padded into the kitchen, stopping as the sight of neat black and white décor met my eyes instead of the bright yellows and greens I had decorated with. I backed out the doorway, my eyes wide, and turned and sprinted to my bedroom. I stopped just inside the chamber, shock rendering me breathless. All my things were gone! All of Gavin's equipment and most of the furniture was gone as well. Around the mostly empty room, hanging on the walls at eye level, were several ornate frames but I couldn't tell what they contained from the doorway where I stood. Intrigued, I moved toward the one closest to me and stared at the words shouting at me from the page. It was a yellowing newspaper article, the headline catching my interest immediately. " Unusual Tornado Activity Reported in Red Lodge ." Boy, I’ll say. I was thinking that was an understatement while I stepped over to the next one which read, " The Search for Cassie Thatcher Extended, " making my heart leap in my chest, and next to that, " Missing Colorado Woman Feared Dead ." I went mechanically around the room to the other frames, standing before each one only a moment before moving on. The last one made my hair stand up. " Gavin Thatcher calls off search for missing wife ." My scalp was tingling and I couldn't see through the spots in front of my eyes as I fought not to lose consciousness. They couldn't be talking about me, could they? I’d been gone less than twenty-four hours! These articles spoke of a timeline that was measured in months, years even. A sound behind me had me spinning in place, and as I spun I saw someone standing in the doorway. It was some old guy. He was shrunken and wrinkled and his thinning hair was snow white. I squinted at him, thinking he looked familiar, when he spoke.          "Cassie?!" His pinched mouth was drawn down in deep lines around a permanent frown. "How?" he asked, his eyes dominating his face. I wasn't listening. I was staring at him, my face drained of color.          "Gavin?" My voice came out in a hoarse whisper. "What’s happened to you?"          " Me ?! What happened to you ?!" He demanded, gesturing to the walls around me. But my blood was roaring in my ears and I couldn't hear him. I covered them with my hands and pushing past him, I ran, not noticing where I was going. I needed to think. My head was still spinning, making it hard for any firing neurons to land anywhere productive. I thought this probably had something to do with my tumble off Maiden Rock, earlier. That was decidedly strange and I was starting to feel like a character in a twilight zone episode. I skirted the house and barn and headed back the way I had come, my feet complaining every time they hit the ground, but I didn’t stop. I was afraid if I did, I would turn around to see Gavin encased in some kind of exoskeleton, jerking along back there trying to catch up. The idea took shape behind me, giving me the incentive I needed to put a comfortable distance between me and the one place on earth where I felt at home. I ran on while the day faded around me, ignoring my pain and fatigue and reached the escarpment just as the last of the sun’s light gave way to stars. I stood at the bottom and looked up. Was there a slight disturbance up there? I did see an area where my view of the stars was obscured, but from here and in the dark, I couldn’t tell how high up it was or any other details about it. It was there, though, I was sure of that and the knowledge comforted me. I would figure it out. But as shattered as I was, I still understood I would have to get help. If it was even possible, I knew getting back up through that thing wasn’t going to be easy. Exhausted, I eased myself down with my back against the warmth of the rock and examined my soles with cautious fingers. They were a mass of cuts, thankfully none were serious, but I must have pulled out a hundred stickers before my eyes closed of their own accord and my chin dropped to my chest as I fell headlong into the gaping maw of slumber, supported by the embrace of the outcropping I leaned against. I woke to someone stroking my forehead with a tender hand. Startled, I sat up quickly, my heart hammering away inside my chest. Gavin lowered his hand and watched me without speaking while I gathered my bearings. I was in an unfamiliar bed but I recognized our guest room. Gavin sat in a chair beside the bed, a book upside down in his lap. He smiled and standing up slowly, grabbed a cane from the back of the chair and made his way to the door. “I’ll have Rose make you something to eat if you want to get dressed and come to the kitchen.” He nodded his head at a neatly folded stack of clothing on a nearby bureau and went out, closing the door behind him. I hoped I hadn’t offended him but I couldn’t help staring at him. He had to be at least ninety years old. The implications were staggering. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. It would explain the changes in the property, though. I took my time getting dressed, noticing that someone had cleaned and dressed my feet while I was sleeping. I froze, seeing my shoes beneath the dresser the clothes had been sitting on and picked them up to get a closer look. Where had he found them? They really did look like I had taken them off yesterday. My hands were shaking so much I couldn’t tie them. After several tries, I gave up and tucked the laces in instead, then taking a deep breath, I opened the door. Gavin explained, while I wolfed a delicious omelet made for me by a melancholy young woman he called Rose, that he had come after me in his TF-X, whatever that was, and unable to wake me, had trapped me with his Bessel Beams, whatever those were, and brought me back here. I looked up from my plate to see him smiling his cat that caught the canary smile and narrowed my eyes at him. Same old Gavin. “Spill,” I told him. Instead he turned to Rose, who was washing dishes in the sink despite the very obvious space age machine next to her emblazoned with the words, Bosch DishMaster . “Rose, honey, will you tell Cassie what year you were born?” Without stopping or turning around, she answered in a clear voice. “1803.” Goosebumps began chasing each other up and down my spine. Then she did turn around to look at me, her hands dripping suds on the floor at her feet. Her face spoke volumes about how this had previously been received. I could almost feel the heat of the lightbulb over my head as it dawned on me who she was. Rose mary Williams. The Weeping Maiden of the Rock has just made me breakfast. I don’t think I’m going to get home.


I remember the moment I was born. It was beautiful. Floating there among the stars, in the void with my brothers and sisters; we were so free. We floated for what felt like forever, eventually growing thin in numbers. The elements were harsh out there, but I made it. I fell upon this - blue ball, third from that yellow star. It was beautiful. If only they could see it's glory. It pulled me in the closer I got. I fell from space, from the stars, from my family. I hit the water hard, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. It was - refreshing. it was like I was floating again, but different all the same. There were so many beautiful creatures, majestic and frightening - new friends. I tried to communicate, but they never listened. I got close to one, what they call a seal. As I gazed upon it with my single eye, I could sense a feeling of understanding. it was more curious than afraid, so big yet so gentle. It let me - touch it. without thought, I wrapped my limbs around its face. A hug, from what I understood, was commencing. But no - no hug for me. The seal thrashed about violently, I could only hold on for dear life. I gripped harder, my tendrils wrapping around its maw, slithering across its face. Then something - happened. I found myself - in its mind. I could hear its thoughts, feel its pain; it was in so much pain. Another discovery I made is that I could - control it. It moved where I needed it to. overtime I could no longer feel what I felt at the beginning. eventually it got cold, and the pain went away. I could no longer keep my grip, so I floated away. That's when I met him. This being that floated before me was unlike anything I've seen in the sea. bipedal, no visible gills or fins or any appendages like the life I've encountered. his gold and green suit glittered in the light. He looked down upon me with - with disappointment. That's the only way I could describe the feeling. I looked upon myself, and to my surprise, I had gotten a little bigger, almost double in size. But when I looked back, he was gone. I could only float on in hopes of meeting him again. So I did what I could, I'd meld with the minds of any sea creature I could wrap my tentacles around. Their voices added up, growing louder and louder in my head, languages all so different; it was maddening. He came to me again, and this time, I was much larger. I saw fear in his eyes. I think it made me feel - good. I followed him, all the way to the shore. He stood on the beach, other beings like him staring at me in horror. I was bewildered, it was so different from under the waves. I was forced to stand, staring at this exciting new world; they did not feel the same. The humans began to attack, hurling words and objects alike. It hurt me a great deal. In the moment, a new feeling arose - Anger. I could feel my skin literally burning, I could only let out a sound humans would describe as a scream. I shut my eye. When I opened them again, the world around me was silent. Upon the humans' faces were - smaller versions of me. I had given birth, in a word. He was gone, the man in the gold and green suit. But then the voices came. screams of terror ripped through my mind as I did with theirs. I absorbed and swallowed what I could in terms of thought. I grew larger, stronger, smarter even. The power and sensation human thought gave me was tantalizing. I needed more, so I produced more - me. They jetted out from behind me and began their harvest. The screaming only got worse, but I grew stronger; a small price to pay for greatest. Within moments, dozens of human beings were mine and mine alone. Every thought was absorbed into one, horrifying soup. In the sea of thoughts - a word appeared. A title. A name. I liked it. As I took my first actual step, I saw them standing there, not too far from their city. In a line was the league, six figures, guardians, gods. I recognized them now, their names and stories came to me like I've known them for years. The first one, the dark knight, looked upon me with distain. He was disturbed, from what I gathered. Before the league he was almost nothing but a myth, a legend that struck fear in the hearts of criminals everywhere. However, he was merely a man compared to the six that surrounded him. My eye moved to her, the only woman in the group, a true wonder herself. She was older than the rest yet had the youth of a twenty-year old. She radiated strength and true power - I was a little frightened of her. To her left was the red man. He was jittery yet focused, and he radiated bravery. I needed his mind, it was calling to me. I could make excellent use of this red blur. Then there was the green guardian, floating above with his fist in the air. A creative, from what I can gather, and a hero to believe in. I don't believe in him. below the guardian was the king of the seas, the golden swimmer I had already met. I could almost understand his hatred towards me, I did wreck havoc in his kingdom. in my defense, I only wanted to love. The Martian intrigued me. He was different from the rest, from all of them, yet he was hailed as a hero. As soon as the humans saw me, their reaction was to destroy. I wonder if they had shown him the same treatment? As we had our little standstill, something above caught my eye. only one word had entered my mind in that moment. perhaps, he was truly the most alien of them all. The Superman. He was the hero of all heroes, the founder of this league. I could feel rage coursing through me like a thousand tidal waves. He was a god to them, a savior from the stars, the last son. From my ocean brain I could feel the inklings of love try and push themselves through my barrier of hate. more than the rest, I felt nothing but pure hatred for him. He floated right in front of me, we were almost touching. It could be so easy to just - crush him. Part of me couldn't, so I just stood there. He crossed his arms at me. I could see his league behind him ready themselves for battle. perhaps there was no other way. If it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight they'd get.


From a distance it was a small flickering light in a vast sea of darkness. Invisible to the naked eye, being dwarfed by the other, much stronger, lights surrounding it. Alone and isolated, something that no human was ever meant to see, but humanity has a way of looking past what they can see to see what could be. What could be took time and innovation, four years of meticulous calculation and numerous simulations to establish a base of operations on the frozen over sphere known as Europa, one of Jupiter's many moons, and that was after six long years of space travel. Now, the donut shaped base rested on the ice fields of the moon, a marvel in modern technology able to tend to itself using radiation from Jupiter to fuel its various functions. Its purpose; to explore the vast oceans hidden under the ice. Population; one.

Cedric took a few long deep breaths; feeling the weight of hundreds of peoples life work, of ingenious technological advancements and of years of his own isolation all riding on these next few hours. He sat watching the bright holographic screens displaying the progress of the drill, which was only minutes away from reaching the under-ice water miles below. The drill had been running for days, vibrating the entire base causing him to miss many of his scheduled hours of sleep. Sleep that already came hard due to his odd dreams, dreams that he blamed on the growing anticipation of discovery.

As the last few moments of drilling came to pass, Cedric watched with bated breath and whispered to himself. "How much does a polar bear weigh?" The hologram display showed the drill finally piercing the last bit of ice. He held his breath as the vibrating stopped and was replaced by the creaking of metal under stress that echoed through the bases corridors. The expected creaking rose and sank like the melodic droning of a deep throated and screeching chorus, but Cedric could not help but to hear the eerie call of a voice within those metallic groans and screams.

Isolation will make someone try to find humanity in the most inhuman of places. Cedric thought to himself as he looked about the metallic walls as if to follow the sounds with his eyes. Cedric knew the compound was built to accommodate for the pressure change due to the exposed ocean bellow but it did not stop him from imagining a pressure valve exploding causing the base to implode on itself with him in it.

Cedric let out a sigh of relief as the creaking settled. "Enough to break the ice." He answered himself, joking to break the tension within himself. It was important to keep in good humor during his isolation. He had spent years training for this mission but no mater how much training you have, nothing prepares you for spending so long on your own. He had no family to long to return to and had dedicated his life to being the first person to explore Europa, he still felt the longing of social interaction that he knew was engrained in the very essence of being human.

Cedric double and triple checked everything on the monitors to ensure the tunnel was stable and the drill was retracting without incident. Everything was working wonderfully, probably the first time something didn't go wrong this entire expedition. He began the next phase, punching instructions into the computer to replace the drill with a deployable submarine that was designed to survive anything the cosmos could throw at it.

The sound of metal moving metal clanged through the base let Cedric know the transference was in progress. He got up from his seat realizing that he could still feel the vibrating from the drill in his bones even though the drill was no longer running. The excitement of discovery bubbled through his stomach, quickening his steps.

He moved quicker to prepare a specially designed suit that was designed to protect him from temperature, radiation and even the crushing pressure of the deepest oceans. The suit took nearly an hour to don and secure, a combination of his own hands and mechanical arms strapping the suit to his body. He was prepared long before the submarine was so he took a few moments outside of the subs hatch to compose himself. Cedric leaned against the cold steel walls of his enclosure and closed his eyes breathing deeply, allowing his thoughts to retreat into his mind. Sleep had not come easy to him the past few weeks. He blamed it on the every approaching climax of his journey but he could not help but feel there was something else tugging at his mind. Something calling out to him in his dreams. He would be standing out on the frozen fields of Europa, no suit, exposed to the elements but feeling no discomfort. He would look up at the skyless void above him and see nothing; no stars, no sun, not even the all encompassing mass that was Jupiter. A glow would come from below and as he looked down he would see an infinite cosmic mass of blue lights swirling just below the surface of the ice, calling to him. The swirling lights pulled at that deep instinctual feeling of communion that he had been denied these past ten years, putting stress on his training to handle such pressures.

Cedric jerked awake, still leaning against the wall in front of the hatch to the submarine that was now prepared for him to enter. He shuffled anxiously like he just got caught cheating on a test at school. He calmed himself, Keep yourself together man, he thought to himself. His thoughts raced knowing that he would be taking a huge risk if he was truly this tired, but refused to delay his role in history.

He opened the hatch to reveal the surprisingly cramped space that was the interior of the submarine. Anyone who wasn't trained would have refused to enter such a cramped space, it was so tight that one would have to lay down in the submarine giving only enough space to move his arms and head in order to operate the various switches, buttons and holographic screens inside. He lay in the enclosed space and reviewed some of the displayed hologram screens to ensure that all systems were working. Everything was perfect. With the push of a button the hatch closed behind him and the submarine began descending down the vertical ice shaft, being lowered by the same arm the drill had previously been attached to. Cedric turned the submarines forward facing lights on to reveal the ice wall in front of him that had been carved out by the drill.

The decent took longer then he would have liked, every minute seeming to stretch on for hours with only the carved ice wall to look at through the specially produced translucent metal like material that made up the front of the submarine, giving him a very wide view at what was surrounding him. His mind was spinning with the wonders that he could find; natural underwater structures, chemical reactions not seen on earth or the crown jewel of discovery, alien life.

Finally the ice wall gave way with the gurgling of the lightless liquid void swallowing the submarine. Cedric flipped all the lights on, seeing the rays shooting through the liquid but making no purchase on anything. He looked down through the metallic glass and could not help but to draw a connection between the dark waters below and the starless void of his recurring dream. He looked up at the ice ceiling expecting to see the swirling cosmic lights of his dream and was surprised at his disappointment when he didn't see them. Despite his training, he struggled to suppress an overwhelming sense of loneliness. He did his best to focus on the task at hand, he pressed a few buttons to turn on a hologram of his surroundings. A radar, that displayed itself to his right, that would show any obstacles within a few hundred feet. Running his fingers through practiced motions he ran diagnostics to ensure the sub was working, all while having the sub run samples on the surrounding liquid. The test came back and Cedrics emotions were stolen by awe. It was fascinating. The liquid was water but there was so much more mixed in with it; minerals and chemicals galore, like a soup of everything found on earth and more. It was too much for Cedric to look through while in this enclosed space, which he was thankful that all the data he would be collecting would be recorded in the bases computers for him to review and send back to earth.

With the diagnostics passing with flying colors the moment of truth had come, it was time to release the sub, and himself, into the unknown. One last check to make sure the rudders and back up systems worked so he would not end up stranded in the middle of this alien ocean. Perfection.

He smiled, the suspense of discover cascaded through him, and pressed the button to release the sub. With a lurch the sub separated and, with a gentle push of the steering handles, the sub pressed forward into the darkness.

Cedric pushed the sub in a cautious circle around the drill sight, checking all systems, just as he had been trained to do. When he was satisfied with the results he slowly began taking the submarine deeper, making large circles to cork screw his way down into the depths.

Nearly an hour of this slow decent had passed with no change, the ice sheet above had disappeared out of the holographic sonars range long ago with no new obstacles coming into view. Cedric breathed easily, staying calm and vigilant for any change in the mechanics of the submarine. Now would not be the time for something to go wrong. He thought to himself.

Even in his controlled silence, Cedrics mind raced. This is what he had spent his life working towards, being the first to explore Europa was a dream come true and the water sample alone was a massive step in the understanding of this planet and the universe they lived in. He looked from side to side, up and down looking for anything in the void. He could only imagine what could be found in these waters, he found himself captivated by his own imagination threatening to distract him from the displays that his life depended on.

Miles below the drill site the sub stopped without warning causing Cedrics heart to skip a beat. He furrowed his brow looking about the screens and holographic displays to try to discern what had caused the sudden stop. The sub was meeting resistance, restricting the movement of its rudders and other mobile functions. Cedric turned the motors off and began running diagnostic tests and another sample test on the waters to try to find any answers.

Moments latter an error displayed itself on the sample testing screen that read 'ERROR: UNABLE TO EXTRACT SAMPLE'. This puzzled Cedric, the pressure here alone should push the surrounding water into the sample tube with ease.

Cedrics thoughts were interrupted as he felt the submarine gently tilt to the left. He instinctually grabbed the handles to try to control the movements but remembered that the motors were still off meaning something outside of the sub caused the movement. Maybe there is a current. He thought to himself but then the sub lurched, this time to the right, and the holograms and screens all fizzed as if being interrupted by static.

The submarine lights blinked and struggled to stay on and in the darkness Cedric saw the speck of another light, small and distant. This captured Cedrics attention away from the struggles of his submarine, curiosity overcame him and he turned the lights, screens and holograms off plunging himself into darkness. A small pale blue speck of light pierced that darkness, like a single star in a starless night sky. Cedric could only stare, speechless. Is it a chemical reaction of some kind? Some kind of bioluminescent creature? The possibilities ran through his mind.

Cedric slowly, keeping his eye on the blue light, turned the holographic display of the sonar on. In the same moment that the holograms light filled the space the small blue speck disappeared. He raised an eye brow and scanned the sonar where the light had been coming from expecting to see a source but found nothing.

He turned the sonar hologram display off and audibly gasped as his entire view was encompassed by swirling and spinning gentle blue lights of various sizes and moving at different speeds. It was as if the lights themselves were dancing in a chaotic, unorganized mass. It was beautiful and captivating, almost hypnotic, taking up ever ounce of Cedrics awareness. He found himself lost in the visual effects of these lights and could almost hear the music they seemed to dance to.

The swirling lights reminded Cedric of the cosmic mass he had seen in his dreams. A tear fell from his eye, he could not help but feel a connection to these lights. A buzzing sense of wonder washed over him mixed with a relief, as if an unknown thirst had just been quenched. He felt an instinctual need within himself being fulfilled just by looking at these mesmerizing lights.

He had to steal himself to turn his attention back to the sub, but just as he did all of the lights stopped moving. Cedric paused at the change and watch carefully, ready to react, uncomfortable with the change of pace. The lights then started becoming brighter and brighter as if charging at him. Cedric quickly turned the lights to his sub on in hopes to finally see the source of the lights before they collided with his sub. The lights of the sub beamed out in every direction and in that same instant, the charging blue lights blinked out of existence, but nothing could be seen in the liquid void to identify a source. Cedric breathed heavier, confused by what he had experienced. He looked back at the switch that would turn off the subs lights and slowly reached for it, looking out into the void almost expecting some creature to come into the light that would explain what he had seen.

He flicked the switch and the instant the subs light turned off a blinding blue light flashed before him causing his vision to go white. His eyes burned as he squeezed his lids shut instinctually. He blinked the light away only to see darkness before him. He blinked harder trying to adjust to the darkness with no results. Cedric had a moment of panic thinking he had gone blind, bringing his hands to his eyes and curling his knees to his chest.

Just then Cedric realized the freedom of movement he had, he was no longer in the sub. He felt as though he was swimming with no resistance, floating in space, falling with no gravity. He kicked his feet instinctually trying to gather a feeling for up or down but could not conceive any form of gravity. He blinked his eyes but could only see the darkness. He thought to himself, am I dead, but the thoughts of his mind echoed in the world around him out into the void.

A mote of blue light floated down in front of his face, captivating his every being. As he stared into the light before him he could feel all of his senses being syphoned into the light. He reached out with a hand that slowly began to dissipate, becoming translucent as it entered the faint blue light. He felt as if the hand he pushed forward became part of the emptiness around him, slowly fading into the light.

The blue light started traveling away from him growing smaller but the light around Cedric seemed to grow and shrink in rhythmic waves as other small lights flew past him towards the retreating light. With each speck joining the central light it grew brighter throwing beams of light like spears through the void. As the spears hit his chest he felt a numbness spread through his body and mind.

Fear was no longer with him, curiosity no longer drove him. His sense of self was slowly melting into the light that was now consuming him, with him, a part of him. He could feel the light as if it was a life like his own, a familiar sense of loneliness and the pull for companionship reflected into him and out of him. In his last few moments of knowing himself he knew he should be afraid but the overwhelming sense of wholeness and peace overcame all thoughts and plunged him into the light and then consumed him in darkness.


COVID-19 was just the beginning. By the end of 2030, 15 new viruses had ravaged the world and killed off almost half the world’s population. Since the early ‘20s, no one has been able to leave their state or country; all air and boat traffic was suspended. Traveling to another area became illegal. There were still those who did it, of course. The viruses still managed to spread. Americans had it the worst. Of their population of over 300 million in the early ‘20s, less than 50 million were left by 2030. Some residents tried to illegally immigrate to Mexico or Canada, and boarded ships illegally crossed the ocean. This is how this last virus started.

Back in 2029, a new virus appeared in North America. It started in North Carolina when a cat infected its owner. This virus was a strain of rabies that had combined with a parasite that attacked the brain. The result was a pale, lethargic state with an overwhelming desire to bite others. The parasite reproduced quickly and spread its eggs via the infected wounds caused by the bites. The owner decided to have the cat put down and called Animal Control to pick the cat up. The cat bit 5 others in the attempt to be caged. At that time, no one suspected rabies due to the cat’s lethargy. However, one of the Animal Control employees had recently had a rabies vaccine (due to issues with another animal) and treated his infection with some strong antibiotic ointment. The two in combination seemed to save him (for the time being). Fifteen months later, the WHO was able to track him down and transmit their findings of a possible vaccine...before the employee and entire WHO team were killed via a zombie attack.

Zombies - as they have thusly been named - are not naturally cannibalistic, they are omnivores just as we are, but a lot of food sources have dried up. Zombies don’t work, see, and therefore there are now twice as many mouths to feed and half the workers. After reports of zombies started popping up all over the US, farmers began to cordon off their fields with electric fences. Mayors began to build walls. NYC blew up their bridges and screened people heavily before allowing them through via ferry. So the zombies ran out of readily available food. First, they turned to the livestock and wild animals. Then, they turned to the people.

There are barely any safe places left.

At the time of the first cases, I was living in a small town in the middle of Pennsylvania. Living in the middle of nowhere has its benefits. For one, about half of the viruses that had destroyed the world never reached our small town until after the vaccines had been developed. For another, the new “zombie” pandemic seemed very unreal and hard to believe at first.

Reports reached us that major cities in North Carolina had been lost to zombies. The National Guard had tried to control the situation, but entire units were lost. Virginia spent its entire yearly budget on building electric fencing on its border. The border between it and North Carolina was secure, but it failed to secure all the fencing needed to protect itself along the Appalachian mountains. Zombies made their way (very slowly) across the mountains into Virginia. The President decided to bomb the majorly affected cities, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of zombies, especially because it would take days for new patients to turn.

With the failure of the bombs, my friends and I decided to leave. I suggested moving to my Grandpa’s old farm: it was large, had food sources (corn, gardens, chickens, pigs, and cows), and had a water source. Plus he had old electric fences that were no longer running but could be rigged to work again. We packed necessities and left the next day.

The farm was being run by my Grandpa’s current tenants. But when we got there, the tenants were nowhere to be found. “Oh, they left days ago, heading for Canada,” Grandpa told us. A lot of people had been leaving for Canada lately.

The first thing we did was feed and water the animals. One of my friends and his brother were comfortable with animals as were my sister and I, but my other friends knew nothing about how to care for animals. My friend Tom, his brother Dan, my sister Jess, and I each took one friend along to show them what to do. Then we inspected their enclosures for any breakages or weak points.

We each contributed to the farm in our own ways. Megan B took up veterinary medicine. Jess learned animal husbandry. Marty and Dan learned how to set up the electric fences and got them working. Tom set up traps outside and inside the fences, for game and for larger creatures. Alek set up an internet system and called people to set up backup systems if our main one failed. He also ordered laptops and phones for each one of us. Stef was in charge of drawing a map of the farm and developing a plan (and several backup plans) should things go awry. I learned the ins and outs of gardening, cooking, and canning for the future. Grandpa helped where he could, but his health made it difficult to do much. Still we were grateful for his expertise.

Our biggest problem with our plan was the cats. Grandpa had a ton of barn cats living in and around the barn, free to come and go as they pleased. Within two weeks, 5 of them came back as zombie cats. Megan B and Dan put down any who were bitten and managed to catch the zombie cats. Megan B decided to keep one in a cage to watch and document what happened as the illness progressed. Of the over 20 cats left, I decided to adopt a few and put the rest in the tenant house for safety. Megan B managed to spay and neuter over half of them.

But the cats weren’t the only things that made it through the fence. One day, we discovered 5 deer had jumped the fence and made it into one of our corn fields. We managed to herd them into a smaller barn we had decided to reserve for sick animals. We watched them carefully for any symptoms. On the 3rd day, Dan noticed one of the deer acting slow. He went into their enclosure to inspect further. The other 4 deer scittered back into the barn, but this one allowed Dan to approach. Too late, Dan saw the festering bite mark on the deer’s left flank.

Before he made it two steps, the deer had bitten Dan hard on his left arm. Dan screamed with frustration and pain, throwing his arms up in the air. The deer tried to bite him again. Shots rang out from behind Dan. He quickly ducked and covered his head. The deer dropped to the ground, twitching a little, then lay still. It had been hit in the head. Tom was standing on the other side of the fence with a gun aimed at the deer. He slowly put the gun down and asked Dan,

“Did it get ya?” Tom made as though he was going to hop over the fence, but Dan held up his hands to stop his brother from approaching.

“Don’t come any closer, Tom,” Dan said in a restricted voice. “I’ve been bit.” He let out an almighty sigh. “Go tell the others.” Tom went inside the house and told Grandpa, Jess, Megan B, and I what had happened. He collapsed in a chair; Jess tried to comfort him. Megan B and I went around the farm to tell the others. I let Megan B find most of the others, though. Instead, I went to the buildings behind the tenant house that now held the cats.

My Grandpa’s farm was a very old farm built before electricity. Back then, the tenants did the majority of the work. They even had three extra buildings in the back. One was being used as a storage shed. The other two were a spring house and a summer kitchen. The spring house’s main floor was empty and would possibly be a good place to house Danny for the time being, but there was a giant pool of water the bubbled from the spring in the basement. And though there was little I knew about rabies, I did know that it caused an irrational fear of water. The summer kitchen had an old stove in it, but that could easily be removed. The only problem was the basement level (that I was honestly too scared to check out). Maybe we could cordon it off somehow? When I got back to the house, they were already discussing the matter. Marty and Stef had suggested the practical, but hard suggestion of just shooting Danny now. Tom walked out of the room and couldn’t handle it. Megan B suggested that we use antibiotic cream to treat the wound and see what happened. Jess suggested putting him in the basement in Grandma‘s old painting room. That’s when I suggested the summer kitchen. I took the other people out to look at the building, while Megan B went to put antibiotic cream on the wound. We decided the best place for Danny was the summer kitchen. Then, Alek had a great suggestion about putting an electric fence around the summer kitchen. Jess went to break the news to Tom.

At this point, we had no idea how soon the virus presented itself, just that it was like rabies. We gave Danny things to do, books to read, and machines to work on in the kitchen. We also moved a twin-sized bed, a comfy chair, and a small table and chair in there. Alek set up a two-way video feed running to the house. Megan B and Grandpa were set the tasks of watching him for any changes. While we waited for the worst to happen, Alek discovered a way to set up a remote control electric fence. We set one up inside the door of the summer kitchen so that we could bring food to Danny without risking ourselves. The change happened on the fourth day after he had been bitten. He complained early in the day about a headache and fatigue, so he took a nap. Upon awakening, he just sat on his bed for hours at a time. The only times he showed any signs of life were when people would bring him food. Dan would rush towards the person, mouth open, then yelp with pain as he encountered the electric fence and back away. He would do this over and over again until the person left. Then he would attack the food, eating it without his hands and with food going everywhere. Eventually, we decided to get a feeding trough like the ones we used for the pigs and a shatterproof glass feeder for water. About a year later For those who still keep track of time My friends and I have really settled into this communal farm living. We share almost everything, except for size-specific clothes and partners. Everyone has paired up with someone. Megan B and Marty were the first to start “dating”. With no priests or officials to marry someone, we decided as a group that whoever you were sleeping with was your husband or wife. Jess, Tom, and Stef went off to do their own things. I believe Jess just chose whomever she wanted, and Tom and Stef were ok with that. Alek and I appreciated solitude more than the others. We decided to move into the “cat house” and claim it as our own. We still helped out the others as much as before, but now we had a little place to simply be alone. Megan B, Jess, and Stef had thought enough ahead to bring birth control pills and condoms. But Alek and I wanted none of that.

I am now about 3 months pregnant (or so estimated by an OBGYN we were able to video-chat with in California). Yes, we worry about the baby: how it will grow, how we will be able to feed and care for it, and how to frankly get diapers! Megan B has at least helped birth several calves, piglets, and kittens now, so maybe the actual birthing won’t be so bad?

We have heard worrying reports on what few news stations are left about a hoard of zombies ravaging the middle of Pennsylvania. We have taken to sleeping in shifts and have packed the four vehicles we have full of provisions and necessities. We have also taken turns going on raids of neighboring farms for feed and any trailers we can find. Thus far, we’ve managed to find three. We keep animals in the three trailers on a rotating shift so that no animal spends more than 3 hours in the trailer. We created a driving schedule and plotted routes to Canada in case of the need to escape. We chose meeting points in abandoned areas in case of separation.

Danny is much the same. He still only eats, sleeps, and tries to attack whomever entered the room. Megan B has tried putting a few basic meds in his food to see if he would act the same. Nothing has helped.

“Ugh,” I sigh as I sink into a comfy chair. “I really don’t want to deal with Danny’s food today. Just the smell of that room makes me nauseous.”

“What doesn’t make you nauseous?” says Alek in a joking voice. “Don’t worry, Megan, I’ll handle it.” I had fallen asleep when Alek burst suddenly into the room. “Megan, come quick! Something’s happened to Danny!” I run as fast as I can to the summer kitchen (though I have to stop and vomit after just a few paces outside). Danny is nowhere to be seen. Then I hear some yelps coming from the basement...the basement we had never cordoned off. I freeze. I do NOT want to go down into that basement. Alek grabs my hand to help me towards the stairs, but I do not budge. Alek sighs, and says, “Call the others.” He turns the flashlight on from his phone and carefully peeks down the stairs. I call the gang. Even Grandpa manages to come. Tom and Marty bring a rope. Alek manages to scare whatever is living down there away from Danny, and Tom lassoes Danny. Together, the men, Jess, and I manage to pull Danny up. Megan B prepares her med kit. Grandpa shouts encouragement from the doorway. They bring up a dead Danny.

Or at least, that’s what he looks like. Jess and Stef place him on the bed while Megan B gives him a shot of antibiotics. Megan B says to hope for the best; there’s no broken bones, but it looks like he’s been bitten by a snake. He lays unconscious on the bed for two days.

The 3rd day of Danny’s unconsciousness starts with a rude awakening by Tom and Marty. “Our large perimeter traps have gone off. They’re coming.” I rush around, getting the loaves of freshly baked bread and the baby clothes I had been knitting. Alek picks up the cages with a few of our cats inside and takes the fencing remotes with him. We leave the door open so that maybe some of the other cats would have a chance to survive. Stef and Tom rush around to open the animal enclosures. Megan B and Marty are hurriedly picking some fresh fruit and veggies from the garden. Jess is arguing with Grandpa.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Jess yells.

“I’m too old,” Grandpa replies. “I don’t want to slow you down.” “Grandpa,” I butt in. “I need you.” I look down and pat my belly. “And more importantly, my child needs you.” Jess glares at me in shock. Alek and I hadn’t told anyone besides Megan B yet. Life was too uncertain to be proud of bringing a child into the world. Grandpa slowly nods and agrees to get in the car. I rush inside the house to get Grandpa’s medicine and a picture of Grandma. Stef and Tom and Marty and Megan B have already started to leave. I’m heading out when I hear a loud, “Wait!” I look around confused, thinking maybe Grandpa left the TV on, when I notice Danny looking right at me from the two-way video feed! “Danny?” I ask, confused. We hadn’t heard a single word from Danny since he had gone zombie. “Don’t leave without me!” I dash out through the garage without stopping, putting the things down on top of Jess’s car as I run past. I wave my arms and yell, “Come back! Turn around! It’s Danny!” Tom makes a vicious u-turn that almost hits Marty and Megan B’s car and speeds towards the back part of the farm, where the summer kitchen is. Marty and Megan B turn around and head in the same direction. I run to catch up to them. Alek starts to run but turns around. He goes back to the car, and, next thing I know, he’s running next to me with an empty cage. I look at him questioningly. “I’m going to get that snake.” “Why?” I ask. “It’s not like it’s…” I trail off. “...the cure,” he finishes. When we get there, Tom is giving Dan a big hug while Stef is urging them to get in the car. Marty comes out of the shed with a long pointed stick, and Megan B tests a flashlight. “Ready to go save the world?” Alek asks. Marty and Megan B open the door in answer.

Minutes later, we all speed away, heading towards Canada with the cure in our backseat.


Janice fixed her scarf with hairpins, behind her ears and across her temples, to make a hairband. She adjusted the bun at the top of her neck and hid the remaining of her camomile strands under the silk patterns - without metamorphosis, she struggled to slip into her evening role. She rolled down the iron curtain of her dry-cleaning shop and switched the sign on the door to “ Closed ”. Her hand glued to the top of her headscarf, and her long pleated dress floating in the wind, she rushed down to the bar at the corner of the littered street. Cherry blossom tainted the air of another spring evening she would be spending indoors, for client privacy. Her low heels tapped the wooden parquet as she stepped into the bar and her gaze slid down to avoid the barman’s eyes behind the counter. He watched her walk over to her usual table as he wiped wine glasses. Janice soaked a tissue with lemon flavoured water from the jar and scrubbed the wood. Her clients would lean on the table and she did not want it to be sticky. They were already stuck enough in their lives. “What would you like this time ?“, the barman asked, a hand on his hip while she ran her finger down the lines of a menu she now knew by heart. “Crispy tenders with barbecue sauce. And fries. Lots of fries.” He grabbed the menu back with a smirk - I know you're on to something, his eyes read. And you won't get any fee from me, her eyes replied. “ The woman with the scarf , what a great idea to find you, Mrs BehindClosedDoors," her client said as he slipped off his jacket. He looked young. “It’s a nice place here." He looked around at the coloured glass partitions behind them. “I saw there’s a pool over there.” He looked back at her with a genuine smile. He was young. “Would you like to order something? Their iced tea is good.” “Iced tea, then.” He rubbed his laps under the table. His cheeks were red and his teeth soft, Janice wondered who he would address his letter to. The barman glanced at her as he brought a tray with chicken tenders and sauce. Janice pushed the tray towards her client and fetched her pen and stationary from her bag. That pen was her favourite because it rolled seamlessly as clients recounted their stories. ”So,” she said as she flattened the paper, “what do you want to tell her?” “Should I first give some context?“ “As you wish.” “Alright. Because I cannot really... I don’t know how to... I mean, facts are easier for me.” “Let‘s go with the facts, then.” She took a sip. By now, she knew that when it came to closure letters, as she called them, the words she used to help clients open up did not matter. Her tone did, her eyes did and fried chicken did. The rest was only fluff. “But before that, how did you know it’s a she?”, the client asked. Janice smiled - clients always wanted to start with context and ended up contouring the topic by asking her what she had perceived. They expected her to frame what they felt, before even trying to phrase it themselves. Over the past twenty years, Janice had learnt how to decipher her clients' body language. There were three types of clients: those who wanted to contact a past lover, those who contacted a family member or a friend and those who wanted to make a written promise to their old or future selves. The main clue to figuring what category a client pertained to was how and when they had positioned their coats on their chairs. That gentle man, for he seemed gentle, had tossed his jacket onto the back of his chair as soon as he had entered and hadn't noticed it sliding down to the side as they spoke. Typical mix of hastiness and oblivion. “Your eyes,” she said. “Oh.“ He blushed. “That’s a good sign - you can read well.“ "I can write even better.” He smiled and leaned his elbow on the table to grab fries. “Actually, we don’t need facts. What happened is...” Janice helped the young man articulate what he wanted to say to a stranger he once met at a gas station in Big Sur. They had moved on with their lives, for who has time for love fantasies across time zones and states. But with time, she had come back to his mind and he wanted to express what he had felt for her. Who, amongst us, wish, yet fear, recontacting past encounters for another lap? Most, Janice found. But to her, it was easy - she listened and scribed. Beautiful letters in cursive, with words and flavours. Feelings and regrets. Images and prospects. Part of the process was the casual setting and the rest was the light-heartedness of a conversation with an ego so alter that clients had the impression of talking to a wiser self. With writing skills. "So you'll post the letter tonight and... keep me posted?" "I will write your address at the back of the envelope, so you can receive her response directly and take it from there." "Do you think she will reply?" "A heart-felt letter is the best way to know." Janice lit up the lamp by the TV of her small living-room and opened the window to get a glimpse of the cherry blossom scent she had missed out on. She lit a cigarette and skimmed through the three letters she had composed that evening. Client stories were all similar, especially in that they were jailers, holding them prisoner. Janice slipped the envelopes into a box, where the other letters to lovers, former or to-be, awaited. Letters she had never sent and never would. Janice switched the sign on the front door of her dry-cleaning shop to " Open " and started the day with the pile of blue shirts she had to iron. Everyone deserved to start anew and leave their hopes behind. To charge a minimal price to her night clients for writing and sending closure letters, Janice had kept her old job and worked hard by day. She poured lavender water in the iron and pressed it onto the pleats. She liked the sound of the water moving inside the iron. She stopped at eleven, like every morning, to drink coffee and watch rushersby through the window. To some it was an ordinary day, to others an important day. They were visiting their future houses, meeting their in-laws for the first time, hiring their first nan, or going to an interview. Those for whom it was an important day had tensed foreheads and a tiny smile at the corner of their mouths. Worried optimism. "Janice." "Good morning Madam, may I help you?" "You know why I'm here." "I'm afraid I don't." It was not the first time a night client entered her day shop. "We met three months ago at the bar, at the corner of the street." Janice put her cup on its saucer and the china tinkled between her wrinkled hands. "Andrew hasn't replied." Her client's suit and heels stood out in the shop. "Has he received the letter?", she asked. "How would I know?" Janice said and turned around to face the vitrine again. She crossed her arms onto her chest tranquilly. "Did you send the letter?" "Did I send the letter?" "Janice, you can't... that's not... I paid you for a service and -" "Which I did. If Andrew hasn't replied, and doesn't want to, that is another matter." "Why wouldn't he want to? You said a genuine letter was the best way to-" "Best doesn't mean successful." Janice turned around, arms still crossed on her chest. "Were you expecting an answer?" "I hoped..." The woman looked down at her handbag. "Would he answer?" Janice joined her hands and came closer to the woman. "Would Andrew answer a heart-felt letter?" "I don't know. I... I had so much to say, now -" "Now it's up to him. Hence my question to you: is that lack of answer surprising? Think clearly." A dark veil covered the eyes of her client. Janice recognised that veil - it was a mix of sorrow and hatred. That look in her clients' eyes bit her in the chest, each time. She removed the basket of shirts from a chair by the counter and pushed it towards her client. A tear rolled down the woman's cheek. Janice pinched her lips. That part was probably the one she hated most. No matter how many times she had done this, it still transpierced her chest. She kneeled down and took her client's hand. "I don't understand. I thought he would ... but now.... Why?" The client's earrings tinkled as she turned her red nose towards Janice. "Why would he -" "Ignore you?" Silence, she had learnt with the years, was the best way for her clients to face the flow of potential answers in their heads and understand there were none. The abundance of answers and their ironic absence. Janice's thumb caressed the back of her client's hand. It was soft. She wondered if Andrew would have enjoyed caressing that hand again. But she would never know. And neither would her client. "I have to go back to work." The woman said, wiping tears with her fingertips to avoid spreading mascara over her cheeks. Janice brought her a handkerchief and led her to the entrance of the shop. Janice watched her zigzag through traffic lines with her beige high heels and grey-striped tailored suit, her blow-dried curls floating in her back. Janice grabbed her diary and marked the day in two weeks with a cross and the name "Andrew". In two weeks, her client would come back to return the handkerchief she would have wept in and washed. Janice would then offer her a "spontaneous" tour in her car. A tour she would have curated just for her. Janice rolled down the window of her car and drove off. The shop shrank through the rear-view mirror until it faded away, as her own life and that of her clients. Although, not really, for, on the passenger's seat, sat the box with letters to lovers. Janice drove through the forest, via dusty paths. Gripping the wheel, she replayed the story of Andrew in her head. She remembered every single story, perhaps because she wrote down the letters. Andrew who had left her client for no reason, most likely for another woman. Andrew who throughout the story had shown no sign of magnanimity. What had worked in other cases would work in Andrew's case, Janice diagnosed. Her client only needed to understand that the doors at the end of the corridor that separated her, in time and space, from Andrew were now closed. That, faced with closed doors, one could only turn around and walk in another direction. Hence the closing letters - they helped close the door on both sides and force the right ones open. Janice lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out of the window. She knew what forgetting someone we once loved tasted like. Especially, when one only had hopes and no answers. Which is why Janice had decided long ago to never post letters addressed to past lovers - they were never worth it. Longing for an answer, a sign, anything, crushed down passion and hopes into ashes. Expressing feelings and regrets was a first step to moving on, hitting the wall was the second and a walk in the forest by the ocean was the next. Through the rolled-down window, the salty air from the ocean and the scent of pines embalmed the car. Janice played Moving On by Leonard Cohen on her dusty player. The car shook from side to side as she progressed across the stones of the dirty path. She gripped the wheel stronger, to not shiver and not let the lyrics carry her too far. The guitar strings always hit the same. Be it as she thought of Carl or Tonio. She pushed the gear box. Carl's eyes like coffee beans and his brown hair, not dark, not black. Intense brown. Tonio's face as his tiny fingers twined around hers. She pushed the accelerator. She soon reached the spot she had in mind for her client, amidst sequoias and cedars. She parked by a fallen trunk and grabbed her bag. Was she here for herself or her client? At times, she wondered. She picked a daffodil along the path. She would wrap it in newspaper and slip it into her next enveloppe to Tonio - daffodils were his favourite. Cohen's guitar strings still played in her mind as she walked down the trail that led to the cliff far ahead. From the cliff, she saw the ocean. Its waves and foam, its smell and spray. A large bird deployed its wings and melted into the setting sun. The daffodil spun between her fingers. That very view helped her clients move on but, each time, it reminded her of the same question: why? With Carl, the story was confusing yet simple. She had forgiven him and learnt her lessons, although without answers. But Carl, who was and would forever be part of herself, was not her son. Tonio was. He was their son. Janice grabbed a tiny stone and threw it down the cliff. It fell flat into the ocean. It did not ripple, it just fell flat. She saw it, she felt it, she knew it. But she kept watching, hoping the stone would bounce back and time reverse. It never did. Why had Tonio ignored her letters for more than twenty years? Question. The rosy clouds in the sky blent with indigo nuances as the sun slid into the horizon. She rubbed her shoulders and glanced a last time over the cliff. The stone was gone. She sliced pieces of meat for Debbie her cat and caressed her silky hair. She grabbed the batch of letters she had received that day and went through them, caressing her fluffy cat. Five letters. Her heart stopped as she noticed a familiar handwriting on one of the envelopes. She ripped it apart. "Dear Mrs BehindClosedDoors, I saw your ad in the newspaper and I would like to make an appointment to send a closure letter. I've heard you do miracles..." Something pinched into her chest. Her hand shook out of disappointed excitement. She put the envelope on the table with the batch of "potential new clients", she would look at only on Monday. The rest of the letters were "Thank you" notes from existing clients. She threw them onto another batch that she would browse through on Tuesday. Tuesdays were her favourite day. It warmed her heart to know clients had moved on. It warmed her heart to know they had achieved what she couldn't do. Through their moving on, she experienced what she wished for. None of her clients had figured she never sent out letters to past lovers. She did send those to old and future selves for the client was the recipient. But those letters were rather insignificant - who needed a third party to write down something to oneself? No, those letters were only a way to hold oneself accountable and do it. Janice had little respect for people who sent letters to themselves via her, she found it theatrical. But still offered the service. Past lovers, not worth it. Old and future selves, grandiosity. No, the only letters she took seriously and did post were those to friends and family members. She even paid extra for the letter to arrive faster for she would have given anything to receive one from Tonio, across continents. The window was open and, outside, the branches of cherry trees shivered to Cohen's poem. She locked the door of the living room, folded her long skirt and curled into the sofa. Behind the living room's closed doors, she fetched stationary and twirled the forest daffodil with her fingers. Her favourite pen, the one that never lied, marked the date at the top right corner of the paper. Dear Tonio . The pen stopped. Behind closed doors, the daffodil laid, waiting for another attempt to flow out.


“Dad!” A little voice called from deep in some crevice of one of the Bercan family’s rooms. The call was followed by a drawn out wail, which gathered intensity until it could sustain itself no longer and it came crashing down flights of octaves to end in an exaggerated sob. Durie Bercan, the father being called for, left his desk and hurried down the dark hallway, trying not to trip over toys and towels on the way. His two children had just left the bathroom to run to their shared bedroom and snuggle into their beds, when the entire house had gone dark. Durie guessed that this was what had caused the wail. He reached the bedroom door without injury, and tried to turn on the light. Remembering the situation, he rolled his eyes at himself, and opened the blind on the window instead, which let a little light into the room. “There you go, Eevie,” he said, forestalling another unnecessary wail. “Can you see now?” “No.” Durie smiled, thankful that the darkness hid his approval. “Why is it dark?” Ten-year-old Alexander asked. Durie didn’t blame him for being unsettled. The darkness was extreme. At night time, the house would usually be dimly illuminated by bulbs hanging from the roof of each room, and outside each street had brilliant ropes of light running down each side to show the way to any late drivers, but now there was no light aside from the pale moonlight which entered the room uncertainly through the lace curtain on the window. “I think it’s so that we can enjoy this night especially,” Durie answered with a smile in his voice. “What do you think?” By this time, the three had found each other and Durie and Alex were holding hands. Five-year-old Eevie still thought she was little enough to be held in her dad’s strong arms, and at special moments, she was allowed to, so she jumped up against him, and Durie lifted her up with one arm. Eevie was no longer concerned by the malfunctioning lights. This was fun. “What do you mean? Can we not go to bed?” Both children were eager to make this a profitable opportunity. “No… But I think you can go to bed somewhere else. Would you like to tent in the backyard tonight?” “Yes!” Eevie bounced up and down in excitement, and Durie had to let go of Alex’s hand to keep her from falling. “Okay, come on. Bring your pillows and blankets and a toy if you want, and we’ll go set the tent up. I hope mum doesn’t mind!” —— — It didn’t take long for everything to be set in order in the backyard. Or, at least relative order. Eevie was wearing a pair of her brothers socks and if you looked really closely, you’d see that a part of the tent was being held together with sticky-tape, but everyone was content, sitting in a circle, looking up at the evening’s stars through the tent’s skylight. A little hand rose slowly and pointed to the sky, and Durie looked at his daughter’s face as she stared with rapture at the white diamonds in the sky. “Never seen this many stars,” Alex commented in a low voice. Their father said nothing, not willing to break the beautiful moment if peace. Any minute now, he sensed that both of his children would start to drift off to the shores of sleep and while he wanted the time they were spending to last forever, suspended like the yellow moon in the sky to the very last, he also knew they needed to get to sleep. Eevie wrapped her arms around his neck, and her head fell gently to Durie’s shoulder. Across from them, Alex lay down on his makeshift bed, his eyes glued to the skylight. “I think it’s beautiful,” he mumbled. “I do too.” Was the last thing either child heard until the sun hit their eyelids the next day. — — — Durie woke up, cramped and stiff in the morning. He had spent time on ships, sleeping in bunks and berths before, but never with two wriggly, precious children. However, he got up as soon as the sun rose in the sky, and went inside, checking first that his Eevie and Alex were still comfortable and warm. Then, after working out that the power was back on, he stretched a few different ways, warming up his joints for the day. Durie looked up curiously when he heard a knock on the front door of the house. Wondering who it was, he walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it wide enough to look out. On the Bercans’ front porch, there were two uniformed men in their thirties. One was holding a clipboard, and the other had some sort of fancy telecommunication device in his hand. “Good morning,” the man with the clipboard began, in a forced cheerful voice. “My name is Bob Waters, and this is Stephen. We are here to gather some information about last night’s power outage and how it may have affected the locals. If you could answer a few questions, that would be wonderful.” Durie relaxed. “Okay.” This could have been worse. “First, we need to know some basic details about you and your family, if that’s okay?” “I guess so.” - - - The questionnaire was completed and the two men moved on to the next house in the street. Durie turned around from watching them when he heard movement behind him. He smiled widely at his wife’s sleepy appearance as she exited the bedroom. “Good morning, sleepy-head. Did the baby keep you up last night?” This raised a smile on Mrs Bercan’s lips, and she laid a hand at the bottom of her round abdomen. “No, she - or he - was pretty still last night. How about you. You slept outside with the two little monsters but you look like you survived it pretty well.” “Without a scratch!” Durie and his wife embraced and then both of them suggested coffee at exactly the same time. They walked to the kitchen, laughing. - Four days later, Mrs Bercan was alarmed when she heard frustrated arguing coming from the office. Approaching the closed door, she heard her husband say, “You never disclosed anything about this decision. This isn’t fair!” She could hear raw fear in his voice. Something she couldn’t remember hearing before. Concerned, she opened the door and looked in. Durie was on the phone, pacing around his desk, his face wrinkled in concentration and horror at the news he had received. He was so engrossed in the call he didn’t even see her enter. “I told you why I can’t go. There needs to be a choice here.” He demanded. “No…” He hung his head, realizing he was beaten. A few seconds later he hung up the phone with a crash and kicked the leg of his desk splintering the wood. “Durie, darling, what’s the matter?” Mrs Bercan asked, her concern evident. He turned to her, realizing he wasn’t alone. “Oh, Sarah. Sorry. I-” He didn’t continue for a minute. Then he put his hands on the sides of her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I’ve been conscripted. I thought I was going to get away with staying here, since I have you and the kids, but I’m afraid they found out the other day when they were surveying our area after the power outage, and they’ve not given me any room to appeal the call.” “Oh, Durie!” Sarah exclaimed in horror. “No.” He brought her into his arms for a hug, both of them seeking comfort from each other. “I know. I hate them for doing this. They don’t think we matter.” “They’re wrong.” Durie nodded silently. - Durie tried again and again to have the summons revoked, with no results. He begged and promised and prayed, but the law was unfeeling and unbendable. On the day he was to be taken to the Navy headquarters for assignment, a straight-backed Navy recruitment officer arrived with two other officers to back up him up. Both of the children were at school. Durie had been subtly, delicately, saying goodbye to them for the past week. He would have broken down on the doorstep if they had been there. Sometimes the hard way was best. “Take care of yourself, Sarah. And bubs.” He looked fondly at his wife’s baby bump, trying to ignore the little voice in his head - his subconscious thoughts - saying that he wouldn’t get to see the birth. “I will, Durie. And don’t forget to look after yourself. Make some friends. I know you’ll be in a hard group, since you were conscripted, but you can do it. I love you. I believe in you.” She kissed him, and then let him go. The officers had already walked back to their car and the horn blared, startling Durie from his pensiveness. “I love you. And the kids. Tell them I said that, okay?” “Yes.” “Goodbye.” His wife waved. Tears began to spill from her eyes, but she wiped them away immediately. In the back of his mind, the thought ‘I can’t believe this is happening… I can’t believe this is happening.’ was repeating itself, as Durie was forced to turn his back on his house and his family. His life. As he reached the car, Durie turned back, numb. He couldn’t wave, but he never appreciated his wife more than the moment he was leaving her, perhaps forever. He climbed into the car silently, watching out the window as his wife, his house, and eventually the city were left behind.


It was my first year dressing up as a ghost. I was so excited. I've been wanting to dress up as one for years. Now I finally get to. I've noticed something strange lurking in my neighborhood though. It's the same thing every year. I just don't know what. I finally get to go trick or treating and my first Halloween party. Since my party runs late and starts at night fall, I'm going trick or treating early this year. After I started trick or treating, something happened that will change my life forever. After my first few houses, a car had slammed right into me. I kept trying to tell everyone I was fine, but no one would listen to me. It almost seemed like they were used to that happening. Then I saw it. My body was covered in blood and it was all disformed. Was this actually happening? Am I actually dead?

I decided to find out for myself if I was truly dead. I tried knocking on people’s doors, but my hand kept going right through them. I really am dead. That means I get to be a ghost forever. I think I am one of the only people to actually be happy to be dead. Yeah I’ll miss my family and friends, but I get to be a ghost forever.

Since I’m dead, no one can tell when I do something. I can take all the candy I want. And I can do whatever I want. This is amazing. Maybe I can find other ghosts like me. Or maybe I can spook my friends. I can have so much fun. My first task as a ghost: find my parents. I need to let my family know I’m ok. How do I do that? I know. I write it on their mirror.

I decided to write: “Mom. Dad. I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me. I’ll be home tonight.” But it came out like: “Mom. Dad. I’m coming for you.” That must be a curse of the dead. Oh well. Just means I can have some fun. I decided to go to my best friend’s house and do what ghosts do best, scare. I went to his bathroom and wrote: “Hello. I’ll be over in 10.” But instead it looked like I wrote: “Hello. I’ll be over in 10, say your goodbyes.” I’ve never heard him scream that loud, but it was so worth it. I think he was actually saying goodbye to his family and friends. Now I’m heading over to my girlfriend’s house to say bye to her. I walked straight through her door. Before I walked into her bedroom, I made sure she was out of there. I kinda figured she would be since we were heading over to the party together after I was finished being a child. I was trying to write: “I love you. Never forget me. I will always be around to protect you.” But as I’ve found out, I can’t write what I mean. I always seem to write a murder note to them. So it turned out: “I never loved you. You won’t have to try to remember me. I won’t be the only one around you. Mwahaha.” Why is this happening? I just want to say one nice thing to my girlfriend before she goes on to date someone else. She came in to get ready for the party, and saw the note. She actually didn’t run. She knew what I was trying to say because I always say it to her. I think she actually tried to kiss me. Just seeing her, made me realize how much I’m going to miss being alive. At least she knows if there’s some creepy note on her mirrors, it’s me.

Now off to the party with my girlfriend to have a little fun with the poplars. I went into the bathroom to write a little note. I wrote just to have a little fun: “Be warned. Tonight is the final night of your life. You have only a couple hours remaining. Say your goodbyes.” Finally what I wanted to write. Within moments I heard about 6 different screams coming from the bathroom. Probably just some stupid girls doing the buddy system going to the bathroom.

After I had a little bit of fun, my girlfriend had told me to leave and go home. So I did, I just took a little detour. I decided to go through my best friends house, again. This time I really wanted to scare the living out of him. So instead of trying to be nice, I actually wrote him a death note. I wrote all over his bathroom mirror: “Your time is up. Get ready to have your life ended. Not by just any ghost, but your best friend. And I’m accompanied by your worst nightmare, Barney the dinosaur.” Finally get his real scream and might actually kill him from fright.

Now I just have to answer my first question. Are there other ghosts like me? I decided to walk through the cemetery, cause why not. Everyone there is like me. That’s when I saw them. Every person who has died on Halloween night, as a ghost. Maybe that’s why my parents never wanted me to be a ghost. I always knew there was a secret roaming around my neighborhood, I just never knew what it was. Now I think I know. Everyone who wears a ghost costume, dies the night they wear it.

Maybe we could go around scaring everyone who tortured us, instead of just sitting here doing nothing. Or maybe we could go steal all of the ghost costumes to protect others from suffering the same fate we faced. Or maybe we just let it be the way it always has been. I will never know. One thing I do know though, what I’m going to do tonight before Halloween is up. I’m going to scare the living to death.