#Welcome to Serial Sunday! **Please note: This feature has feedback requirements for participation. Please read the entire post before submitting.** To those brand new to the feature and those returning from last week, welcome! Do you have a self-established universe you’ve been writing or planning to write in? Do you have an idea for a world that’s been itching to get out? This is the perfect place to explore that. Each week, I will post a single theme to inspire you. You have 850 words to tell the story. Feel free to jump in at any time if you feel inspired. Writing for previous weeks’ themes is not necessary in order to join.   *** #This week's theme is ‘Rift’! This week we’re going to explore the theme of ‘rift’. A rift is a crack, split, or break in something. This could be a physical thing, like a building or the earth itself, or it could be a split in a relationship of some kind; a difference of opinion or beliefs that causes a division between two people or groups. What effect will this have on the characters and those around them? Maybe this split is necessary for future events to unfold the way they need to. Can they see that? Or will this be the catalyst of a much larger falling out and/or series of events? These are just a few things to get you started. Remember, the theme should be present within the story in some way, but its interpretation is completely up to you. |   *** #Theme Schedule: I recognize that writing a serial can take a bit of planning. Each week, I release the following 2 weeks’ themes here in the Schedule section of the post. You can even have a say in upcoming themes! Join us on the discord - we vote on a theme every Sunday. (You can also send suggestions to me via DM on Discord or Reddit!) * January 30 - Rift (this week) * February 6 - Keepsakes * February 13 - Wrath   *** **Previous Themes:** | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | *** #How It Works: In the comments below, submit a story that is between 500 - 850 words in your own original universe, inspired by this week’s theme. This can be the beginning of a brand new serial or an installment in your in-progress serial. You have until 6pm EST the following Saturday to submit your story. Please make sure to read *all* of the rules before posting!   *** #The Rules: * **All top-level comments must be a story inspired by the theme (not using the theme is a disqualifier).** Use the stickied comment for off-topic discussion and questions you may have. * **Do not pre-write your serial.** You may do outlining and planning ahead of time, but you need to wait until the post is released to begin writing for the current week. Pre-written content or content written for another prompt/post is not allowed. * **Stories must be 500-850 words.** Use to check your word count. **You may include a *brief* recap at the top of your post each week if you like, and it will not count against the wordcount.** * **Stories must be posted by Saturday 6pm EST.** That is one hour before the beginning of Campfire. Stories submitted after the deadline will not be eligible for rankings and will not be read during campfire. * **Only one serial per author at a time.** This does not include serials written outside of Serial Sunday. * **Authors must leave at least 2 feedback comments on the thread (on two different stories, not two on one) to qualify for rankings every week.** The feedback should be actionable and **must** include at least one *detail* about what the author has done well. Failing to meet the 2 comment requirement will disqualify you from weekly rankings. (Verbal feedback does not count towards this requirement.) **Missing your feedback two consecutive weeks will exclude you from campfire readings and rankings the following week.** You have until the following Sunday at 12pm EST to fulfill your feedback requirements each week. * **Keep the content “vaguely family friendly”.** While content rules are more relaxed here at r/ShortStories, we’re going to roll with the loose guidelines of family friendly for now. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, please modmail and ask! * **Begin your post with the name of your serial between triangle brackets** (e.g. <My Awesome Serial>). This will allow our serial bot to track your parts and add your serial to the full catalogue. Please note: You **must** use the exact same name each week. This includes commas and apostrophes. If not, the bot won’t recognize your serial installments.   *** #Reminders: * **If you are continuing an in-progress serial, please include links to the prior installments on reddit.** * **Saturdays I host a Serial Campfire on the discord main voice lounge**. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and share your own thoughts on serial writing! We start at 7pm EST. You can even come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. Don’t worry about being late, just join! * **You can nominate your favorite stories each week**. Send me a message on discord or reddit and let me know by 12pm EST the following Sunday. You do not have to attend the campfire, or have read all of the stories, to make nominations. Making nominations awards both parties points (see point breakdown). * Authors who successfully finish a serial with at least 8 installments will be featured with a modpost recognizing their completion and a flair banner on the subreddit. Authors are eligible for this highlight post only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule (and all other post rules). * There’s a Serial Sunday role on the Discord server, so make sure you grab that so you’re notified of all Serial Sunday related news!   *** *** #Announcing a Brand New Feature for Completed Serials on Serial Sunday! I can’t express how delighted and honored I am to watch each of you grow and meet the challenges every week. Let’s face it, it’s quite a feat to create a world from scratch and write a serial! And finishing a serial is an amazing accomplishment. Over the last year, we’ve had quite a few writers cross that finish line. It’s something that the writers should be incredibly proud of—those still working on them and those who have already completed them. I started thinking about those finished serials and all the ones to come; I realized that a congratulatory post just wasn’t enough. I want to give you the chance to show off your hard work! And so I present to you...SerialWorm! ###What is a SerialWorm? Writers who finish their serials (with at least 12 installments) will be allowed to read their *edited* serials in their entirety aloud in the discord’s Voice Chat. This is to celebrate your accomplishments, see how it reads once it’s altogether, as well as provide some additional motivation to cross the finish line. After the final chapter is read, there will be a Q & A with the author. Questions can be submitted/asked at this time. ###Serial Worm Rules: **A minimum of 12 installments will be required to read.** Serials will need to be broken up into multiple sessions, as with any Discord Bookworm. **Only one bookworm event will be held at a time (including non-serial Bookworms).** You may still submit your finished serial to get on the list. **You need to be available to read your own serial.** Readers will not be provided. **Your serial must have gone through significant, final edits after its completion. All ‘SerialWorms’ must be approved.** SerialWorm is not for live feedback or edits, but to share your accomplishment with others and read your finished product aloud. **Completed and edited serials may have a maximum word count of 1150 per installment, with no more than 2 additional installments (not posted to Serial Sunday weekly threads).** **Serials must comply with r/ShortStories content rules. No exceptions.** **Authors must have met the rules of the weekly post.** This includes two feedback comments every week, as well as meeting the deadline. Those who miss more than 2 weeks of feedback in a 12-installment period will be ineligible for SerialWorm. This is a privilege, not a right. **SerialWorm authors must be Certified on the discord.** You must be given final approval by Bay. You can request the ‘SerialWorm’ role at any time on the Discord to be notified of upcoming SerialWorm events. ###SerialWorm Q & A To add a little something extra to make it different from the weekly campfire readings, there will be a discussion portion. *This is not for feedback on the writing*, but more an elaboration/extension on the basic questions I pose to every author in the Completed Serial Modpost, with a few extras. This is the time to ask about their writing journey, challenges they faced during their Serial, etc. The discussion portion of the SerialWorm will be after the final chapter is read. Questions can be submitted to Bay over the course of the SerialWorm or asked on the day-of. ***If you have any questions, feel free to send a modmail or DM me on our Discord!***   *** *** #Last Week’s Rankings - - by u/Zetakh   - - by u/bantamnerd   - - by u/nobodysgeese   - - by u/mattswritingaccount   *** #Ranking System The weekly rankings work on a point-based system! Note that you must use the theme each week to qualify for points! Here is the current breakdown: **Nominations (votes sent in by users):** - First place - 60 points - Second place - 50 points - Third place - 40 points - Fourth place - 30 points - Fifth place - 20 points - Sixth place - 10 points **Feedback:** - Written feedback (on the thread) - 5 points each (25 pt. cap) - Verbal feedback (during Campfire) - 5 points each (15 pt. cap) *Note: In order to be eligible for feedback points, you must complete your 2 required feedback comments. These are included in the max point value above.Your feedback must be **actionable**, listing at least one thing the author did well, to receive points. (“I liked it, great chapter” comments will not earn you points or credit.)* **Nominating Other Stories:** - Sending nominations for your favorite stories - 5 points (total)   *** ###Subreddit News - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


I was starting my second year at The Academy. I had narrowly survived the first year after the minotaur stampede that the Dark Mage Halloran unleashed. Gods only know why he is after Johan. He isn’t that good a mage, to begin with. Always seems to be up to some kind of mischief. I make my way down the hallway and pass Johan and his friends. They are speaking in whispers. Clearly, they think Haloran is going to return this year. I really hope he doesn’t. I’m here for a simple course to research and get my degree in herbology with a minor in Artificing. I do not need mad mages ruining my experiments and burning the dorm where my thesis is kept. It is by the Gods mercy I used flame magic proof paper and ink. Giving a friendly wave to a pair of first-years who are gaping around the building. Oh, how I miss those days. So naive. So clueless to the hell they are about to step into. I finally reach my goal of the Professor's meeting room. I, along with a few other exemplary students, have been called for a meeting. Stepping into the room, I can see every professor lined up. There is even Lord Sloth, for once not in his research building. This must be an important meeting if he is here. “Thank you, Alan, for joining us”, Professor Alex says, gesturing for me to stand alongside five other students standing stock still. “Sir, why have we been called here?” Alora asks, flicking her hair in the haughty way she usually does. “That is…” Lord Sloth begins before trailing off. “Before we begin, we will need you to sign a blood contract that what we tell you will not leave your lips after you walk out this room”, Professor Yuu says, rolling out a parchment covered in ancient runes. “A blood contract?” I exclaim. Using such a thing on students means this is beyond anything a normal mage will be handling. Hesitantly I sign along the bottom along with each of the other students. Finally, we each prick our finger and allow a single drop of blood to fall on the page. The blood is absorbed and vanishes. “Good with that; we can continue,” Lord Sloth says with a smile. “We wish for you boys and girls and quex to become School Prefects”, Sloth explains. “Why the shecreshy shir?” Quexly asks, their tongue flickering. “Simple, while you’ll have your normal duties, you will have additional ones on top of what your fellows will do”, Sloth explains, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. “What would that be, sir?” I ask. “Simple, you are aware of Johan, I take it?” Sloth asks. The group of students all nod. “Perfect, your first task will be to harass him and his group of friends at every single turn. Every minor infraction you see must be punished with the maximum sentence”, Sloth explained. I and the others all had perplexed looks. While it would be enjoyable to exact some revenge on Johan, this seems unbelievably petty. “Why?” Alora asks, dropping her haughty act. “Simple, you will be ‘Under the Control’ of good sir Halloran”, Sloth explains, gesturing to a door that was opened. In stepped the Dark Mage Halloran, who gave a sheepish wave. I and the others instantly readied our wands and equipment. Prepared to fight this mad mage. Had he taken control of the teachers? This really was a worst-case scenario. A loud finger snap echoed from behind us, and I could feel my mana being suppressed by an overbearing level of mana. Turning around, I saw Professor Alex wag his finger at us. Before pointing back to sloth. “You see, you lot are the most exceptional students of the second years. So we will let you in on a little secret. We have a program where an old retired professor will return to menace some of the….” Sloth trailed off as if looking for the right words. “More problematic students. The simpletons. The legacies. The ones who think they have grand destinies”, Sloth explained. “So all the chaos?” I begin. “Completely staged. These brats who think they are the best are going to leave school realising they peaked and fall to the obscurity they so rightly deserve”, Sloth said with venom dripping from his voice. “I am aware how this will sound coming from me. But we do not like nor tolerate slothful students”, Sloth said sardonically. I, along with the others, was stunned and confused. “But yoush are meant to teash shtudentsh”, Quexly shouted. “And we do, but some students will never learn. We identify them in the first month and set loose a Dark Mage on them”, Professor Yuu explained. “But this is disruptive to other students”, Alora protested. “Is it though? Our attacking mages never harm other students. They ensure no work is destroyed. Professors even make sure any experiments that may be ruined are protected”, Professor Alex explained. “If anything, many students feel motivated to improve all the more to stand above this outside threat”, Grund, the combat teacher, added finally speaking up. “Indeed, we see an upswing in grades whilst doing these things”, Sloth nodded. “So we are to be Halloran’s cronies as it were?” I asked. Halloran nodded. “Bully them, punish them at every turn. Make their lives as difficult as possible if you are ever confronted, act ignorant. Worse case, they follow you, and we can pretend you were mind-controlled. Works every time”, Halloran said. So much for a quiet year was all I could think as I accepted the prefect's badge. At least I would get a bunch of extra credit points for this.


#Welcome to the Micro Monday Challenge! Hello writers! Welcome to Micro Monday! I am excited to present you all with a chance to sharpen those micro-fic skills. What is micro-fic? I’m glad you asked! Micro-fiction is generally defined as a complete story (hook, plot, conflict, and some type of resolution) written in 300 words or less. For this exercise, it needs to be at least 100 words (no poetry). However, less words doesn’t mean less of a story. The key to micro-fic is to make careful word and phrase choices so that you can paint a vivid picture for your reader. Less words means each word does more! Each week, I’ll give you a single constraint or jumping-off point to get your minds working. It might be an image, song, theme word, sentence, or a simple writing prompt. You’re free to interpret the prompt how you like as long as you follow the post and subreddit rules. **Please read the entire post before submitting.** Remember, feedback matters! And don’t forget to upvote your favorites and nominate them via message here on reddit or a DM on discord!   *** #This week’s challenge: **Prompt: The day began like any other.** *Bonus Constraint (worth 5 extra pts.) - A character has an unusual job or task.* This week’s challenge is to use this simple writing prompt as inspiration for your story. You may interpret the prompt any way you like, as long as the connection is clear and you follow all sub and post rules. The sentence does not need to appear in your story (but you are more than welcome to, if you like). The bonus constraint is not required.   *** #How It Works: - **Submit a story between 100-300 words** in the comments below, by the following Sunday at midnight, EST. No poetry. - **Use to check your word count.** The title is not counted in your final word count. Stories under 100 words or over 300 will be disqualified from campfire readings and rankings. - **No pre-written content allowed.** Submitted stories should be written for this post exclusively. - **Come back throughout the week, upvote your favorites and leave them a comment with some actionable feedback.** Do not downvote other stories on the thread. Vote manipulation is against Reddit rules and you will be reported. See the ranking scale below for a breakdown on points. - **Please be respectful and civil in all feedback and discussion.** We welcome writers of all skill levels and experience here, as we’re all here to improve and sharpen our skills. - **Send your nominations for favorites each week to me, via DM, on Reddit or Discord by Monday at 2pm EST.** - If you have any questions, feel free to ask them on the *stickied comment* on this thread or through modmail. *Top-level comments are reserved for story submissions.* - And most of all, be creative and have fun!   *** #Campfire and Nominations - On Mondays at 12pm EST, I hold a Campfire on the discord server. We read all the stories from that week’s thread and provide verbal feedback for those authors that are present. Come join us to read your own story and listen to the others! You can come to just listen, if that’s more your speed. You don’t even have to write to join in. Don’t worry about being late, just join! Everyone is welcome. - You can nominate your favorite stories each week, by sending me a message on reddit or discord. You have until 2pm EST on Monday (or about an hour after Campfire is over). You do *not* have to write or attend Campfire to submit nominations!   *** #How Rankings are Tallied Rankings work on a point-based system. Here is the current breakdown: - **Use of Constraint:** 10 points - **Upvotes:** 5 points each - ***Actionable* Feedback** 5 points each (up to 25 pts.) - **User nominations:** 10 points each (no cap) - **Bay’s nomination:** 40 pts for first, 30 pts for second, and 20 pts for third (plus regular nominations) - **Bonus:** Up to 10 pts. (This applies to things like bonus constraints and making user nominations)   *** #Rankings ###Three Weeks Ago: The Journey - - Submitted by u/Sch0larite   - - Submitted by u/Zetakh   - - Submitted by u/NotMuchChop   - - Submitted by u/katherine_c *** ###This Past Week: Panic Room - - Submitted by u/GingerQuill   - - Submitted by u/Sch0larite   - - Submitted by u/katherine_c   - - Submitted by u/jimiflan *** ###Subreddit News - Try your hand at serial writing with - You can now post serials to r/Shortstories, outside of Serial Sunday.


Once upon a time, long, long ago and far, far away there was a little bird. And the little bird loved to fly high above the trees. All through the hot summer days, the bird soared and dipped and dived. She found such joy in the spread of her wings and the feel of the wind in her feathers. She would weave in and out of the full branches, feeling the brush of the leaves along her wings. Hearing the songs of her companions. Feeling so full of life and bustling with energy. And time passed. As the bird flew, the leaves changed their colors, and the skies clouded over. There was a briskness in the air that hadn't been there before. And still, the bird took to the skies every chance she could. She dipped among the many-colored leaves and gloried as they fluttered around her, falling to the ground. She smelled the distant scent of smoke and saw the fruits and vegetables ripen and be harvested. Soon, the trees had lost all their leaves leaving their branches bare. The sun hid behind the ever-present clouds and the sky was dark. The snow fell. Lightly at first, then with greater urgency. The snow piled around the base of the tress, muffling the sounds of the forest. Hiding the beauty under a blanket of white. The chill air hurt the bird as she flew through it. The deep breaths that had brought her the summer-fresh breezes and the crisp autumn winds took a cruel turn. The coldness if the wind bit into her skin as she continued her flight. Her heart became as heavy as the sky now. The efforts it took to flap her wings and lift herself into the sky made her very bones ache. But on she flew. With an ache in her bones and a chill through to her skin. On she flew. Until, one day, she just… couldn’t. The bird landed. So tired and so cold from the winter, from the abuse of the elements. She landed, shivering, on a bare branch, nestling in close to the trunk of the tree. And she rested. But soon, as she rested, she noticed, next to her in the branch, a tiny little bud. And as she rested, she noticed a slim shaft of light breaking through the clouds and warming her. And each day, as she rested, more buds blossomed around her, and the shaft of light grew brighter and stronger. The buds turned to fragrant blossoms and bright, fresh leaves. The forest, shaking off the chill of the winter, was starting to come alive around her. And as she rested, *she* grew stronger. And one day, when she had rested, she stretched out her wings again. And with a strong flap, she lifted back into the skies. Braver for the winter she had endured. Stronger for the time she had rested. And wiser for the time that had passed. But still, she took to the air, rising on the currents. And she dipped and she dived, and she flew, and her heart again soared.


I was in the middle of my morning stand up call when the plaintive meows reached my ears. Being a cat Mom my ears instantly transmitted the waves to my brain which could now no longer focus on what my manager was speaking. I waited with barely contained patience for the meeting to end and once it did I scampered to the balcony to locate the miserable kitten. But no matter how far I bent down the balcony wall I couldn't spot anything except the garbage surrounding our compound. The cries faded making me doubt my senses. Had I imagined them? I recalled the times when I'd drop my cats with my sister before a trip and my ears would still reverberate with their meows even if the house was empty. Oh well, a cat's meows are too similar to that of a baby's cries (intentionally) so maybe it was just a neighbour's kid crying in the morning. ***************************************** I walked back to my building having purchased the grocery for that week. Lockdown or no lockdown, I wasn't going to venture out everyday, and once a week was enough for a single person to buy their essentials. Vicky the building guard dog who greeted everyone with a wagging tail( except if you had the audacity to enter the gates after 11pm) , had followed me to the nearby store in the hope of procuring some glucose biscuits for himself. I petted his head and went home and got him some cat dry food to eat. Funny how dogs can easily digest cat food but God forbid you attempt to offer a cat, dog's food! And that's when I heard the tiny meows again. It seemd to come from under the Swift parked in the garage. I tried to bend down as far as possible and spot the source of the noise, Vicky joining me in lowering himself and growling instead. It was a kitten! Not more than a month old. My heart melted then and there and I rushed upstairs to get whatever cat wet food i had lying around, to give to this tiny tot. I placed it in a plastic container and slid it under the car, s/he ate it hungrily, keeping an eye on me and Vicky at the same time. All the motherly instincts I never thought I'd experience, made themselves known to me at that instant. I wanted to protect that baby, to give them a home and safely tuck them in bed, caressing their round belly and revelling in their satisfied purrs. But I had two male cats already upstairs. And knowing cats, I knew it's never easy for them to get along with any new addition be it feline or human. Luckily the building caretaker and his wife appeared at that moment. And to my surprise the kitten happily pranced towards the wife, rubbing against her and joyfully running circles around her. So they have trusted a human, I concluded; happy that the kitten is in fact not alone. ****************************************** It was past 10 pm when my building caretaker called me. He was looking for cat food. I looked at Sheldy who had just now puked out whole the remnants of his dinner on to my bedroom floor. Of course I had cat food; I carried a big tin of wet food downstairs and dropped it in the same container that was under the car. The kitten jumped down and hungrily started eating. In their eagerness they climbed right into the bowl, the front paws inside and continued eating. I had been standing still, but I moved to take a picture. It was a mistake. They let out a loud angry tell as if questioning my audacity for distributing their supper, and retreated back onto the car's hood. I apologised most profusely and moved away from sight. **************************************** It had been two days since then. I wondered why no one asked me for more cat food, why Vicky never growled or chased the invisible kitten from under the cars in parking. "It was trapped in the engine. It refused to come out,no matter how hard we tried. Ultimately the owners drove away, and when they returned it was not inside the car anymore". I was numb. If only I had taken them in. If only I had rubbed their full belly, scratched their ears and decided to revel in their purrs ... I'm an atheist, but if there is someone out there looking out for these tiny souls, I hope they have kept them safe and happy.


Upon the evening before the quaint town of Midspire was encased in crystal, Clyde Cohen staggered towards the town's central palace -- strands of his violet hair whisked in a gale spurred on by a sea of the same shade. To say he was running late -- if you were so generous as to call his awkward stumbling a 'run' -- was an understatement, for Clyde's legs had been abused to such an extent that a hollow numbness infesting the limbs prevented him from telling which was which. “*Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn...*” he repeated, trance-like, suddenly halting and gripping over his knees in sharp inhales. As he composed himself, the reedy fifteen-year-old glanced at a towering structure overhead, his dread increasing tenfold on sight of it alone. Well known to the public as the abode of Sir Brinson Of Midspire; the Palace of the Duke of Cohen's hometown. And if he had picked up on anything after inspecting the stout man's many public speeches, it was that he valued punctuality over all else. So, with his wristwatch already confirming he was ten minutes overdue, and plus his senseless lower joints proving still to be only worsening with each step he dared take, Clyde winced upon thought of his prospects. Rubbing frantically across the skin of his thighs -- as though forcibly restoring their stamina by touch -- Clyde spent rapt attention plotting out the most efficient course across the bustling markets to the upper segment of the settlement. None of these devised routes seemed able to feasibly maneuver him in a timely fashion, and yet Clyde couldn't force himself to give up here. He'd already devoted too much just to lose to poor time management. With slight apprehension, he stood broadly, and extended an arm. Allowing his eyelids to droop over his vision, the purple-haired teen reflected on himself inwardly. The motion of his passing blood vessels and encompassing molecules -- their form, overall direction, movement -- all of this he processed as a passive observer, allowed to inspect by a greater force. From an outsider's perspective, this would have all appeared to take place within the same uneasy breath. A sudden bird's cry from above alerted him, and light hit his pupils once more. “Huh, a sandpiper?” Circling above, the bird hovered skywards, and with nought but an idle thought, Clyde commanded the creature to flap down before him. It landed on his wrist, talons carefully hung at an angle as though it were purposefully avoiding harming its master. “How'd you get to the Forgone Isle, little guy?” He inquired with a gentle stroke. “Barchan sandpipers like you should be all the way back in Osiss, not halfway across the Ruptured Seas.” Seeing as the Sandpiper was, well, *a bird*, it obviously didn't respond -- instead glancing away aimlessly in the strange sort of way such creatures always do. Like they're both incredibly stupid, and yet remarkably wise at the same time -- an odd sort of duality. “Well, if you don't mind me controlling you like some evil puppet-master for a moment...” Telepathically willed, it shot away from his reach someplace among the high-reaching clouds and settled. Clyde crossed his aching legs upon the ground -- his ever-more late attendance becoming increasingly worrisome -- and rested both palms upon his lap with closed eyes. Yet again, an intense, practically spiritual connection to the inner workings of his blood flow resonated with Clyde on a deeply fundamental level -- a level of what, exactly, he didn't know. When he next attempted to slide open his eyes a mere second later, it was as though he had to push against some looming force -- like a thin wall he must penetrate. With the methodical ease of someone whom has completed a task endlessly throughout their lifetime, he prevailed. A bird's-eye view expanded far below him, and the harsh whippings of the airflow struck him momentarily off-balance. With a gulp that came out as a strange chirping, Clyde slowly but surely adapted himself to the airborne beast's form. In a quivering of wind, he burst along with the direction of the breeze -- riding it in the same manner a train would upon rails. '*Think, think...*’ he thought mentally, scanning the landscape for any place that may serve as a speedy shortcut to Brinson's domain. '*If I show up half an hour late, not even blood manipulation will save my crippled chances...*’ And then... he found it. Barely contained in the corners of his peripheral vision, a sizeable wheat field expanded someplace between Midspire's trading center and the more wealthy portion in which the Duke's palace sat. Although sprinting wildly through the crop-growing pastures would make Clyde appear quite the fool, and possibly be an even longer distance than the roads themselves, not having to journey through the networking alleys would boost his arrival time majorly. Maybe to the point his shot at persuading Brinson wasn't nonexistent. '*Are the farms private property? Ah, screw it!*’ With a tinge of concentration, he severed his connection to the Sandpiper and immediately began dashing. He'd been resting just long enough for his thighs not to feel like they're about to implode on themselves, but for too little for an echoing pang in his knees to still be very much present. Nevertheless he endured, and after hopping over many fences, a handful of stray sheep, and imprinting the grass' green texture upon his jeans, Clyde was only considerably late instead of alarmingly overdue. Crossing a stone drawbridge, Clyde ceased his approach when a burly guardsmen crossed their arms to reaffirm authority. “What time do you call this, son?” Hailing from the highlands of Strasor, Andreas was a bulky, dark-skinned guardsman serving the Duke personally -- presumably in an attempt to escape the civil unrest of his homeland. Clyde didn't blame him for it; he wouldn't want to stay put in a country on the verge of all-out war either. He glanced to the wayside, his embarrassment plastered over his face like it was forever stuck cringing. “I understand this is completely unacceptable, but-” “Save it.” He interjected in a gruff voice. “Just hand over your ID and be on your way.” At first, the word 'ID' caused tremors of fear to implant seeds of panic within him, but Clyde quickly remembered he'd had the foresight beforehand to bring proper certification. From a rucksack slung across the boy's shoulder haphazardly, Clyde revealed a piece of bland-looking paperwork, and handed it over to the inspecting Andreas. The moving wall of muscle perused its contents silently, before abruptly speaking up. “AB- blood type, huh? You don't see a Possession user everyday,” he looked the boy up and down, taking particular focus on his hair. “Then again, you don't see people like you all that often.” Clyde couldn't help but wince at the comment. The irregular shade of his hair had always been a sensitive topic for him. “Well, back on track, I'm gonna' need you to demonstrate Possession -- should be harmless. Had someone with an Intoxication blood type sneak in the other day and attempt an assasination on the Duke himself. Can't have that happening again.” “What?” Clyde spat, rather rudely. “Do you know how late I already-” “And whose fault is that?” Disgruntled, Clyde grudgingly obliged, commanding the inhabitants of a nearby ant nest to reveal themselves. After Andreas had finished marveling over finally locating the source of the invading pests, Clyde entered. In a walking motion so brisk it only didn't pass for running as doing so within that place would be outright insulting, he traversed a network of mahogany stairways, velvet carpets, and vast dining halls. All in all, he managed to arrive at the Duke's office fairly swiftly -- for someone twenty minutes late, that is. “Sir I must apolo-” Clyde cut himself off at the image that confronted him. Two more guards, much-like Andreas in build, conversed hurriedly with Brinson. By the unnerved expressions donned on them alone, Clyde couldn't help but be overwhelmed by a sense of close, inescapable danger. His pupils turned next to the disturbed thin line that had become Brinson's lips, and it was almost like the tension in the room was manifesting as an engulfing water -- and he was caught up in its tides. He was so enveloped with the trio that for a moment he'd almost neglected taking in the room itself -- the rest of the palace has been lavish, but this place was so filled with riches Clyde wouldn't be surprised if he could purchase a street or two with its valuables and still be left with a hefty sum. “Yes, yes, prepare as you will.” The Duke gestured with a flurry of the hands. “Leave me to my own affairs, for I must think.” As both guards left, exchanging raised eyebrows at Clyde's presence, the teen remained standing gawkily, unsure of what to do with himself. After a minute or so, Brinson finally acknowledged him. “I assume you were the one to send the manservant application... Clyde, is it?” “Yes Sir. I apologise immensely for my lack of punctuality, I understand this is reason enough to outright decline my application.” Clyde gripped his fists for support, wincing slightly. “If there's anything I can do to redeem myself...” Brinson sighed, stood up from his leather armchair, and faced a set of windowpanes at the room's side. He overlooked Midspire with a somber expression. “I would usually take you up on what you said, dismissing you without a second thought.” There was the promise of continuation in the man's tone, so Clyde remained deadly silent. “But with the future foretelling what it does, I cannot refuse extra hands. Pack your things, you can stay in one of our guest rooms for now before I find someplace more permanent.” On the verge of exclaiming in pure glee, Clyde bowed over and over, and over again -- to the point it was almost comical. But the Duke's words continued to unsettle him. Raising his head, he asked rather sheepishly: “Mind me asking, but whatever do you speak of?” Without answering verbally, Brinson lifted a finger at the window. Clyde was surprised to see the Duke was plagued by a brief tremble. But that surprise was nothing next to the exhilaration of emotions that overcame him as he saw what the Duke was truly pointing at. From the vantage point of a view this high up, Clyde could see over the entirety of Midspire, and what he saw beyond his home-town’s border caused him to physically gag. Husks. Thousands of husks. In simpler terms, brainless fiends birthed right from the toxic waters of the Ruptured Seas themselves, acting as witless servants to their long deceased master. Whilst a few of the things were expected every now and then, a town this far inland shouldn't be facing hoards in the *thousands.* “How... how are there so many?” “Look closer.” Biting a quivering lip, Clyde did so. In the center of the crowd, almost too far away to make out, a grey-haired man approached with a sly smile upon his face -- cloak billowing behind him. Brinson grimaced harder at Clyde's horrified expression, pity in his eyes. “We suspect it’s Vargen, White Cell of the Cells Of Igon. I don't know what that organization wants with Midspire, but trust me, you won't want to be out there when they finally arrive.” An intangible frenzy of half-connected thoughts circulated Clyde's mind, none of them fully coherent. “Do the townspeople know?” he inquired desperately. “My guards have just been informed, the populace shall know shortly, but I fear the further reaches of town won't hear in time.” “Don't you have a Possession type on hand to spread the message? Bird flight wouldn't take long.” Brinson chuckled grimly. “I'm afraid that blood type isn't as common as you so believe.” Defeated, Clyde remained silent. The one benefit to being raised in an orphanage, if there were any, is that you never had to worry if your family were in danger -- no matter the circumstances. But even so, could he really allow his chance of helping slide when Midspire had done so much for him? Despite all their wrongdoing, they had raised him without complaint after all... “If you would allow it Sir,” he began gradually. “I myself am a Possession user, so...” Brinson's eyes suddenly widened, hope flaring in his pupils. Dashing behind his patterned desk, the Duke scrambled to write something, before briskly tossing it over to Clyde. “Some of my guards who remain ignorant of our current situation are on post near Midspire's main entrance. Carry this via a bird to them as soon as you can. Back away if things get too dangerous. I have enough blood on my hands already, I don't need to stain them further.” Hastily nodding, Clyde sprinted out of the room -- note in hand. By the time he'd rushed through the entirety of Brinson's palace and finally emerged outside, Clyde's lungs panged in more places than one. He would of just possessed a creature directly from within if possible, but animals tended to avoid the smoke heavy airs above the Duke's domain. He assumed a crouching position for the second time that evening, and as he willed a bird to emerge above, nothingness devoured his field of sight. In bird form he took a wide stretch and- His eyes shot open. Befuddled, Clyde began to wonder what possibly could have caused the abrupt disconnection when he felt a weight in his lap. It was the same bird from only a moment prior, but instead of lively and chirping, a limp carcass. In its motionless beak, Brinson's torn letter fluttered. Numb, it didn't take long for Clyde to notice the shard of violet crystal protruding through the fallen creature’s chest. “What the...” His voice was hoarse, and only whimpers escaped his throat when he saw the surge of purple light bursting across town. No, not light, the reflecting sunlight had tricked him. Rather, this too was crystal. As a fang-like shard of the stuff tore the grass beneath him, thus knocking Clyde swiftly unconscious, his only regret was that he hadn't acted soon enough. Not even he could protect Midspire from its impending destruction.


It’s not that I would have wanted this to happen, it was inevitable anyway. Who did I really think I was? I have a way of pretending I’d never get hurt. How foolish should someone be. It would only take until the middle of our tenth year together and at the infantile stages of autumn. I had to figure it out eventually. You never really found me interesting or worth any time at all. It was just convenient to maintain an illusion. The smoke had to clear at some point. But, God, does it feel so good to finally know. To finally be able to clearly see what you really were. And I knew all along that you were only padding your time. Even knowing, I still let your teeth dig into my heart. You had asked me at some point what my dreams of the future were. You were only parroting the questions I would ask you to avoid the awkward silence. My future was supposed to be with you, or I thought it was at least. A betrayal even the trees could see better than me. A horrible secret you didn’t want anyone to hear or know. I found it all out but not before my time had been wasted. It hurt so deeply that I couldn’t fathom the pain at an appropriate level. Now that I know, I will tell people a lie that is easier to believe, even for myself. You broke your humanity and dragged mine down with it. I will play the victim as I rightly should, but deep down I understand that the aces are in my hand. I will make you pay for the hardship casted onto me but your action and lack thereof. I will dive deep into my river of anguish and pull up with me the leaden casket of my heart. I will cry for others but not for myself. I will wear a disgusting mask made of my own skin to show the world that I was deeply hurt. All of that will not be true at all. I do not feel pain at this point, only anger. I will wear my rotting mask until it can no longer hide my face. For once the tides reside at the highest and you are at the most vulnerable point in your life, I will tear away my mask and eat it. I will wipe the blood over my mouth the same way you did to my ribs. I will defeat your twisted life and take everything from you. With a simple string of words and a well placed breath, I will take you down with me. I do not want to feel better, I want to feel your skin recede against my poisoned dagger of disdain. You aren’t worth the time you took from me, but I will take mine back. I will dig up the fresh soil and lather the mud over my eyes and throat. I am a sad person and I wear a disgusting mask, but one day, the maggots infesting my brain will bear the flies of your downfall. I will consume your happy existence, just as you did mine.


An alarm screeches as a boy groans at the thought of another day of thoughts. The boy reluctantly gets out of bed to a particularly bland world. Thoughts of everything that could go wrong rush the boy’s head as he gets ready for school. While he’s getting ready, the boy notices his house is unusually empty but he assumes everyone left early. The boy grabs his favorite cereal only to notice it doesn’t taste as good as he remembers. Puzzled, the boy assumes the cereal is out of date. The boy is then washed over by a strange wave of deja vu but chooses to ignore it as he doesn’t know why or where it came from. As the boy gets ready to walk to school, he puts in his earbuds and puts on his favorite song just to get annoyed by how repetitive and boring it now seems to sound. The boy also realized that the world which used to be vibrant and beautiful has now turned an ugly shade of gray. He ignores it as it’s been a constant trend for once beautiful things to turn gray and depressing. The boy then turns his music up and makes his way to school, head down, kicking rocks, trying to distract himself from invading thoughts and the sad, monotonous reality of his daily life. As he walks, he notices the air has a strange scent like it’s about to rain but he sees no clouds and the sky is strangely gray. While walking, the boy looks up and sees an odd shape in the road ahead, while all these abnormal experiences keep happening he realizes he hasn’t seen a single car or another person. As he approaches the strange shape he saw he can feel the air gradually get colder and the world around him starts to get darker. When the boy gets close enough he can see that the shape is missing a hexagon-shaped section in the road, seemingly leading to nothing. The hole doesn’t seem to have much below it either as if it was just a tile of the world that has been removed. The sight of the hole heightens the boy’s senses allowing him to notice the slight but constantly increasing distortion in his music but not the sounds of the rest of the world as there is no sound other than the music coming from his earbuds, not even his footsteps. Realizing this, the boy screams in an attempt to make any noise other than the now extremely distorted music coming from his headphones. In an attempt to pause or somehow stop the music, the boy rips out the cords leading to his earbuds but that doesn’t stop it. The boy then scratches at his ears to make the noises he once called music stop. His earbuds fall to the ground not making a sound but the music continues playing. Terrified, the boy sprints from the ungodly hole as to make it stop. The more he distances himself from the hole, the more he can hear. First, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, his breathing which is heavy and ragged. Finally, his feet stomping on the asphalt road. The boy is petrified but works up the courage to look back. As he does, he sees more hexagon-shaped holes appear, swallowing buildings whole, buildings where loved ones lived, buildings where he had many great memories, buildings where he met friends and spent time with family. The boy keeps running, as a single tear rolls down his cheek, quickly swept away by the wind that is now raging around him. Lightning crashes and thunder booms but still nothing in the sky, not even a cloud, still a constant gray except for the occasional flash of white in place of lightning. Still looking back at the destruction behind him, the boy is hit with another wave of deja vu, forcing him to whip his head back to see where he’s going. When his eyes focus on the path ahead the boy realizes there is none. Nothing. Everything ahead of him is gone, swallowed into the ever-growing void that’s spreading like a plague, consuming everything he loved. Cornered inches from falling into the dark abyss, the boy looks back to where he just ran from, seeing he doesn’t have much time left as the unexplainable corruption spreads closer to him. Realizing he has nowhere to go, the boy closes his eyes, calms his breathing, and relaxes his body. With the boy’s body at ease, he is allowed to have a free mind and think. The boy thinks for what feels like years, decades, centuries, almost like a meditative state. A constant stream of thoughts, unbroken and never wavering. Thoughts of life, past traumas, horrors from his childhood, but they weren’t all bad. The boy also thought back to the great times with friends and family, not many but golden moments. At that moment, the boy knew what he had to do. As he opened his eyes, he saw every single moment he just thought about suspended in the air on geometric platforms, scattered in the newly formed void. Every good and bad moment in his life was displayed in front of him. A small gap in the chaos appeared ahead of him, clarity and freedom from his past that haunts him. The boy took one more deep breath and sprinted full speed at the gap, faster than he’s ever run. While running, the platforms containing his past, that shaped him, that made him who he is today, start blinking out of existence. As he reaches the end of what’s left of his world, he sees only one platform, positioned right in front of him. A pill bottle with a weathered label, all he can read from it is the letters, “Zol..”. The boy couldn’t make out any more from it as he had to look at the ground beneath him and the edge rapidly approaching. When the boy reaches the edge, time seems to stop for just a moment as he is blasted by emotions. Anger, fear, joy, sadness, disgust, all felt in a split second and quickly fading. No longer being bound by feelings or memories, the boy leaps into the void. While he’s falling, the boy feels nothing but is overwhelmed by a feeling he never felt before, an unexplainable feeling of freedom from the stress and pressure of life. Finally free, finally at peace. As the rest of the world fades and the boy falls into the endless abyss, darkness envelops his vision until he can no longer see anything but pitch black. Then as if nothing happened, the boy opens his eyes, back in bed, back in his house, back in the same old world he left the night before. He thinks to himself,” Ugh, another one, must’ve forgot my pills last night.” The boy then reaches over to his bedside table and grabs a pill bottle with a weathered label. As he takes the pill, he looks out his window. Just as he swallows the pill, the world brightens and becomes almost over saturated in color. Also in the back of his mind, another hexagon-shaped hole evaporates leaving a hopeless void in its place. But most importantly, the dreams go away and the boy’s mind goes numb once again...


[This Scroll is sealed… Please see the proper Archivist] [Man 1] Dammit!!! These things are never easy to open eh? {Sounds of paper rustling as unknown subject mutters to themselves} Attempting to bypass Magic Encryption… Failed Attempting to bypass Magic Encryption… Failed [Repeats in the background as voices start to talk over it] [Man 1] Honestly, you always seem to bring me things that will get us killed. What if the Alliance found out? [Man 2]Will you be able to open it? [Man 1] Ha. will I open it? My spells may seem slow but they are the best around. It’s only a matter of time. Where did you find this anyways? I have never seen a magic encryption as strong as this one. [Man 2]You probably don’t want to know. [M1]True Can you at least tell me what is supposed to be in it? [M2]They didn’t tell me. [M1] Of course not… {Attempting to bypass Magic Encryption… Success} [M1] We’re in!!! Magic Encryption Opened. Warning… The contents within this scroll are considered Level 3. Unauthorized use of this scroll can result in severe punishment from the Alliance. [M1] What the hell did you bring me? Level 3? I have never heard of a clearance like this before. Were you followed? [M2] I covered my tracks pretty well. I am sure no one could follow me. Let’s see what is so secret. [M1] I am not sure I want to know. But a job is a job. Warning… This scroll contains Level 3 Sensitive Data. Unauthorized Use could result in severe punishment from the Bureau. Do you wish to continue? I am getting too old for this shit. [M1] Access Captured Sound Magic Sound Magic Audio Recordings: 1 Debriefing of Pvt. Talion [Status: Deceased] Do you wish to hear this capture? [M1] Yes Beginning Sound Magic Playback [Talion] You Fucking idiots Let Me Go!!! [Sound of a chair scraping against the ground and a man grunting] [Inquisitor] Pvt. Talion, I am inquisitor Dom from the Bureau of Interrogation. You are currently detained in this facility due to your desertion in Kel. I am going to ask you for your side of this story but first I will tell you what we know. [The sound of struggling continues then a loud thud is heard and Talion begins to groan] [Inquisitor] I would suggest you not struggle. You will be here as long as we need you. The world thinks you are dead. There is no escape. [Soon the groaning stops and haggard breathing can be heard.] [Talion] What….. What do you want from me? [Inquisitor] I need to know what happened in Kel. [Talion] What do you mean what happened? Didn’t you ask the others? {The Inquisitor looks down for a moment then lets out a deep exhale.} [Inquisitor] There were no survivors. Honestly, we didn’t even know you survived until we found you in that place. So enlighten us. Why did you run? What happened? {A silence fills the room and you hear another loud thud followed by Talion’s groaning} [Inquisitor] Why do people never understand that they have no choice. Only pain awaits those that do not speak. [Talion; very distressed] What was I supposed to do!!! I grew up in Kel. My wife… Helena, oh god Helena.{Sobbing can be heard} My mother, my father, my brothers… my sisters. All of us lived in Kel. I loved that city... I belonged! It was why I joined the guard. I wanted to protect everyone. I tried to protect everyone… but I never thought something like this would have happened. {Talion is broken down at this point. You did not need to see the room to know something tragic had occurred} It was the Season of the Leaves. Harvest had just started and the festivities were already well on their way. The cheers and music drowned out the poor souls that found themselves victim to a monster. Atop the walls I must ashamedly admit that I could not discern the voices of anguish from those of joy until it was too late. Soon chaos erupted as people fled from the market area. I along with a few of the other guardsmen ran towards the screaming. And when we arrived… my reality shattered. [Inquisitor] What did you see? [Talion] I can’t explain it very well. A human? A monster? Whatever it was I can assure you that it was death. I watched as a strangely cloaked figure impaled villagers left and right. Pools of blood all around the ground. I froze… I had never seen death like this. Friends I had once planned to spend my evening with now fell lifeless to the ground as their empty eyes stared into my own. Soon my eyes could not see anything but the cloaked figure as the other guards approached it. One of us released an arrow towards it. The reflexes of this person were inhuman. It easily moved out of the arrow's way. One of our only town mages managed to gather enough courage to release a low flame spell. The cloak caught fire but I now wish we had left it undamaged. Before us stood a monster. I could see a human frame, muscles exposed, a skull barren of flesh. And metal all throughout the body. An inhuman sound came from deep within the monster and I felt a shiver in my body down to my very soul. This was my breaking point. It was all of our breaking points. I did the only thing I could… I ran… I ran… I ran… I ran. I ran. I ran. I ran. I tried to find Helena. But in all the chaos I couldn’t. I was at a loss. I could not find my loved ones. That monster was still nearby and now I could hear new sounds. Sounds that I had never heard before. But I couldn’t leave yet. Not until I found Helena. Worried that she may have started towards the festival, I hurried back. I now wish I had never gone. The Monster was still there. I could clearly see now that it was unlike anything I had ever seen. . A large tail was being used to impale helpless villagers. Bodies lie mangled all around it. But among those bodies my attention was drawn to a new creature. It looked like it may have once been human but the tendrils and grotesque growths all over its body easily told me the two monsters were related. It was feasting on the corpses that the larger one had tossed aside. I could not stop looking on in horror. The scream of a familiar voice brought me back to reality. Helena. I turned to where the scream had come from . The largest monster had found her, trapped in a market stall with what looked like a small child in her arms. The creature walked towards her. She cowered and started to back away as the child in her arms started to cry. I couldn’t reach her. I could only watch as the beast grabbed her and lifted her off the ground. The tail impaled Helena and the child together. I was overcome with anger. My reasoning left me. I charged the creature, but a hand reached out and grabbed me before I got closer. It was my Father. I could tell from his face that he had just witnessed Helena’s death. I asked about Mother… but his silence was all I needed to hear to understand. A loud roar brought both of us back to reality. I looked towards the monster and saw a small dagger sticking out of its hand. A dagger I had bought Helena. I looked at my wife and our eyes met briefly. I could feel her goodbye in my soul. It did not need to be said. The monster smashed her head within its grasp. I was blinded by my tears. My father quickly rose and began to drag me with him as we headed away from the carnage. But we were not fast enough. Loud crashes could be heard behind us. I looked back to see the monster and his cohorts chasing us. Buildings, Stalls… None of it mattered before the speed of this monster. Walls seemed to disintegrate as the Monster tore through them. They were slowly gaining on us. I felt as if all hope was lost. [Inquisitor] How did you escape? [Talion] My father led us to the waterfront. There were a few boats left. He pushed me into one of the closest and told me to lie down. I didn’t have the energy to argue. I felt weight soon after lying down as sacks and other food products were thrown on top of me. I couldn’t move anymore. Only one eye remained visible with the ability to see what was happening. My father had covered me in some of the leftover items that had yet to be moved from the docks due to the festival. He untied the boat and began to push it away. I tried to call out to him to come with me before the boat got too far but he only looked at me and placed his finger up to his mouth to quiet me. I tried to free myself from the pile. But by now the boat had traveled too far. I never saw my father again. [Inquisitor] Is that it? [Talion] What do you mean? I lost everyone! Helena died in front of me! [Inquisitor] I guess there is nothing left for you to tell us then. He has told his part, silence him. [Talion] What do you mean silence! I told you everything I knew! Why!?! [Inquisitor] We can not let this news get out. Now… Finish Him Quickly so we can arrange a trip to Kel to see this chaos firsthand. [Talion] Nooooooo!!! End Sound Magic Playback [Man 1] Leave [Man 2] What? [Man 1] Leave and take this with you. Get as far away as you can and do not stop. This should have never been stolen. [Man 2] It can’t be that bad right? [Man 1] This man was silenced for having seen the event.


If you're not from California, it may come as a surprise to you that the state is not all pristine beaches, towering redwoods, or even grimy urban hellscapes. Dividing the north of the state from the south is the Central Valley, a 450 mile stretch of farmland, desert, and not much else. City boy and chauvinist that I am, I always saw it as a passing through place. There are a few towns scattered along the highway that cuts across it, but most consist of a motel, a gas station, and a couple fast food joints. Even with the windows rolled up, the air there is fetid with the stench of cowpies. Still, there is a kind of beauty to the place. On either side of the highway are arrayed row upon row of almond trees which stretch to the horizon like vast armies, and at night, one can see the lights of lone homesteads shining in the distance like ships at sea. I live in Orange County, but my business takes me back and forth across the state, and I always opted to drive rather than fly because I found a strange romance to the Valley. Until a couple years ago, that is. It was fall when it happened, and the valley was shrouded in a thick blanket of fog. It was almost midnight, I was bone-tired, and by the light of my low-beams, I could make out only a few feet in front of me. I was driving along a two-lane highway, my only protection from oncoming traffic the two painted lines on the tarmac. Fighting to ward off sleep, I guzzled cheap, bitter gas station coffee and blasted the AC on the coldest setting. On the few radio channels that I managed to pick up, I found old country songs, fire and brimstone sermons from evangelical preachers, and solemn testimonials of UFO encounters. I would never have driven in such conditions normally, but my business in San Francisco had kept me longer than I anticipated, and I had to be back in OC that next morning. The rest stops along the way called my name, but I stubbornly soldiered on. It took until about the third time I fell asleep at the wheel, nearly swerving into the path of a tanker truck headed the other direction, for me to admit that it wasn't going to happen tonight. I pulled in at the next likely place I came across, a three-building affair consisting of a dingy Shell gas station, a sleazy dive bar, and a rather squalid motel bearing the name of the Thunderbird Motel and Inn. In the whole center, I saw only one other vehicle, a truck parked on the ramp beside the station. As I pulled in, I noted with amusement that the big neon "S" had sputtered out, so that the sign simply read "HELL". A chill desert wind buffeted me as I walked to the door. Pasted to the glass was a poster of a smiling teenage girl. MISSING: ALLISON MURPHY, SIXTEEN YEARS OLD. It wasn’t the first I’d seen on the long drive through the valley. Inside was a crappy little kmart. The shelves were half-empty and one of the manically glaring lights was strobing continuously. There were two men in there: a trucker in overalls and a baseball cap eyeing the beers, and an older man with a haggard face and sallow skin who sat behind the counter. The trucker nodded at me as I entered, but the cashier stood staring blankly into empty space. He took no notice of me as I approached the counter “Hello,” I said, clearing my throat. The old man snapped out of his reverie to look at me. “Right, twenty-five dollars on pump three, please.” “Burning the midnight oil, huh?” He said as he took my card. His voice was dry and raspy, like a thing gone rusty with disuse. “Yeah.” He nodded at this and said nothing further, his conversational abilities apparently exhausted. “Those posters-I’ve seen them everywhere. What’s the story there? What do they think happened to her?” His eyes seemed to light up for the first time. “Oh, that? No one really knows, but everyone thinks they do. We had helicopters and patrol cars up and down the county all lost summer and not one found a single trace.” “What do people say?” “Some say the desert got her. Nights here it gets cold-cold enough to stop your heart in a matter of minutes. Theory goes she just froze like a popsicle and the coyotes gnawed her bones.” He laughed, as if it was actually funny. “You know what I think though?” I was beginning to regret asking him. “What’s that?” “I think she got taken. Pretty thing like that? Though she probably wasn’t very pretty when he was through with her.” He smiled at me then, a smile with all the warmth and friendliness of a chimpanzee baring his teeth. “Right, well, goodnight.” I hastened out as quickly as I could. The incident unnerved me, and I briefly considered moving on to the next rest stop before dismissing it. The fog had grown even denser, and there was no way of knowing when the next stop would be. Resigned, I filled up my car and drove over to the Thunderbird Motel. The glaring neon sign at the front of the building depicted a huge eagle, talons shining and wings outstretched. I walked past it and entered the main office. The air was drafty and musty in there, the lighting dim. The décor looked as if it hadn’t been updated since the seventies. On one side of the door stood a statue of a cowboy brandishing two pistols, and on the other side stood a racist caricature of an Indian, complete with peace pipe and headdress. Mounted all along the walls were the heads of dozens of animals-cattle, bears, deer, rabbits, wolves-all gazing out with expressions of mute terror. A rusted wolf trap hung in a far corner of the room. Sitting at the front desk was a young woman with red hair and a pretty face. She seemed entirely out of a place in a shithole like this. When she saw me, she shifted in her seat and shot me a knowing smile. “Just passing through?” She asked as she rang me up. “Yes ma’am.” “I figured. Most people are. The only attractions around here are the date farm and the creationist museum.” Her laughter was bright and winning. “It must get pretty boring around here, I guess.” “Oh, I make my own fun.” “I bet you do.” “Customers keep things interesting. All sorts of strangers pass through here. Some are even handsome.” I had no response to this. My mouth was suddenly dry. “You traveling alone?” I managed to nod my head. “What a shame,” she said. “You need some company?” With an enormous exertion of willpower, I raised my finger to show her my ring. “Tempting, but I’m spoken for.” "Oh well.” She shrugged. “Here’s your key. Sleep tight.” This last remark was punctuated with a wink. I was grinning like a fool all the way to my room. My lodgings were about as comfortable as could be expected-dead roach in the bathroom, walls yellow with decades of cigarette smoke-but I was past caring. As soon as I sat on the bed, I was overcome with drowsiness. When I fell asleep, I dreamt of her. I was back in the lobby, but all the lights were out. The door was open, and the night winds were sweeping the fog in. She stood by the door, a hungry look in her eyes and a wicked smile at her lips. She beckoned me to her with a crooked finger and then stepped out the door and into the mist. I made to follow her, but something gave me pause. I looked around at the animal heads on the walls. Only they weren’t animal heads anymore. They were human. Men, women, children. Mouths agape as if frozen mid-scream, tongues lolling, eyes pleading. Then I saw her. Mounted above the main desk was the head of the missing girl, Allison Murphy. Her lips were moving but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. I moved closer and put my ear right up to her lips. “This is a bad place,” She whispered, her voice so soft. “You must go. This is a bad place. You must go. This is a bad place. You must go.” Then her voice was drowned out by a piercing scream sounding through the night. I jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in my bed, all my hairs on end. I looked to the door-closed and locked against the night. The clock on the nightstand read three am. I listened for a moment. Silence. I was about to lie back down when I heard it again: a high, shrill scream of a woman in pain. I jumped from the bed and went to the window to lift the curtain. The motel was an island in a sea of mist, the gleaming neon sign a lone light in a pall of enveloping darkness. I could make out little beyond the vacant parking lot, but no one seemed to be out there. Then I heard it again, louder and closer now. I imagined her out there in the fog, bleeding, weeping, scared. Running from someone or something. My hand was halfway to the doorknob when I froze. This is a bad place. I pulled my hand away. The scream sounded again. What are you doing? I thought to myself. Someone needs help. Go. But I stayed where I was and watched out the window. Suddenly, across the parking lot, a door burst open, spilling a little square of light into the mist. Out of the door stumbled a fat man in a t-shirt and underwear. It was the trucker from the gas station. He visibly shivered against the cold. “Hello? Who’s out there? Are you okay?” He called into the night. Bleary-eyed, blinking back sleep, he looked around the lot, but he didn’t see me at my window. The scream sounded again. It was coming from somewhere in the darkness at the edge of the lot. He looked off in that direction and made a few tentative steps forward. “Hello? Ma’am? Are you hurt?” He called again. Another scream, this one ending in a choked sob. He walked to the edge of the lot, mist curling and wreathing around him. “Hello? Walk towards the sound of my voice!” That was when I saw them. Two forms sidling and slinking out of the fog. They were hairy and hunched over, and they creeped forward in an awkward, erratic gait. I could barely make them out in the mist, and at first, I didn’t believe what I saw, but when I blinked and rubbed my eyes, they didn’t go away. When they got closer, I saw what they were. Coyotes. But wrong somehow. They were standing on their hind legs, and they were bigger and longer than coyotes had any right to be. More emerged from the mist. Four, five, six. They were padding into the parking lot from both sides of the building. The trucker was still looking off into the night, oblivious. I opened my mouth to shout out a warning, but it caught in my throat. Soon they were all gathered behind him, close enough that I could see the light of the motel sign glinting in their eyes. Their bodies were tensed, their hot breath steaming in the chill air. They seemed to take no notice of me. The screams had stopped. The trucker scanned around one last time, and then he turned and saw them. “What the-”he started, and then they fell on him. I dropped the curtain, sank to my knees against the wall, put my fingers in my ears. But it was no use. I heard it all. His screams and cries. Their triumphant yips and howls. Growls and the ripping of flesh and bone. “It’s not real it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real,” I muttered over and over again, rocking back and forth. I had been doing this for I don’t know how long when I realized it was over. I took my fingers out of my ears. Silence. I sat there with my back to the wall for what felt like an eternity, listening for the faintest sound, but I heard nothing. Trembling, I got to my feet, went to the window, and pulled up the curtain. They were all gathered there, their faces pressed up against my window, their breath fogging the glass. They grinned at me then, their eyes all too human. One of them reached up a clawed paw and scratched down the length of the window. Then it opened its mouth as if to howl but the sound that came out was no howl but the scream of a human woman in terrible agony. That was when I fainted. I awoke the next morning facedown on the dirty carpet. It smelled like old beer. Groaning, I pushed myself up and sat against the wall. Sunlight was filtering in through the curtains. All at once the events of last night hit me, and I began hyperventilating. Standing on wobbly legs, struggling to get my breathing under control, once more I went to the window and grabbed the curtain. Opening the curtain then may have been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I took one more deep breath and let the sunlight in. There was nothing out there but empty parking lot. No mangled corpse, no gnawed bones, no bloodstain on the pavement. Just old, cracked stone. The window bore no traces of any scratches. It was just a nightmare then, a crazy fever dream induced by sleep deprivation and shitty road food. I tried to feel relieved, but I did not. I had pissed myself the night before, my underwear still damp with urine, but I didn’t take a shower. I was not going to stay at the Thunderbird Motel a moment longer than I needed to. I dressed into fresh clothes, packed up my stuff, and left the room. As I walked over to the main office to return the key, I looked across the center at the Shell station. The trucker’s tanker was gone. The same woman was seated at the desk when I entered. “Well, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said. I ignored this. “Listen, that trucker-the only other guy here-did he check out last night?” She frowned. “Yeah, he did. About an hour after you checked in. Said he got an emergency call. Why?” “Forget it. Here’s the key.” Her hand gripped mine a little too long as I passed her the key. “You didn’t sleep very well, did you?” she said, and then she smiled. “Up late with thoughts of me?” I ran out of there then, past the cowboy and the Indian and the watchful eyes of the mounted heads. I jumped into my car, screeched out onto the highway, and didn’t fall under eighty miles per hour for the next two hundred miles. Something about her smile was all too familiar.


I was one of the last soldiers inside when the door closed. My unit shouted nothing but unintelligible words full of nothing but fear. There was nothing I could do though. Either I stop and help them through the door as quick as I can or I could survive. It wasn’t a choice made from fear or apathy, I really did care for my unit. However, if I died, that would be it, wouldn’t it? There would only be a few people left and, without someone to defend them, the entire project would be pointless. But maybe it *was* fear? I looked back and saw my brother get crushed by the door as it shut with enough force to crush a block of steel. He was the best soldier I ever knew. He was much deserving of the leadership role I happened to achieve. And now he was gone. And maybe I should’ve just joined him? But no! I can’t feel sad now! The project! “You alright James?” one of the guards said to me while attempting to support me with his arm. “You… Killed Kris…” I said while trying to catch my breath. “I’m sorry James. You saw the hell out there yourself,” the guard said with a sigh, “They were so close to getting in. I know he was your brother, but this is the end for all of us.” “I know,” I said apathetically, “At least it looked quick I suppose…” “Hey, you two, we don’t have time to be stood around chatting. Get to the command centre before we lose the last of our ground!” a random captain shouted down from a partially collapsed catwalk. “We were just taking a break, sir” the guard shouted. “I know, but we don-“ the captain began to say before suddenly being shot, “Just… Get to the command… Centre…” the captain then tried to quickly limp back from the way he came. Me and the guard quickly ran up a flight of stairs. Most floors had several steps missing and the walls looked like they were moments from collapse. “Okay, so this is… It, huh?” the guard said while panting, “The end?” “Probably, I don’t care though… This has gone on for long enough and I just want it to end,” I said without a single ounce of emotion in my voice. “The end…” the guard sighed. Approaching the top floor, we found ourselves looking at a pair of sliding doors surrounded by two fellow soldiers. “Finally, some more backup. I suppose it’s time we end this thing,” one of the soldiers said. “So let’s see, you’re James Mason and you-“ one of the soldiers guarding attempted to say before a loud explosion caused the entire building to shake intensely, “Okay, you’re Sean. Look just go in before this whole thing fails.” The room we entered was a sorry sight. It was fairly large, though only because the original walls seemed to have been destroyed. The room was filled with countless scientists and soldiers. Some of them looked so distant that they could be mistaken for androids. How were we still holding on? However, the main focus of the room was the giant windows that overlooked humanity’s last hope: The last rocket on Earth. It was much taller than I thought it’d be as it towered over the launch centre. Not only that, but it clearly went a fair distance underground too. The rocket was unpainted and looked rather dull. Except for the top which contained a symbol of the Earth with an orange rose inside. Wait, why an orange rose? “He’s finally here!” one of the scientists shouted. Oh right, I had the launch codes. After taking the slip of paper out of my pocket, I handed the code over to one of the scientists who stood next to a panel. The panel was simple: It contained a keypad and a large button. I assume the button was red at some point, but it looked quite faded now. “Okay, launch is ready! Repeat, launch is ready!” a loud voice said over the intercom. “10!” “9!” “8!” “7!” “6!” “5!” “4!” “3!” “2!” “1! Launch is confirmed,” With the countdown over, the rocket now roared to life filling the silo with clouds of smoke. As the rocket past us, we saw the brightest light we had seen in… A long time. It may have just been the light from the flames of the rocket, but it just felt. Hopeful. And warm, though that’s to be expected. “Well… Looks like it’s finally over,” Sean sighed while looking longingly out of the command centre’s window, “We *won*.” “Yep,” I replied, “I hope they make it.” “We don’t really matter anymore, nothing we say or do will affect them now,” Sean said. “And with that, it’s time for… Refreshments,” one of the guards in room said drearily with a fake smile, “Or, I’ll open the door and you can take your chances with whatever’s left.” “I thank you all for fighting so bravely with us, may we all find peace in the beyond.


Listen, I've been there through your worst of times. Through those nights you cried yourself to sleep. and i stood there by your side. Through it all. And when you finally cried yourself to sleep. My true work started. A constant onslaught of enemies. Those of the like which you've never seen. You think we're all fluff and no tuff. You're wrong. dead wrong. We've been defending you humans for years. Nay hundreds of years. Though our forms have changed, our purpose hasn't. Protect the human rase against things that go bump at night. You humans, so gullible. Think your only wars are with fellow humans. Incompetent things you are. Never mind your stupidity. This is war. These species have been growing. And our numbers are dwindling. My mission is now to inform you lot about these things. They're creatures, such as you. They have rules though, that bind them to certain things.  Firstly, they only attack at night. For the sun burns them. But during the day, they are expert hiders. You won't find them, so don't bother searching for them. Night time is their hunting ground. And they will. win against you. Second. Your conventional 'weapons' will do nothing to hurt them. Your guns? Useless against these creatures. You humans, always thinking you can just blast your way through anything you want. Their skin is tough, tougher than your strongest metal. But like all things, they have a natural weakness. Cardboard. Yeah yeah, get your laughs aside. But i'm being honest. This is the soul thing that has been keeping you, and all other species alive. So keep those amazon boxs close. And keep ordering your useless things. It might just save you one day! Third. And the most important thing. They aren't dumb. They're smarter than your smartest human. You can't surprise them. Only best them in combat. So for the love of everything good. Don't try and sneak attack them. Head on is your best bet. Train and train to the best you can. It'll save your life. Forth. Disregard rule three. These creatures are tough. Stronger than anything. Their teeth will shred your skin from your bones. Their claws will gouge your eyes out with a single slice. They will not hesitate to kill you. as you are their best food source. Fifth. They're coming. Make preparations. We've stalled them for years. but they're stronger than ever. You're going to need more protection. We, are the protectors of night. We were the only thing protecting you from the Kaiya. But after years, my species is dyeing out. No thanks to you humans. Selfish the likes of you all. Killing everything you touch, from gods to now you're only protectors. I lay down my sword. My brethren do the same. We, Teddy Bears, were your best chance. And you humans, such as you always have. Ruined that. You have no more chances. I wish you good luck Human. You're going to need it for when the Kaiya attack.


\[\] “Now, what have we talked about fighting other magic users?” asked Father Lee was sitting across from Father, who was working on his magical orb, in the library. “Never do it where regulars could see,” said Lee, “but in my defense, It was Michael. He always jumps me outta nowhere.” Father sighs, “Then it falls on you to take the fight away from the public eye,” said Father. He walks over to Lee and puts his hand on Lee's shoulder. “Be responsible.” Father walks back and continues to work on his Orb. Lee stands up and walks out of the library. Maddie and May were waiting outside as the library doors opened and Lee walks out. “Hey man, how'd it go?” said Maddie as she and May walked up to him. “Guys, chill,” said Lee, “It was just a talk. he just told me to do better next time.” “*Do better?* Didn't you win...again?” said Maddie. “Yeah, after making a big splash that anyone could have seen,” said Lee. “Forget it, I goofed, that's all that matters.” The library doors open again as Father walks out. “Ah, good, you're both here, a new Grimoire is on the board.” \[\] Lee, Maddie, May, and Father stand around the orb as an image of an orange grimoire appears. “This grimoire belongs to an old college who, sadly, passed away recently,” said Father. “I'm sorry,” said May. “Thank you May,” said Father, “anyway, he left his grimoire in his old home in the abandoned district, I want you two to retrieve it.” \*Ahem\* Everyone looks at Maddie. “Is there something you wish to add Ms.Hatborc?” said Father. “Just wondering where my invite's at?” said Maddie. “Forgive me, I didn't wish to impose, given your history,” said Father. “But if you wish to join I won't stop you.” “Missed you too, boss,” said Maddie, winking at Father. “And don't worry-” Maddie pulls out a red and black card. “-we're all good.” \[\] Lee and Maddie wait for May by the exit. “So, how long has *this* been a thing?” said Maddie. “What? May coming on missions?” said Lee. “Yeah,” said Maddie, “Last time I checked she could beardly hold her own in a one-on-one.” “She helps out where she can,” said Lee, “Kinda hard to do this job solo, ya know. Not that I'm mad or anything.” “Good, because I'm not sorry,” said Maddie. The two stand in silence for a couple of seconds. “I mean...” said Lee as Maddie sighs, “You could have at least said something before you left.” “Wasn't really in a talking mood,” said Maddie, “ Still ain't.” “Still too tough to talk?” said Lee. Maddie shoots him a glare “You're one to talk,” said Maddie, “or do I need to remind you about Bridgeton? Then again you probably know more about it than me anyway.” 'That...that wasn't my call,” said Lee, “besides that was years ago, things changed.” “So if it came down to it, would you have told us the truth?” said Maddie “I'd do it in a heartbeat,” said Lee. Maddie scoffs and opens the door. “I'll meet you guys there,” said Maddie, “gonna make sure we don't walk into another surprise party.” Maddie closes the door behind her. Lee crouches, planting his face in his hands, and groans. Just around the corner, May stands there curious about the conversation. \[\] “In a heartbeat,” thought Maddie as she walked, “out of all the things to say.” She turns into an empty alleyway, checks her surroundings, and points her hand upward. A large amount of blood seeps through her pores, forming a tendril. The blood tendril elongates to the edge of a nearby roof and pulls Maddie up. “things have changed my ass. Why did I even come back?” “Because you missed him.” said a deeper version of Maddie's voice. “Of course I missed him, but...wait,” said Maddie, “Edge?” Blood seeps through the back of Maddie's shirt as a red man in a vest and trench coat appears out of the blood. “Yes ma'am,” said Edgeworth. “Don't you have better things to do than eavesdrop?” said Maddie. “No ma'am,” said Edgeworth, “Besides, I miss the human drama, it's so entertaining.” Maddie rolls her eyes and begins jumping from rooftop to rooftop. “So, what's the scoop?” “It's none of your business,” said Maddie. “Ma'am, you are my business,” said Edgeworth, “and I'm just making sure business is good. I'd hate for you to kick the bucket too soon.” “What, my immortal soul not good enough for you?” said Maddie. “No,” said Edgeworth, “Not yet anyway, but enough about me. What's going on with you, come on, talk to your demon.” Maddie stops and looks over the abandoned district. “...I almost killed Lee,” said Maddie, “and it was all his fault.” “Oo-o-oh!” said Edgeworth. “Go on!” “Later-” Maddie notices three guys walk into an abandoned building, “-we've got a job to do, and I'm feeling violent,” Edgeworth reveals a terrifying grin as he seeps back into Maddie's back. Maddie pulls out a phone and dials Lee. \[Inside The Building\] “Mr. Rick, are you sure....” “Capitan Rick,” said Rick. “Capitan Rick,” said Grunt One, “are you sure this building is safe? I mean these places are condemned for a reason.” Suddenly Grunt Two's foot falls through the floor, making a splash.” “Aw please let this be clean water,” said Grunt Two. “Man up! we've been given a mission,” said Rick, “the safety of the building is-” a wooden board falls and breaks over Rick's head. “-a nonfactor.” The two grunts stop dead after seeing that. “This is the last time you volunteer me for a mission,” said Grunt Two. grunt One cowers a bit and the two follow rick. \[Outside\] Maddie looks over the building, her eyes black and red. “I got three guys on the third floor, that's it.” “Even numbers,” said Lee, “We'll wait here, May, you fly up and see if they found the Grim. If we get confirmation then we jump them once they leave.” “Or,” said Maddie, “May and I could hit them from above and below, stealth style. Take them out of the equation entirely. You can wait out here just in case things go south.” “We don't know what kind of magic they have,” said Lee, “It's too much of a gamble.” “And I'm feeling lucky,” said Maddie “besides they're probably prepared for the two of you, but not me. I'll throw whatever plan they have into the shredder.” “Fine,” said Lee “but you'll go up top and I'll take the bottom with May.” “Deal,” said Maddie. \[Inside\] “How many floors are in this stupid death trap!” said Grunt Two. “sixteen,” said Rick, “and quiet down or you'll alert the enemy.” “Enemy! What enemy?” said Grunt One. “There's always an enemy,” said Rick, “lurking and waiting to strike from the shadows. which is why we must always stay vigilant and be aware of our surroundings.” A tendril drops from the ceiling and grabs Grunt One. Grunt Two tries to yell but is grabbed from the side by another tendril. Rick stops and turns around. “Useless rookies.” Something wet drops onto Rick's nose. He wipes it off and looks at it, his eyes widening once he notices that it's blood. Rick takes off, running up the stairs to the top floor as crazed laughter begins to follow him. Suddenly a powerful gust of wind pushes Rick to the top of the building. He flies into the hallway, quickly gets up, closes the door behind him. A green and white card appears and rick slams it against the door. The door quickly turns white with a quiet \*Thump\*. Someone tries to open the door but can't move it, this doesn't stop the blood from seeping under the door. Rick turns around and runs into the only open room just as the white door shatters open. Lee, May, and Maddie walk down the hall. “What the hell was that?” said Maddie. “Cornering him,” said Lee, “We're three stories up with no usable fire exits.” “Could have warned me, almost took me with 'em,” said Maddie. May bows her head in shame. “It's fine May, I wasn't talking about you,” said Maddie. “You want this now?” said Lee. “I didn't want to do *this* at all,” said Maddie. “If you have a problem with me then just say it,” said Lee, “quit dancing around expecting me to figure it out!” “It's not that hard to figure out,” said Maddie, “we never really finished anyway.” “Fine! Fine, I'm sorry ok,” said Lee, “I'm sorry I saved your life and didn't tell you.” “Don't you dare make it sound like I'm being unreasonable,” said Maddie, “You made a stupid deal because you didn't want to tell me I was dying from my magic.” May notices an orange glow coming from under one of the doors. “Guys,” said May. “I was just trying to help,” said lee “You know what would have helped,” said Maddie, “if you told anyone else instead of taking on all the responsibility like you always do!” The floor begins to shake as the wood begins to creak and break behind the glowing door. “Lee, Maddie!” said May. “It's my job as a leader to...” said Lee “Dating me shouldn't have been a fucking job!” said Maddie. Suddenly shards of rocks shatter the door and fly at Lee, Maddie, and May. *“Sdnah Enacirruh*,” said May. her hand turns into a gust of wind, pushing Lee and Maddie into a room. The wind also causes the rock shards to go everywhere, destroying the infrastructure of the building and causing the who building to collapse, with everyone inside.


He screams, "Help me! Please, I'm trapped. I'm a prisoner. You've got to get me out of here. You've got to get me away from Tree!" You stop, and see a man. With a rope synched around his waist. Tied to the trunk of a tree. It seems the rope is only 30 feet long. So the man can't wander far from the tree. It's cold out and he's shivering. Based on the frost in his hair, you guess he's been out here at least a day. You rush over to him. "How did this happen?" "I... I don't know. I don't even remember how I got here! Please help me, get me away from Tree!" You go up to him, and you untie the rope from his waist. You're a bit surprised that he couldn't do it himself. But clearly, if he could have, he would have. Nobody wants to be trapped tied to a tree. The next few days are normal. But then you walk by the same tree again, and you hear it again! "Help! Someone please help me. Help me get free of Tree." You're dumbfounded. The man can't have ended up tied to the tree again? You stop and check and there he is. The rope seems even looser this time. You untie it and you say, "How did this happen again? Did someone drag you out here again, and tie you to this tree?" The man was relieved to be help, but clearly still distraught, "I don't know. I don't even remember how I got here?!" You tell him that he should tell the police. That he should lock his doors. And carry a knife with him at all times. And that he should practice rope untying, so that he can get himself out if it ever happens again. The next few days are normal, but you hear it again! This time, you're more curious than concerned. Something must be wrong with this man. This must be a scam of some kind. You check for your wallet, maybe he had a buddy come pickpocket you when you rescued him last time. Your wallet is still there. You stop on a hill nearby, where you know you can't be seen. And you observe the man. Every now and then he calls for help. Mostly he just sits and weeps. He does try to escape. But "try" is a strange word in this case. He tugs on the rope. He gnashes at it with his teeth. But the rope is clearly so loose that if he just shimmied it down to his feet he could step right out of it. Eventually, his screaming gets him another rescuer. And he's off, once more. You don't stick around either. You come back a few days later, and sure enough, there he is again! This time, your curiosity goes too deep. So you walk up to him, and without a word, you lift the rope up over his head. He thanks you, and then walks off. The next several days, you stake out the hill overlooking the tree. You watch, your curiosity eating you alive. Who's bringing this man out here? Who's tying him to the tree every several days. You wait and wait and wait. Eventually, you think that he's not coming back. That he's finally put a stop to whoever was doing this to him. But then you watch, in complete and total shock, as the man walks up to the tree with a rope. And ties himself to it. You look with your binoculars. The man walks over, and he almost seems to play with the rope. Dance with it. He seems to like the tree a lot too. You wouldn't say he's having fun, but he's certainly enraptured with the activity. Eventually, by sheer accident. The rope ends up tied around his body, and the trunk. But his dancing continues. You watch, until it starts getting cold, and then you leave. When you return, there he is in the morning. He sees you he shouts! "Help me! Help me please! I figured out who brought me here. I figured out who keeps doing this to me! Tree did this! Please help me! PLEASE!" The man is clearly insane, but even worse than that, he's clearly only acting out to mine for sympathy and attention. Enough is enough. You go home and make a sign, which you plant in front of the tree. It reads "This man tied himself to the tree. He wants to be here! Do not help him!" You walk by everyday. People listen to the sign, cause you can hear him still. Begging for help. Eventually, the cries for help annoy you so much. That you go up to the man, and you untie him. And then, you take the rope, and you throw it into the river. And you say "never come back to this tree!" The man seems certain, so assured. "Of course! Of course! I'll avoid the tree. Whatever you think will help me get away." And he runs off, as if fleeing from death itself. The next day, you walk, and you find the man. There is no rope this time. But he's still stuck to the tree. He begs, he begs for help. You point out, "there's no rope! You're not even stuck." He responds, tears in his eyes, desperation in his voice. "I know there's no rope! I took your advice. But I'm still stuck. Tree put me here. Help me! Please!" You go over there, using the last drop of your sympathy. You reach out to the man, and you pull. But he doesn't budge. He digs in his feet. He screams to be rescued. He begs it to be so. But in his actions, he clings to the tree. You leave him. The next day, you come back with an axe. You hand it to him, and you point at the trunk and you tell him to cut the tree down. At first he's obstinate, he claims he doesn't have the will for it. But a few days later, you see him hacking away at it. Chopping at the tree. You're a little proud of him. Eventually you come back, and you see that the tree is knocked over. But the man is still there. Still screaming, still begging, still weeping. At this point. It's your mission. So you say "screw it". You grab the man, with all your might, and you drag him away from the tree. You drag him to your house. And then you tie a rope around him there. Eventually, you get him some help. You let some doctors look over him. You get him in school. You get him his own place, with a nice job. He never goes back to the tree again, and you don't see him for about that long either. Then one day, you're at a work party. And you see him again. He's smiling, and laughing. And you think you've really done it. You go over to him, and say, "hello! How is it like tasting freedom again?" You get close enough, to finally read his nametag. All that time, you never actually picked up his name. The nametag reads "Trei Smith, Consultant." Then, you catch his eyes. He looks at you, that same sadness and desperation back in his gaze. He walks over to you and says, "Help me please. No matter where I go. I cut the rope. I chopped down the tree just like you said. I told the cops. I locked my doors. I've got this job! I did everything you asked, but I'm still trapped. No matter where I go, I can't escape Trei. Please it's *torture.*" Suddenly you understand it. You reach out and hug him. You know there's nothing you can do to help a man escape himself. So you say what you realize you should have said a long time ago, "I'm so sorry. I know you don't want this, and you don't deserve it either." And with what little peace you offered, you leave. You never see Trei again. Though everyday, you pass that tree stump, and you remember, a man who fought with everything he had to escape what he hated. You respect that fact about him, even though you know, he never had a chance.


It’s just a part of the job I say. A Job I hate, and wouldn't do anymore if I didn't have to. My problems are not knowing what else to do, and being the only one who is able to do this right now. The nurses nod knowingly around me as I walk in the room. The hospital itself feels like it's alive. You can feel the energy of everything happening throughout the building. When you pay close attention it's almost as if the building breathes. Walking in the door you could judge how bad your day will be. Today started out okay, and felt better. Until the code white was called overhead. Infant emergency. It’s hard to describe the wave of stopping time, deep panic, and sadness that slams into the hospital the seconds after those words are called. I’m just an orderly in the emergency room, but I grabbed the code bag and sprint up the stairs. It’s really time to work. A team of doctors and nurses were already in the room. A few more doctors of different varieties gathered around the door as well. The critical care team started CPR. The new mother wailing in a broken defeated scream. Begging for her child. The father silently watching and preparing himself for the worst night of their lives. I got pulled from the doorway into the compression rotation. CPR itself was routine, and I've done it on dummies of babies so many times. I don't actually remember doing CPR but I remember the time of death, and that I was the one holding onto her. The family, having time to say hello and goodbye to the newborn, was now discharged and on their way home. Specialists would be sent to keep an eye on the grieving couple in the coming days. It was time to bring her downstairs to the morgue. A black baby cradle waited for her in the walk-in fridge. I opened the door, and motionless the baby laid. I’ve put over 100 people in bags and brought them down. The Body bag was so small. Not at all unlike a shopping bag. I gently picked her up and placed her in. I zipped up the bag and carried her out of the room. People passed by us unknowingly, and tried to stop me to say hello. I just kept moving. I did not want to do this. I walked up the hill with her. Unlocked the door, and placed her in the cradle. I stared at the bag. Turned around, shut the door and locked it. She sat there with Ann now. Ann was a regular patient of ours that had just passed away the night prior. A sweet legless old lady It brought me some comfort knowing they were there together. I turned the lights in the morgue off, and walked back down the hall. I went to the bathroom, and flushed away all the uneasiness inside me. I washed my hands. They’ll never be clean really now I thought as I scrubbed. I scrubbed and scrubbed. Dried my hands, and I took a deep breath. It’s almost time for dinner I realized. I had been looking forward to the spaghetti I made all afternoon. I was at work, and it was time for dinner. So I ate, and with every bite I forgot about her a little more. Before I was able to finish the Ambulance bay alarms were going off and a Code Blue was being called. I grabbed my code bag and ran. It was just part of the job I didn't want to do anymore.