The dirt under her multicolored fingernails left a trail down his lower back as Jane Sanderson methodically clawed her way down his spine. Her legs wrapped around his waist so tight that her thighs made it hard for him to breathe. It didn't help that the rest of her calves crossed over and locked at the ankles, keeping him firmly in place. She continued using her heels as spurs against his buttocks aggressively to signal him to keep the motion. Then it happened again for the fifth time in the span of two minutes and this time she would have to throw in the towel. Her heart could not beat any faster and her lower extremities could no longer hold her prey captive. Her aging body relented, much to the dismay of her carnal desire to continue. With a final shudder and a lip biting moan of ecstasy, Jane Sanderson's toes uncurled, and her feet unhooked themselves, then her legs slid off the sweaty body of her lover and landed to a muddled thud against the white goose down comforter that was part of a neatly made bed less than ten minutes ago. She lay on her back with her hair matted in sweat against her forehead. With pursed lips, she blew a strand of her curled bangs away from her left eyelid. "Wow." One arm dangled off the side of the bed while the other wiped the sweat off her brow. He lay there beside her, on his back, staring at the texture of the ceiling, trying to focus on a spot to gather his thoughts. "Yeah, wow." Jane Sanderson floated her free hand to the nightstand, where her fingers walked along the surface until they reached her phone, which was buzzing frequently throughout her sexual escapade. A swipe of the screen revealed over a dozen notifications from her dating app. She scrolled through the messages with a raised eyebrow. The first message let her know that her anonymous hookup partner was running late, the subsequent messages relaying further delays and begging for patience and forgiveness. She turned to the man that had exhausted her to a point of dehydration and said, "You're funny. You know, you were actually early, right?" The man with his eyes half closed and on the brink of falling asleep forced his eyelids open and turned his head to face Jane. He was able to discern the fine details of her freckles and large pores along her cheeks. "Huh?" Wrinkles appeared on his forehead as he attempted to decipher what Jane had just said. He hadn't seen Jane's face clearly, outside the blur of motion, since she pulled him into her apartment and shut the door behind them. "All of these messages, silly. Your phone probably needs to be restarted because your messages came in while we were... You know?" Jane held up her screen so he could see the notifications. He squinted at first and then moved his head closer to the screen. "Hey, that's not the Mobile Munchies app." "The Mobile Munchies app?" She turned to look at the phone. "No, it's your messages from TacoRocko." His eyes widened and the contours of his face shifted from aloof to jaw dropping dread. "Lady, those aren't from me. I'm the Mobile Munchie delivery guy." "Wait, what?" Jane Sanderson quickly pulled up the corner of the comforter she was lying on and covered herself as much as she could. "Yeah, your lasagna from Eats-a-Lotta is still outside your front door." He sat up, chest bare, belly extended and resting on his lap. As the post coital clarity seeped in, he looked into Jane's eyes and back at the phone she was holding. "You didn't order lasagna, did you?" "No! Oh my gosh!" Jane's jaw dropped and she looked at the stranger in her bed and then at the messages on her phone. At that moment, another message came with the familiar sultry melodic TacoRocko notification. The message read: I'm only a half a block away. See you soon, can't wait. Jane quickly yanked at the remaining length of the comforter, nudging the delivery driver off her bed as she cocooned herself into the sweat and sex-soaked bedding. The man stood up, only wearing a smartwatch and a pair of socks. His clothing still scattered about in unknown locations throughout Jane Sanderson's cramped, yet cozy, apartment. His hands folded over his genitals in an attempt at modesty. Jane eyes broke out in tears, and she began to stifle a cry of panic that came out as a chuckle, which quickly broke out into a full laugh of hysterics. Her freckled cheeks turned flush as the blood rushed through her body at a frantic pace to match her heartbeat. The man turned to the side, trying to obstruct his privates from her gaze. He began to shiver. The former beads of sweat had now cooled from the air that flowed through the ventilation system as the cooling system cycled on. His chilled panic turned to confusion and then to amusement as laughter filled the room. "That actually happened." He tried not to laugh but the clarity of the absurdity broke him, and he joined Jane in a hearty chuckle. "I'm Jane, by the way." "I'm Ed, pleased to meet you." Jane gave his nakedness a quick once over, "Yeah, I bet you are." Ed looked around the room, scanning for the whereabouts of his clothing and affirming Jane's comment. "I should get dressed." He paused and shrugged his shoulders at Jane as a sign for some help. "Oh? Right. They're here somewhere. Give me a sec." Jane Sanderson pointed to a five-drawer chest and asked Ed to toss her some undergarments and other articles of clothing. He obliged. She promptly slipped into her clothes under the covers and emerged in a T-shirt and sweatpants. Ed stood in a corner while Jane circled her bed and explored the floor. "Nope, not here. Follow me." She opened her bedroom door and entered a narrow hallway. "Found one." She picked up his boxers and tossed them over her shoulder where he quickly snatched them mid-air. She continued down the corridor. Ed followed close behind, hopping into his undergarment one leg at a time, trying not to fall. Jane entered the main room which was where the entry door was located. She pointed to a lampshade in one corner where Ed's shirt dangled haphazardly as a fire hazard. Ed quickly retrieved his shirt. She circled past the sofa, a coffee table, and a pile of scattered magazine cutouts. "Where could it be?" she said to herself aloud. "Nice place you have here." "Thanks. It's a little out of sorts at the moment." "Oh, I’ve seen worse, believe me." "I'm sure you have. How long have you been a delivery driver for... Eats-a-Lotto?" She entered the kitchenette and searched underneath the dining table. "Only a few months. It's a side gig while something better comes up." "Oh? You married or attached?" Jane pulled out chairs, lifted up dinner plates and looked underneath them in her continued search. "No. What about you? I mean, outside of the whole TacoRocko thing." "That's a whole other story." She peeled opened the refrigerator door and rummaged inside with the intensity of someone who was searching for lost diamonds. Ed cleared his throat, "They wouldn't be in there." "What? Where?" "In the fridge, my shorts." "Right. Sorry. I'm still processing." She closed the fridge and sighed. "Understood. Same here." Ed walked alongside the kitchen counter until he reached the kitchen sink. "Hey, over here." He pointed into the sink where many dirty dishes and clouded glasses were encrusted but soaking in murky water. "Eww, I'm so sorry about that." She hooked her finger into a belt loop that was exposed at the surface of the water and pulled out Ed's shorts. The brownish water dripped into the sink and splashed onto the countertop. "I can take care of this. Really." As she jiggled his shorts, his phone slipped out of the front pocket and made a splatter after it clanked across a plate. "Okay. Maybe not." Jane stood there, holding up Ed's shorts as Ed buried his face into his palm in disbelief. Jane winced and her nose wrinkled as she reached into the depths of the grease laden, food funk of the sink. She pulled out his phone with her free hand. It was waterlogged and devoid of any functionality. "Warranty?" she asked. "Nope. I've had it for a few years now." Ed slowly brushed his fingers through his hair, contemplating the fallout from the entire series of events. He pulled up a chair at the kitchen table and sat with his head down. "Now what?" "I know it looks bad, but it can't get any worse." At that moment there was a series of short but rapid knocks at the door. Ed raised his head and broke from his inner thoughts. He looked at Jane, "TacoRocko?" "Oh crap." Jane had just finished wringing out the remaining water from Ed's shorts. "I should probably get that." "You sure about that?" Ed pointed to himself, and Jane zoned out, flowcharting the possibilities in her head. Another series of knocks. "Yeah, I should." Jane cleared a place mat on the dining table that was covered with condiments from local fast-food places and set his shorts atop it. She wiped her smelly wet hands on the back of her sweatpants, leaving handprints on her rear end. When she reached the front door, she placed her foot a few inches behind the threshold, propping the door from opening more than an inch. There was a bit of hushed negotiation back and forth with her pre-scheduled anonymous lover. He handed Jane the bag of food that Ed had previously left at the door. She quickly closed the door and returned to Ed with the delivery meant for another person. "How'd it go?" he asked, while patting down his phone with a nearby kitchen towel. She shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "Lasagna?" "You know that's someone else's, right?" He held up his dead phone and shook a few more droplets of dirty water out of it. "Eh, I’ve probably already gotten dinged on that order, anyway. Sure, I could use a bite after all this." "I've got a washer and dryer combo in the next room. I can take care of your shorts. You want to heat this up? Microwave is over there." Jane handed him the bag and retrieved his shorts from the place mat. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?" "I guess not." She disappeared into the adjacent room with his formerly dry shorts in hand and a promise to be right back. Ed navigated the options on the microwave panel and left the lasagna to rotate on the glass tray as he examined his surroundings. The refrigerator door, covered with a collection of magnetic decor with phrases of affirmation and positive sayings, was framing a few wallet sized photos of Jane, alone, posing in casual clothing at various locales that Ed didn't recognize. Jane returned and closed the door behind her, muffling the sound of the washing machine as it teetered and creaked while filling with water. "It should only be an hour, I'm guessing." The microwave beeped. "Right on time." Ed opened the microwave door and steam, followed by the aromatic scent of pasta with Italian seasonings, replaced the sour funk of the kitchen sink that had permeated throughout the area. Jane cleared as much of the table as she could without spilling the excess clutter onto the floor. She directed Ed to a cabinet that held plates and a drawer that had utensils. The two sat at opposing ends of the squared surface and took their first few bites in silence. "So..." Ed broke the quiet vibe as his mouth was still processing the bites into smaller digestible ones. "About earlier, that was something, right?" Jane looked up from her plate, wiped the gooey cheese from the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, it was something." "Something good?" His eyebrows raised as he twirled his fork in the air. "Oh, it was something very good. What about you."

"Well, considering I was only supposed to be delivering food, it was a great - something." They both gave each other a crooked smile. Each one took another bite, chewed, and swallowed with a glow about them that only they could see. Ed set his fork down, interlocked his fingers, and rested his chin atop them. "You never got a chance to tell your long story." "Oh?" Jane swallowed the small mouthful of the saucy pasta. "I was told to live a little. To get out of my shell and do something spontaneous." "And this is what you chose to do?" "Look, this not something I do at all, it's outside my dull and uneventful norm, and it was a first." "I see. Will it also be your last?" "Well, all things considered..." Jane hedged and shifted food around her plate. Her eyes went off to the corner of her kitchen in contemplation. "What did you think of Mr. TacoRocko? Or were they a Miss TacoRocko?" "I don't know, he seemed a bit much, and he had a bulbous nose." "A bulbous nose?" "Yeah, like someone just threw putty onto his face and put to nostrils in there." "The nose is a deal breaker?" "Well, no, but... Yeah, I guess it is. I mean, it's a lot more surface area than a pointy one like yours." Jane motioned to Ed's narrow bridged nose. "You mean this bird beak?" "It has its advantages." "Like?" Ed leaned in; his eyes crossed as he looked down at his own nose in curious amusement. "Well, like when you went down there." "Oh?" "Yeah." "That did it for you?" "It very much played a part." "You're a woman who knows her noses," "Yes, I do," Jane smirked, taking another bite. The two conversed throughout the washing and drying cycle of Ed's shorts. Once the article of clothing was dry, Ed had to take his leave. The two lingered at the threshold of the doorway. "You don't suppose there's a tip involved? You know, for the food at least? "I'm really sorry about everything. Well, about everything before and after... You know..." "Yeah, well, I'd give you my number, but there’s no telling when this thing gets replaced." Ed taps his phone through his front pocket and frowns. "We'll always have lasagna." Jane Sanderson slowly closed the door, pausing before it latched completely.


An old Toyota Corolla comes to a sputtering halt in a parking bay outside a slightly run-down strip mall. Jason glances over the lit up dashboard ignoring all warnings as he switches the car off, pulling the key from the ignition. "A simple oil change and plug replacement", he thinks while looking around for his wallet and phone. He opens the squeaky white driver's side door and makes his way as the early autumn of 2019 greets him with a gentle breeze. Jason's life has been in a state of disarray for a while now. Things hadn't been panning out after leaving his job to explore other avenues with whatever money he had saved. He decided to stop playing things safe, but went about it without first facing his demons. This led to an acute state of decay in his life due to a poisonous mixture of fear, anxiety, sorrow and regret, and this was further complicated by a one-two-punch of bad habits and laziness. He decided to change but felt he was lacking something. Perhaps millions in his bank account, or maybe something small like a thought, an idea, maybe a slight change in his own mindset. His search brought him to where he felt things began to go wrong in the first place. He took a brisk walk from his car to the far right of the strip. He marched purposefully towards the corner establishment. It was a cozy corner coffee shop with about six or seven tables. The parking spaces immediately outside the shop had been packed to capacity, possibly by the customers of the neighboring restaurants and diners. To Jason, the little coffee shop always seemed to pick up the look of surrounding establishments with its neatness and simplicity. Before even entering, you had the chance to admire its small granite counter with an old fashioned chalkboard menu. You may even sometimes see a single waitress darting about to attend to customers seated at rustic and tastefully stained woodgrain tables (which are probably older than you and I). A warm orange glow covers Jason's frame as he enters passing large glass doors that were bolted to the left and right. He thinks about how he unintentionally started dating his first girlfriend here while slowly gliding towards the counter. His eyes glance to the left to view a board listing out a new line of autumnal drinks. "A pumpkin spice latte with whipped cream and a blueberry muffin please", he requests softly. The teenager behind the counter accepts payment and thanks Jason as he turns toward a table after dropping his change in a tip jar. Immediately after sitting, he starts to reminisce about his first date with the beautiful Pamela Rose Parker when he is suddenly interrupted by Julia, the long time student waitress. Julia was a beautiful twenty year old brunette with a kind and wholesome outward allure about her (yet Jason still felt an intimidatingly intelligent undercurrent from her through their few interactions). Jason internally acknowledges her charm while exchanging pleasantries with her as she places his order on the table. Julia had just momentarily served as an unknowing (albeit welcome) refrain from Jason's wallowing. As soon as she leaves to fetch another order, Jason's attention shifts back to Pamela as he takes his first sip. Her beauty coupled with the spark he saw behind her eyes had thrown him. The black top she had worn two years prior at the table he currently sat at was on his mind, the one with the see through sleeves which seemed to float delicately above her evenly tanned skin. The conversation of years passed were still ringing clearly in his ears as he pondered his honesty in contrast to her empty words. Her desperate proposition for romance between them when he knew it was too soon for her. Her claim to "love" him though she knew little about him. The date that came out of what was supposed to be just coffee between friends. This was the place where it both started and ended between them. Another mouthful of the delicious beverage goes down as his mind recalls how smart she seemed at the time, her dream of political advocacy that she had revealed to him on the first date back in 2017. This revelation was soon followed by the romantic request that came just two months after her father had unfortunately passed away. Knowing it was too soon, Jason politely declined. Being the critical thinker he was, Jason realized his response may deepen her insecurities during this trying time. He followed up by saying that the reason he said no was because he felt that she was looking for commitment while he was looking for something casual. She said she had no problem with that as long as she was with him, and with that, what was just coffee between two friends has blossomed into their first date. The memory made him silently ridicule himself for seeing this as a sign of true love on her part and for being committed to her all those years ago. As vacant tables slowly start to fill up, he thinks about how the relationship deteriorated. The rich male "bestie" with the new Mercedes-Benz who continuously took her out to clubs, whom she had kissed and who she had received questionable pictures from. The distrust of her always looking through Jason's phone without returning the favor. Anxiety begins to grip Jason's chest as his eyes water. "Get over it, you're a man", he thinks. The cardboard vessel is slowly raised to his lips. The liquid enters and goes down without any real thought, an automatic process done to mask the burden of his thoughts, his mind racing to the breakup of 2018, their coffee shop, it ending where it started. He took it hard but understood. She still traveled with Jason to and from work, with him keeping to himself. In spite of this, she still flirted with him and went as far as showing the poor guy the correspondences she had with other men, possibly in a bid to make him jealous. Jason tried his best to take it in his stride while still being there for her as he truly loved her, something she knew but took for granted. Pamela, who's infatuation had either worn off or was a game from the very beginning, decided to take as much advantage of Jason as possible, the fool who had stuck by her when no one else would, not even family. Wrangling his mind back to the present day was done in vain as his thoughts again sharply shifted. With the next big gulp of his latte, he began to dwell on how quickly the thin veneer of her beauty and intellect disappeared to reveal the truth of the person he had fallen for. He thought of the lies, her chats with ex-boyfriends, how she uncharacteristically met up with her drinking buddies using scant clothing and her well hidden alcoholism and smoking. He still loved her and would have accepted her regardless (minus the male "bestie" and the chats with other guys and exes, obviously) if it hadn't been for one major problem, her lack of honesty in who she was versus who she pretended to be. With that, the memories began an assault on his mind. Other bad memories and thoughts started emerging while the ones that were already there seemed to play on repeat. They took his mind apart as he began to almost swallow what remained of his extra large beverage in one go. Everything inside him was rapidly coming to a head and every thought was about to erupt, when suddenly... silence. Jason savored the last sip of his latte as one coherent thought emerged from the recesses of his mind. What if he needed this experience? What if facing this resulted in him having the motivation to take risks and take a chance on himself for a change? The proverbial kickstart he needed to get to work on his hidden talents and bring them to the fore. The pain being the driving force required to quit his mediocre job because he now knows what he wants, a lesson taught through necessary pain. He had realized a truth that he should have figured out long ago. Suffering is sometimes required for growth. He relaxed in his chair for a moment, feeling physically lighter (although still a little uneasy as he had a lot of work ahead of him). Standing up, he pushed in his chair and left a few bills on the table as a tip for the waitress before heading for the door. As he started moving, he heard a soft but audible voice from behind the counter with, "Wait, you forgot your muffin!" Julia rushed forward with a small paper bag and swiftly packed the confection. She handed it to Jason with a genuine smile on her lightly-freckled face. "We're a lot quieter on Wednesday, you know where to find me if you need to talk", she projected warmly to Jason. Having realized that she probably noticed Jason coming in by himself as of late (plus, embarrassingly, she probably also noticed his silent struggle), he replied with an equally warm, "Sure." In the span of a cup of coffee, something in him had changed. He found what he was looking for and may have also made a new friend. He smiled as he entered his car thinking, "Today was an unexpectedly good day." He turned the key but the engine refused to start. "Not again", he said with a little chuckle. The End.


Jeremy Adler sat on the floor of his bedroom, leaning on the back of his bed frame, reading whatever book had stumbled into his hands at an astonishingly fast pace. Reading was Jeremy's thing . He would read at such a speed that you couldn't even be sure he was absorbing the words. Getting sick of his reading, he decided that once he finished this chapter, he would take a break. But once he did arrive at the end, he extended his stop time to just another chapter, until before he knew it, he had no intention to stop. His position changed several times throughout the reading process. He'd rotate from lying on the floor to sitting up, to hugging his knees, to resting on his side. This speed reading activity always did a number on Jeremy's neck, which was exactly what he was thinking about when he heard it . It was like a shimmer, or a sparkle. So gentle and quiet the first time, Jeremy assumed he'd imagined it. Or perhaps it was just him, subconsciously shifting in his seat, causing a ruffle. But the second time only confirmed it. When he sensed movement in the room, his eyes darted up, directly at a spot on his wall where there once was nothing but a bland, ivory wall, now hosted a window shielded by mist. He was confused. For some reason, not at all surprised, but confused.

Jeremy’s room was on the top floor of the house, which resulted in him having the highest ceilings. The window was high. He didn’t want to go downstairs and face having to explain why in the world he would need a ladder, so he pushed his bed just far enough to reach the window.

Jeremy stood on top of the bed and peeked over at the clouded window. He raised a brow, stumped. Maybe it’s foggy outside. But that wouldn’t make sense, the window wasn’t there before. Jeremy plopped down on his bed, jolting the springs. He so badly wanted to give in to his curiosity, to climb and take a peek, but he restrained. He stood up and began pacing around the room, weighing the options. After about a minute, he realized he was wasting his own time, and that this peculiar investigation was inevitable.

Jeremy didn’t understand why he wasn’t shocked so much as intrigued. His hyper mind raced with questions and he was thirsty to find an answer to them.

He made up his mind and stood back up on the bed. Reaching to open the window, he was greeted with more dusty, cool mist. Without second thought, he shoved a hand through it, and was met with cool, but warm air. It was perfectly fitting, the exact temperature you would have imagined the mist to be. Now that he had just barely tasted it, there was no way he could stop. He needed more . He had almost no upper body strength, he was skinny and his scholarly mind was completely uninterested in sports of any kind. Thus, he somehow managed to reach up to the window. He pulled himself over the ledge, and though he thought he had stabilized, he lost his balance and fell over the other side of the window--into the mist. He began falling. Down, down, down. His body spun to the command of the wind and he fell for what felt like hours. Really--it felt like hours. First he was confused. Why aren't I landing onto the floor of his lawn? But eventually he moved onto fear. Am I going to hit hard ground? And lastly, the stage of disbelief. This isn't happening. Pinch. Once he became aware of his surroundings while falling, he realized his eyes had been closed the whole time. He opened them, and reached ground. Jeremy winced, but felt no pain. It was a material under his back that he couldn't quite determine. Jeremy sat up to meet the eyes of a group of ogling...people? One (woman?) had wings on her back, tender, like Tinker Bell! One (man?) had two colorful parrots, one resting on each of his shoulders. Jeremy could have sworn he was seeing things. He wanted to scramble away--his head was begging for it--but his body was not complying. He sat there staring at the odd group as they returned the expression. "What is it?" The fairy woman whispered. "Is it a doll?" Another one said. "It's eyes are far too small to be a doll. A garden man perhaps." A different man suggested. "What? It isn't growing any leaves, it can't be." They finally silenced, the four of them, Jeremy had now determined with his newly focused eyes. His eyes widened and he gasped when he saw a creature with the silhouette of a human, but scales instead of skin! The fairy woman stepped forward and offered out her hand with a strained smile. "I am Grevillea, dear, what is your name?" Jeremy was silent. She was talking. To him. "Does it talk?" Scaly person said. Jeremy coughed and blinked several times. "Jeremy," he had their attention, "is my name." They looked unimpressed. "What kind of name is Jeremy ?" A metallic looking man said. "What kind of name is Grevillea ?" Jeremy retaliated. Fairy lady scoffed. He stumbled to his feet. "Where are you from?" Robot guy said. "Colorado." Their faces were stoic and unresponsive. "Earth? Floating rock in a galaxy? No?" Silence. "Okay, um, I'm not from here. I fell out of my window. I need to get home." He tried to simplify. "How does one fall out of a window?" The robotic man questioned, stroking his chin. "I-I don't know. I just did. That's not the point. Who are you?" Jeremy was starting to get a headache. "I am Kitt," The robot-man spoke. "My name is Grevillea." Fairy woman said again. "He knows that," Scale skin lady said. "I am Etis." Jeremy couldn't help but ask. "What are you?" She scoffed. "I am a dragon nymph. How rude." Jeremy hadn't meant to be offensive. Considering other's emotions was low on his list of priorities at the moment. The parrot man stepped forward. "I'm Zink. On the left: Port. On the right: Ruffle." He pointed to each parrot, speaking in a low, raspy voice. Jeremy could not deal with these peculiar names. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," He said to himself with an untimely grin. "What's Kansas?" Etis asked. "Where the hell am I?" The strange creatures all bursted out into laughter, before realizing he was serious when he made no effort to deny his question. "Where are you?" Kitt chuckled, "Why you're in Eternity! More specifically, Caverest City. It's the capitol, didn't you know?" Jeremy shook his head. Kitt went on, "We were actually on our way back from a stroll on the outskirts, the entrance is right past those gates." He pointed. Jeremy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, sorry to be blunt, but I need to get out of here. Will there be anyone in there who can direct me home?" Etis and Grevillea whispered into each other's ears. Etis then spoke up. "Perhaps we can consult the Chancellor." Kitt, who Jeremy had now discovered was quite talkative, interjected. "He's why this is the capitol, you know. Because he chose to live here. Zink often entertains the Chancellor with his birds. Perchance-" He is cut off by Zink. "They are not birds!" His face is red and angry. "They're parrots." "Right, right. Parrots. Anyways," Kitt drones on, "Zink could possibly get us a meeting with the Chancellor, couldn't you Zink?" Zink, who was seemingly still bothered by the mislabeling of his parrots, huffed without a response. Jeremy wasn't sure what to say. Instead, he just followed them into the indigo colored gates that lead to Caverest City where he would apparently be meeting the infamous Chancellor. After the five of them entered the gates, Jeremy felt a shadow casted over him, it became darker. Within the city, there were tall, almost dystopian and futuristic structures and buildings. But the floor was the strangest part. It was...rock? When Jeremy looked up, he yelped at the dome that engulfed the entirety of the small city. "What's that up there?" He mumbled just above a whisper. "Thats the cave, silly. Wow, you really aren't from here." Etis replied. He saw it now. He was in a massive cave. So tall that the high-rise buildings didn't hit the top, and decorated with blocks of buildings. Eventually, with Jeremy still processing how he had somehow gone from his bedroom to...here, they reached a tall skyscraper. This was clearly the tallest one of all. The top nearly reached the cave's roof, and surely had a spectacular view. Within this tall skyscraper, lived the Chancellor, of whom Jeremy didn't quite understand other than a Star Wars reference. When the group attempted to enter the elevator, there stood two guards, both dressed in indigo suits with matching glasses. Jeremy did a double-take. "Hello," Zink began, "Chancellor's parrot entertainer. Assistants." He pointed to the rest of them. Jeremy had now determined that Zink was a man of little words. Jeremy wasn't sure what he thought of Etis and Grevillea, for they both remained composed. The two people in odd colored suits exchanged glances before nodding them to pass and enter the elevator. ~~~~~ Kitt had been arguing with the guards in front of the Chancellor's door for quite some time, but Jeremy literally could not keep track of time. There wasn't a clock in the whole city. Twenty minutes felt like twenty years but sometimes a day felt like an hour. Time was fuzzy in Eternity. Grevillea, Zink, Etis, and Jeremy stood back watching Kitt attack the guards until the two doors swung open. " What is all this ruckus?" An intimidatingly calm voice slowly sounded into the hall. Jeremy didn't need to ask. The Chancellor. Well, it was safe to say he looked nothing like Darth Sidious. This man was middle aged, with some specks of gray in his hair and wrinkly eyes. He had defined features and a chiseled face. He was eminently striking, and particularly hard to read. Jeremy thought the group was about to be killed or arrested but the Chancellor's sharp gaze turned to pierce the eyes of the guards. "Am I to believe you are denying my good friend Zink entry?" "N-no sir." One began. "Certainly not sir." The other defended. "We-we didn't know." "Come in." When they entered to his glorious central living room, the Chancellor poured two cups of a sort of liquor--one for him and one for Zink. The two sat while Grevillea, Jeremy, Etis, and Kitt--who was unusually mute--stood awkwardly, observing. "Why are you here?" The Chancellor directed his question at Zink. It appeared that Zink had been modest about the true connection he had to the Chancellor. "The boy. Not from here. Fell out of his window. From..." "-Colorado!" Jeremy interjected. He cleared his throat. "Sorry." "In another world. Called Orth." Zink continued. "-Earth. Sorry." "Needs to get home. Doesn't know how." No one spoke while Kitt, Etis, and Grevillea looked terrified and uncomfortable. Everyone stood, staring at the Chancellor. "I've never heard of such a thing," He confessed after longing quiet. "Are you familiar with The Cliff of Cessation? Theres a woman by the name of Haeledi. You must go see her. She lives in the Green Abyss." Grevillea gasped, clutching her heart and Kitt stood wide-eyed, gaping. Jeremy rolled his eyes. He'd grown to understand that drama was a common trait in this duo. "What's the Green Abyss?" Jeremy questioned genuinely. "Oh! Don't say it!" Grevillea collapsed onto the couch. To avoid more humiliation in front of the Chancellor, Jeremy thanked him profusely and pulled them all out of the building, until they were standing on the rocky cave street. "Okay. Let's go." He said and began walking towards the direction of the gate. Zink tagged along quietly, but Jeremy stopped when he realized the other three weren't following. "What are you guys doing? C'mon! I wanna get out of here." "Listen Jeremy," Grevillea sighed, "I know you're foreign, but you don't know the Green Abyss. It rests under the Cave of Cessation, and the people that go don't come back." "Etis?" Jeremy said. She gave him a nod, showing her support. Jeremy turned to walk the other way, with Etis and Zink following. Kitt and Grevillea stayed back. "Oh crap." Jeremy groaned. "How are we going to get there?" But when he looked up, Etis was gone, and in her place stood an enormous, dazzling, dragon. She roared and Jeremy gawked in awe while Zink climb onto her back, parrots included. He swallowed and copied Zink's actions. Just as Etis was about to take off, Jeremy heard a grunt. " Ugh. We're coming!" Kitt hollered from the ground with Grevillea lifting up her colorful dress to follow. Jeremy laughed as they gripped Etis's scaled body, and suddenly felt wind blow into their faces. They ascended, watching Caverest City get smaller and smaller. It was indeed a spectacular view. ~~~~~ Jeremy didn't know he'd been sleeping until he woke up to a light tap by Grevillea, signaling that they had arrived. He sat up to see the large, eerie cliff from above. His thoughts were interrupted. Can you guess who by? "This feels like a terrible idea. Do you know what cessation means? The end. Death. Gone! I don't want to die!" Kitt whined. "So where is the Green Abyss thing?" Zink held tight to his parrots and lead Jeremy to the edge of the cliff. "Down." Jeremy sucked in a breath. He understood the fear Grevillea and Kitt had now. Far, far down, there were trees. Hundreds. But no ground. Right were the tree stump would end, lay more trees. "...And I've heard of Haeledi. She lives in the trees! I heard she kills every creature who attempts to seek her guidance. Is she an elf? Do you know? Is she a nymph? Is she-" "KITT. Shut up!" Jeremy was a reserved person. But Kitt had clearly exposed a new side of Jeremy he himself didn't know of. Kitt silenced in astonishment. "I have to go down there. It's my only way out." "There might be other ways, Jeremy. But for this way, I cannot go any further." Grevillea soothed him, and Etis purred, still in her dragon form. "No." Zink surprised everyone, "We go down together." And he jumped. "Zink! Zink no!" Grevillea screeched diving in after him, with her fairy wings keeping her afloat. Jeremy looked down, shocked, only to see that Zink was alive and well, for he himself had turned into a tremendously large parrot. Jeremy climbed back onto Etis's back, looking at Kitt. "Are you coming?" Kitt joined him, shaking with fear. "Do you transform into something?" Jeremy asked, trying to lighten the mood or avoid the fact they were going into certain death. Kitt chuckled and shook his head, and they were off. Down, down, down. They plummeted, apparently fine for a while until the pressure of the wind began to increase. Similar to when Jeremy fell from his window, he had no concept of time. In fact, there had been no concept of time this whole trip. They could have been here for days. Did his parents miss him? He turned back to Kitt. "What time is it?" He yelled over the wind. Kitt looked at him with a puzzled expression. "What's time?" Jeremy faced forward again. Ah, he thought to himself, Eternity. Suddenly, Grevillea's right wing ripped, due to the stronger wind. She yelped, and Etis fought the wind to go catch her, but she was too late. Grevillea's second wing did the same, and she disappeared. "GREVILLEA!" Kitt yelled. He began to sob. The wind was ferocious now. Sound had become simply an idea, not a thing. Jeremy's ears hurt from the wind until he couldn't feel them anymore. Jeremy watched the wind from above rip Zink's bright red tail, causing him to lose balance. He began sinking until he too, was gone. Kitt was crying hysterically now, understanding they were next. Kitt was speaking but Jeremy couldn't hear. Kitt then ripped off a leather necklace, and tied it tightly to Jeremy's neck, just before the wind threw Kitt off Etis's back. Due to the wind's antagonizing power, Etis forcibly transformed back to her rough, humanlike form, separating from Jeremy and her too disappearing from his sight. Jeremy didn't know what was going on. There was no emotion. No shock. Nothing. "Dinner!" He heard a faint echo. "Dinner!" It became louder. He was falling, staring up at the overcast sky, everything in slow-motion. "Jeremy, DINNER." He looked up from his book. His mother was standing in the doorway of his room. "You were really into that book, huh?" She laughed. Jeremy was silent, shifting his gaze between his mother's perplexed look and the book in his hands. He was in his room. There was no window on the wall. "Hey, nice necklace by the way, where'dya get it?" His eyes were vast, as he glanced down at the necklace that had been on Kitt's neck just moments ago. Jeremy was silent. "Mom," He said slowly, "Where am I?" Her brows furrowed. She scoffed. "Um, Colorado?" "On Earth?" He asked. "No, on Saturn." When she realized he genuinely believed he was on Saturn, she corrected herself. "Jesus, yes you're on Earth. Whats gotten into you?" He swallowed. "Long day." "Alright. It's dinner. For the eleventh time." She smiled and left. Jeremy closed his book with shaking hands and looked on the front cover. There, drawn on were the images of Grevillea, Zink, Kitt, and Etis--in dragon form of course. And right above them rested the title of the book. Eternity.


Daniel watched as the train left without him, leaving him stranded until the next day in the town that used to be his hometown. The warmth of summer still bravely flickered far into the fall, the reds and yellows of the leaves bringing their own kind of warmth, but he could feel the cold seeping in. There wasn’t much left for him here except for a few friends, acquaintances, and old memories. His brothers and sisters had long since scattered to other parts of the country, and his parents had moved someplace sunnier. But maybe she still lived here. He still felt terrible about the way they had parted seven years ago, so he hadn’t tried to reach out to her during his short visit. But deep down, he knew he had secretly wished they would randomly bump into each other. His hometown was along the way to the city where he was scheduled to present his most ambitious architectural plans for a building. That was why he had decided to stop by. Now he had to hurriedly call his company to tell them that things had to be delayed. It was a bit embarrassing. Once that was done, he shuffled over to the service desk to reschedule his ticket for the next day. Then he felt like grabbing a quick bite to eat. There were a few restaurants in the train station, including a pizza restaurant with a big round pizza sign, which was the one he chose. Perhaps it was because they would always eat pizza together back in the old days. He was lost in his thoughts as he was seated at the restaurant and was handed a menu by the waiter. Then as he read the menu without really reading it, he sensed a familiar presence nearby. There was a playful and excited energy as someone came and sat down right across from him at his table. He didn't deserve this. It couldn’t be! Daniel looked up from his menu to see Helen's expressive eyes and her wide grin, looking as though this was a surprise party for him. And it was. "Where I come from, I used to have this boyfriend named Daniel, and we liked to order Hawaiian pizza together," she said, winking at him. “It's great to see you again, Helen. I'm so glad I ran into you.” “It is a nice surprise. I'm happy you finally came back, Daniel,” Helen said, making him feel the old regret, but her look of forgiveness made it feel more sweet than bitter. Daniel stared at her black cat earrings for a moment. “Oh, these? I got them for Halloween. Don’t you think they’re cute?” she asked, touching them. “They look good on you, Helen.” “Aww, thanks, Daniel. You were always so sweet," she said, giving him goosebumps. "But I’m dying to know what you've been up to all these years,” she continued. “Well, I’m a successful architect now, just like my father always dreamed of,” Daniel said, digging up the building plans from his suitcase and showing them to her. “They look nice, but I know you, Daniel… and you don’t seem excited about this. Why is that?” “I could never hide anything from you, Helen. They’re good plans, but frankly, my heart hasn’t been in my work for a while.” “When I look at these, I see a fine building that people would be happy to use. But if you say your heart’s not in it, then what is your heart in, Daniel?” “I’ve always wanted to be an artist, but my father never approved. He always said I should apply my artistic skills to something more serious. That’s why I went into architecture instead.” “Of course, I remember. You always talked about making art for video games and stuff like that. You were pretty good at it too!” Daniel became excited. “I’ve been working on a graphic novel. Here, let me show you some of it,” he said, reaching over to show her on his phone, and their hands touched. Helen looked his work over appreciatively. “Oh, this is very nice, even better than I remember. What an imagination you have, Daniel! You should totally pursue this!” Helen said, her hand touching his elbow as she spoke enthusiastically. “It’s hard to do at the same time as my work, though.” “But these are so amazing. It would truly be a shame if you stopped, Daniel.” “I guess it is up to me. You know, it's time I faced my past in order to move forward. I shouldn't blame my father anymore. He did his best to give me a good life. But I'm in control now, so if I'm not happy, the fact is that this is all my fault.” “That’s a good way to think, Daniel.” Daniel saw the shadow of someone waiting patiently behind him. He turned around and saw the waiter; it seemed like he had something to say. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. I hope it’s not intruding too much, but I wanted to let you know I’m taking a big leap too. Everyone at the restaurant is celebrating my leaving party today. I’m going back to school to study psychology, just like I’ve always dreamed of. I think you should take a chance too. Just my two cents. I’ll stop talking about it now.” “No, it’s fine. That’s an encouraging story. Thank you,” Daniel told him. “You probably need more time to think about it, but what are you thinking about right now, Daniel?” Helen asked after the waiter had left. “I'm just adding up the expenses in my head, and I think I've saved enough to come back here and live with minimal income for some time. It's risking everything, but maybe I can give my dream a try for at least a year or two.” “That's awesome, Daniel!” Helen said, looking genuinely happy for him. “Helen, may I ask you something?” “Sure, Daniel.” “Are you seeing anyone right now?” “As a matter of fact, I’m not,” she answered coyly. “You know, I’ve always regretted leaving you behind when I went to study across the country.” “Oh, Daniel. I’m not going to lie. It was very hard, and I hated you for a long time. But now I’m over that.” “I know it sounds a bit like a silly rom-com, but I’d like to reconnect with you.” “I’d like that very much. And if you come back to live around here, maybe we can…” she said. “Yes, that’s what I was thinking, too,” Daniel said, and she smiled and held his hand. Daniel paid the bill and gave a large tip to the waiter. Then they went to wish him luck in his studies before leaving the restaurant. “Helen, I missed my train, so I’m going to have to spend the night at a hotel,” Daniel said when they reached the tall double doors of the train station. “There's no sense in you going to a hotel alone. Why don't you come to my place, Daniel?” “Thanks for the offer, Helen," he said with a smile. "Hey, look, it’s starting to rain outside. We better get to your car quickly." “Who cares? We used to love the rain when we were younger,” she said, taking him by the hand and pulling him after her into the rain shower. “Remember when we used to go down to the lake together every day, rain or shine?” Helen said as they danced in the warm rain, feeling like kids again. Daniel snapped out of his daydream during the morning team meeting, but there was a smile on his lips as he thought of Helen. I really should reach out to her and see how she’s doing, he thought.


“ZOMBIES!” yelled my best friends, Brooklynn and Charlie.

At first I thought they were joking.

They always play pranks on me but, the way they ran to the tree house was telling me they were not kidding around.

This is it.

The end of the world.

I can’t believe it.

I thought that I would be one of the first to go.

The first thing I think to do is pull the ladder up and lock the door in our tree house once Brooke and Charli

get in.

Next

I wonder if there are any more survivors hiding in their houses or tree houses.

I get on my walkie-talkie system that I got from my parents

5 years ago.    I went on every channel and screamed, “ HELLO!

HELLO!

IS ANYONE THERE?

THERE ARE ABOUT 30 FREAKIN’ ZOMBIES AT MY RIGHT NOW!

IF ANYONE IS THERE SAY COPY, TELL ME YOUR NAME, AND ADDRESS (if you live in Oregon).

MY NAME IS ADDISON (Adi) MY FRIENDS ARE HERE AS WELL.

THEIR NAMES ARE BROOKLYNN (Brooke) AND CHARLIE (Charli).

WE ARE ON 389 EDEN RD, IN OREGON CITY.” My voice hurts.

I just yelled a lot of words.

I need water.

Wait what happened to my mom and dad and… One Hour Ago… “I’ll meet you after school at the tree house!”

I say to my friends.

They prefer to run home while I would much rather ride the bus.

I am pretty lazy.

But when I am on the bus I draw or stare at a super cute boy on my bus.

I would never have a chance with HIM though.

My stop is not very far from the school, only about 15 minutes give or take.

It’s an extra 5 minutes for Brooke and Charli because they walk or run.

That's when they do their daily gossip.

Today was a running day for them because they came at the tree house yelling “ZOMBIES!” and they weren’t kidding.

The good thing my tree house has lots of food to last us.

A bad thing is we don’t have a toilet.

Present Time… The zombies are getting really close to the tree house.

Then we get a response from the walkie-talkie.

It was really glitchy.

But I could still make out the words.

“Hello this is James, William and Oliver.

We are on top of my roof.

Our address 159

Harding RD, and we are in Oregon City as well.”I knew James, Matthew and Oliver.

We went to school with them!

And Harding RD is a neighboring road.

At one point in time I actually liked James.

That was like in second grade though!

I’m a seventh grader now.

And you probably know you can’t change the past that's that.

It’s going to be totally awkward spending the end of my life with my two best friends and three boys.

He's smart so maybe he will make a zombie cure.

But what if he doesn’t.

I start making a list, “How to survive the zombie apocalypse (without becoming one of them).

Always have access to a car Go to the store once a week STAY AWAY FROM ZOMBIES Meet up in groups of people” That was all I wrote before William, James and Oliver pulled up in a Jeep Wrangler (my favorite car ever!).

They're a year older than us so yes they can drive a car.

He called some more of his buddy’s to come.

Not even 10 minutes there were 9 people in MY treehouse.

I didn even invite them.   But whatever.

I called some friends, some picked up and others didn’t.

They drove here in their parents car even though they can’t drive yet!

They figured it out quickly! Or so that's what they told me.

I don’t know where my parents are and if they're safe.

Oh no!

One of James’s friends fell off of my treehouse into the zombies!

He is dead or at least a zombie.

James' face is HORRIFIED.

That was one of his best friends from kindergarten.

We all hope in cars and start to drive.

I don’t really know any zombie free spots but James, William and Oliver were driving around before they came to my house.

My friends let me drive!

It’s so fun but I never imagined learning to drive during an apocalypse.

James takes us to a secret area in a forest.

I think it’s a really good area to get attacked in so I drive me and my friends somewhere else.

James Follows us. I drive or vert the sand dunes where me and my friends always hang out. It's so vast out there and there's probably no one out there.

Good thing everyone brought food.

But we’re living with BOYS.

I would not be surprised if they ate everything in a week.

There is a store near the dunes

but it would be very risky to go in there.

After we set up “camp” I walked to a high point in the dunes.

Oh great.

James is following me.

“Hey Adi!

Wait up!

I need to talk to you.”

Well I don’t.

He should have talked to me in the second grade.

I sit down.

He sits VERY, VERY close to me.

He leans over as if he were to kiss me.

I hide behind him as he kisses the air.

He grabs me from behind him and flips me over so that I’m laying in the sand.

I don’t move.

“Adi, I like you. Like a lot and I have for a while now.

I was just so scared to say anything,

I thought you might hate me.

Will you forgive me?” Of course I would.

All the girls at school fall for him, but he’s falling for me!

He leans in for another kiss.

This time he gets it.

I couldn’t deny the way his eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

“Hey Adi!

Whatcha doing? Oh My GOSH!  Dang it.  I forgot how snoopy Charli is when she's under stress

“Charli let me explain.

Well…” It’s going to be hard to explain.

“You see...umm…” I am super choked up.

I am never really this choked up.

James stepped in, “Okay Charli.

I know that you have a boyfriend now just let Adi have one.

Please?” James is so smooth with words.

“I just thought I’d never see James with you Adi!

Congratulations!” She runs over and gives me a hug and one of our friends kisses on the cheek. That means she approves!

“Just a little piece of information, back at camp Oliver is kissing Brooke! Come on!”

We ran back to camp as fast as we could.

James carrying me on his back when all I wanted to do was run in the sand!

Brooke was totally enjoying herself.

James yelled ”Hey Oliver!

Come check this out!” Just so Brooke could have a minute alone.

Brooke's expression on her face is OMGG!

She has never really kissed a boy.

And Oliver’s a good kid.

Oliver has had a little thing for Brooke for a while now.

I’m happy that he made a move.

Two weeks later… Hey!

We’ve survived two weeks so far!

Yesterday James asked me to be his girlfriend and guess what I said? YES!

Like a week ago Charli developed a little crush on William.

She calls him Will now.

I think she might be first to make a move on him!

Will told James he likes Charli a little too.

In my head I keep screaming Oh My Gosh!

Whenever James kisses me his lips feel so warm.

Charli always finds us when we’re hiding or sitting in a romantic spot.

 Some of our friends died on trips to the store.

That’s the sad part but we figured out we could drive through the building.

It’s super fun!

James never found a cure.

Or hasn’t yet.

We found some people like us who have been surviving the apocalypse.

They are 18 years old.

Only a few years older than James, Oliver and Will.

We are allowing them to stay with us.

I can’t believe how long we’ve survived!


     It was dusk with a slight wind blowing enough for the tree tops to sway and with bits of garbage floating around. Sue decided it was time to go in. She had to make lunches for her kids, her husband and herself. The kids were already in bed and her husband was in the study putting finishing touches on a presentation he had to present to a new client tomorrow.

         Just as Sue stood up from her chair, she saw a person, or something that looked like a person. It walked like it was a person, but was it a person? It was hard to distinguish what she saw since it was farther down the street and it was now totally dark. Sue couldn’t be sure if she saw anything at all. As she walked into the house her husband noticed the look on her face. “Why so thoughtful?” he asked. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I thought I saw a person down the street, down by that vacant lot. But with the wind blowing and it being dark, when I looked again, it was gone.  Now I’m not sure I saw anything at all,”  she explains. “Do you want me to go have a look?” Her husband asks. “No need,” answers Sue. “It probably was something blowing in the wind.” “Well, if you’re sure,’ replies her husband. “I’ll just head up to bed. Goodnight.”          As Sue continues making the lunches she can’t stop thinking that maybe she did see a person. She shakes her head as she shuts the lights off and goes up to bed. If she had looked outside she would have seen that same figure walking past the house and it looked like he was carrying something.          The next morning as Sue was leaving for work, her neighbor, Miss Jones, asked her if she say anyone last night. “To tell you the truth” admits Sue, “I thought I saw someone but it was too far away to be sure. It probably was the trees swaying in the wind and also it was almost completely dark.”          Sue’s co-worker invited her to go for lunch with her to the corner café. They go there regularly as a treat from bag lunches. Even though Sue had her lunch she agreed. Once they were seated and had given their order, they could hear talk from other tables. It seemed like the common topic was a stranger. Sue asked Betty, her waitress when she delivered their order what was this talk about a stranger. Then Betty told her that Police Constable Paul Marks found a man wandering around the central park early this morning. Since it was late the constable just brought him into the station and let him sleep in one of the cells. The constable wanted to wait until morning until his superior came to work. No one knows anything more, but you know how things get around, states Betty. I have heard that he is an escaped convict, a travelling salesman, since he was carrying a suitcase, or get this; someone suggested that he was a travelling preacher. So, we will just have to wait.  The constable usually comes in here before his shift; maybe I can ask him. But I did hear that Captain Winters was in a conference with the Mayor, so it must be important to get the Mayor involved, don’t you think? “Like you said,” replied Sue, “we will just have to wait and see. We have to get back to work. Thanks.”          When Constable Marks came in for his usual, Betty made sure she was the one to serve him. “How are things Betty? “Asks Constable Marks. “Not too bad, but there is a lot of talk about the stranger you found. Who is he and what is he doing in town?”  Betty asks. “I really can’t say,” replies the constable. “I have to wait until I speak with the captain about what he and the Mayor talked about.” “I heard the Myer twins talking about offering to let him stay in their garden suite. They think it is the Christian thing to do. What do you think, Constable?” Betty said. “Like I said,” replies the constable. ”I have to wait until I talk to the captain. Have a good day.”

         As Constable Marks walks into the police station, the receptionist tells him that the captain wants to see him as soon as he gets in. Constable Marks knocks on Captain Winter’s door and enters when bid. “As you know Constable, I have been with the Mayor about the stranger you found.” “Yes I know,’ states Constable Marks. “What decision was made?”  “What I am about to tell you is in strictest confidence. Do you understand Constable?” The Captain announces. “Yes, sir, strictest confidence you say,” replies the Constable. “Please close the door and have a seat,” states the Captain. “This stranger, whom I will call Mr. Lord, is not like he looks. He is an educated person who has money and is here on a mission. He is here to perform a sort of experiment. “What sort of experiment?” asks Constable Marks. “He wants to find out how people treat certain people, like how would they treat a rich person or a down and out poor person. He’s writing an article for a psychology journal.” “Where is he now?” asks Constable Marks. “I had an officer walk him to the café,” answers the Captain. There was a knock at the door. “This fax just came in about the stranger, sir,” announces the officer. “Thank you, close the door please. It looks like everything he told me pans out. “Where will he be staying?” Constable Marks asks. “The Mayor suggested that he stay with me for a few days since my wife is away. Mr. Lord (that is his real name) and I will discuss how long he hopes to visit our small town and take it from there.” states Captain Winters.          A phone call announces the return of Mr. Lord. Captain Winters introduces Constable Marks then closes the door for a further talk with Mr. Lord. “How was your breakfast, Mr. Lord?” asks the Captain. “I must tell you, the few people I talked to were very friendly, especially the Myer twins, such lovely ladies. They asked where I was staying and before I had a chance to answer, they thought I would like to stay in their guest house. I didn’t know what to say at first, so I told them I would think about it and meet them tomorrow morning to give them my answer. Can you tell me about them?” asks Mr. Lord. “Yes, the Myer twins are Godly ladies. They believe their calling from God is to do good works, which they do a lot. Neither of them has been married, they thought it would take them away from doing their good works. If you do decide to stay at their guest house, I think it would be a good idea,” answers the Captain. “Great,” replies Mr. Lord. “I will wander around your lovely town and meet you back here about 5 p.m...” “That sounds great,” Captain Winters answers.          During dinner at Captain Winter’s home Mr. Lord regaled him of his visit in their town. “I have had more offers to stay at people’s homes than in any other town,” states Mr. Lord. “I must say, your townspeople are of a special breed. I believe my article will get great reviews. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.” “How much longer do you think you will be here?” Mr. Winters asks. “After I meet with the twins tomorrow and accept their offer of hospitality, I will play it by ear. Maybe they can give me a history of other residents. I will tell them I am looking for a place to retire. Remember I don’t want anyone else to know my true reason for visiting.” “You don’t have to worry about us, my wife and I will keep your secret, but I did tell my constable, you did say that would be alright,” replies Captain Winters. “Thank you,” states Mr. Lord, “but, if you don’t mind it has been a tiring day. The twins want me to meet them at the café rather early so I will see you in the morning. Goodnight.”          Next morning after a quick coffee (tea for the ladies) and a crumpet, the twins take Mr. Lord on a short tour of the town on their way to their home. While walking they gave him a precise history of their town and how it got to where it was today and also who helped get it there. Mr. Lord was quite overwhelmed with information by the time they got to the guest house. The twins left him on his own and would be expecting him to come to the big house for dinner promptly at 5 p.m... After dinner they sat out on the porch and the twins continued to give him more history. They were interrupted by Constable walking past and Mr. Lord excused himself to walk and talk with him. He wished the twins a pleasant evening and he would see them in the morning, at the café.          “Thank you constable, the twins are very sweet ladies, but a person can take in just so much information,” states Mr. Lord. “My pleasure, Mr. Lord,” replies Constable Marks. “That was why I happened to walk by. So, how do you like our little town so far?” It is almost too good to be true,” answers Mr. Lord. “After my conversation with the Mayor and wandering around on my own and now with what the twins have told me, I wish I would have decided to come here sooner.” “Thank you for the walk,” says Mr. Lord. “I’m ready for bed. Goodnight.”          The next morning at the café the president of the bank approaches the table where the twins and Mr. Lord are eating. “Good morning Miss Myers’, forgive my intrusion, but I heard that we had a distinguished guest in town and I wondered if you would introduce me,” states the bank president. “Of course,” states the elder Miss Myer. Mr. Lord this is our bank president, Mr. Jones; Mr. Jones, this is our distinguished guest, Mr. Lord.” The men shake hands and state that each is pleased to meet the other. After a short silence, Mr. Lord excuses himself saying he has an appointment with the Mayor. “Good day to you ladies, as he turns to the twins and to you, Mr. Jones, as he shakes his hands again.”

         As Mr. Lord walks towards the Mayor’s office, he decides that he has seen enough of this wonderful town that he has come to a conclusion. “Good morning Mr. Lord,” adds the Mayor. “How is your visit going?” “It has gone better than I thought,” announces Mr. Lord. “So well, in fact, that I have decided to leave on the afternoon bus; but before I do I have to explain something to you. Firstly, I apologize I have not been entirely honest with you about my visit. It is true, I am writing an article for the psychology journal, but that is minor. The truth is I am dying and only have a month or two to live. I have no family whatsoever, so I decided to visit several small towns to experience the people; their friendliness, their pride in their town, their rapport with one another. Your small town got very high marks. I wish to give you this cheque for any town improvements needed. And when I finish my article I will give instruction to my attorney to send another cheque when my estate has been settled. Like I said, I don’t have family and your town made me feel like a part of their family. I am happy and look forward to meeting my maker.”          “On behalf of our town, I thank you tremendously for the donation,” states the Mayor. “It will be put to good use. I am sorry we had to meet under such circumstances. Can I take you to the bus station?” “No thank you, I wish to walk,” answered Mr. Lord.


My head hits the surface with a loud thud. I cry out as my eyes snap open into a bright, pink light. I grumble to myself as I realize that I’m sitting in my car, clutching my steering wheel. Huh? My head must’ve drooped down and hit the wheel. Did I fall asleep driving again? I glance down and see that my car is in drive, but it’s not moving. I look back up. Vibrant hues of peach and pink paint the dusk sky, with puffy clouds persisting overhead. My car rests on a long road, stretching out straight for miles disappearing into the horizon. Either side of the road are empty, open fields of red dirt. The concrete road looks almost purple from the bright sky. I furrow my brows.

I’ve never been here before. I must’ve gotten tired and, not paying attention, drove in this direction. It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve been spending too much time at the office, and way too much time staring at spreadsheets. But it looks like it’ll be late soon. I need to make sure the team’s presentations are ready for next week. I need to finish working, which means I need to head home. Whatever direction that is.

I reach for my purse in the passenger’s seat and pull out my phone. I try to turn it on to use the GPS. But the screen doesn’t light. I press all the buttons as many times as I can before my fingers get tired, but nothing happens. I groan and toss it back into my purse. I guess I’m on my own for this one. I’ll have to drive until I find someone who can help, or something familiar. I mean, I can’t be that far. But I need to hurry.

I press down on the gas pedal. The car lurches forward shakily, rolling down the road and rumbling. I hiss. I know my car is old, but I just had maintenance done on it. Why is it doing this to me now? I hit the gas again but I barely go any faster. My car continues to moan as it moves along the long street. I glance back up at the sky as I drive. I try to plot out what I have to work on when I get home. But I can’t focus. Why is it so bright? I know, light pollution is a thing. But I’ve never seen the sky like this before, so vivid and yet so suffocating. It almost looks… fake. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see them.

I almost miss it, since I’m staring up at the pink clouds. But I turn just in time to watch a herd of deer galloping in the distance, in the fields off the right side of the road. They look like deer, lean and agile as they trot off into the horizon. But their skin looks almost too rosy in the bright sky, like they’re actually pink, and they move so fast that it doesn’t really look like

they’re running. It looks like they’re floating. I blink, trying to force my eyes to see clearer. But as my eyes reopen, they are too far and their silhouettes fade into the distance.

I sigh and turn back to the road. As I do, I notice a man crossing in the middle of the street. I slam on my brakes, my tires screeching, just in time to stop my car from crashing right into him. I scowl, lowering my window and sticking my head out. “What’s wrong with you?!” I snap at him. “Can’t you see where you’re going?” The man hesitates, looking at the ground for a moment. He slowly raises his head to me and our eyes meet. He’s young, probably close to my age. His olive skin glows in the vibrant light and his long, dark hair is disheveled, strands hanging messily in his face. He stares at me for a moment before speaking.

“Sorry,” he says in a deep, but still soft, voice. “But you didn’t exactly see me either.” I purse my lips. “I saw you enough to stop before I hit you. What’s your point?” “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He nods. “I’m just… confused. I don’t know where I am.” My first thought is that he’s drunk or high. But then my second thought is that I don’t know where I am either, and I’m pretty sure I’m sober. Yeah, pretty sure…

I grip my steering wheel, wanting more than anything to just drive around him. But I don’t. I know I’m confused and I know I’m in a rush but… I can’t. I press a button to unlock my car doors. I motion to him. “Get inside,” I sigh. “I’m lost too. Maybe we can help each other.” He hesitates again. He looks around at the wide, empty field beside us, and then down the long, seemingly endless road. Then he nods and hurries into my passenger seat. I lock the door after him and hit the gas again, my car once again rumbling and quivering down the street. “My name is Aydan,” he says as he clicks on his seatbelt. “Oh.” I wasn’t expecting him to tell me his name. “I’m Elena.” “You look familiar.” I bite my lip. I’ve been staring at him out of the corner of my eyes, wondering the same thing. I know I’ve seen him before. From work? From college? From a night out? I don’t know. He’s so familiar, and yet so not, almost like he’s from a dream. “How did you get here?” I ask.

“I don’t remember. I just woke up on the side of the road. And you?” “...I don’t know. I kinda just woke up in my car.” Ayden doesn’t respond. But a tense silence now fills my car. What are the chances of us both waking up here, on a road neither of us know? Then Ayden bolts forward, pointing out the window. “Look at that!” I jump, following his finger. He’s pointing up at the sky. The pink clouds move through the sky, like normal… Except, they’re not normal. They’re practically speeding through the air, swirling into each other and changing hues of pink so fast, it almost hurts my eyes to watch.

I hit the brakes and stop the car again. Ayden starts to fly forward but is stopped by the seatbelt. He looks at me, eyes wide and confused.

“Something about this isn’t right,” I murmur. Am I talking to him or to myself? “Everything feels so fake, like it’s a dream, but I know I’m awake or… At least I think I am.” “Before you found me, I was staring up at the sky,” Ayden says. “And I saw what I thought were really big birds. But when I looked again, they didn’t look like birds. They looked kinda like people, flying up there.” “Then I have to be dreaming.” “No, if we were dreaming, I would’ve woken up when you almost hit me and scared the crap out of me.” I glare at Ayden but he’s unphased. “We can’t be asleep.” I shake my head. “No, I’m asleep. And you’re just a part of my dream.” Ayden crosses his arms and purses his lips. He’s thinking. He then reaches for my purse, digging through it. I gasp and reach out to stop him. But he pulls out a pen and then catches my wrist, holding it tightly. He uncaps the pen between his teeth and then presses the point into my forearm, so hard that it stings. I wince and try to pull away but I can’t. He drags the pen down, a black, inky mark staining my skin. He then lets me go. “See, I have to be real,” Ayden explains as I glare at him. “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t have been able to do that. Dreams can’t hurt you. But I did.” I look down at the black line on my arm and then back up at him. He offers me a small smile and I can’t help but notice that he’s a little handsome. I grin back at him and nod. Yeah, he has to be right. If this weren’t real, I would’ve woken up by now. I press the gas and the car continues onward. “So, why do you think all of this is happening then?” I ask. “Maybe it’s not.” He shrugs. “Maybe we’re both dehydrated or we both got drugged and left here on the road. I don’t know. I just know I wanna get home.” “Me too.” We drive for a while, mostly in silence. Ayden tries to turn on the radio but nothing happens. We both try our phones, and again, nothing happens. The car continues forward and yet, nothing about the purple road changes. It keeps stretching on and on, without turns or dips or hills or anything. The clouds continue to swirl, and I see more deer in the distance again. But this time, I’m not sure they’re deer. I keep remembering what Ayden said, about the birds looking like people. The deer start to look like people to me too.

The only thing that changes is the moon. After a few minutes, we start to see it in the sky, though the pink hues don’t fade or grow any darker. As we continue, the moon seems to get closer and closer, like we’re driving into it and not into the horizon. Soon, it looms over us, right at the foot of the road. “Maybe we should stop,” Ayden says. His voice is quieter than before, soft and scared. “We won’t crash into it,” I argue. “It’s the moon.” “Yeah, but I’ve never seen the moon like that before. I’m just getting a little worried.” “You’re the one who said something must be wrong with us. That can’t be real. Besides, I have to get home. And you said you wanted to go too.” “I know, I know… I just feel anxious right now, and I don’t know why.” Ayden continues to complain, at one point even begging me to stop. But I don’t. It’s not even so much that I’m in a rush or the presentation or anything. I just can’t will myself to stop. The moon is now all we can see, a pale pink so bright in front of us, that it’s practically white. I wonder if Ayden’s right, if I should stop, but I can’t get my foot off the gas. It’s like my lower body refuses to move, to listen. As the white is all I can see, I realize Ayden is quiet. I’m about to turn to him, to ask if he’s okay, when a loud, echoing metallic clang fills my ears. I try to scream but no sound comes out. It’s all white. Just everything… white. --------------------------------------------- “Miss! Miss, stay with me!”

My eyes flutter open. The first thing I see is the moon, a small white crescent in the dark, starry sky overhead. Someone is carrying me in strong, sturdy arms. An unfamiliar face looks down at me and smiles.

“Oh, thank god,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I thought we lost you.” “...Where…” I choke out, my voice dry and hoarse. It hurts to talk. It hurts to move. It hurts to breathe.

“You’re off the freeway,” the man explains. He lays me down gently in a stretcher and I wince. Everything just… hurts. “There was an accident. I think you fell asleep at the wheel, miss. But… I guess that doesn’t matter right now. You need to get to the hospital.” Two people lift my stretcher and roll it into the back of an ambulance. I wince and look at their uniforms. EMTs. It’s bright in the ambulance and I groan. I remember the vibrant, pink sky from my dream. I would rather have that then this white light. My dream… Just a dream. “Who was the victim?” I hear one of the EMTs asking an officer outside of the ambulance as the second EMT starts to hook something up to my arm. I look. It’s an IV.

“Some poor guy crossing the street,” a police officer explains. “She didn’t even see him. He was a photographer, Ayden Patel. He didn’t make it.” My eyes snap all the way open and I try to sit up. Both EMTs hurry to me, holding me down and talking to me. But I can’t hear them. All I hear are the sounds of my screaming and the name again and again in my head. Ayden? No, it was my dream. Just a dream. The doors to the ambulance slam shut and we speed forward, while I’m still yelling. One of the EMTs injects something into my arm. I start to get sleepy, feeling myself slip into another dream. No, I don’t wanna sleep again. I don’t want any more dreams. As I lose myself again, I look at my arm where they injected me with some kind of sedative. And I see the black, inky mark still trailing down my forearm.


The door closes on its own.

Uma thinks nothing of it. Sometimes with the way the air flows in her house, the doors and curtains have a tendency to move about. It takes her a moment to jiggle with the doorknob- to get it to properly open again- but it’s a small annoyance. She probably just needs to check the lock, maybe the hinges. It’s a new house- well, a new house for her. She’s barely been moved in for just over a month now, and it was sold to her at an insanely cheap price. She figured there would be some issues (and had honestly been worried there’d been big matters she wasn’t told about), but so far, all she had found were slight irritations. The stairs creaking a little too much for her liking, the way the kitchen drawers all seemed on the verge of breaking- it was all just so… quiet. A small hinderance in a rotting structure. If a house could be dead, this might as well be it. The silence of it was almost deafening- a still skeleton that managed to function as its own grave.

Nothing however, was quite as tiresome as that door. Uma liked to relax before bed; she’d make herself a small cup of tea, and watch an episode of some show she didn’t care for on her laptop, already curled up under her covers, halfway drifting off…. …but then the door SLAMS and she’s startled upwards in an instant, spilling hot tea not only over herself, but her bed.

“Fuck!” The word leaves her mouth before she’s really even aware of what’s happened. She looks around, trying to see what fell, what could’ve caused the noise- and when she comes up with nothing, she decides to look in the hallway. Except, her door is closed. A sigh. Irritant. Hinderance. Frustration. She jiggles the doorknob a couple of times, becoming increasingly upset when it wouldn’t open. She’s really got to get that lock checked.

She’s about to take her mug to it (although she knows brute force and a broken mug won’t help), when she hears a soft click. The door slowly swings open, like someone had pulled it back with a string. How… unsettling.

Uma slowly lowered her arm, but kept her grip on the mug firm- walking out of her room into the hallway. She looked around, seeing nothing. She figured that was the case. In fact, she knew by now, it was the door. The stairs creaked as she worked her way down them quickly, grabbing her old dining room chair. It was falling apart, just like the rest of the house- but for its new and temporary purpose, it’d do. She carries it back up with surprisingly minimal struggle, dragging the splintered wooden chair down the hall until she reached her bedroom again, wedging it under the doorknob. That didn’t stop Uma from collecting her things, though; she’d decided on spending the night on the couch as soon as she figured the door was a fire hazard. She grabbed a change of clothes, her pillow, her laptop, and a throw blanket that had narrowly avoided the tea spill. She’d clean it up in the morning. Uma was not a particularly religious or spiritual person. She wasn’t even one to be scared by small things easily- but the one incident had scared her off enough from sleeping in her own room- or really even entering it- until someone came to look at the lock of her door. “It’s fine,” The handyman had commented, “You said it was locking randomly?” “For minutes. I couldn’t get it to open,” Uma confirmed. She leaned against the hallway wall, opposite of the man crouching down in the middle of the doorway.

She imagines the door closing on him. What would that look like? Would he sprain a finger? Can you sprain a finger? Would he get knocked on his ass? “That’s weird. Maybe it’s a hinge issue?” The man didn’t seem to believe himself, stupefied by the case of Uma’s irritating door. He turns in place, still crouching as he tests the door’s movement, swinging it back-and-forth slowly, watching. Listening - but there was nothing to hear. No squeaky hinge, no creak of the weight of the wood. It was a perfectly fine door. He’s about to tell her nothing’s wrong again , but before he can speak, Uma beats him to it; “Can you replace them all anyway?” She asks, “I’ll pay extra.” He looks up at her with an unreadable expression, but then shrugs, “Your money, man.” So the lock gets replaced. And the hinges. And the doorknob. One could say the door’s undergone a kind of makeover. It’s the nicest looking thing in the house.

Uma’s been meaning to actually furnish the house, to make it feel lived in- but it just feels wrong, she can’t explain it. It would be like watering a carcass. The door closes again when she’s about to enter her bedroom coming home from work. She sleeps on the couch that night, still in her office clothes. At some point, Uma tries to move out of the room, but the door won’t let her. It closes every time she tries to move a big piece of furniture out, at one point closing so forcefully on her mattress that the mattress itself had torn.

So, unfortunately, Uma is stuck in the stupid room, with the stupid, sentient door.

She calls the handyman again. Asks him to take it down. He comes again and asks her why she won’t just do it herself- and Uma doesn’t want to tell him she’s using him as a human guinea pig. If it could tear a mattress, she wants to know what it can do to a man. The answer? Slam itself on his hand so badly that it breaks, and bone pokes through flabby flesh and thin viscera.

The nearest hospital is twenty miles away, so Uma drives him there.

No one believes her when she tells them a door slammed on his hand. Even when he tells them the same thing. If the door believes she’s moving too many things out, it’ll close on her. She speaks out-loud to it, like it’s a living thing , something one can talk to. Uma wonders briefly if she’s going insane. “I need to do laundry,” She tells the door, it having slammed closed way too close to Uma for her personal liking, “Are you going to stop me from cleaning my clothes? Is that what you’re doing now?” She’s arguing with a door , how nonsensical can this get? The door stays closed for another two hours, and for one of those hours, Uma stands firmly in front of it, tapping her finger against her laundry basket- like a mother would in front of a defiant child. She can’t send a door to bed, however, so she ultimately gave up the stand-off. If anything, it felt like she had been the one sent to bed- like the door had somehow asserted some authority over her she’d previously resisted, and the extra hour had just been a waiting game; the old wood making sure Uma had learned her lesson.

She hadn’t learned the lesson the door had intended (if there was a lesson for a door to intend), but she had learned . Uma needed to be clever when it came to escaping her bedroom entrance. Her plan spanned over weeks. She’d stuff an extra shirt into her bag when she left for work. An extra book. She’d keep up with her daily routine, visit her in-house office, set them carefully on the desk or shelf. This door never randomly opened, never randomly closed. The room, in its dead silence, was oddly comforting. Most people were terrified of the dark. Uma had wondered if anyone had ever tried to escape their own house before? Really she should think about moving out. She’s already taken out a loan, though, and more than that, she’s stubborn. She’d rather take down that damn door with an ax.

(She had tried by the way. It’d left some gashes, but impossibly, never even went fully through the wood. Now there’s ugly scratches on the front of her bedroom door.) Moving out or not, it doesn’t matter now… …Because eventually, the door catches on. Uma’s in the middle of leaving for work, a pair of pants and a shirt in her purse, nonchalantly passing through the doorway- -then, she’s screaming , her arm lodged between the door and it’s corresponding frame. It had violently swung on her before she had time to react, capturing her arm in the process. It wasn’t hard enough to break her arm- not like the handyman, no- but enough to pierce skin with splintered wood, flesh twisting and turning uncomfortably as her body tried to accommodate the foreign object squeezing her limb from both sides. “Fuck, FUCK! ” Uma cried, breathing ragged as she tried to pull her arm out. It made it so much worse. The door only dug in deeper, the woman screeching even louder as she could feel the pressure against her bone now. How, she briefly wondered, was this even possible ? Hinges don’t possess that much power. It doesn’t matter, she has to stop pulling. She pushes instead, the door giving away all too easily as she falls forward on the very arm she was trying to avoid injuring further- Uma letting out a pained wail as she rolled over. Gasping as she tried to just catch her breath.

The door slammed shut. “Let me out.” Anxious, disbelieving. “Let me out! ” Anger. Uma jiggled the doorknob like she had the first time the door closed on her. Of course it didn’t work. She pounded on the door with her good hand curled up in a fist, then tried to force her whole body weight against it. The damned thing had eventually retaliated, quickly slamming open, and then closing again- effectively ramming her into the wall.

The woman stayed on the floor for what felt like hours. She didn’t dare move, not so close to the thing . That’s all it was now to her. A thing. That’s all it was supposed to be to her! Hell, what door is not just a thing! To even call it ‘damned’ gives it personality, and Uma refuses to give it anything more than an appliance’s description. It’s a door.

It should open when pulled open, and close when pushed closed. It’s a goddamn door. Uma will spend all day convincing herself of this if she has to. Everything hurt .

Her pain meds were downstairs. She could hear her phone ring. It was probably her work calling, asking her why she wasn’t there yet. “Answer it,” She told nothing, “You can move can’t you? Answer the goddamn phone.” That phone was her only hope of getting help, and it had fallen on the other side of the thing with her purse.

“Answer it!” Uma’s angry again, scratching at the door with her nails, screaming. Then she tries to pull the door open by resting her feet on either side of the door frame and pulling on the knob with all of her body weight. Her arm has effectively stained her blouse, pants, and now, the floor- but she doesn’t care anymore.

Eventually the phone stops ringing.

She resorts to screaming at the thing, throwing anything she could at it- scratching into it with shards of glass from her broken lamp when throwing it didn’t work. Nothing works. Night finally falls, and Uma falls with it, having exhausted herself. She’s thrown every item, insult, and tactic she could think of at the door- the slab of wood now carved with her hatred and despise of it- but none of it mattered. It didn’t fucking matter. The door was as still as it had been when she first moved in. Taunting . Like she’d imagined it all.

Uma’s not sure how many days she’s spent in her room. It’s not her room anymore- or at least, she doesn’t consider it so. The things in it may be hers, as broken and ripped apart as they may be, torn and scattered across the floor.

She fashioned a bandage out of an old tank top. Busied herself with reading. Read all the books. Reread them. Thought about how hungry she was. Distracted herself from her hunger.

It couldn’t have been longer than three days, she reasoned. A human can only go three days without water. …but it had felt like so much longer . Uma turns in for the night, shoes still on as she collapses into her bed, because there’s too much broken glass for her to safely move around her room barefoot anymore. She’s bundled up in layers, to warm up and prevent making her injuries worse. Her stomach growls, but she’s learned to force herself to ignore it. She manages to finally fall asleep, arms crossed, and hunched over on her side- like she could spring up at any moment, just in case. While she’s sleeping, the house sleeps with her- although it’s never particularly been awake. Except of course, one of its components.

A small, slow creaking can be heard- but Uma is too deep in sleep to hear it. The door opens on its own.


Warnings: Mental health, Panic attack, loss of a loved one. -------- He’s in his brother’s rooms, eyes puffy and aching, throat raw, hair and robes an utter mess, when he finds the trunk. He’d been sitting on the bed, mindlessly turning the jade pendant that usually hung from his belt with it’s finely carved replica of Storm Breaker, his brother’s sword. A sword, his sword, it’s all they have, where was his body, where-  Then he’d fumbled and the precious item had bounced under the bed, landing before a trunk he’d never seen before.  It’s made of dark wood that shines, with finely carved protective array’s woven with preservation array’s, tucked together so seamlessly that they look more like art than the defense they are. What makes this trunk so important to him, however, are the characters carved into the trunk’s lid. Ylyndar. Ylyndar, look-, Ylander, I’ve got you-, Ylyndar, catch- Now, he sat on the floor, the small trunk before him, wondering why his brother had a trunk with his name hidden under his bed. The arrays are still active and they pulsed as he trailed the tips of his fingers over the characters, following the recessed wintersweet flowers that framed his name. Wintersweet for you, and plumb blossoms for me- There was no obvious lock or latch, but it would not open at his prodding. “Young master?” Ylyndar startled, and whipped his head towards the servant who had called him. “Young master, your father is asking if you will join him for lunch.” Ylyndar, you’ve been studying to long, I’ve brought lunch- “No.” “Of course, young master.” As he returned his gaze to the box, that is when he spotted the one odd flower. Wintersweet for you- He felt the carved plumb blossom give as he traced a petal.

“And plumb blossoms for big brother.” A few more nudges and the blossom twisted, with a quiet click and a pulse of energy, the trunk’s lid popped open. He wasn’t sure where the choked whine came from as he stared at the contents of the trunk. His eyes flickered around the box, he could see his hand moving but it was clumsy, there was an odd rushing sound in his ears. His vision was wrong, warping at the edges and his chest felt like someone had reached in and was squeezing his heart and lungs. It was strange really, he could swear he’d felt like this once before, a sunny day in the pond and an unfortunate slip… Ylyndar, Ylyndar wake up, little brother you need to wake up, brother, please, bre- “-ath, young master!” Ylyndar blinked as a harsh gasp tore at his throat. The face of his personal guard swam before his eyes, the side of his face beginning to turn an alarming shade of red. “That’s it, breathe with me young master,” Ylyndar’s hand was pressed against his chest, “can you feel that? Try to match me, alright? I have you, young master, I have you.” The fabric under his hand was soft, but sturdy and warm. He could feel the movements as the other’s chest expanded and contracted and yes, yes he can follow that. He’s not sure how long they sat there, how long he quietly talked to him, only that in the end he’s incredibly tired and the sun has moved a good deal. “…Syvis?” “Yes, young master?” “I’d like to go to my rooms now.” Syvis nodded, and helped his young master stand. “wait.” “Yes?” “The trunk, have it brought there too.” “Yes, young master.” The sun had shown brightly into the room, a faint breeze bringing with it the promising kiss of winter, and the sound of brush on paper. He’d been there for hours, surrounded by books and scrolls, engrossed in his research. When the door opened without a knock he ignored it. “What a welcome.” Ylyndar whirled, eyes wide as he took in the form of his brother, travel robes still dusty and worn as he stood in the doorway. “Ascalar!” He leaped from his seat, brush flying across the room, and Ascalar laughed and caught him. “That’s better!” Ascalar said as he held Ylyndar close. With a gasp, Ylyndar pulled back, “how did it go?” “hmm? How’d what go?” “Brother.” Ylyndar whined. “It went just fine,” Ascalar laughed, “and she’s looking forward to having such an amazing brother as mine too.” “Brother!” When Ylyndar opens his eyes, he’s greeted by nothing but the feel of phantom arms and echoes of a bright laugh. He’d looked at little else the past two days after Syvis had helped him to bed. He stared, unblinking, at the ceiling as he remembered that day, the last day they’d had. ‘You should get her a gift, the festival is starting tomorrow, you should go! Get her something exotic!’ ‘Eh? Will my little brother be coming?’ ‘No no, this little brother will stay here and help with your welcome home feast!’ He’d waved goodbye as his brother had left, a demand for some hard candy making him laugh. “Young master.” Ylyndar turned away from the voice and pulled his blanket up over his head. He ignored the sounds of yesterday’s still full tray being replaced with a new one, and buried his face into his pillow. He spends another day lost in the fog of memories, his father may have come at some point but he doesn’t remember beyond a large warm hand on his back and deep rumbling words. With the night comes a storm, and he’s jolted from his thoughts by a loud crash. He forces himself to sit up, and finds the source of the sound is a window, thrown open by the wind. He scowls at it, intent on huddling back under his blanket when a sharp wind sends loose papers flying. With a curse, he scrambles gracelessly from the bed and slams the window closed with unnecessary force. As Ylyndar turns to return to his bed, his eyes land on his brother’s trunk. The next thing he knows, he’s sitting in front of the trunk once more, a candle pulled close from nearby. He watches the flickering light dance across the wood, watches the lightning flash illuminate his name, and then the trunk is open. He opens the lid much slower this time, his eyes screwed shut until he feels the weight of it leave his hand and a dull thunk as the lid falls behind the trunk. One breath, two, three, four- The first thing his eyes land on, is a small paper lotus, wrinkled and imperfect. There were piles of colorful papers on the desk, as they sat side by side. The summer breeze ruffled their hair and tugged at the colorful papers playfully. With sure motions, Ascalar had begun, ‘first, fold it from top to bottom, now open and fold right to left. Good! Now we fold the corners in one at a time-’ -’aw, don’t be silly Ylyndar, it’s perfect! I love it.’ Ylyndar swallowed hard as he placed the faded lotus to the side. He reached in again, and pulled out a pressed flower, a bright crimson peony. Ascalar’s face was flushed as he looked at the flower in his hand. ‘It’s the first bloom from mother’s garden.’ Ylyndar said. ‘How…’ ‘You’ve been collecting them every year, I’m your twin brother, of course I noticed.’ A small red pinwheel. Ascalar’s grip on Ylyndar’s wrist was firm and tight enough it would leave a bruise, his other clutched a small red pinwheel to his chest. ‘Brother, are you alright!?’ Ylyndar slowly forced himself to look away from his own dangling feet and up at Ascalar, as their eyes met Ylyndar’s eyes blurred and his lips began to wobble. ‘Brother…’ Ascalar blinked before a determined look settled hard on his face, and he shifted to wrap his legs firmly around the tree branch under him. ‘Brother’s got you, Lynlyn, and he will not let you fall.’ Ylyndar let out a small distressed hiccup as Ascalar’s other hand latched onto his wrist and he heaved for all his little body could. Ylyndar let out a squeak at the motion and, as soon as he could reach, reached out with his free arm and latched onto Ascalar, who hurriedly settled him on the branch. ‘See, brother will never let Lynlyn fall.’ Ylyndar still cried, but he was able to hug his brother when he did. A hair piece, worn and now much too small, covered in whirls and swirls. ‘Let me do your hair, big brother!’ Ylyndar said with a wide smile. Ascalar laughed, ‘since it’s your birthday, sure.’ Ylyndar let out a little cheer as he hurried to settle behind Ascalar. He worked quickly and with skill then leapt up when he was finished to grab his brother’s mirror. ‘Oh!’ Ascalar gasped as he saw the new headpiece. ‘Surprise! Happy birthday!’ A purple ribbon that had held closed a painting. Ylyndar fidgeted as he watched his brother unroll the painted scroll, revealing a landscape of fog dusted mountains. ‘Did you paint this? It’s beautiful brother.’ Ylyndar beamed. Ylyndar’s hand paused as it brushed against a long wooden box, hidden at the bottom. Carefully, he wiggled it out of the trunk. The wood is dark, it’s only decoration a lighter wood inlay of wintersweet flowers. As he slid the box open, he was surprised to find it’s contents hidden by a folded sheet of paper. As he removed it, he let out a gasp. Nestled in the box is a long green tassel, with a blue jade pendant carved into the shape of three lilies. It was beautifully made, but Ylyndar did not recognize it. He looked back to the paper, and flipped it open with his thumb. Dear Ylyndar, I’m so very proud of you. You will be the best doctor this clan has ever seen. -Ascalar It was snowing, and Ylyndar was huddled close to Ascalar, who had looked down at him in honest confusion. ‘Why would I be mad that you want to be a doctor instead of a cultivator?’ Ylyndar shrugged. Ascalar snorted, ‘you’d be a great doctor! You’re already so smart, and it’s perfect isn’t it?’ Ylyndar peeked up at him, he was grinning. ‘ I’ll do enough fighting for both of us, yeah? And, whenever I get hurt, you can make me better, it’s perfect!’ Ylyndar blinked up at him a moment before he pulled back and gave Ascalar a firm punch in the shoulder. ‘Ow! What was that for!’ He asked as he rubbed his arm. ‘You’d do better not to get hurt in the first place! I don’t ever want you as a patient! Ever, you hear me?’ Ascalar stared at him a moment before an even bigger smile broke out over his face, ‘as young master Ylyndar commands.’ ‘ack, shut up!’ It wasn’t… ‘Brother-’ It wasn’t fair… ‘-Lynlyn-’ They weren’t… ‘-it’s perfect-’ They weren’t ever meant… ‘-Ylyndar-’ He was never meant to do this alone! They were supposed to be a team! They were supposed to stand side by side! A choking pressure pushed at his throat, he managed only a small gasp and then… He screamed, loud and long, until he was hunched over the trunk. With his next breath, he let out a sob, and then another, and another, until his entire frame was shaking. Distantly, he could hear shouting, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. What was he supposed to do now? Big brother- What was he supposed to do without Ascalar? Brother please- How was he supposed to take over the clan alone? You can’t leave me- He couldn’t, he couldn’t do it, not alone, never alone- big brother, big brother I need you to come back, please, please I can’t, big brother please- There was a crash as his door exploded inwards, and a voice sent a spear through his heart. “Ylyndar!” Warm arms wrapped themselves around him and he was pulled against a familiar chest. Ylyndar was frozen as his name was repeated over and over, one hand pressed into his back, the other cradling his head. It couldn’t be… Slowly, his heart seized with disbelief, he raised his head from dirty, ragged robes. “Brother…?” The face was weary, but it still smiled, “big brother’s home.”