First of all, I have to state this short story started as an inside joke but became complex way more than I expected as I wrote it therefore expect nothing much from it as I just wrote it for a friend of mine and then I thought "why not share it on reddit", so, here it's: It was raining... raining after a month of silence in this night that seems never-ending. Clouds couldn't keep their vow of silence anymore. It was raining as if clouds are crying for all the unfortunate events happening throughout the world. Too bad rain can't wash away all the dirtiness of this world... A young woman looking outside from behind of her small town house's bedroom window watching the rain with eyes that wished to watch a sunny day instead but unfortunately nothing in this world goes the way you want just because you want it. She kept watching the rain as if watching the rain would make the rain shy away from her and stop raining in defeat but nature is stubborn as always. She remembered one of her favourite poem "Be not Defeated by the Rain" by Kenji Miyazawa. After a sigh of surrender, she thought "I apologize, Miyazawa-san". The life she had taught her when is the right time to give up. Life is always the best teacher... It was only a few minutes when she returned to her home where she lives only with her cat Simba from a job interview that they hired her after a couple of questions and the moment she stepped inside of her house the rain started. "What are the odds?" she was thinking while looking out of the window. She realized the rain today is a great sign of the fall finally came. "Today is November the 5th 2020 after all" she thought, then suddenly remembered the famous quote "Remember, remember the 5th of November" and chuckled a little. She felt better. She also felt lucky today so she didn't let the rain drown her with sadness. She decided to celebrate today in her favourite way: Watching her favourite movie "Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain" under her warm comfy blanket while drinking a cup of coffee and eating Doritos. "But alone celebration feels lonely" she thought therefore she decided to look for Simba first. Simba, for a red cat, has a similar appearance like its namesake Simba from her favourite Disney movie The Lion King. She was glad her Simba is a cat on the contrary to its namesake anymore. Once, when she was 8 years old, she asked her father to get a baby lion as a pet while watching The Lion King with her father but her father, like he always loved to, explained to her why she can't have a pet lion by saying "nature is their home therefore you shouldn't take wild animals away from nature". Back then she really didn't get what he actually meant and what he avoided telling her but she was kind therefore she felt guilty for wanting a pet lion enough to make her cry. Her father was kind too therefore he proposed to get a pet cat instead. To her, cats didn't have much difference anyway so she was glad she can have a cat instead. The day she got Simba, she never stopped hugging Simba even when they were sleeping together while hugging each other like they were frozen in time of a happy memory... She found Simba in the living room sitting on all fours on the couch facing its face towards to wall like the wall shows Simba a dimension only it can see. "Oh, there you are. I'm the one organizing this celebration but you arrived at the spot before me as if you read my mind. Sometimes I wonder what's happening inside of your head, Simba. Too bad we don't speak the same language. I'm sure you would be nice to chat with about deep stuff and all because you sit all day and seem like you deeply thinking about everything and all like a philosopher... Okay, keep waiting for me there. I'll be right back, okay?" she asked and waited for a reply as if Simba will say something intelligible. Simba heard its favourite human therefore turned its head slowly like a robot without changing its body's posture to look at her legs to understand if she will just make a noise or she will bother her by hugging and whatnot again. Simba was quite comfortable now therefore didn't want to change its posture now, otherwise Simba liked getting hugged by her because then she makes Simba warm. Simba was aware she tried to say something to it like she always does but as always it didn't understand her therefore when she was done making noise and kept standing there, Simba turned its condescending gaze towards its favourite human's eye to mean "Don't you get it? I never will understand you!". "Meow?" said Simba doubtfully and turned back its face towards the wall. Satisfied with the answer, she prepared anything necessary for her celebration and brought them to the living room. She confirmed "Am I under my comfy blanket?: Check. Coffee and Doritos ready?: Check. Movie ready?: Check... Well, everything seems to be in order!". "Okay Simba, let's begin the celebration!!!" cheered she and started the movie.... but then she realized she forgot to confirm the location of Simba. She looked where Simba was before with hoping eyes for the possibility of Simba didn't leave her, and, as she hoped, she found Simba in the same spot watching the wall as before. "Simba: Check." she confirmed and she started to get lost in the movie... ... She fell into sleep and started to dream without even realizing it. She was remembering her past. The dream started with the memory of her best day ever. That best day ever, she and her father went to Disneyland together for the first time when she was 9 and it was summer. Then the dream changed. Now she was remembering the first time she learned her mother suicided seemingly for no reason when she was 14. Then she remembered the first time she learned her father died from a traffic accident when she was 22. That accident was no one's fault but she always blamed herself for it anyway because she always believed somehow she could prevent it. She couldn't stop her mother from leaving her but she promised it won't happen again. She couldn't keep her promise. Her father was a veterinarian therefore she became a veterinarian by following in his footsteps. If he was alive he would be proud of her now since she got the job today therefore finally she can be a veterinarian in a real sense. Then she remembered how she sold her parent's house, the house she grew in, the house that was home for all these happy and sad memories and almost everything in it and left that city she grew up in a week ago. She just couldn't live there. She decided to live in a small peaceful town therefore she moved into this small townhouse that had everything she needed for a new life already except what she brought back with her. She wanted a new page in her life but unfortunately your past follows you no matter what like a tail. Peace was all she needed but the dream god Morpheus wasn't kind to her today... ... She woke up suddenly to the sound of Simba's scream like meowing which wasn't unusual at all per se. She noticed the power went off. "Good. The power company cut the power in the right time for me this time." she thought and chuckled a little because of this thought and wanted to get back into sleep again by wishing for Morpheus to be kind to her this time. She closed her eyes preparing for the worst. The rain got worst while she was chatting with Morpheus, worse enough to make it rain lightning too. A thunder made her eyes open suddenly in shock. She didn't notice lightning at all, but soon after, as if it came because it's called, lightning struck somewhere very close and it lit the entire room for a moment. This latest lightning was like an exclamation mark that pointed out something wrong going on in this room that she noticed and she immediately wished it was not the case. As she heard the thunder, she noticed and started to look at that tall wide thing standing there where she was before when she was talking with Simba before the celebration. She felt like she didn't have time to think about what is that exactly therefore she assumed it's a prank of a man who broke into her house. "What the fuck?" she yelled and stood up. As she wanted to see it better, as if the lighting is her genie, the lightning struck to somewhere close and lit the room once again. This time she understood what is that thing... it was her bed standing there. Her bed had a mouth anymore and Simba's tail was coming out of its mouth. She couldn't decide why she should scream, for the fact that her bed standing there and it ate her cat or for the fact that her cat Simba died... perhaps both, no care for a reason she screamed anyway. The bed seemed to be bothered by her scream, therefore, as if to shut her up, it spat the Simba's tail to her face. It indeed worked because she shut up in shock. Satisfied by the fact that she doesn't scream anymore, the bed started to get closer to her almost as if mimicking a human's walking by turning itself side by side. She realized she will be eaten too therefore she grabbed a chair and attacked her bed. There was no way for her to escape. The only exit was behind her bed that her bed blocks. Couldn't escape from a window either because windows had iron bars preventing anyone from getting inside of the house from outside and going outside from inside of the house. Attacking was the only best choice she could think of. The bed realized she will hit her bed with the chair, the bed started to open its mouth enough to take the chair inside of itself as the chair was about to hit the bed. The bed ate the chair as a successful defence. Not knowing what to do in panic, she started to scream and cry while sitting on the ground in surrender. She grabbed Simba's tail and found her eyes kept looking at Simba's tail in her shaking hands as the bed was coming to eat her. Suddenly she remembered her best day she had when she was having fun in Disneyland with her father in that lovely summer day. She realized there will be no summer anymore for her. She started to have regrets and became sorry about how she couldn't prevent the deaths of her both parents... and now Simba is dead too... "I'm good for nothing." she thought. The bed didn't care at all, it also ate her too with Simba's tail she was holding tight. After it was done completing its mission, it got back where it should keep fooling people that it's just an ordinary bed while waiting for its new victim(s). ... Finally, the morning came. The town folks at first didn't notice something wrong but soon after they noticed she wasn't going out therefore they called the local police. Local police broke the door in expectation she perhaps needs help as soon as possible. Local police searched every inch of the house but they couldn't find any clue about the whereabouts of the young woman and her cat. "Damn, it's the second missing case regarding this house. Just what the fuck is happening here? Something... something wrong with the house I tell you... No one... no one should live in this house anymore. We should burn this fucking house!" protested the old cop. "It's weird I know but perhaps, I don't know, it's just a coincidence? Because, before and after the first missing case regarding this house, a lot of families lived here just fine, I see no reason why there is a problem with the house. Even anything inside of the house still there since the first family lived in this house and these are in perfect condition. It would be a shame to get rid of this house. And how do we explain this to folks here? They will ask questions about why the house got burned all of a sudden especially after the woman has gone missing. People will have a bad opinion of this town therefore we will lose tourists. We can't just do something THAT extreme." calmly explained the young cop. "Yeah, okay, fine... yeah... you are right..." said the old cop. "I know how to cheer you up. How about drinking a lovely cup of coffee in Mendy's Diner?" proposed the young cop. "Hell yeah, nothing like Mendy's coffee. Her coffee is like coffee from heaven!" smiled the old cop. And then both cops got inside of their car and drove through to the Mendy's Diner.


Chapter 8 New Tools Mrs. Zacharias screamed in horror as she swatted at the wasp with a fly swatter that was buzzing her as it continued trying to land on her. I snickered to myself as I commanded my small minion to make laps around the classroom causing the ones around the flying creature to cower in fear. I glanced at the clock and saw it was almost lunchtime and decided to end the fun. I commanded the wasp to fly towards Mrs. Zacharias once and she made many excellent vain attempts at swatting my beast from the air, but I commanded more magic into it making its reflexes that much faster. It evaded all her attempts to strike it down and landed on her right leg and stung her once, twice, three times and she let out a scream of pain and crushed my little minion on her leg with her hand. I cut off the connection of magic with a flick of my wrist not caring if I had to find another soldier to replace it, I smiled to myself. Piss me off or do something I do not like, and I will punish you. The bell rang for lunch and some of the class seemed to be controlled more by their stomachs than fear and leaped out of their chairs and bumbled there way towards the door trying to be first in line to be out the door, others still cowered in fear looking around the room possibly expecting another flying beast to come after them next. I joined the first ones in line not wanting to be associated with the weak even if it was only for my own ego. Mrs. Zacharias rubbed at her leg sucking in air between her teeth and picked up the now defeated creature with a tissue and put it in the garbage. With now more than half of the class lining up at the door the ones that were still nervous headed towards the line like the sheep they were and joined us at the end of the line. Mrs. Zacharias made her way towards the front of the line and escorted us all to the cafeteria I smiled with satisfaction at my successful vengeance. Two hills of mash potatoes that kept their shape even when picked up by my hands were put onto one of the squares on my blue tray, while the other squares were filled with bland vegetables steamed for too long shedding their natural flavor leaving them with a bland after taste. It reminded me of the food that was given out to the soldiers in my homeworld the stuff that was not meant to please your tastebuds but instead was meant to give you energy for the tasks ahead. I decorated the two hills with the vegetables out of boredom as I listened to the kids at my table talk about the new games they got or what they planned on doing after school. I watched as other kids from other tables flicked vegetables across the table at each other with their forks, blowing straw wrappers at each other and squeezing individual corn pieces between their fingers squirting the juice at one another and getting a loud giggle from one another. My eyes glanced over the rest of the tables until one almost empty table grabbed my attention. The brown-haired girl that unknowingly showed me magick exists in this world sat at the table alone eating a cold lunch. It was not the girl that caught my attention but rather what she was eating. I picked up my tray and walked over to her table. “Chicken legs for lunch looks tasty,” I said setting down my tray across from her. “Why are you here by yourself?” She paused midbite. “All the other girls want to play barbies and all the boys want to play soldiers.” She said with a frown and put her chicken leg back in the blue bag and reached for something in her pocket. She pulled out a deck of cards with intricate designs on the back of them. “Tarot cards!” I said with a bit of excitement everything now falling into place on why she was the only one that I had seen so far that could gather energy around her. She is so young yet already telling fortunes I thought my mind thinking of ways I could use her abilities to my advantage. Then I became greatly confused with what happened next. “Tarot cards?” She made a puzzled expression and laid out a few of the cards each having cartoon pictures on them. “These are my GO-GO Monsters.” She said with excitement and continued to lay more out for me to see. One of the cards had the title Fairy Queen Awakening and showed a human with butterfly wings holding a wand out smiling towards me with small print below and two stars on the upper right-hand corner. There were other cards such as Blazing Sword of the Fae, Knights of the Shadows, King of the Butterflies, and many more ridiculous titles. The only ones that even vaguely interested me were the pictures of skeletons with swords charging and zombies rising from the dirt those were interesting for about two seconds but the novelty wore off quickly for me and I went back to what I originally came to the table for. “Yes, those are quite interesting but, I was-” She cut me off and started to ramble on about a certain card and talked about how rare it was a blah-blah-blah. “Yes, that’s fascinating but-” Again I was cut off and my nerves began to wear thin as I heard her rattle on some more about other cards and how this one was her favorite and how pretty it was. The bell rang and the lunch lord told us all it was time to put our trays away and head to our groups to go to class. God's black hands, I was tired of getting nowhere fast and I decided enough was enough. “I want those chicken legs girl,” I said in a demanding voice no longer playing games. She scrunched up her nose. “Why, do you want my chicken legs? We throw these away in the trash when we're done.” “Well, then I will throw them away for you so give the ones your done with here now.” “No!” She said in a defying tone of voice and started to take her cards and lunch off the table. I snatched one of the cards she kept jabbering on about and held it hostage. Her eyes widened. “Give that back!” She said and reached for it. I yanked it out of her reach and snarled I will destroy your precious card if you don’t give me those chicken bones. She flung the chicken bones at me bouncing them off my chest and I gave her back the card. He got up from her seat sniffled and rubbed at her eyes and put her cards back in her pocket and left with her lunch bag. I picked up the chicken bones she flung at me and was annoyed there were only three. The lunch lord began to walk towards me with a disapproving look on her face and I quickly pretended not to notice and made my way away from her in a hurried motion. “Mr. Weust! Where do you think you’re going!” She said in an authoritarian voice. I did not look back I just ran across the hall to the left around a corner to the boy’s bathroom. I looked around for the best hiding place for my new found tools and only spotted the toilets, a sink, and a trash can. I ran to the trash can moved it slightly away from the wall and hid the chicken bones behind it and put the trash can back against the wall. I heard the door swing open and snapped my head towards it seeing the deep frown on the lunch lords face. “What are you doing Mr.” “I-uh I have a stomachache and had to use the bathroom.” “Why aren’t you in the stall then.” Good question I thought and couldn’t think of an answer in time before she grabbed my hand. “Let’s go Mr. we are going to talk with the principal.” I looked back towards my hiding place as my feet squeaked on the floor as they slid towards my doom. Well at least my tools will be safe I thought, and Victor whispered in my mind. “Should I kill her master?” My eyes widened slightly as I realized the contract between us had grown strong enough for us to communicate non vocally. “No.” I said back in my head back at him. “no reason to I feel no blood lust in this woman, she’s just going to be a thorn in my side. Besides, I don’t want to waste the energy I have other plans on how to spend my energy. “But I need a body.” Victor said in an annoyed voice. “How am I to protect you with all my power without a physical body?” “O shut it.


"That's how the megacorps got control of this damned world," shouted the customer, a little too loudly, it was clear that he'd had too much to drink, "People stopped caring. Eventually, no-one gave a shit about justice or country. They just wanted more stuff to buy." "You're not wrong," said the Noodle Guy plopping noodles into the bowl, "But you're missing half the story." "What do you mean half the story? Are you deaf? That's all there was to it. That's why we're living in this shithole" The customer was a decent fellow. He was just one of those types that was always unpleasant to be around when drunk. Which unfortunately was around 50% of the time. "The other problem was all the people with a conscience," said the Noodle Guy, his eyes gazed down to a worn Bible in Mandarin along with a copy of Confucius's analects that he kept below the counter, "No-one agrees on right and wrong anymore. I've got a dozen guys and gals in here, all with their own opinions. Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, Nationalists, Communists, Democrats," the Noodle Guy took a long drink of water. The area near the stove was hot and dehydrating, "But money? Everyone agrees on that. Everyone agrees on how to make that. So the world decided it had enough of people killing each other over good and evil and set its sights on the one standard everyone can agree on. Financial gain." The Noodle Guy served the soup, "That'll be 100 yuan sir." "All I got is dollars," said the Customer. The Noodle guy frowned then sighed, "Hand it over," he said, **To Sell Some Noodles - Part 2 - The Clerk** Again with the weary, tired customer. Forty-year-old woman. She wore an outdated 2010's suit. Like something her grandmother might have worn. Not the Eastern-inspired outfits that the corporate types did. Not the Retro-Victorian suits worn by the Heritage types. Just a plain outfit. The type that people used to wear when the West was just the default. "Noodles. Beef udon if you have that," she said collapsing at the bar. "Government?" asked the Noodle Guy, scooping noodles into the bowl. She nodded and didn't say anything. At least until after he had served her meal. "Worse," she said, "Honest." The Noodle guy whistled, pretending to be impressed. He wasn't though. There were three types of people who went into government. Honest people, corrupt bureaucrats and law enforcement who somehow managed to combine the two. "What area?" "Government housing," she said, "What do you think Liu Wei? My friends say you're a religious man. And I feel like I've just sold my soul to the devil." "We all work with what we have," said Liu Wei, "We all know the position the government is in nowadays. It's a bigger problem than one woman can be called on to fix." "I'm going to quit. Fast food funds for better housing was one thing, but now the drug companies have gotten involved," she sighed, "I'm going to the countryside. I'll marry a rancher." "Do those still exist?" asked Liu Wei half to himself. He honestly didn't know. "I don't know. But if one exists, they might be worth marrying. Heh, who am I kidding? But it's alright to fantasize once in awhile don't you think?" She didn't have much to say afterward. Just paid for the meal and left.


#The path to lake Cristallina It’s a beautiful sunny summer day on the south side of the Swiss alps. It was early morning when me, my dad and Max, a strong Entlebucher shepherd dog, started our way towards Cristallina lake with its little alpine hut at the top.\ While we hike along the path we chat, he tells me some stories, and we play. We play a lot together. I’m running ahead with my rifle made out of a branch. It’s not any branch. It’s a really cool one I’ve found a while ago. I always bring it along on our hikes. I’ve carved it with my Swiss Army knife (every kid where I live has one) and it even has a hole to stick magazines in it.\ I find cover and hide in some bush or tree or behind a rock and I get ready to ambush the enemy soldiers marching up behind me, but as they approach, our dog, Max, always manages to spot me before I can jump out.\ I don’t care. I jump out of cover anyway and start blasting at the enemy. My dad is very creative when it comes to playing. Enemies jump out from every corner, I dodge a grenade made out of a pine cone, shoot, get to cover, reload. Usually I end up winning as I’m kind of invulnerable.\ And so we keep marching together along the path. Max never gets tired of running to the horizon and back again, swimming in every pond or small river he finds. Once he ran to herd some cows, and we almost got in trouble.\ The nature is so beautiful up here. There are all sorts of alpine flowers and bushes of blueberries everywhere after we pass the tree line, we gather some on our way. The sky is deep blue and there are no clouds to be seen anywhere.\ We’ve been walking for a while now, and we should be able to see the lake very soon. The path turns and I take a look around.\ I’m a grown up man.\ The beautiful landscape fades away as a dream and I find myself I’m in a hospital room holding my dad’s hand. We can still see the mountains from the window and even if it’s autumn the skies are of the same deep blue, it’s a beautiful day outside. Now it’s my turn to tell some stories since he’s not able to speak anymore. He tells me with his eyebrows that he doesn’t want to leave me, it’s way too soon. Our beloved Max has reached the top since long time, and he’s waiting for him there. I can’t go any further on the path. I’m also a dad since few years now and there're thousand ambushes and sword fights and fantastic stories I’ve to make up that are waiting for me. It will be awhile before I’ll come back up there. But I’m sure you’ll be waiting for me at the hut when I’ll arrive. Goodbye dad. I love you so much.


The Migration Patterns of the Great Northern Pine Cabin Demetri spotted the 2 men in black wool suits at the bottom of his exceptionally long footpath leading to his house on the top of his exceptionally steep hill. Demetri estimated it would take them 45 minutes to reach his porch, where he had a pitcher of iced tea waiting for both of them. The two men in identical wool suits were men only in that their identical ID badges read Mr. Eric Carter. Unrelated, the two Eric Carters both found employment at Mooney Regional Bank as property adjusters. Both were lanky, with a strong brow line. Mister Eric A Carter had a much fairer complexion, and striking blue eyes. Mister Eric C Carter’s distinguishing characteristics were dark bristly overgrown eyebrows. Both Mister Eric A Carter and Mister Eric C Carter arrived exhausted at the stoop of Demetri’s cabin. Demetri stood with a sly smile and motioned noiselessly for them to help themselves to the tea. Both quickly downed a glass and poured themselves another. “Mr. Guster, I a-” Started Eric A. “Demetri, Call me Demetri.” “Demetri”, Eric A started again, “I am Eric A Carter, and this is my associate Mister Eric C Carter. We are here from the Mooney Regional Bank. Are you aware of the government's plan to install radio towers on this very hill? We can offer you a very attractive compensation pack-” “Let me stop you right there sonnie. I ain’t leavin for nothin so just give it a rest.” Eric C sat sipping slowly at his tea, avoiding having to say anything at all. Eric A tried again, “Mr. Jeremy said you would say as much. But me and Eric here have come up with a plan where you get to stay on your land. And the radio towers get to be built. The radio towers really only need to occupy the top of the mountain. Where your cabin stands now. If we demolish the cabin and build the towers, we are willing to purchase you your very own mobile home to place at the bottom of the mountain still on your very own property sir. What do you say to that Demteri.” “Have you studied the migration patterns of the great northern pine cabin?” “Well no sir I can’t say I have. But I fail to see the rele-” “The great northern pine cabin is a domicile constructed across North America. It can be built by one man in one year working hard every single day. Thousands of men have used the timbers of the Great Northern Pine forests to do exactly that.” “I see sir. And I take it you are one of those men?” “No. I am three of those men.” “I don’t follow.” “I’ve built this house three times.” “I see.” “No. You don’t see nothing sonnie. Do you have any idea what it took to build this cabin? To do it again, and again. To drag the timbers one by one up this God forsaken mountain.” “Well, no sir. I guess I don’t. But if you don’t like climbing up this mountain, why not move to the bottom like we suggest sir.” “Now there’s a bright idea! Don’t build a log cabin at the top of this damned hill! This ain’t my first rodeo boy. Like I said, I’ve built this cabin three times. “Can I ask what happened to the first two?” “The first cabin I built from white spruce. I bought the nails, a saw, and an axe at Seneca Trading Post. It took me two years truth be told to make the place truly liveable. But my wife didn’t mind. That cabin lasted until my daughter’s fifth birthday. That spring, floods washed it off its foundation and tore it to pieces.” “Sorry to hear that Sir, but modern mobile homes are built to b-” “So that night I started dragging the remaining logs of this cabin higher up this cursed mountain. Just below the tree line. I built the walls thicker and deeper, with an added attic space. We lived there happy for another 4 years.” “Glad it had a happy endi-” “That summer, a forest fire took my wife’s life and most of this cabin with it.” “I see sir.” “So I dragged the remaining logs higher still, to the peak we rest on now boys. And built this cabin for me and my daughter. It’s built deep into solid stone, far from the woods where danger could harm my family. And it’s walls are a foot thick to keep the winter cold at bay.” “I am sure your hard work was certainly appreciated by your daughter. Happy it all worked out for the be-” “My daughter died that summer from typhus.” “I see sir.” “Demetri, why don’t you just sell the land and go live comfortably somewhere far away from these troubling memories” offered Eric C Carter just now regaining the faculty of speech. “Erics, I’ve spent my life working against the grain. This mountain has kicked my ass for forty years. But I am still here, and this cabin is still here. I’ve fought flood, fire, and pestilence to sit on my porch and enjoy this cup of tea. The grass may be greener, but the sweetest tea is at the top of the mountain.


“Son.” I coughed. “Yes, father?” My son, Jacob asked. “Let’s go for a walk along the shore.” I said, stifling another cough. “But it’s raining father. You’ll get sick.” “I know son, but c’mon, spend some time with your old man, while it lasts.” I smiled at him. “If that’s what you want, father. Very well, let me get my coat.” “Take your time son.” I coughed. As Jacob walked toward the closet of our home, I couldn’t help but look at how much he’d grown up. “You’ve got nothing but time on your hands, son. Unlike me.” I whispered as I coughed some more. Twenty years in the blink of an eye. Felt like only yesterday that I was changing his diapers, and teaching him to walk. I grabbed my poncho, cap, and lantern. Jacob came back a moment later, his raincoat around his shoulders. “Look at you, my boy. All grown up. Brings a tear to my eye.” I said wiping my eyes. “Yeah...I learned from you. And mom.” he smiled at me. Such a good kid. I’m glad I raised him well. “Ready to go?” I asked, scratching my greying beard. “Of course father. Lead the way.” I smiled at him, and turned on my lantern. I opened the door and heard the sound of the pouring rain, pattering on the ground. The cold, and dark night was oddly alluring. I took not but two steps out onto the porch before the rain began falling off my poncho. The amber glow of the lantern bathed the rundown, muddy road in an orange light. Jacob was right beside me as we began to make our way down the road. “Father, why on all nights would you want to go out at a time like this? It’s cold, wet and you’ve been getting ill lately. I’m worried.” “It’s a special night son. A night that I want to spend with you.” I said following the winding road. “What’s so special about it?” “I’ll tell you in a bit. When I-when were both ready.” I said smiling. Jacob looked at me with a confused glance. “Okay then father, lead on.” he said. Such a good kid. “I always loved the rain. And thunderstorms.” I said as I laughed through a cough. “Why is that father?” Jacob asked. “Well you see, I always believed there was a dragon that lived in a cave. And every time he woke up, he snarled and the smoke poured from his nostrils and into the sky. Then he roars, and there is a distant rumble of thunder.” I closed my eyes, picturing it in my head. “And then a maiden of the sky came down, to soothe the beast. But he tricked her, and locked her away in a cage. And the maiden began crying, her tears forming the rain that soaks the earth.” I said, looking up, the raining splashing on my face. “And then came a prince atop a Pegasus of the gales, it’s wings flapping, beating to the howl of the wind. The prince, his resolve unshakable, draws his sword. Every swing the prince took, carves across the dragon’s rocky hide as sparks of lightning flash across the sky. But the dragon is eventually outsmarted by the prince, and goes back to his cave and is put to sleep and the maiden is released. ‘Till the dragon stirs from slumber again.” I explained as we walked down the road. I saw the giant lighthouse sitting on the bluffs of the beach. To the left of the cliff’s face was the beach. The sands drenched by the raging waves that crawl onto the beach. “I don’t know why, but there’s something calming about the rain. Don’t you think, my son?” “You could say that.” Jacob said. “You do know dragons, maidens and princes don’t really exist?” Jacob turned to me, looking at me with disbelief. I laughed. Which then became a hard, phlegmy cough. “Course I do, son. But also, nothing is impossible when you put your imagination to it.” I laughed as I held my arms out, the lantern swaying in my hands. “I guess your right.” He shrugged. “C’mon son. Humor your old man, just this once?” I asked. “After all, you don’t know if the time you spend with your dad will be your last.” I said, looking into his deep blue eyes. “Sure dad, I'll humor you. Seventy years old, and still acting like your twelve.” Jacob laughed. “I’m old, son. I like to think about my younger years. Makes me realize what I missed out on when I was a kid. Getting old is a beauty. You’ve lived a lifetime, seen the world pass you by, seen it change. I remember when I was but a lad, that lighthouse wasn’t even built yet. This beach was nothing more then sharp rocks, and water.” I said, looking over to the lighthouse’s peak that sits a silhouette atop the cliff. “Yeah. Mom used to say that the Lighthouse was built fifty years ago. I never really thought about how much time that really is. Least until now.” He said, admiring its beauty. “Aye.” I nodded. “Puts things into perspective.” I went on. We got to the edge of the rocky slope. “Come son. Have a seat with your old man. I’m tired.” I said, groaning as I sat down. I patted the soggy grass next to me. Jacob sat down. I took a deep breath and let it out. I smelt the briny sea water and hit my nostrils at the same time the salty texture plastered across my taste buds. It reminded me of my time on the waves. “Ever heard of the Pilgrim son?” “Yeah. Thought she was an old folk tale.” I chuckled lightly. And then began coughing again. “No. Not really. When I was a youngin, and sailing the seas, me and the crew used to pray to her for guidance. Some say it’s her who created the wind, the storms, the waves. And fer a while, I believed ‘em.” I smiled. “I did too.” Jacob said. “Really?” I asked as I placed my hands on the ledge of the slope. “Yeah. Every Time you were away, I prayed to her to keep you safe. Look over mom, before she…And now that your starting to get sick...I’m worried.” Jacob said. “Don’t be. I’ll get over it soon enough son. Then you won’t have to worry about me no more. Matter of fact. I think by tonight...I should be all better.” “What do you mean, dad?” Jacob looked at me. I smiled. “I’m dying, son.” His expression dropped. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?” He asked, desperately trying to read me. “That can’t be true.” “‘Fraid it is son. Not much I can do about it either.” “No. You can’t be dying. Your gonna get better dad, you have to fight this!” He said, his voice breaking. “It’s hereditary son. My Father and I had the same conversation when I was your age. And everything you said, was what I said. There’s nothing you can do son, except make this old man happy. Make his last night on earth a memorable one.” I told him, my smile still never cracking off my face. Jacob seemed to be taken aback by my words, but I still looked at him with the biggest grin I could muster. “You’ve already made this old dog happy on his last night by going for this walk with him. As much as I would love to keep going on. I can’t. I’m afraid I don’t have enough strength to make it, son. Your the only one to carry on our lineage.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And I’m only telling you this, because I’m doing everything in my power to give you one last night with your father. To say your goodbyes before I pass on.” “What makes you think your dying tonight?” Jacob asked. “I can feel it. Woke up this morning and said to myself “This is it. This is the day I die.” I shrugged. “And your not upset?” “How can I? seventy years on this beautiful earth? Fifty of them spent with your mother? Thirty of that spent with you? I can’t cry over that. All the memories I have? The times I spent with you and your mother? I can’t pass those up. Just remember to stay strong son. You’ll find a woman out there for you. And soon you’ll have this conversation with your son or daughter later on down the line.” I felt the stinging of the tears in my eyes as I gazed upon my son for the last time. I didn’t hide it as I let the tears roll down my cheeks, the smile still not fading from my lips. “Goodbye son. I always loved you.” I said, my lips quivering. “Goodbye father. I love you.” Jacob said, between his sobs. “May the pilgrim guide your way, may she add my life to the stars above.” I said with the last ounce of my strength as I slumped into my son's warm arms. Such a good kid. Such...a...good...kid. Such...a...good. Such...a… Such… And I shut my eyes.


"See you in a bit alright?" The shout came from the porch downstairs, followed shortly by the slamming of the front door and crunching of the key inside the keyhole. "I hope you're quick." He thought, stomach growling for the fourth time in the last couple minutes. "Bloody lockdown. Can't bloody do anything anymore," he messaged his girlfriend on Facebook. "I know it sucks, seeing you this weekend tho <3 <3" She replied. He opened up a video game while he was waiting for his friend to return. It was the middle of his second game when he heard the bathroom door close and the metal latch slide. He lifted up his headphones from his ears, "Yo, you back?" He called through his bedroom door. No answer. "Yo!" He yelled. "James?" Still nothing. Sometimes when James was in a hurry, he'd ignore things. Had the bathroom door even locked? At this point he was too lazy to get up and investigate. James had probably come back for a quick piss and had already left again. He resumed the game. It had been another five minutes when he realised he really needed a piss. This morning's tea and orange juice had gone right through him. He finished his current game and did a desperate walk to the bathroom, but when he tried the handle, it was locked. At first he was confused. "James, are you in there?" When no answer came back, he screamed: "JAMES!" No answer again. Then it suddenly clicked: it *wasn't* James. There was probably a stranger in the house. He slowly backed away from the door and quietly withdrew a kitchen knife from a wooden holder, then tiptoed back to the door. He stood still, holding the knife by his waist and listening in with his ear to the wood. No sound. At this point he was wondering whether to call the police, but he still wasn't absolutely sure there was anyone in the bathroom. He tried the handle again, and again, yanking at it aggressively and shoulder barging the door. It was definitely locked. That means someone HAD to be inside. And, it couldn't have been James; unless, it WAS James. What if he'd passed out in the bathroom and needed to go to hospital? Shit. He felt like he had a valid excuse now to open the door by force, so he leant back and gave it the strongest kick he could manage. Then he did it again. The wooden panels bended and bulged. He kept kicking. Breaking down a door was a lot harder than in the movies. After a dozen kicks the lock was dangling down from the handle and there was a two inch gap ajar. For the final move he leapt into it, pushing the weight and force of his unfit body against the weak panels, which swung open, ricocheted off the basin to the left and smacked him in the head. He rubbed the top of his noggin and looked up from the floor. The legs of a bloodied body were hanging motionless down the side of the bathtub. He couldn't even tell it was James at first. There was blood all over his face, his eyes were gauged out, throat slit, nose chopped off, lips removed. The only thing that confirmed him were the clothes that he'd seen James wear before he left to get food. What on Earth had even happened? His heart was slamming into his chest like the beats of his foot against the door a second ago. He still had the knife in his hand. Was the killer still around? He felt sick with terror. He closed the door and held it there with his feet. Shit. His phone was still in his room. He was thinking of yelling for help, but if the killer was still in the house, that would just encourage him to break into the weak door immediately. After all, what would the killer have to lose at that point? But fuck it, what else could he do? "HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. "I'M TRAPPED IN THE BATHROOM AND MY ROOMMATE IS DEAD! HE WAS MURDERED! HEEEEEEEEELP!" He kept screaming over and over again, sandwiched between the bathtub and the closed door. After five minutes of screaming, there was a small crowd outside the front door. They knocked loudly, offering assistance. "MY FLATMATE'S BEEN MURDERED. CALL THE POLICE!" He told them. A few minutes later, he could hear sirens approaching from the distance and a wave of relief swept over him. For a couple of minutes while the police were breaking in the door, his thoughts turned to his friend and his healthy pale-red skin. His small, round-shaped head with his oak-coloured hair arranged smartly. His widthy stubble and his strong jawline with the triangular chin. His bushy eyebrows and piercing hazel eyes that looked like tiny portals into a new universe. His straight nose. His playful ears that stuck out the perfect measurement from each side of his head. The archetypal image of young manhood that he had become obsessed by and fallen in love with; those features that aligned so exquisitely well they inspired a profound rapture, taking one back to an earlier point in history, when all was quieter and genuine joy was a possibility; a time where not everything was known. The front door crashed open and the police yelled up. His legs on the door relaxed, and he left the bathroom. Several seconds passed before he appeared at the stairs. "I just went to get my phone. It's me." He said, slowly making his way down. A policemen gasped. Another muttered, "Jesus Christ," in shock. It was an overweight blonde man with what looked to be a severe facial disfigurement. His nose was hanging off. His lips and eyes were bulging grotesquely. He appeared to be looking at himself in the reflection of his phone. On top of his head was a furry hat, but one officer noticed it looked more like one of those wigs with the plastic bottom, designed to look like a scalped head. He introduced himself, "I'm James." He said.


I'd never thought I'd actually be awake after I died. I remember my last breath. I remember watching TV from the corner of my eye as I lay on the doctor's table. Soccer was on but my team wasn't playing. I felt chemical warmth squiggle up my left arm when Messi scored a goal. My self-preservation instinct kicked in. I wanted to shout, to stop my euthanasia, but when I tried to speak my lungs didn't obey. The paralyzing agent was swift and merciful. My lungs had already failed. Death comes with a unique set of feelings. One reminded me of when I was a kid-- I'd puff my cheeks and hold my breath so my face could get red. Once, my face went purple. I got dizzy and I scared mother. It felt just like then. I felt blood in my face and heard drums in my temples. And under my skin, I felt something like lead pinning me down. I felt rigid. It wasn't pleasant. I tried to move an arm. I couldn't. And I tried to move a wrist, unsuccessfully. I was so desperate to hold on to my body that I even strained to move a pinky-finger. I had no more will to channel. The thumping around my temples ceased. For a while, I could still move my eyeballs. I panicked and I darted them around. Everything got blurry. I could do nothing, so I acquiesced. The heavy feeling left; I remember my last breath trickle from my lips. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ I rose with my breath. I didn't see anything flash before my eyes. I wasn't even afraid-- I felt helpless, only. It didn't hurt, but I can see why some people might find it painful. In that last moment of my death, every second felt like a decade. The feeling is distinct. I felt like I'd been preparing to die my whole life-- as if life's meaning were to perish. I could still see the blurry outline of my gowned body on the tan leather table as I rose. I was a helium balloon leaving a child's hand. I'd been released: I was being levitated by my last breath. The further I rose, the colder and darker it got. The ceiling was to my back now, and I could see my corpse on *its* back below. I rose far enough that I should've been able to see the whole hospital, but I didn't. I saw only my hospice room, bounded by four walls. Outside those walls there was nothing. All of reality was contained in those four walls; all of reality had always been just four walls. The room got smaller. After a while, I was so far up that I could only see a white spec where my hospice room once was. Eventually, even that spec disappeared in the overwhelming sea of cold, dark, primordial nothing. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ I thought it would be easy to reconcile with not having a body. I thought reconciliation would be quick, relatively speaking. I've now been without a body for longer than I ever had one. Yet reconciliation has been neither easy, nor quick. I cannot get over the fact that I could once breathe, eat, and have wrists. It's ironic: to be frank, I don't even remember what a wrist is. Perhaps They remember. I know that there are others here with me. We're like balloons in a bunch, blindly bumping into each other as we float. Unable to have wrists. Unable to crawl. We only float. Sometimes, it gets crowded. Like grapes on a fecund vine, our bunch grows heavy and begins to sag towards the spec of light. But we never sag too far. For They are always quick to notice. And as we sag, the Harvesters above always reap those among us who are highest. They reap so we may continue to rise. For such is our purpose. We sag. And we rise. And in time, we are reaped.


Let me start by saying I wrote this a few years ago when my little brother attempted suicide. I was in a bad place at the time and needed and outlet. Writing has always been one for me along with music, videogames and hiking. The escaping reality feeling has always helped, but this time it wasn't. This is about a veteran struggling with discharge from the military, his life experience and how the va treats us. I've always intended to write more part (4-5 total) but never get the time. Please let me know what you guys think here. PART ONE This is a story about how PTSD effects a persons mind… Let me stop here quickly and say everything that will be stated has happened to many veterans. The VA administration does not care about us. I am not personally complaining about the things that happen to us. Yes we all made a choice to serve our country. It not that the claims that we put in are denied either. It is the fact that every time we, as veterans, need help, we are forced to go through extra steps to get ANY KIND of help at all. People think that the military takes care of us and we get massive amounts of money, the issue is that what people are being told about what happens to us IS NOT TRUE. This story is hopefully going to help people understand the thought process of someone with PTSD, it does not make you violent, it does not cause people around to get hurt. The problem is the miscommunication with the civilian population about PTSD. PTSD is post traumatic stress disorder. ANYONE can have it from ANYTHING they have seen or personally been through that would put an extreme amount of stress on ones mental state. PTSD is more about depression and reliving the things you have been through to the point you break yourself down mentally. In this story the issue was that "Jeffery" thought he was alone, when in fact he wasn’t. The military takes care of our own, there are multiple groups out there that help veterans and families that are faced with experiencing PTSD within their homes. We take care of our brothers and sisters. WE are the ones that help. The VA takes credit for everything good that happens with a veteran, but when a veteran decides to take their life they REFUSE to take responsibility for the care they refused that person…. The biggest issue with our current generation is that they don’t realized that the ones that love you most are the ones willing to fight the most for you. There once was a soldier who had served nearly three decades in the military. This persons name was Jeffery James. Jeffery had served multiple deployments and had many near death experiences while on each of his deployments. Anyone that ever spoke to Jeffery never seemed to have anything bad to say about him. Though his subordinates seemed to sometimes have fearful thoughts about him, but they could never place why... until one day... This particular day, Jeffery had been out running errands. He had to go to the bank one day and in the process of being there he had noticed, out of the corner of his eye that there was a man with a revolver under his coat. Jeffery had been armed this particular day, he thought something seemed off for some reason. He seemed very anxious and couldn't place why. He didn't know what the cause of it was and he had contacted everyone he could and asked if they were all okay. Everyone had responded to him telling him that they were all fine. The one person he didn't check on.. was himself.. (People may think that saying he didn't check on himself may sounds kind of dumb, the thing is.. soldiers are trained to "check" on themselves in the attempt to make sure they have complete mental awareness of what they are doing and thinking. The issue was that on this day.. he didn't do this). As he saw this man he instantly proceeded to responded to the man as if he was a threat. Jeffery pulled his sidearm, as he was reaching for it the man attempted to reach into his coat and grab his revolver, the problem was that the man didn't have enough time to respond... The man was shot once, one shot straight to the mans femoral artery... as the mans body crumpled to the floor, Jeffery noticed that the man had a police badge. Jeffery instantly thought that he had made a mistake, He knew he was going to be labeled as a "cop killer" by the media. He knew he had misread the situation, his anxiety had gotten the best of him, and by allowing it to do so he knew he was going to jail. He was afraid of what was to come. As the man hit the floor, his body lie limp, with the mans badge and wallet near where his body had landed Jeffery ran to the man. The people in the bank started screaming. With all the yelling and crying going on, even though he had just assaulted this man, Jeffery proceeded to try and attempt first aid. Jeffery Immediately unclipped his belt and pulled his belt off, attempting to make a tourniquet for the man. Jeffery pleaded with the officer to hold on until paramedics would respond. Jeffery's pleading was heard to no avail because the man had bleed out. As officers responded to the scene at the bank, they questions Jeffery whom stated he was a retired veteran. The police thanked him for his service but inquired more deeply into why Jeffery had shot the officer. Jeffery had told them that he had only seen the weapon and that the officer had reached into his coat, He had thought that the officer was reaching for his weapon and he had responded accordingly. He was remorseful for what he had done but the problem was that he had shot an officer of the law and that he was now under investigation for what had conspired. As he was placed in handcuffs he seemed to blackout, he thought about his deployments, how so many near death moments had adversely affected his mental state, he started to question if any person he had every harmed really deserved what he had done to them. He attempted to count the bodies that lie at his feet in this moment, he thought about how many lives he may have taken unjustly. With no one to talk to about what he was going on he attempted to push it to the back of his mind. As Jeffery came to he realized he was in a cell at the police station with an officer telling him "You are being detained until we can go back and watch the footage of what happened". He understood this and thought that he would be okay, the way it looked to him, he had in fact done the right thing. The issue was that he couldn't have been anymore wrong at that moment. Over the next Seventy-two hours he barely slept. His thoughts had messed with his mind. His mind was going in overdrive thinking about everything that had happened in his career. He though about the times he "smoked" his soldiers and about the times he had taken direct action against another human being. He wondered if he might have misread those situations as well. If he had taken a life that wasn't doing anything harmful to him or anyone else. Perhaps the people he thought were placing mines we not actually doing what he thought. Perhaps the contractors working on his FOB we not actually conspiring against the military. As he lie awake thinking about everything, he started to second guess everything that had happened over the years. He thought that he may have in fact misread every moment something happened and by doing so what he perceived as a threat, might not have been anything more than a friendly gesture. -Twenty years later- Jeffery had been tried and charged for the murder of an officer of the law. He was getting out of prison today. He tried to think about everything that had happened over the last two decades. He had been able to watch the news while in his cell. He saw how America had declined over the time, he thought about trying to help with what had been going on but he could not think of a way to do so. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and walked out the exit gate of the prison. As he did one of the guards asked him "So what are you going to do now?" Jeffery shrugged and said "I have no idea, I have no family, no home, no job, nothing... I'm a soldier though. Trained to push though the adversity and find a way to deal with the issues at hand." The officer make a short chuckle and told him "good luck". Jeffery walked for hours though downtown Detroit. He was right, he didn't have any family, no home, no food, no job, nothing. He didn't have any idea no what he was going to do. He left like how he did when he was getting out of the Army twenty years ago. They had giving him outdated information and told him good luck. The prison had done the same thing during his rehabilitation processing. Jeffery found a bridge and gathered his few belongings near him and settled there for the night, As he lie there falling asleep he thought again about how he may have made a horrible mistake all those times and if he would ever he able to make amends with what he had done. The problem was that Jeffery had done what he thought was right in every situation. He continued to question his choices until he fell asleep that night. As Jeffery awoke the next day he realized some of his belongings were missing. He wondered how it had happened, had he slept that soundly? How had someone come along and took his stuff without him waking up? He for once didn’t have an answer. As the day went by, Jeffery had went to the Local VA office and attempted to sign up for housing assistance and benefits, since he was still on terminal leave when the shooting occurred he hadn't been allowed to have access to a computer to be able to sign up for them. As he walked in he noted that the hospital had a strange odor to it, it reminded him of death. The smell of putrid corpses. He couldn’t understand why the hospital would have such an odor to it. He also noticed that other veterans would look at him strangely as he looked around trying to figure out where to go. As he walked he eventually found the "help desk" and asked them "Excuse me miss, how do I enroll for benefits?" she quickly responded in a somewhat forceful tone "You need to go online ASAP and enroll on our sister website called 'E-benefits'. It is there to help US process your claims quicker. Just go somewhere and fill out the forms and send in a copy of your discharge papers." Jeffery was confused on why he would have to go though all the extra work where there was a sign just down the hall that read "claims" on it. He thought a moment on how to ask this quest, then thought against it and asked, "Miss, if I don’t have resources to get a copy of my paperwork or internet access, how do I go about filing a claim?' The lady responded quickly again "You need to contact the head office of VA affairs in DC to get a copy of them then. You will need to write a written request with all of your information and dates of service, then go to your local library and file the claim." Jeffery was somewhat upset with the things she said and it didn’t make any sense why he had to go trough all the extra steps. Why couldn’t he just go down the hall and get it done. They should have access to his records, right? He just decided to leave and do as she stated. He had just gotten out of prison, he didn’t want to seem angry and cause problems. -Two days later- Jeffery sat at a local coffee shop writing his request. He put all information he thought was needed to get ahold of his paperwork. The issue was that he needed an address to have them sent to. When he was sentenced his home was sold by the bank. He didn’t have an income to pay his bills with so he understood why it was done. As he finished his letter he put a phone number on the letter and asked that they call him at the local pay phone so he could explain his situation. He didn’t know how they would respond to his request. He had been staying under the same bridge for the past few days. His thoughts kept haunting him. He felt like he was loosing his grip on his sanity. Every time he had a moment he would think back to the moments he acted, to the lives he had taken. He kept thinking he may have made the wrong choices. He wished he had gotten married, had children, a family. He had almost married once while he was in the service, but he deployed and while he was gone, his fiancé had cheated on him. As soon as he found out he was home on leave and found her at home with another man, enraged he hit the man and left. How could she be in HIS home and do such a thing. He didn’t understand the simple things in life, or how someone could betray another person like that. Unsettled by the memory of her, he pushed the thought to the back on his mind. He sealed the letter and placed it in the drop slot of a local postal box. -Three weeks later- Jeffery had went by the VA hospital a few more times over the past few weeks. Every time he had went there, they had told him "We have not received any file on you from D.C. still, we don’t have any idea when the paperwork will come in. Its not that we're saying you're not a veteran, but normally the paperwork would have been here by now." He was hurt by these people trying to "help" him saying this to him. He tried to recall what the Army had told him about the VA. He thought he remember them saying that they always helped and when he got out, his file would be in the VA system. It seemed that the information he was given was wrong. He was hurting, he needed someone to talk to. He needed help. His pride was the only thing that kept him going right now. One thing could change his entire mindset. He needed help now. The problem was that the VA seemed to be having "issues" with the paperwork. Jeffery went across town to try and find the local hospital to inquire about getting seen by a mental health specialist. After hours of walking he finally found his way there. As he walked in the first thing he noticed was the smell again. The same exact smell that the VA hospital had. He walked in pushing the smell to the back of his mind. He asked to talk to someone because he had been thinking about harming himself recently. The nurse asked "How often do you think you have these thoughts? Just about everyday for the past twenty years… Really? Is the first time you are thinking about getting treatment? Yes… Okay, I will need you for you to go a few windows down and have them put your insurance information into our system and we can start getting you help sir." Jeffery thought about it for a moment and realized he didn’t have insurance, he proceeded to walk out the door when the nurse asked, "Sir, where are you going?" "I do not have insurance." Jeffery replied. He continued to walk out the door, the nurse picked up the nearby phone and spoke to someone. At this point, Jeffery was outside and headed down the sidewalk away from the hospital. As he was walking a police cruiser pulled up. Two officers got out of the vehicle and approached Jeffery. One of the officer asked how he was and why he was at the hospital. Jeffery told them that he came to try and get help for what he was going through. The other officer spoke up quickly, "What's your name man?" "Jeffery James" "Hmmm… Do you have any kind of identification on you, Mr. James?" "Sadly no, I just got out of prison three weeks ago." "What you were in prison for?" "I… I was involved in a incident in a bank here in Detroit 20 years ago.. I… I have made a mistake and misread a situation and shot an officer…" The first officer slowly reached towards his sidearm and unlatched his holster, prepared for what may happen. The second officer, put his hand out and said, "Let me talk to him. See what happened more in depth. Sometime we hear only certain parts of what is going on." The fist officer responded with a nod and said "I'm here if you need me.. Just say the word…" The second officer nodded and walked to Jeffery. As they spoke, Jeffery told him of the entire day and what he thought he saw that horrible day. He explained that his anxiety had gotten the best of him and that he had acted irrationally. The officer whom was also a veteran, told Jeffery that "sometimes we allow our emotions to dictate who we are as human beings. What we THINK we see isn't always how it happened." This may Jeffery even more upset. Though he didn’t show it, his thoughts were flooding back to him. How he may have made the wrong choices on those deployments, that he may have given the wrong orders to his soldiers and how they got injured or worse. Jeffery was in tears. The officer asked "What's wrong?" Jeffery asked, "How do you determine if you made the right or wrong decisions? How do you know that what you told someone to do was the right thing?" "I don’t.. I know that’s not the answer you are looking for, but at the end of the day we did what we thought was right. How many people could handle what we have been though? How can we second guess ourselves when we have a mission? That mission to try and keep every single soldier with us alive when we leave that FOB. We cant allow ourselves to question out decisions the day before. I hate to say it, but during that time we have to be numb. By allowing our emotions to dictate who we are and how we act will take more lives then save them." The officer replied. Jeffery had never thought about war in this way. It shed new light on the situation he was experiencing. He had never had someone to talk to about these things. The military always said for you to go to Mental Health If you were having a rough time, but Jeffery knew what would come of it. He knew they would label him. He knew they would secretly whisper behind his back. His platoon would fall apart by thinking he would fail them. He needed to be strong during those rough times. He was the person who was put in that positon to keep order within his platoon. As he was thinking to himself the officer placed his hand on Jeffery's back and asked him "Where do you live?" "No where at the moment. I have no home. No Surviving family." Jeffery said quietly. He didn’t realized that depression had kicked in since he had gotten out of prison. He didn’t continue to pay attention to his mental state. The officer noticed this and told Jeffery, "Here is what we are going to do for you. There is a half-way house just up the road, we will take you up there tonight if you are willing and get you a roof and warm food in your stomach. " Jeffery smiled a bit and thanked to officer for what he was doing for him. The officer had kept his word and got him into the shelter. He had also gave Jeffery his cell phone number to call in the event anything happened to him. Over the next few months the officer checked up on him at the shelter making sure he was doing well and not getting into any trouble. Jeffery started to build a bond with the officer. That bond kept growing. He helped Jeffery get an ID card and gave him a part time job at his home after getting to know him more. He thought Jeffery was a great person but internally was hurting, the biggest problem was that even with talking Jeffery seemed to still be struggling internally. The officer didn’t know how to really going about helping Jeffery, he had went to DHS and tried to get him state help. They said they couldn’t help. Since Jeffery didn’t have enough paperwork to prove he was whom he claimed to be, they couldn’t do anything. The officer tried over and over to get him help, but every time it seemed he hit a wall. -Two years later- Jeffery still had not heard anything from the VA about his benefits, but had gotten a job and a vehicle all while keeping in touch with his friend. His friend had helped him so much over the last two years to get him to where he was today. He had a small apartment, a shitty job, but a job nonetheless and a vehicle that was able to get him to and from work. Jeffery on the way to the officers home to see if he had work was stopped about a block out. He noted there was police tape all around a cruiser but didn’t know why it was there. He got our of his car and approached one of the officers guarding the area to make sure people didn’t enter and asked "What happened here? Did the officer get hurt? I have a friend I have been working on the force for the past few years that lives just up the road, was he involved at all?" The officer quickly replied "Are you Mr. James?" "Yes, why?" Jeffery asked. The officer told him to go to the station house, an investigator had something for him. Jeffery went to the station and asked who he needed to speak to involving an accident. The clerk directed him to the investigators office and told him to wait outside. Eventually the investigator appeared and told him to come in. They talked to a little while and handed him a note that had a hand print on the out side of the white envelope that read: "TO Mr. Jeffery James." Jeffery asked "Is this needed for evidence?" The investigator answered "You need to read what is in there… it will do you some good I hope…" Jeffery looked questioningly at the officer and opened the letter that read: "Brother, This is for you. I have seen your struggle lately, Even with everything that has happened to you over the past few months, I have also been struggling. I want you to know that my family left me, my wife took the kids and the car last week with the divorce. The house is still in my name and my will has been changed to say that YOU and ONLY YOU are to have the home with all furnishings. Everything in the home is to belong to you. If anyone demands that this home belongs to them, send them straight to my lawyer and contact her directly and tell her that this letter was left for you. She has the spare key to my home. I want you to know, even though it came down to this, you are family. Family does not let each other fail. Even though I hid what was going on with me, I have but one condition for you to keep this home. We all struggle from time to time, we all have our issues and personal demons we face everyday. Some of us get eaten alive them, others fight back and win. You are the fighter. I want you to help our family out brother, help them like I helped you, even though I made this choice and refused to show you what was truly going on with me, you still helped me over these past two years. You got to know who I am as a person. You got to see a side of me, that people haven't seen since I served. I want you to know, that the day you got injured in 1980 in Bosnia it was because of me. I refused to listen to your orders and by doing so, it cause you to be harmed. When you told me who you were two years ago outside of the hospital I knew who you were. That same injury is why you lost your memory, I knew you couldn’t remember who I was. I knew it was the greatest leader I had ever came across in years. You taught me how to be a great leader even with knowing how the real world was and how people were. You taught us what it meant to care about one another. That our platoon was a family. If the weakest link in that family failed, the ENTIRE family worked together at once to fix the broken link by hand. A family takes care of things 'in house' and by doing so it builds trust. Trust that is needed in our line of work. For the past two years I lied to you. I lied and refused to tell you what had happened. By doing so it ate me alive. It truly did. It ate at me so much that I will end up taking my life today during a traffic stop. This note will be left on me to show that even though I made a horrible mistake back then that could have taken your life, that you are still here making a tremendous impact on people lives. Sincerely SSGT Mark Johnson" Jeffery was fraught with guilt. He had never noticed that his platoon was around him. He finally saw after all this time that he and the others had been fighting along side one another. Just like every other time. He trained these guys that they were a family. He instilled it into them, that FAMILY ALWAYS came first. That family did not have to be related to you at all. Family was the bond you built with those around you. FAMILY were the ones that were ALWAYS there to help you in the roughest of times. His family was and had ALWAYS been all around him. Jeffery turned to his old friend, face full of tears and said "We WILL fix ourselves together like always. I wish I had noticed sooner about what was going on. I have gotten complacent over the years. It is not just me though. ALL of us have. We must band as one again and make us a full family. We must reach out to all of us. We are ALL a family, regardless of if we directly served together or not!" -END PART ONE- While you have been reading this there are over 300,00 homeless veterans sleeping on the streets. The worst part is that number continues to rise. Over 1.4 million veterans are at risk of becoming homeless. More than 67% of homeless veterans currently on the street have served our country for at least three years, these people have given everything and we as a society continue to fail them. The moral of this story was to directly show HOW PTSD affects ones mind set and causes those who suffer from it differntly. No two people that suffer from PTSD experience the same exact mindset. EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT. PTSD affects us like we have different opinions and situations. We might not like what someone else says but no two people feel EXACTLY the same about what was said and a situation. Some of you may see this as helpful, others may want MY personal experience. What happens, happens. At the end of the day we ALL need to band together. WE ARE A FAMILY. WE ALL may have served in different capacities but we all fought the for the same outcome. We left behind our loved ones to fight for a war that we didn’t actually understand. Even though we did that and may have never met IN PERSON, but we all are a family. Regardless of any differences we all want the same thing. To help out brothers and sister in their time of need. This may just be part one of what I am doing, but I hope it sheds some light on the issues we as veterans face.


Normally, my morning coffee is prepared in five minutes. I sit and wait for those five minutes. Wait for the readiness of handling what life brings with urgency. Normally, my mind stays blank for those five minutes. A vessel waiting to drink it’s purpose and ambition. However, today she waited across from me. This wasn’t normal. A woman with hair as long and black as a river lit by the night sky. Hazel eyes as piercing and as vast as the Nile desert. I thought of her name. Sandra? Maria? Dolores? What would her name be? I went with Riviera. I look at her and pondered what kind of person is this. Does she believe in anything? Is she troubled? Is she going through something hard, dealing with a situation all by herself with no help? Does she have a funny laugh? Broad questions that lead to complex thoughts. I imagined my life with Riviera. I imagined her face inches from mine, staring into my thoughts as if a painter stroking their emotions into a canvas. I imagined a long walk at the park discussing life and all it’s hardships and chaos. We enjoy the chaos. We sit down and look at people walking by. Human beings passing our existence with an existence equally as complex as ours. As we sonder, I look up. The sky is blue, with clouds shaped like heaven. I see children playing on swings next to us, and reminisce on the innocence of childhood. I tell her, “Have you ever wondered what the child version of you would think of how your life turned out? She says, “Yes, all the time.” “Would they be disappointed?” “If they were, it’s not for me to answer, only to reflect.” At that moment, I fell in love. In my mind, Riviera is my soul mate. The one who feels emotions with every ounce of their being. The one who can laugh at themselves when they make mistakes. The one who isn’t afraid of life and it’s turmoil. The one who enjoys every breath, every moment, every second. The vessel that humbles my heart, and protects my spirit. We’re old now. In our deathbed. As we both lay down and prepare for the afterlife, we lay on our side across from each other and stare deeply into our eyes. I look into the mystic and see love. I see someone who, despite decades passing, still looks at me with eyes that touch my soul. I look at her and do the same. As we close our lenses and take our final breath, it is one. It’s been five minutes. Today, a life existed in those five minutes. A life as profound as eternity, hidden in the mind. A momentary capsule of what could be, but never will. A fairy tale. I look at the counter and see my name plastered on a plastic cup. It’s time to go. I take one more look at Riviera. She notices me. I smile and nod. She does the same.


This was from on r/WritingPrompts, but I wanted to put this here too because I think it's one of my favorite stories that I've ever written “If you are hearing this message, then the human race is dead. The information I am about to tell you is crucial, and it is imperative that you listen closely. I can’t say what our future may bring. I can’t say who or what will receive this recording, and under what circumstances that will happen, but there’s one thing I can say: this will be all we have left.” Adam picked up the device with a metal arm, and turned back to Eve. “Eve, take a look at this!” “Where you are standing used to be our home planet, Earth. We sent out a manned space vessel, the Ark, into the deepest regions of space carrying the last of our kind, in case those on Earth were wiped out by our interstellar neighbors. At the time this will be found, we expect that the mission will either be successful, or every single person on that ship will be dead. But it gives me peace of mind to know that, maybe someday, we’ll be found.” The two androids stood dumbfounded at the creature who was delivering the message. From nothing more than a small box, the creature was projected as a hologram. Two legs. Two arms. Bipedal, yes. A head on top that seemed to be where the thought processor was. It was built similarly to the android observers, but it was very organic, no metal parts anywhere. “They call themselves humans, then” Eve said, waving an arm back and forth through the hologram, finding that the human wasn’t in solid form. “It’s just an image,” Adam said. “I’m not sure if there are any real ones left” “It’s an interesting finding, nonetheless. If they built these ruins, I’d be pretty impressed” “Must’ve been the place the ship was launched. Maybe a military base” The human continued to speak over Adam and Eve. “In this ship you can expect a library of the stories we’ve written and the history we’ve made. I hope you can find solace in knowing that we didn’t waste our short time in this universe. The stories are ones of triumph and suffering, of good and evil, and of a species trying to do their best. Myself and the other members of the crew, if we live to see this day, await your arrival with anxiety and eagerness. If you encrypt this message, you can find the estimated coordinates the ship will be at on the date you receive this. I hope we can meet each other sometime soon. I hope whoever is out there will see that we are kind, and mean no harm. May the Gods be with you. Signing out.” The androids stood in silence for a second before Adam began scanning the device. “What are you doing?” Eve asked. Adam finished his scan and turned around. “We’re finding the Ark. The people aboard that ship might be the last organic lifeforms in the universe” “It’s the human’s own fault that they let their planet die. I mean, what’s the point anyway, if they’ll be gone in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only what they destroyed” “They made us” Eve sat down on a rock. “We don’t know that. You’ve said that about every other lifeform we’ve come across” “No-you don’t understand. We didn’t just come from nothing. If we really are the only ones left in the universe I at least want to know who gave us that opportunity” “How is Earth any different? How is it different from the hundreds of planets that we’ve searched?” Adam started to pace around the ruins. “Stories. They said they tell stories. And they kept them on the Ark, an endless vault of information both real and imaginary. If they made us, we’re the stories they’ve made, we’re the stories that they passed on to stay here long after they’re gone. We have a wealth of knowledge as expansive as the universe itself, and that's what they would have wanted. I just want to know that we’re not chunks of metal. I want to be the universe. I want to be infinite.” “Fine, we’ll go. You know, it’s ridiculous that we contain the entire wealth of knowledge in the universe and we can’t even find who gave it to us. You’re right, we owe them a debt. Did you get the coordinates?” Adam nodded. “It transmitted radio waves that I downloaded, and you could find the numbers in the code. It’s only a few light years from here.” “Great” Eve eagerly marched back to their ship. “Let’s meet our maker” \~ Adam slowed the ship to a stop as they reached the coordinates. “It should be here. That is, if it kept going on the intended trajectory.” Eve pointed at a gray blur in the distance. “Look!” They flew closer to find a massive, box-like ship that was about 50 miles long. Atop it seemed to be a city- or what used to be one. Massive skyscrapers with hundreds of glimmering windows dominated the area. Once it must’ve been full of light, but now, there were just occasional flickers behind the windows. Eve’s excitement turned into melancholy. “They must’ve done so much here. I’ve never seen anything like this.” Adam approached a landing pad that was coming into view. “I hope someone’s still in there. Even Earth isn’t like this, at least not anymore.” The exit ramp lowered and released a puff of gas. Carefully, Adam and Eve both stepped out and surveyed the surroundings. “There’s an entrance in that building over there. And- an elevator” Eve rushed to the elevator, Adam trailing behind her. The doors closed, and they began travelling to the lower levels. It was pitch black for the first few minutes. The tunnel was probably a mile long. After some time of silent anticipation, the glass doors slid open to reveal the bottom levels. Right away it was clear that the Ark was no more. The halls were barely illuminated by only a few flickering lights, and sparks flew out of some machinery on the wall. A loud ringing sound filled the room as they stepped onto the unstable metal floors. Something had happened here. Perhaps the extraterrestrials they were trying to avoid caught up with them. Perhaps they ran out of supplies. Or were killed off by a disease. But no matter what, Adam and Eve were now the only remaining inhabitants of the universe. Eve led the way through the winding, almost labyrinth-like halls. “Typical organic beings. They could never get along. Always out for blood. It just makes me sad that they had to end like this.” Adam stopped to look at the chunks of metal that were scattered across the hallway floors. “Everything has to end eventually. You can’t have a beginning without an end.” “Who’s to say you can’t begin again?” “There’s no way we can do that, Eve. Come on, let’s find that library” They turned right to find a massive chamber that was several stories high. Along the walls were hundreds of pods, each one carrying a human. “Cryosleep. They must’ve been kept in suspended animation. They’re alive” Eve barely smiled, but she knew this was wishful thinking. “No. Look at the pods.” They observed the bodies more closely. Many of them seemed to be in the middle of a scream, or were writhing in pain. Some of their skin had started to decay, and frost had built up inside the glass shield. A few of them had bones that were exposed. And every single one of them had the same cold, empty, dead eyes. One full of life, once full of pride, once full of the wonders of a species that was determined to make their mark on the universe and reach beyond the night sky. “That’s what happened, then” Adam said. “The pods were turned off, and everyone in them suffocated. The aliens- whoever or whatever they were- then looted the ship” They stood in silence, almost in mourning. Mourning people they never even knew. Mourning the death of organic life. “I need to see the library,” Adam said, turning around to continue exploring the ship. “I just need to read what the humans had to say so I can have peace of mind.” Eve didn’t say a word, but she continued on, and Adam followed. They were dead silent as they continued down the halls. Windows to either side of them gave a stunning view of the realm outside, of the infinite void of space. A reminder of what the universe represented. Discovery, survival, possibility. The creatures of the cosmos working in harmony. That chance for universal peace, that began its path to destruction the day the Ark was attacked, would never come back. The hall only led to a dead end, with access to only one room. As it came into view, it was clear that this was the library. It was nothing like the rest of the ship. Instead of metal, it was built with wood. A winding staircase circled the room and kept going up, beyond a point that was even visible. Shelves lined the wall- bookshelves. Physical manifestations of the human legacy. Each packed with a book, a book tirelessly constructed by one person, with nothing but a pen, and a dream. The creators of the Ark had chosen to abandon a modern digital storage system, instead opting to pay homage to the work of the authors who had written about and documented the legacy of a species. Adam and Eve began browsing the bookshelves and flipping through every title. Historical books like *The History of the Roman Empire* or *The Renaissance*. Works by great thinkers who were long gone. *Romeo and Juliet. To Kill a Mockingbird. The Great Gatsby. War and Peace*. New worlds, new universes, completely sculpted by thought alone. It was like a chance to start over, to construct the universe in your own image. “The humans sure told good stories” Adam said as he browsed through the works of Shakespeare. “I guess the only way to cope with the fact that you are alone on a ship in the middle of nowhere, and you’re the last of your kind, is to start over” Eve smiled at the thought. “Who’s to say we can’t start over too?” “What?” “The only thing you need to create a new universe is thought. We contain every thought there is to know. Who’s to say we can’t give these humans another chance? A chance to start over in a new world, where the only thing they need to enter it is a thought.” “So we put them in a simulation?” “It’s the least we can do. And then they can keep writing stories, and they can keep sculpting their own universes. We can’t die. These people can. But their thoughts don’t.” Adam nodded in agreement. Then he spotted a single table in the middle of the room, with only one book on it. *The Holy Bible.* Hesitantly, he came down the stairs, opened to the first page, and read. “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters” The world around him began to dissolve, and Adam began to feel like he was floating. “Then God said, ‘Let there be light’” Everything went black. And there was light.


He grabbed a ghost pepper, ate it in one bite. Soft and sweet with a slight bite at first, he chewed it and quickly swallowed. He stared at the other man in his eyes. He made no move. The other man grabbed another ghost and jammed it into his own mouth; they stared as the other man chewed. A crowd had gathered around them and watched in fascination and silence. Something was wrong, the heat was beginning to warm up his mouth, the pain spread through his tongue like water flowing across a dry plain. The water quickly turned to molten lead and his tongue was quickly engulfed in flames. Still he did not move. He could feel his face getting hot now. It felt like needles were stabbing him in the gums, on his tongue, in his throat. Every square inch of his mouth burned. The other man stared at him. His teeth were clenched. The other man’s face became red and small twitches appeared on the man’s jaw. His nostrils flared. Then he realized his own nostrils were flared, open like parachutes, as if he could will the heat through his nostrils like a dragon. His eyes watered. He stared at the other man with eyes full of drops and furrowed his brow. The other man did the same. They leaned in until their noses were only a few inches apart. A tear fell down his face, and the other man’s eyes followed it down his face, until the other man's own eyes sprung a leak. He looked at the other man’s tear. He couldn’t help but blink hard and a few tears rolled down his face. The other man looked and pointed. He pointed at the other man’s tear. Suddenly the other man also blinked a heavy blink and tears flowed freely down his cheeks. The other man was still pointing at his face. The other man snorted. He snorted as well. The other man chuckled and pointed at his own tears and then back at his. He chuckled and pointed at the other man’s face. They stood there with dumb grins, tears streaming down their red faces, each with a finger held lazily up at the other's grimace. At once they both broke out in laughter, pointing at the other man's stupid face. Both in excruciating pain for reasons that were now long in the past and unknown. They doubled down in laughter and then began choking. Their mouths were both furnaces of pain and suffering and hate. They clasped hands as they screamed out in pain together. He looked around, “Where’s the fucking MILK?!” Someone passed him a gallon. He ripped off the cap with his teeth and chugged. His hands shook as the sweet white nectar blessed his tongue and spilled out onto his jaw and dripped down his chin. The other man grabbed his arm and yelled out, “you son of a bitch!” He held out the gallon to the other man who let go of his hand and the other man grabbed the milk gallon with both hands and held it an inch above his head. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth and the milk waterfalled into his hellscape of a mouth. He let out a moan as the milk spilled around his face. “Ahhh.” By this time his own mouth caught fire again, and he extended his hand to receive the milk jug back from the other man. The other man wagged his finger and drank more. His tongue burned. His entire head burned. He snatched the other man’s arm and the other man looked at him. He furrowed his brow. The other man did the same. The milk jug hit the floor as they squared up one more time.