CONNECTED By:  Janis Van Meter

Restless and Weary     Feeling hazy and a bit foggy, I sat up from a restless nights sleep feeling more tired and less energy than I had before I went to bed last night. My hair and pajamas were damp with sweat that the strange dream had caused. It was so real. I could see people around me so vividly. I felt I could reach out and touch them. The colors of their clothes and their interactions were so very distinct in my memory. I had dreams similar to this one when I was a child around the age of eleven or twelve but they never had this much detail. Now I’m twenty six and I’m actually afraid to leave the warmth of my bed and the small amount of security it offered. Just like that, those dreams from my eleven year old self once again resurfaced in my memories.    My name is Tolley Parker. It’s a family name. I’m a legal secretary with a big law firm in Dallas, Texas. I drive about fifteen miles to work every day and I follow pretty much the same routine. After I park in the parking garage that’s about three city blocks from my office, I walk to a nearby coffee shop and pick up my usual coffee with cream and two sugars. Then I walk the remaining block to my office which is located in a twenty three story building. My elevator ride is short only going to the fifth floor. I greet our receptionist, Lauren and keep walking until I reach my little office toward the back of the large suit of offices. I sit down, stash my purse in a desk drawer and sip my coffee. My boss, Attorney Patrick Moss, is out of town today and all next week. so I should have a quiet Friday.     Checking my list of items that Patrick has left, mostly phone calls to return or appointments he would like set up for the week he returns, I organize my day. my mind is drawn back to the dream. Not quite a nightmare but very foreboding.  . The First Dream   “Tolley? Tolley? Get in here girl, you’re breakfast is ready.” I could hear the familiar voice of my mother calling me just like she did almost every morning during my childhood. Such a nice dream. I start to the kitchen but the dream shifted suddenly to different place before I could get to my mother as dreams often do.

  Suddenly, I was standing on the sidewalk out in front of my office building with a cup of coffee in my hand. I was looking around but I was frozen in place. Something was wrong. I could sense it as I felt chills run down my spine. I strained my neck as hard as I could. I looked left and right but all I could see was the back of a delivery truck parked across the street where some big boxes were being unloaded down a ramp and onto a a cart for the business across the street.  Nothing there to be concerned about.

  Further up the street was a woman pushing a baby stroller. She had apparently just gotten off a city bus that was pulling away from the curb. Nothing unusual there either. I looked straight ahead again. I saw a man in some kind of job related coveralls. He was carrying a boxy shaped case in one hand and his phone held against his ear in the other. He was walking and about to get to the back of the truck. Everything seemed ok. What was going on? The sense of dread was so strong now that my heart was pounding in my chest and I tried to cry out but I couldn’t speak. Some movement returned and I found myself clenching my cup so hard that I felt hot coffee splash onto my hand and wrist as I dropped it landing beside me. I felt no pain from the burn. Why?     I looked up and across the street but everything had disappeared. I realized that I was at home and sitting up in my bed, panting, almost hyperventilating, trying to catch my breath. That’s where the dream ended. Dreamscape

I managed to get through the rest of my work day. I cleaned off my desk and headed to the parking garage to get my car. As I was opening my car door to get in, I glanced up and noticed a light blue van parked directly in front of me. The driver of the van had just taken his seat behind the steering wheel. At the same moment, we looked at each other as we sat in facing parking spots. For just a few seconds we just stared at each other. I had the strangest feeling, like a déjà vu’ moment. I’m not sure which of us looked away first. Clumsy me, I dropped my keys and bent down to pick them up.  I stood up and took the drivers seat in my car. I glanced in the direction of the blue van. It was backing out.  There was royal blue and white logo on the side shaped like a crown that said Imperial IT, Plano, Texas and gave their phone number. There wasn’t anything unusual or even memorable about the logo so I’m not quite sure why I felt the need to tuck this detail away in my memory.   Traffic on Friday afternoons is always horrendous. The freeway was backed up and it took me to over an hour to get home. Instead of going to dinner with some friends, I opted to stay home. I was exhausted after getting so little sleep last night. I took a hot shower put on some loose pajamas and rummaged through my refrigerator for something to eat for dinner. I was in luck. I found some leftover pasta. I sniffed it and it was still good. I stuck a plate in the microwave to heat and poured myself a generous glass of wine. My meal was ready and I took it into my small living room. I decided to watch some TV while I ate. Nothing interesting on TV so I took my laptop and decided I’d scroll through some sales ads looking for a new chair that I needed so badly.    I found a couple that looked promising and sent the information to my phone. I planned on doing a little shopping tomorrow. I settled into my old lumpy sofa to watch a movie. At some point I dozed off and the dream started again.

I was standing back in front of my office building. I looked around quickly and realized that everything was still in place from where my dream had ended last night. Again I couldn’t move except to turn my head. I hadn’t noticed that I was wearing the same clothes as in the last dream. I had not worn slacks on Friday. A cup of coffee was still in my hand.  I made a mental note about the coffee to avoid getting burned this time. I started checking off the things that I had noticed in my dream the night before. Delivery truck unloading boxes, check, man in work coveralls across the street beside the truck, check. Wait a minute! My eyes froze on the man, he was stopped and had turned to stare at me! What’s going on? We both blinked a couple of times, I think I even tilted my head a little because I was so confused. He looked dazed as he reached up and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, he shook his head as if he was trying to wake himself up before he turned and faced the back of the truck. There’s the lady and stroller again. Check. She looked the same except now she was holding a cell phone to her ear. She was gently pushing the stroller back and forth in a rocking motion. I looked at her more closely. She looked to be about my age, maybe a little shorter and her dark hair pulled up in a ponytail. Her dress was pink with flowers. My thoughts returned to the man so I glanced back. He had stopped and was engaged in a conversation with one of the delivery guys and they were laughing at something one of them had just said. He was turned facing me and I strained to see what name was stitched on his pocket. It looked like Bob, no wait it was just two letters. His name is Bo. Below his name was the same logo that I had seen on the van in the parking garage. Imperial IT. Now I knew why I felt as if I had seen him before. I was so confused even in my dream state I was puzzled why he stared back at me in the garage and again just a few moments ago from across the street. Then, I was jarred awake and out of my dream by the ringing of my cell phone. I answered it. Honestly, I was a bit aggravated because my dream had been interrupted before I got any answers. My friend, Celeste was calling and she invited me to a pool party tomorrow afternoon. I really wasn’t feeling that sociable but I agreed to meet her there. I really wanted to go back to sleep but, I had shopping to do. I showered and dressed for the day. I do need some new furniture.  I have been living with my thrift store finds that I purchased after I had graduated from college five years ago. It was time for a change. Third Times A Charm    My weekend flew by as usual.  I found the perfect chair ended up buying the matching sofa.  I justified this purchase by telling myself that it was on sale. Yes, they got me.

My new beige living room furniture was delivered in just a few hours. It was gorgeous. The pool party was fun and I’m glad I went.  I needed to relax.

   As I was getting ready for bed Sunday night, it dawned on me that I didn’t have that dream again Saturday night.  In fact, I don’t believe I dreamt at all.  I was hoping to get another good nights sleep tonight. I had work tomorrow.    Monday morning I started my usual routine.  No dream again last night. I wonder if it’s stopped now.  I was relieved but still curious as to what it was all about.     Monday evening I invited Celeste over for pizza. She wanted to see my new furniture. Of course, she loved it.  I told her about my strange dreams. She was fascinated.  She said it may be some sort of prediction.  She explained her grandmother was a psychic and often experienced things like the dreams.  Celeste said she didn’t get the psychic gene.  We laughed and I told her I was sure it wasn’t anything more that just dreams. She said, “what about Bo? You really saw him.”  I think that was just a coincidence. I’ve probably seen him before and just don’t remember.    Celeste left. I picked up our paper pizza plates and put the wine glasses in the dishwasher.  It was almost midnight by the time I made it to bed.    The dream started almost as soon as I closed my eyes.  Same events transpired. I was frozen, same spot.  All I could do was look around. I immediately turned my attention to Bo and the delivery guys across the street.  Bo was facing me and he seemed to be trying to say something to me but I couldn’t hear him.  I mouthed, “I can’t hear you” because I still had no voice.  This time the dream was in jerky sections.  Bo suddenly appeared by the pink dress lady. He ran like a flash into the street. I too was projected forward to middle of the street in front of my building. My back was to Bo. My hands were outstretched in front of me. The delivery guys were trying to yell something to me…..

This Is Not A Dream    I woke up before I could figure out what they were saying.  This time I ran to the bathroom and started throwing up violently.   My nerves were shattered and I was shaken to my core.  I sat down on the cold tile bathroom floor and placed a cold wet wash cloth over my face.  The nausea soon passed and I managed to get ready for work. I applied a little extra makeup to help with ghostly paleness.     I dressed simply in some black slacks, a casual beige blouse today and some comfy black flats.  I intended to clean out some file drawers today and it was always dusty in the old stuff.  I stopped for my coffee and briefly considered buying a bagel but I didn’t think my stomach could handle it yet.  I walked on to my office building. I stopped outside the revolving doors. Across the street was the same delivery truck from my dreams but it was real this time.  The same two guys were unloading boxes.  One stack of boxes was off balance and it toppled into the street. An oncoming car slammed on its brakes and managed to maneuver around the boxes. The boxes were picked up quickly and re-stacked onto the cart. This had not happened in any of the dreams. Maybe this was what the dreams had been warning me about. Everything was really happening and it was taking just a matter of seconds! Bo now was approaching the back of the truck. I glanced up to see the pink dress lady pushing the stroller just like in the dreams.  Fear jolted through my body like electricity. I realized that I could move. I wasn’t frozen. Somehow this frightened me more. I turned in Bo’s direction as he turned toward me.  With my voice working, I yelled, “whats going on?”  I didn’t expect him to respond thinking I was the one that had the dreams, right?  I glanced back a the pink dress lady.  She had dropped her purse while talking on her phone and had let go of the stroller as she stooped to gather her things that had spilled from her purse.  The stroller was on a handicapped ramp at the curb and it had begun to roll from the sidewalk into the street. I turned quickly back to Bo.  “Bo, get the baby! “ I was afraid he wasn’t going to get there in time. I spotted another oncoming car and it was headed straight toward the stroller.  I leapt like a mad woman directly into the path of the car. Brakes were squealing .  I knew the driver of the car couldn’t see the stroller yet because the delivery truck was blocking his view.  With my arms pushed straight out in front of me, I screamed “Stop”. A split second after Bo had started to run. He somehow knew what I was talking about and had burst into action, trying to get to the baby stroller!”  The car was sliding and in smooth motion it began to come straight at me. The last thing I remember was the car striking me and knocking me hard to the pavement.

   I woke up in the hospital with a cast on my right arm, a huge bandage wrapped around my head and a few cuts and bruises everywhere hurt. My head was throbbing.  I had an IV in my left arm so I tried to sit up slowly while scanning the room for a nurse.  I heard a male voice say, “don’t move. You’re pretty banged up.  I’ll go for a nurse”.  The man left the room. Things were still kind of blurry so I didn’t get a good look at him.  I lay my aching head back down on the pillow.  Soon a nurse came rushing in and started checking me over.  My vision had cleared.  I could now see behind her and there stood Bo.  She asked me some standard questions like my name, where I lived, how many fingers was she holding up, etc.  I must have passed her test because she injected something into my IV tubing that she said would help with pain and my headache.  She said that I did not seem to have a concussion and that I was lucky. My injuries could be far worse. She glanced at Bo and he asked if it was okay if he stayed with me for a while. She told him it was fine.

    He said, “ I think we have a lot to talk about.  My name is Bowman Greer.  Bo for short.”  I said, “I’m Tolley Parker and yes we do need to talk.  Is the baby okay?  Yes, he’s fine.  I got to the stroller and pushed it on across the street safe from traffic. Then I saw you had been hit.  Girl, you jumped in front of that car. Why did you do that?  I told him, “I wasn’t sure if you could get to the baby in time and I had to stop that car. I was afraid you were going to be hit and the baby.”    We talked for hours. He had been having the same dreams as I had. Of course, he was looking at me and everything from his perspective on the other side of the street.  Neither one of us had dreams connected to anyone else before. Bo said too had strange dreams like predictions or just dreams that left him with a sense of dread since he was a teenager. “I wonder if this could happen to us again?” I asked.  He just shrugged his shoulders “ I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”    He wrote down his phone number and said I needed to rest now but he’d be back tomorrow.  I was pleased to hear that.  As he was walking toward the door, he paused for a second then slowly asked, “what the heck kind of name is Tolley anyway?”  I laughed and told him that I’d tell him the entire story when he came back tomorrow.

   I made a few calls. I told my boss what happened and that I was in Baylor hospital but I was ok.  I called Celeste and she agreed to call my parents.  I was suddenly exhausted and was just too sleepy to talk anymore. The END…….(maybe)


Trigger Warning: Verbal abuse I was fourteen years old when I left my mother. Or rather, when she abandoned me. It was a wet spring morning when Mother called me to her room. I passed my father’s–no, Lord Heo’s – quarters, already bustling with servants readying his carriage for the day. Then, I softened my steps to slink by Lady Heo’s garden, as she would be on her morning walk, and she would be furious as a rabid dog if she saw me. To my surprise, she wasn’t there. Finally, I arrived at Mother’s room. Dread had hung over me like a cloud all breakfast –-despite the honey cookies that had been served–- for today was testing day. My week went thusly: for the first five days, I memorized a handful of books in which I would need to know for the Provincial Exams; the exams which would allow me into the Royal Academy. On the sixth, I would revise everything I had learnt and deciphered. Today, on the seventh, Mother would pick a random verse from my books, and I would have to recite its interpretation. If I was lucky, I’d be able to return to my quarters without an incident. Rubbing my eyes, I ran over all I had studied last night before bed. I never woke up fully rested during these days' mornings, which only worsened the anxiousness clawing at my insides. The feeling of terror reached its peak when I had finally made it to the room, and my hands hovered over the door-ring. Had I practiced enough? Would I be able to keep my calm this time? What if there had been something I’d let slip past my fingers? Should I run back and do one last quick review? No, Mother hated it when I was late. Besides, this was good for me, or in the very least, would be good for me. If nothing else, it would drive me to study harder in the future. Slowly, I straightened out my clothes and opened the door, bowing my head and keeping my eyes trained on the ground, “Mother? I hope you’ve slept well?” She only said: “Haesol. Have you prepared?” I hesitated, then answered, “I think so.”

It was followed by a terrifying silence, and I knew I had said the wrong thing, “You’re far from confident,” Mother scoffed, “And I assume there is a reason behind it. But we must digress.” I slowly raised my head. Mother sat in the middle of the room, her black hair slicked back into a tight bun, an austere expression on her face, and with a stack of books to her side. Most notably, a thick wooden cane was in her hand. She liked thumping it to create a beat to go along to the rhythm of her speech whenever she read to me, but in times like these, they also served as a quiet threat. Opening one of the books beside her, she instructed coldly, “Explain to me the meaning behind ‘The stillness of the sages does not belong to them as a consequence of their skilful ability. All things are not able to disturb their minds—it is on this account that they are still.’” Oh. “Could you…repeat…” Looking at me with one brow raised, she spoke it once more, and the shred of hope I had had was gone. This line was completely unfamiliar to me, and I had no idea what to say. Should I try making something up? But Mother would know. She always did. That fact, however, did not stop me from attempting to salvage the situation. “I…it means…it means that sages are not… peaceful because they are skillful…but…uh…” Every nerve in my body was screaming, as my two hands shook violently in front of me. And yet my head felt numb, as if it was filled with rocks. Perhaps it was, given how slow I was to respond. A slam of the cane against the floor made me flinch so hard, I almost fell over.

“Are you a man or a mouse? Speak louder, and with confidence!” She demanded, “From the beginning.” “It means that sages are not peaceful because they are skilled, b-but skillful because they are peaceful!” I managed to stammer out. That…was enough, no? My eyes flickered to hers, and I knew the answer. “Be honest–do you understand what is coming out of your mouth?” “Yes! Yes I do, I just need one more chance–” “The verse means to teach that a sage is not tranquil because he is skilled in the worldly and spiritual, but rather, because he is tranquil, with control over himself, he allows himself to absorb knowledge and improve.” She sighed sharply, looking down at the ground, “Have you ever even looked at your books? Why do you even try if you’re this inept, hm? I might as well die here and now if this is what I must witness for the rest of my life!” She hollered at me, her voice bouncing off the walls and piercing my ears, “I spend every waking hour to give you food, shelter, and an education others only dream of. And yet, you spend your days doing nothing. You had honey cookies during breakfast, did you not?” “...yes, Mother.” “And what exactly have you done to deserve them?” “…I’m sorry, Mother.” Despite my best efforts, I felt tears pricking at my eyes. But that would only make her angrier, so I tried to hold them back. I failed. “How many times must I tell you?” Mother whispered, rubbing her temple. Her voice quickly rose as she continued, “ You are illegitimate —if you don’t work twice, thrice as hard as others to silence them all with talent and diligence, you will never be anything worthwhile.” She then looked down at me– me with my swollen red eyes and a running nose and pathetic hiccups –and looked away, as if she was disgusted, “Seeing as though you sorely lack talent, the former is your only option.” Suppressing a croak climbing up the back of my throat, I nodded, “I will do better.”

With shaky legs, I tried to get up, but Mother held out her hand, palm down, and gestured for me to stay, “There is another matter in which I must discuss with you.” She began in a slower voice, “The Lady Heo has given birth to a son.” Mother then met my eyes, her gaze steely as it was cold, “You know what this means.” I did—Lady Heo was the official wife of my father, meaning her son would replace me as the heir. In turn, this meant I had no use here anymore.

But I didn’t want to leave, “I’m…not ready—” “Follow the foot trails to the capital– join a traveling group, lest there be tigers and bears– and once there, ask for where to take the Provincial Exams,” Mother continued, as if I had never spoken, and rose to her feet, “If you pass, then your food, lodging and education will be free of charge. If you do not, then whatever happens next will be your own fault.” Out of desperation, I grabbed the tail of her dress, willing her to stay beside me. It might have been my vain hope, but I think she hesitated, just for a moment, “If anyone demands a fee, ignore them. It’s a fraud. The only payment you need to make is on shelter and food.” Her gaze suddenly sharpened once more; though I wasn’t sure as to why, “If you lose all your money, don’t bother crawling back. There’s nothing I can do for you now. Understood?” “Yes, Mother.” “Then go.” ****** I was twenty when I saw her again. That time around, I’d long since passed the provincial exams and become an official student of the Royal Academy. Everyday at daybreak, I rose for breakfast, dressed myself, attended class, read in my room and– “Haesol!” –waited for Riyulen to knock my door down. With a soft smile, I replied, “It’s unlocked.” Not a second later, a boy of fourteen with ruffled hair and a book clutched to his chest entered with a squeak of the hinges, “Haesol!” he said again with a wide grin, “I need you to read something for me!” Clicking my tongue, I gestured for him to come closer, “And I need you to wear your clothes properly,” I said lightly, adjusting his collar to its proper location and tapping him on the forehead, “Alright. Show me.” Plopping down next to me, Riyulen began to search through his book, “Here,” he said, pointing to a line, “ ‘The stillness of the sages does not belong to them as a consequence of their skilful ability. All things are not able to disturb their minds—it is on this account that they are still’ . What does that mean?” “Well,” I began, mulling over how to explain, “What do you think it means?” Riyulen shrugged, “I don’t know. That's why I’m asking you.” I gave him a look, and he sighed, “Maybe…sages like standing still…or something?” “Riyulen, stop being cheeky.” “I really, really don’t know.” After giving it some thought, I asked, “What would you call a focused man?” “Someone who can ignore distractions?” “Good. And what of an accomplished man?” A grin tugged at the corner of Riyulen’s lips, “Someone with a lot of accomplishments?”

Undeterred, I pressed on, “Who comes first? The focused or the accomplished?” “The focused one, I think?” “Because?” “You need to be focused to get accomplishments.” I cracked him a slight smile, “Do you see it now?” Slowly, a realization dawned on him. With a giggle, Riyulen nodded fervently, “I do!” Riyulen exclaimed as he grabbed the book from my hands, “Thanks!” With that, he was scrambling towards the door.

“Don’t rush! Walk slowly,” I called out after him, but Riyulen was already out the door and running out of sight. Letting out a chuckle, I opened my own book and began to read once more.

But not a minute later, my door swung open once more, and Riyulen poked his head inside, “Haesol! There’s someone looking for you!” Furrowing my brows, I slowly rose to my feet, “Who?” He shrugged, “Not sure. Just a lady.” When I went outside, Mother was standing there. She was smaller than I remembered her to be, with slouched shoulders and a hunched back. Her once-black hair was now thinning and streaked with gray, and her face had more creases and folds, like an old, forgotten paper ball. In her hands was a bundle of cloth. Her dark eyes met mine, and she smiled. For a moment I did not recognize her. How had she made it here on her own? She wouldn’t have had the means to afford a carriage or horse, and the roads certainly would not have been kind to a woman of her age. Where had she slept when there were no inns or houses to take her for the night? On the ground? Did she even know how to start a fire? Continuing to stare, I managed, “...Mother?” “Son.” What could I say? What was there to say? Only the expected response, “Would you like to come in?” “Yes.” So we sat down in my room, letting a suffocating silence pass over us. Drumming a finger against my knee, I desperately searched for something to say, but she spoke first. “Have you been eating well?” For reasons unknown to me, it felt as though her voice had become softer. That I could answer, “Very well. You?” Mother hesitated, then nodded, “You’ve made me very proud.” She then added on, “I’ve missed you dearly, during these past years.” Six years ago, that would’ve been the greatest compliment she could have paid me. But as of now, there was a strange hollow feeling where elation should be, “I’ve missed you too.” Another bout of silence passed, as I pretended to pick lint off my sleeves. The corners of my mouth hurt from trying to maintain my smile, but I persisted, “I hope your journey was easy?” “It was– I was so excited to see you, nothing could’ve damped my mood,” she replied cheerfully.

I wasn’t quite sure what to say back, and mother seemed to notice. Lifting her bundle onto her lap, she began untying the knot holding it together, “I brought something for you.” “That’s very thoughtful of you.” With a wide grin, she lifted up a small wooden bowl with a silk covering. When she unveiled it, I saw that there were a dozen or so honey cookies inside, “I remember when you used to eat them every hour. You looked so happy whenever you did,” she said with a content sigh. Placing the cookies down, she reached over to a pile of fabric, neatly folded into squares, “And I’ve sewn some handkerchiefs for you too–” “Why are you here?” She went still, “Why would a mother need a reason to visit her child?” “Most mothers would not, I suppose,” I shrugged, wondering if I should finish what I’d been about to say, and deciding to, “But you’re not most mothers.” “...you don’t hold a grudge for what happened almost a decade ago, do you?” I pressed my mouth into a line, then tried for a smile, “Of course not. Shall I fetch tea?” With that, I propped up a knee and began to rise. But Mother held out her hand, palm down, and gestured for me to stay. It made me anxious. She opened her mouth, and while no words came out, I still felt my shoulders tense. Sometimes, the anticipation was worse than the blow. “You’re angry with me,” Mother said after some pause, and I caught a hint of surprise in her voice, “You resent me for making you leave.” My mouth went dry. She was right, as she always was, but a part of me didn’t want to admit what we both knew. I couldn’t say why— just that the words stuck to my throat and didn’t move.

Mother sighed and looked down. I thought that she might yell, but instead she spoke quieter than a mouse, “...you were my first and only child,” she began, “I was terrified that I would ruin you. That my idleness would lead you astray.” She then smiled up at me, tears glistening in her eyes, “It was, and still is, my first time being a mother.” The first thing that came to mind was to be a good son and comfort her. Mother had rarely smiled, let alone cried. How much had she been suffering alone, through all those years with a helpless, stupid little boy by her side? I wanted to hold her hand, let her weep on my shoulder, and tell her that what he had done had been enough. That I’d come to understand her as I grew. But that was soon overwhelmed by a primal sort of anger. One that had been rooted deep inside me for some time. In an instant, I was on my feet, glaring down at her, “It was your first time being a mother? It was my first time being a child! Yet that meant nothing to you! ” I screamed. I don’t know how I did that– it’d been years since I’ve even raised my voice –but it sparked a fire that I couldn’t put out, “While you were terrified of leading me astray, I was terrified of you!” Did she think she could hide behind the guise of inexperience? Did she expect me to wave away the mistakes she’d made in good faith, when she hadn't ever forgiven one of mine? Why hadn’t I ever gotten the same grace she was expecting— demanding —of me now? It was Mother’s turn to be silent. She stared down at her hands, unmoving and unresponsive. It made it even more difficult to continue yelling, but I was far from done, “For years, I’ve been justifying everything in my head. And if it hadn’t been for Riyulen, I might’ve actually deluded myself into thinking you were a decent person! ” Before I could think twice, I kicked her gifts to the side, sending cookies and handkerchiefs flying against the walls, “I thought that it would be so, so hard not to spew insults at a little boy. That it would take everything within me to not berate him until he cried. Because why else would you have done it? But I’ve come to realize that it’s not difficult at all. ”

When she still didn’t respond, I pointed towards the door and lowered my voice, “When he’s sad, I’m worried . When he cries, I want to stroke his hair and comfort him. And when he’s scared or confused, I want to tell him that everything will be alright while holding him in my arms. But I’m not furious that he dares to feel that way! ” With a trembling bottom lip, Mother finally spoke, “I only wanted for you to be strong.” Her voice was airy and unstable, as if she’d burst into tears at any moment, and I wished I could care more, “Strong enough to take on the world.” The back of my throat began to burn as I croaked out, “Why did I have to be strong enough for the world at fourteen, when you weren’t even strong enough for your son at thirty-five?” Smoothing my hair back, I looked away and tried to catch my breath, “I don’t think this is good for either of us, Mother. You should–” “I love you, Haesol.” There it was again— the pull of sympathy. Perhaps I could apologize to her, and we’d embrace and then cry. Perhaps she’d even apologize back. But I wanted to win against her. Just this once. “I understand you. But I don’t forgive you.” Sharply turning around, I walked out the door, “Please leave.”


•	•	Shanza and Fanza were very beautiful and charming .It is not to b wrong to say they were the ideal of every woman.Their dressing up, their way of talking was so stylish and purking up that every body was their fan.They both were very gilded and their opulence was so great that they were the talk of the town.Fanza and shanza were both imp thins.They had a cheerful character. •	In every wedding,In every function they were widely invited and as they enter every body used to turn up and would passed a smile to them.They both very friendly replied to every one.

•	It was obvious that when they were so stylish and gilded they knew the art designing dress.Their couture was highly appreciated and the fashion designer very secretively copied their styles. Their hair style were also very hot and wondering.Shanza had an oval face, she had a short hair with long bangs and Fanza had a heart shaped face and to cover the point chin a wide forehead and sharp cheek bones she used to had a hair with long hair with little long side bangs.. Their sunglasses were vetirinary and pearl.

•	So one can imagine that what a bomb shell they were. •	. next day Fanza Left for England for some official work for three months. • Shanza was alone at home. •	One evening Shanza went for a shopping Mall . She parked her car in the parking lot.There he saw a gentleman sitting in his car and waiting some body.when she saw Shanza he at once came out of the car and said to Shanza with a very friendly and Smiley mode “Emily,I came to you yesterday but you were not home,I sat with your mom but you didn’t meet me,I’m here from Canada to see and propose you,I was disappointed but luckily I have found you here,why not we should sit somewhere and have a talk.”The gentle man was keep on talking and Shanza was gapely looking to him”.Im sorry you’re wrong I’m not Emily, I don’t know you”.Shanza said hurriedly and step towards the entrance.She did her shopping and while she was sitting in the car, that gentle man again appeared and very humbly said” have a date with me “Look I’m some body else go and find your Emily some where else”.said Shanza in a little loud voice and she drove the car towards her home.On the way she felt that a car is following her car but she didn’t care for that. •	Next morning, Shanza was expecting some guests for lunch and she had to go out with them, they were all ladies.she heard a door bell, when she opened the door, the same gentleman was standing in front of her.”Gentleman I told you that I m not your Emily” she said very politely .”Listen please, allow me to come inside” the gentle man pleaded. ”How can I allow a strange man in my house, please try to understand”Shanza said very concernedly to him.”I know that I’m a stranger here but I live back street 7, house No,14, my mom know you very well.Her name is Jessica.”said the gentle man hurriedly.Ok”Shanza very reluctantly said.He made him sit in the lounge”Im Patrick,an engineer ,came from Canada”the gentleman introduced himself. •	Shanza presented him coffee.shanza asked bluntly “ why are you here, Mr Patrick”. “ I want to make a friend ship with you”patrick said smilingly”.I think you better leave now,I’m expecting some guests”shanza said.”Ok,if you kindly give me your phone number “patrick said.shanza gave her the phone number to him.what’s your name said Patrick. ,”Shanza,”replied Shanza. •	Shanza had a very busy day with the guests.when she came back she was irresistibly thinking about Patrick.He looked very brave and confident.Physique was very strong.He must be 6 ft,His plaid shirt was very attractive.Fashion provoked.i think he was pretending about Emily to meet me,if he came for Emily so why he asked me for friend ship.! •	Shanza was expecting his phone call.later in after noon she received her phone call.They chat for a long time and Patrick invited her for Dinner. •	Their romance took a flight and they deeply involved in each other. •	Patrick introduced Shanza to her mom.She also very happy and excited to have such a beautiful lady would be her daughter in law. So , Patrick's mother was very much interested and making hurry to have fixed the wedding date soon as possible, so the date was fixed for the coming month . •	They both were busy in making arrangements for the wedding and the time was very short •	.Next day Shanza received a voicemail from Fanza that she is coming home tomorrow and she would pick her from the Airport. •	Shanza went to pick her.On the way she said to Fanza” I have a surprise for you”.”what surprise”.asked Fanza.Im going to be married next week said Shanza.”.What ,with whom”said Fanza very quickly, Patrick, but you never mentioned him to me before.asked Fanza”Actually every thing happened very quickly that I couldn’t been able to tell you, and I knew that you would arrived before our wedding,” is he handsome”.asked Fanza. “ More sexy than handsome” said Shanza very naughtily and they both cacinated.. •	Next day on breakfast table, Fanza smiled to Shanza and said “I have also a great surprise for you to tell”I met a guy there in England and we had a great time there,he would come to meet me.Im in love with him” “.It’s good , invite him on my wedding”.said Shanza smilingly.I would invite him today, it’s a good chance”replied Fanza. •	The wedding day arrived.All the guests were present in the hall.Shanza was looking very pretty in white dress.Shanza went to the dressing room to set her hair style once again..There she shocked to see that Patrick and Fanza were in passionate kissing sight.They both were deeply engrossed in each other.Shanza couldn’t believe this . She couldn’t uttered a word from her mouth.she quickly stepped back to the hall.,”ah, you are sitting here in isolation and I’m looking for you, come along guests are waiting for you.,” said Patrick”.Go away you cheat,lier, you don’t know , you were passionately kissing my step mother”.said Shanza very desperately.”What are you talking about,I’m from the last one hour sitting with my friends and What did you say”Your step mother, you didn’t mention it before to me,where is she?. “What is all this and if you are making a story I would leave you just now,on the very first day you are starring me with blames, tell me what is the truth.”.patrick face became red.” I was seventeen years old when my mom died.My father was a rich land lord,He married Fanza.Fanza was at that time about Nine teen years old. My father was always away on business trips and I was alone in the big house..He didn’t married Fanza for sensual pleasure but just to give me a company as a friend.Fanza and I were living just like sisters.After two years my father also died in an accident.This is my family secret unfolding to you”.Shanza started weeping”.Come with me,I think you are also making a grand mistake.” said Patrick hurriedly.They both went towards the dressing room.They both stand quietly and watching Fanza and that gentleman, they were still kissing and hugging each other wildly. •	Ahun, did Patrick ,uttered a voice from his neck.Fanza and that gentleman stand apart.”Shanza meet my Step brother Eric”.said Patrick”.He has a great resemblance with you,I’m sorry that I was taking him as you,I apologise to you Patrick”.said Shanza this is the guy I told you that day ,we both met in England and we are in deep love”added Fanza.They all laughed. The End. •      The End


The Onslaught of colorful spotlights skating across the dance, painting the gleaming crowd with red, pink, and orange. The smell of perfume and cologne all around, barely overcoming the smell of sweat underneath, permeated throughout the entire room.

A pleasant yet corrosive smell; something that stabbed at my nose. I do not know if it is in a good way or bad.

I didn’t have a man to share this with of course, but the group I cultivated over my short and super awesome stay at York High. This was enough for me, plus I’m a truly gifted extrovert with an introverted cuteness and smart vibe!

All my friends are the same, a lovely bunch of gals that can only admire and improve themselves. So bad in all the right ways too, like Jennifer who hates short guys went on a total dwarf spree this year. Perhaps she wanted to feel like our childhood favorite princess, Snow White, and of course she always SLAYS! We’re all gorgeous princesses that fully embody all womanhood in a group of four. Life is such a blessing and I’m always happy to go on these random, well written, spurs to just prove to myself that “ I’m worth it that I’m worth it that I’m worth it that I’m worthless that I’m worth it that I’m worth it that I’m worth it that I’m worth it that I’m worth it that I’m worth it.” But why, why is there that voice that knows everything I say or do is bad, in a none sexy way. That the word sexy isn’t something I enjoy using but loathe. I loathe I loathe I loathe. She thought to herself all while sitting down on a dirty little couch, legs squeezed together, feet clenched up shaking. It didn't smell of anything, this stale place. It was odd. For every other area to smell so distinctly different but this one a place absent of any such distinctive features, what made this place different? At night, this belligerent loathing paints my dreams with such crude things, monsters and demons. All orchestrated by the hairy frizzled man, riding a red bicycle with a disgusting green raincoat. Mocking me MOCKING ME MOCKING ME. “His eyes are brown, mine are blue; he is filthy, I am clean. At every party, in a moment this duality of nastiness and cleaness collides. There is this conversation, this prying thing, oddly familiar and foreign, that demands I do and think of such heinous things; incestuous quarrels, gay crimes, and or actions so cruel by nature that I clench my soul when even thinking of them,” she said to herself, the shaking more violent, but scratching too. It was almost as if she sat perfectly still, but she didn't.

Before this night, the night of prom, she had already committed quite some time consumed by these thoughts. In the bathroom, at night, in class, or in broad daylight. They were terrified and this fear grew more and more everyday.

I am pretty but if somebody could peer through my neat face, they’d see a jungle filled with horror. They continue to stare at me and I’ve begun to hate them for it. I’ve begun to despise the normal man and his virtuous ways. I'm terrible and my mind is polluted.

“A terrible person locked in the perfect, sweetest life, among the most gorgeous fruit. I am the snake stuck in Eden, the sinner prayed for,” she said to herself as she finally eased off, her body loosening and her feet back on the ground, firm and she stared half consciously at the ceiling. Barely lit by the old light bulb, swinging and swaying about.

Tonight was a sort of breaking point but for her felt like a revelation, a moment from a book that could be talked about.

“I’ve grown bored of my smiles and straight posture, I’ve grown bored of hating myself.” These conversations and the weight of her own failed attempt at morality had arisen sometime, she doesn’t know when. The thoughts were almost ancient, something locked at the heart of every man, prying but always neatly kept under our principle.

This conversation had already occurred 23 times in the last month, an obligation to prove to herself that she isn’t bad, to rid herself of these thoughts by controlling a reality, in some way, somehow.

“I’ve grown bored of the things around me, I’ve grown bored of being nice.” Severe questions and belittling can shape the strongest of souls into the most terrifying things.

“To do so for what?! Others!? Is this not bad? Is it not bad for me to listen to someone instead of myself. Jung says that a man must find his own way and no matter what, a man who lives by his own code is a man.”

At this point she was trotting across the room, half conscious of her movement. Conversing with herself as if locked in a conversation with a real person, of course there was nobody but herself. However, she felt at this moment the whole world was watching, that something was listening and she sought its approval of course.

“If I pretend to be good, is this not bad? Yes, yes I must define life myself not be defined by others!” But they’ll judge you! “ I’ll kill them, yes I’ll kill them. Just one,

perhaps a boy no taller than me. Maybe the Jamaican in 223, YES! The Jamaican in 223” Her thoughts went silent and now she could only hear the gorgeous ringing of Tchaikovsky’s famed waltz, Sleeping Beauty as she excitedly began to peel her mangled finger tips. Her eyes were as wide as an excited cat stalking its prey. Her face was flush red and fully relaxed, her lower jaw slightly dangled, and she continued to walk in circles stuck in thought, theorizing.

“I’d have to do it or else what could happen to me. I’d fail and be forgotten. Be normal. The only rational thing to do is this and it is the only thing left for me to do.”


Space, the final frontier, is a cold and desolate empty void where very little occupies so much. It is open and vast, interspaced with bits of beautiful visions and epitaphs of stars, suns' and novas. A simple man is sitting on his porch, watching the stars and the quiet beauty of space. His home is little more than a large rock with metal panels strewn along its side's like a large metal ring; sitting atop the large rock is a house; from a distance, the house would look like a quaint small ranch with a small red barn in the back, but as you grow closer, it's more of a bunker than a building of Wood or primary house material. On the side of the house, in white lettering painted onto the side, is the name of the vessel, The Butch Rangler. As this house serves two functions a spaceship and a home. The old man watching will rise; finally, Alright Bud, we got us a job to do," he would say to his companion. A small beagle named Bud would bark one time as he followed his master. The man would make his way into the house. It's adorned with the usual things you would find in a house pictures, wallpaper, and brooms; as he gets to the basement, the home gives way to a ship, revealing that in the basement is a vast engine that hums with energy, behind under the house's small windows dot the Asteroids middle, behind the windows is the command center, computers, machines, and consoles blink with lights, As the man would get in his command chair the engine begins to hum louder. The console before him starts booting up, and large letters in computer text take up the screen. "Welcome, Space Rangler, Wayne, are you ready to begin transport" I think we have taken a long enough break Butch, and it's about time we got this little doggy onto the space Trail. The Computers begin to boot up many systems throughout the rock-like ship. Begins to hum as the transfer of electricity and information begins to energize the vessel. The ship itself begins to move but, away from the Asteroid belt, its engines humming with energy; when the boat has moved far enough away, determined by Wayne's practiced eye. The panels begin to ChooOOM as large and small asteroids start to gravitate around the artificial orbit created around the ship. These large rocks sell for millions back on Earth, filled with rare materials and unique properties. The small planet-like ship moves at first but picks up speed; In the bowels of the boat, an extensive coal engine belches flame as the ship's conductor computer shovels in the fuel like an Iron locomotive engine, as the Asteroid Rangling begins. Wayne grips the wheel loosely while he keeps his eye on the radar. Since the Humanities colonization of the star, Humans have used the most viable building resources on planets and moons around them. Earth looks more like a second stone, powered by the man-made lights and electricity that pumps throughout the Earth; so powerful is the light from the Earth that space wranglers have begun calling the Homebound star. The only viable way of resource collection is from Roid wranglers, men, women, dogs, and cats. They have put their lives on the line to bring resources back to Earth. It has become a very profitable business, but also one with an inherent amount of danger, from the randomness of space to the Outlaws or vultures that watch space trails for theft and robbery. The vastness of everything makes any sort of regulation between Earth and the Belt null and void. Whole companies make their bottom dollar by stealing from smaller companies of people in business for themselves. Wayne stays alert and ready. He knows that if someone is going to steal from him, it will be as if he is leaving the belt. Even though the chance is 2 out of ten of running into one. A red light comes on as it sounds off an alarm. Roid Rustlers. Says Wayne as he flips a switch for battle stations. The engine begins to hum loudly as the orbit of Large Asteroids in orbit around his ship come in for a tighter circle and faster as well., Forming a type of physical shield around his Own Butch station. Wayne would yell, "Bud, I think we have some uninvited guests." Hearing the command, the Beagle runs to a small crawl space, where a dog-sized console sits, As Bud places his paws into the rig built for him. Underneath the Butch station, a giant sleek black cannon descends from the bottom. On Wayne's receiver, he hears Bud's battle bark. Wayne says a prayer as he Turns the Butch station to fly near the Asteroids. The outlaws of the space trail are not much different from the Wranglers themselves. More accustomed to piloting smaller and faster vehicles to catch ships and cars before they reach the space trail. Darting around asteroids and debris as they head toward the Butch station. The sides of the vessels have the symbol of the tri Banditos; alright, you sons of nuts and bolts, it's time to make our digits. He flips a switch to open up communications with the Butch station. "Listen, Homes, if you surrender your ship and wealth, we let you live; keep running, or fire on us, and your dead! The Butch station has one reply, Nuts. The Butch station makes an acrobatic maneuver and dives back into the belt. The banditos follow the station darting between rocks and debris toward him. Barrels poke out of the bandits' ships as they slowly gain on the butch station. The Cannon on Butch station barks out blasts of fresh lead at the bandits, using it's far heavier barrel and range to get them back off. The shots go wide, hitting the many asteroids hanging in space. Is this guy Blind? Says one of the bandits before; the larger asteroids being pushed by the butcher's shots begin to quickly close on the Bandits. Two of them are quick enough to change the direction. The guy who made the blind comment gives one last blood-curdling "CRAP!!!!" Before his ship is crushed between two asteroids. The Bandits, now within range, unload their own weapons on the butch station, their bullets peppering the station. Hitting something critical, an explosive goes off and sends the craft hurdling into the darkness of space into the shadow of another asteroid. The Bandits slow their ships as they search for the wounded station. Moving slowly so as to not miss a thing. Tuco calls out, Come out, come out wherever you are, wrangler. Your cattle and your ranch are going to be ours; you're dead; that was my brother you killed. As the two bandits find a void of darkness, The Butch station comes barrelling out. It hits both ships as the three make contact; Butch's sheer size and weight allow the vessel to barrel past them both. Fuck says the bandits, as their systems and ships are both badly damaged in the vacuum of space. As the Butch station escapes in the distance. Tuco swears revenge on the wrangler. The Butch goes as far as it can on the last of its power stranded; Wayne has to activate his homing beacon. He prays whoever finds him won't ask for much. As the signal starts in the distance, a light can be seen coming from a black and gray poncho that is a large, boxy robot standing at approximately six feet tall. Its body is predominantly made of metal, giving it a sturdy and imposing appearance. The Robot's frame is angular and utilitarian; on the front of the Robot gliding through space is a screen with the face of a man with no name. He sees the damaged station and opens his communication, revealing that he is there but offers no help. He stays silent. Wayne knows someone is listening; I've been attacked by road bandits, and my ship is damaged and needs repairs; if you could pull me to the Space Trail station, I would be very appreciative. I'll even cut you in on a cut of the profits. The Robot listens to the audio coming through, running it through multiple lie detection to register how honest the wrangler is. Moving to the ship, the Robot inspects the damage. The ship's systems, using its archive of knowledge, the Robot begins to do a patch repair job for the wrangler; moving as quickly and working carefully, it attaches cables and welds via attachments after about 40 minutes inside the station. Wayne's power returns and the ship begins to power up. Then Wayne gets a request to the board. He considers leaving the stranger, who doesn't talk, but decides against it, thinking about where he might be if the stranger had not come along. He allows the stranger to come in. As the stranger rolls aboard the Butch station via a large wheel that holds the Robot's considerable weight., Wayne is struck by the air of mystery that surrounds the face on the screen. The Robot with no name moves with a silent grace, his eyes scanning the Insides of the ship with a keen sense of awareness. Wayne offers a nod of gratitude, acknowledging the stranger's assistance in repairing the station and getting him out of a hairy situation. With the repairs completed, the Butch station regains its power, ready to continue its journey to the space trail. Wayne takes his place in the command chair once again while the Robot with no name finds a spot nearby, his presence both reassuring and enigmatic. As the ship sets off, Wayne's dog, Bud, breaks the silence, As his curiosity gets the better of him. "I appreciate your help back there. You saved my skin," says Wayne, his voice filled with gratitude, as he orders Bud to quiet down. The Robot with no name turns his gaze towards Wayne, the piercing eyes of a young Clint Eastwood. Seemingly carrying the weight of countless untold stories. He remains silent for a moment before. Finally, audio comes out of a speaker in a low, gravelly voice. "Trouble has a way of finding those who seek fortune in the vastness of space. It's a dangerous journey we walk." Wayne nods in agreement, realizing that he and the man with no name share a common understanding of the perils that await them. They both know that survival in the unforgiving depths of space requires more than just luck—it demands skill, resourcefulness, and the ability to adapt to ever-changing circumstances. The two arrive at Tombstone Rock, a man-made moon that sits at the beginning of the Space Trail back to Earth, a wrangler hub of activity that captures the brutal and harsh nature of space; Tombstone Rock has about 5000 people living on board with another 10,000 coming through, it so life there is fast and quick. The town boasts one of the larger resupply points in the area, so it has an abundance of shops and storefronts, as well as more unsavory types attracted by the quick wealth and opportunity living in this new frontier. Wayne and the Robot with no name disembark from the Butch station, stepping and rolling onto the metallic surface of Tombstone Rock. The bustling atmosphere of the space hub surrounds them, with small transports coming and going and a diverse array of people engaged in various activities of hawking wear and supplies, offering ship repair and robot dismantlement. As the two of them stepped off, people were already begging and selling toward Wayne as they shoved necklaces and bits of trash. Then the Robot rolled out and gave them the same harsh look that sent vagabonds to the wind. Wayne is familiar with Tombstone Rock, having visited it numerous times before. He knows that it's a place where wranglers like him gather, seeking rest, repairs, and connections before venturing back to Earth with their valuable asteroid cargo. The space hub provides a range of services, from refueling and restocking supplies to hiring security escorts for the treacherous journey through the space trail. Wayne and the Robot made their way to the central hub of Tombstone Rock; as they walked, Wayne turned to the Robot and asked. The job is pretty much done with the amount I'll have made just making it here with such a large haul; we can celebrate our success. I know a delightful games room that is the jewel of Tombstone. The Space Saloon is Rooty's toothy, a large establishment located in the center of Tombstone where the drinks never cease, and the party never ends. The piano plays a saloon song as everyone raises a glass to the final frontier. We see Wayne, our hero, and the Robot with no name sitting at a card table in the Saloon across from them is sitting, The Curt O Conner Triplets, all three of them clutching their cards close to their chests. The Opposite of Wayne smiles as he continues to beat the triplets in cards, progressively making them poorer and poorer. The Robot just watches silently; he gets more than a few stares at him and his cold exterior, but their looks and eyes can't bother him any more than his mysterious past. Before Wayne can win the last of their money, the saloon door opens, and 2 of the 3 Banditos enter the Saloon. The music cuts off in an abrupt part! Tuco, the leader of the Bandits, is a squat, more petite man with 3 golden teeth and fiery eyes like the devil glares at the patrons. I know you in here, I know because I saw your ship being repaired. The Butch Station 1. Upon some interrogation, I was told he could be found here with a robot companion who had the face of a handsome man. The bandit moves like lightning, perhaps from some modded attachment. His pistol comes free in the blink of an eye as he aims it down at Wayne. You killed my brother. Prepare to die, Puta. I wouldn't be so quick to point all that attention to my friend there. The bandit turns to see the Robot with no name pointing a single finger at him, it has the look of some hidden weapon, fires your weapon, and I assure you with 100% certainty that you will die. Just as the tension reached its peak and the Sheriff's voice echoed through the Saloon, the Robot with no name and the two Bandits locked eyes, a silent agreement passing between them. They stepped outside, leaving the safety of the Saloon behind, and the crowd followed with bated breath. Wayne, filled with concern, hurriedly caught up with the Robot, his voice laden with worry. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, his words tinged with doubt. The Robot turned to Wayne, determination flickering in its robotic eyes. "If I don't do this, they will kill you. For sure," it replied, unwavering in its resolve. Suddenly, the haunting melody of "Ecstasy of Gold" swelled through the streets of Tombstone, intensifying the atmosphere. As the participants took their positions on opposite sides of the long road, the citizens, wranglers, and even space dwellers hastily abandoned the area, seeking shelter from the impending clash. The anticipation hung thick in the air as both parties locked eyes, ready to face off. The music reached its crescendo, its notes intertwining with the uncertainty that gripped the crowd. Each second felt like an eternity as they waited, holding their breath, unsure of who would make the first move. The Robot turned slowly, its gaze fixed on the Bandits, who in turn glanced at the image of Clint Eastwood displayed on a screen nearby, a flicker of recognition passing between them. Wayne runs up to the Robot with no name and says I owe you way more than just my life. The Robot with no name rides off into the sunset. Wayne shrugs and just accepts that this is the life of an Asteroid Wrangler.


A loud snore wakes Carmine “The Coffin” Carlucci. Realizing he’d been the one snoring, Carmine sits up in his chair, adjusting his silk tie. He enjoys the perks of his profession, the gourmet meals, trysts with women out of his league, and his expensive, tailored suits. But good clothes, manicures, and daily haircuts can’t disguise the fifty-eight-year-old's thuggish appearance. Carmine is short, squat, and beefy with thick eyebrows, and beady brown eyes. The multiple scars on his face give him the appearance that his looks were created by a cement mixer. His blurry eyes come into focus. Sitting behind a desk across from him is a handsome, olive-skinned man with a cleft in his chin and vibrant coal-black eyes. Carmine clears his throat. “Must’a dozed off. Ya got a job for me?” “Well get to that,” the man says. “'The Coffin.’ Nice nickname.” “Fits the profession. I would’a preferred “The Caretaker,” but some mook in Milwaukee was already usin’ it.” The man flashes a cordial, perfect smile. “I see. What’s the last thing you remember?” “Running, I was running. You a cop?” “No,” the man replies, his voice an authoritative baritone. “So, you were running?” “Yeah. These two punks, the Gibb brothers, was chasin’ me. I lost ‘em when I jumped from one roof to another. Best jump I made since I was a pole vaulter at Evander and Child High School.” Carmine squints. “You look familiar. You sure you ain’t a cop?” “No, I’m not.” “That’s good, but just so ya know, I got my lawyer on speed dial.” Carmine snaps his fingers. “I got it! You’re that actor I liked so much as a kid. Legs Diamond, yeah, you played Legs Diamond. That was one of my favorite flicks. Ray, somethin’…” “Danton.” “That’s it.” “I’m not him.” “Yeah, I guess not. He’d be pushin’ ninety by now.”            Carmine looks around at the office. Besides the thick mahogany desk, the room’s décor includes expensive crystal miniatures, impressive landscape paintings, and plush antique chairs. Classic novels and rare history books line several massive bookshelves, and ornate oriental rugs cover the floor. “Nice digs. So, why am I here?” “Let’s talk a little about your past.” “I ain’t opening up to no stranger. I don’t wanna end up gettin’ a hot shot in my sleep.” “I promise this isn’t a setup,” the man says reassuringly. “So, ya wanna pick my brain?” “You could say that.” “I usually don’t give away trade secrets for free, but you seem like a square guy. In my profession, ya just don’t blindly trust anybody.” “Tell me what you did yesterday.” “Yesterday?” “It’s all right. There are no hidden tape recorders in the office, and we’re not being watched.” “I iced Magglio Torrez, one’a the biggest dealers in the Bronx. He was gettin’ in the way of the Borgia family’s business. It was a beautiful job. I took his kid, then I called him and told him the kid was in the trunk of a car at Hunt’s Point. I said he’d better come up with two million in untraceable bills. I told him if he didn’t, I was gonna give his boy a tour of the slaughterhouse. He understood what that meant. He left the suitcase of cash at the drop point and went to the car. When he opened the trunk – BADA-BOOM! No more Torrez and I got two mill on top of my regular fee for my troubles.” “And the boy?” “He’d already taken his tour before I made the call if ya know what I mean. Put up a real good fight for a fourteen-year-old punk. But ya know what kids are like these days. They’re all jacked up on steroids and meth,” Carmine said. Carmine looks at the man, shaking his head. “Jesus, I got a bad case of blabbermouth today. Ya give me truth serum or somethin’?” “Confession is good for the soul.” Carmine jumps up, reaching in his jacket for the gun he carries. It’s not there. “Confession? You’re with the F.B.I. ain’t you?” “No. Please, sit down.” The man’s smooth voice quells Carmine’s apprehension. “How would you describe what you do?” “I’m a fixer. I fix the boss's problems when they got a renegade soldier or an enemy they want to make disappear.” “Are you proud of what you do?” “I’m the best at what I do. I nicked Nickoli “the Bus” Vasilev. Cops thanked me for doin’ it. The fat crook got too cocky. Vasiley tried to muscle in on the Borgia’s territory in Harlem. The fool used to go to the same restaurant every Wednesday at the same time with just a driver and one bodyguard. I popped all three of ‘em while they were parkin’ the car.” “Did you know the driver was for hire, that he wasn’t in the gang and didn’t carry a gun, and he had three daughters?” “What the hell do I care? Ya think he cares I got two kids and a magpie for a wife?” “Let’s talk about your family. Your son, Salvatore…” Carmine smiles proudly. “Sal’s a chip off the old block.” “He’s a hitman too, isn’t he?” “Tough as nails, even harder than me. I watched him from the car as he made his bones. Iced some gutter trash from Southern Boulevard who was skimmin’ off a Capo’s numbers racket. I taught him how to use a knife so he could gut somebody from their belly button to their heart.” “Did he show an interest in a less dangerous line of work when he was a child?” “Yeah, he wanted to be an activist for the poor. I told him it was a waste of time to help some immigrant who was likely to mug him for his roll. I got him to see things more my way when I told him I’d cut him off and he’d be poor too.” “Weren’t your father and mother immigrants?” “Yeah, but that was different. They worked for their money. They didn’t expect no handouts.” “I see. And your daughter?” “Angelina? She’s gonna marry Tony Luppino, the number two man in the Borgia family.” “Does she want to?” “What?” “Does she love him?” Carmine laughs. “C’mon. that don’t matter.” “What does matter to you?” “Power. The power of life and death. The power of money. And I got both. Now, ya wanna talk business? Who’d ya say ya work for?” “Let’s just say I work for the biggest family there is.” “The Benway’s? Sweet.” “Have you ever regretted what you’ve done with your life?” “Nah, I provide a service. I rid the streets of scum. I never sent anyone to hell that didn’t deserve it.” “What about your wife?” “That cheatin’ puttana? She got what she deserved.” “She died a slow, painful death. How long was it, ten days?” “I didn’t use enough poison. She was my guinea pig. I got it right after her. A little extra anti-freeze and…” Carmine snaps his fingers. He studies the man. “How’d ya know about her?” “She asked you for a second chance.” “More like a fat chance,” Carmine chuckles. “So, it was okay for you to cheat on her…” “I’m the one fillin’ up the checkin’ account when the balance is zero so she can go to spas and redecorate the house every other week.” “Suppose it was you asking her for another chance or Birdie Ferrone. Didn’t he deserve a second chance?” “That double-crosser? He was gonna rat out every wise guy in New York. You know, nobody called him Birdie until he took a header out of an eighth-floor window.” “Sounds like you’re taking credit.” “Let’s just say I wanted to see if Birdie could fly. P.S. –  he couldn’t.” “What about you?” “What about me?” “Do you think you deserve a second chance?” the man asks. “At what?” “Life.” “I make my own luck.” “That might be the most insightful thing you’ve said, Mr. Carlucci.” The man presses a button under the desk. Two brawny twins in black suits enter the room. One of the blue-eyed, blonde-haired giants beckons Carmine. “Hey, what is this? You gonna hit the hit man?” “Just follow Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson,” The man says. Carmine gives the man a doubtful look. As Carmine is leaving, the man says, “By the way, that jump you made between the buildings…” “A thing of beauty,” Carmine says. “You didn’t make it.” Puzzled, Carmine follows Mr. Wesson, who leads him out into a hallway. “…Of course, I made it. I’m here. Wherever here is…” There are three doors in the hallway. Mr. Wesson points to the third door. “Who’s in there, the boss? I gotta tell you, boys, you could’a dispensed with all the soul-searchin’ questions if you just told me who you wanna hit and how much you’re willin’ to pay.” Carmine walks toward the door, opening it. There is no light inside, nothing but impenetrable darkness. Carmine turns to Smith and Wesson. “What the hell is this?” “Exactly,” Mr. Wesson says, pushing Carmine into the black abyss. Susan Sussman wakes up, rubbing her eyes. She’s startled to see a handsome olive-skinned man across from her sitting behind a large, well-polished desk. Although she feels a sense of familiarity, Susan feels insecure and inadequate by comparison. She’s thirty-two but looking at his perfect features makes her feel like an anxious schoolgirl. Susan nervously tugs at her wrinkled white blouse and readjusts her calico knee-length skirt. She pushes her thick glasses back up on her Roman nose so it will look smaller. Running her fingers through her short brown hair, she smiles, careful not to open her mouth wide enough for him to notice her bottom teeth are crooked. “Are you the psychiatrist Father Mason said I should talk to?” “You could say that.” “You look familiar. Have we ever met before?” “No,” he replies. “But people say I look like Ray Danton.” “Who?” “I hear you have been having a rough time of it lately, Susan,” the man says. “Nothing I can’t handle.” “I thought you wanted someone to talk to,” the man says in a comforting tone. “Well, things have been tough because of the pandemic. I was teaching piano and guitar. Kids stopped taking lessons. I used up all of my savings and had to stretch my anxiety medication.” “But you fought on, didn’t you?” “Yes.  I tried everything. Phone sales. Home delivery. One day I was feeling lost, looking out of my apartment window. I started singing. I sang for passersby on the street, for my neighbors…” “And you lifted everyone’s spirits.” “Well, I tried,” Susan chuckles. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a singer.” “From what I hear, you did just fine. You entertained your neighborhood almost every night for months.” “The pandemic was good for one thing. I learned how to cook. I grew to love it. And I gave the extra food to some of the seniors in my building,” Susan says. “For free…” “Well, they’re on fixed budgets. It’s not right to charge them.” “And you took them to church, to the doctor.” “I have a big van. Since it wasn’t packed with instruments anymore there was plenty of room for people.” “You’re a teacher, a dedicated volunteer. You’ve led an exemplary life.” Susan lowers her head, fighting back tears. “No. I failed my sister, Sunny, and her baby, the two most important people in my life.” “Everyone thought your sister was beyond hope. Everyone but you.” “We’re twins. I feel what she feels. I know Sunny felt lost, that she felt like a failure. We shared the same dreams as kids. We were going to be the next Lennon and McCartney. I could play well, but my sister was the genius. Her songs were touching, and entertaining, and when she sang, people stopped whatever they were doing to listen. Then Razor Reynolds came along.” “The boyfriend.” “He promised Sunny a recording contract and publishing rights, but only if she went solo.” “And despite being cut out of the act you still loved and supported her.” “Sunny deserved to be a star. She had the talent. I was happy teaching kids to play music. But he lied to her. He didn’t know anyone in the music business, but he knew plenty of drug dealers like himself. First, he stole her money, then he robbed her of her sobriety. He turned Sunny into an addict, a street musician playing for her next high.” “You did all you could,” the man says sympathetically. “I managed to get her away from him one day, and into a program. She was in there for a week before he found her. Sunny was on her way back to being my talented, beautiful sister. Then he got her pregnant. At least he allowed me to take her to a pediatrician once in a while.” “And when the baby was born?” “I offered to take care of Sabrina, her daughter. Sunny had no interest in having a child, no interest in making music. Her only desire was to chase the next great high. When she overdosed and died on Razor’s couch, I decided to raise her child.” “You could have let your parents care for Sabrina or let Child Services take her.” “No, my parents have done enough. She was my niece. She was family. I may have failed Sunny, but I wasn’t going to fail Sabrina. At least… At least I thought I wasn’t.” Susan begins to sob. “I’m sorry. I must look like such a fool. I…I just can’t talk about Sabrina.” “You can’t move on until you do,” the man says. Susan drops her head, sobbing. When she looks up, the man is holding a folded, blood-stained blanket. Susan covers her face, crying uncontrollably. “That was Sabrina’s.” “It wasn’t your fault.” “Yes, it was! I was selfish.” “Let me be the judge of that. Tell me what happened.” “Sabrina was always a good sleeper at night, so I thought things would be okay… I had a friend over, a man I was interested in. We had dinner. I checked on Sabrina; she was fine. Then we relaxed, had a few drinks, which led to… I was so lonely. Afterward, I fell asleep on the couch… When I woke up in the morning, Sabrina was dead.” Susan picks up the blood-stained blanket. Tears stream down her face. “It was my fault! My fault!” Reaching across the desk, the man grabs Susan’s arm, getting her to lower the blanket. His warm touch is comforting, calming Susan. “What was the last thing you remember?” “EMS trying to save her. There was blood everywhere, blood on Sabrina’s blanket.” “After that?” “They gave me a sedative. I also had some of my own in the medicine cabinet in case I needed them.” “Did you?” “I did. I took two more. I still couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t get Sabrina out of my mind, so I took more. Then I woke up here.” “Still feeling guilty,” the man says. “Suppose I told you that Sabrina’s death wasn’t your fault. That it was a crib death, sudden infant death syndrome, and there was nothing you could have done.” “Sabrina was my responsibility. I was enjoying myself when I should have been looking after her.” “Do you think you’ve led a good life, Susan?” “I tried to.” “Well, I think you did.” “Thank you, but I still wish I could fix things.” The man presses a button under his desk. “Maybe you can.” Two large blonde-haired men enter the room. “This is Dr. Brothers and Dr. Spock.” “Self-inflicted?” Dr. Brothers asks. “Accidental. I know you’re probably feeling a little tired, and a little confused, Miss Sussman. Follow them. I’m sure you’ll feel a little better once you’ve had some rest.” Susan follows the two men. There are three doors in the hallway. Dr. Brothers gestures toward the first one. Susan opens the door. A blinding light forces Susan to cover her eyes. “It’s so bright,” Susan says. “Your eyes will adjust,” Dr. Brothers says. “Please, step inside.” Susan wakes up on her bed in her small apartment in Manhattan. The sound of a baby giggling catches her attention. Susan walks toward the crib. She pulls a brand-new blanket up around Sabrina. Sabrina looks up at her, smiling.


It’s the most horrible day of the year. April Fools’ Day. I have hated this day since I was young. I grew up with two older brothers who schemed to constantly make me miserable. The first day of the month of April was their free-for-all. It was a day where they could do the absolute most to drive me nuts and mom and dad would do basically nothing to scold them because it was “all in good fun.” For who? I ask. Not for me. It’s clear who the least favorite child was here. Always in last place after those couple of juvenile delinquents. As I grew older I would do all that I could to stay in my room and away from them as much as possible on this day. I’m 25 now and moved away from home quite a while ago, but the memories never left me. Now I live with two roommates in Chicago, Stan and Jackson. Good guys, but no one is to be trusted on a day like this.

I woke up early like I do every day before work. I like to fit in a run before I go to the office. Before swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I look down to inspect the floor. No collection of marbles. I look closer, no glitter. I reach down and run my hand over the floor, no glue – I’m safe. Believe it or not, the worst out of the three of those is the glitter. That stuff TRULY never comes off. The last time I endured the step in a pile of glitter prank I was 15, and I swear, 10 years later I still sometimes see a sparkle on my big toes. Say what you will, some pranks never leave you. I get to the bedroom door and check above it before swinging it open all the way. All clear for paint cans or buckets of water. Having a cold bucket of water land on the top of your head when you really have to pee in the morning is the worst feeling in the world. Don’t try it, just trust me. I bend down again to inspect the screws on my door handle. No handles will be falling apart in my hands today. No sir, this is a master you are messing with. I open the door and stick my head out into the hallway, quickly looking both ways. Many a time I have believed myself to be safe only to run into an air horn in the hallway accompanied by “April Fools’ SUCKER!” I personally don’t view that as humor, it’s just disruptive. I rush through the hallway into the bathroom, do a quick check of the knobs and the top of the door and shut and lock it. Phew. Phase one of the day complete. It’s a lot of work to be this attentive on a day like this, but it’s worth it. I wave my hand in the inside of the toilet bowl before performing my morning duties. Talk about disruptive, have you ever tried to perform your morning duties only to discover saran wrap on the toilet bowl? Rude and disgusting, I identify this as one of the more juvenile pranks. Hygiene and cleanliness should be of the utmost importance to all, even those ridiculous prankers. Next up, check the toothbrush, toothpaste and mouth wash. Never assume anything is safe, that would be your first, biggest mistake of this treacherous day. I begin by inspecting the toothbrush handle slowly, yet another place for glue (super glue in my experience). Once I’m satisfied it’s safe, I pick it up and spread the bristles with my fingers, and they are dry. Next step is to taste a small bit of the toothpaste and the mouth wash. Tamper free again! I brush and gargle in silence, racking my brain on what could be next. People don’t just forget about this day, I know that my attentiveness will pay off. I just have to get through the day and I will be able to relax again tomorrow. I walk back into my bedroom to get changed for my run. I slowly open my dresser drawer, no loosened screws and no “snakes” pop out. That’s good, I really didn’t have the energy to reassemble my dresser. I’m not even sure how I put it together in the first place. I’m pretty sure at least a few things are wrong (I didn’t really consult the directions). I change for my run and rush out of the apartment before anyone can catch me. It’s typically safer out in the eye of the public. The less people in the area that know you, the less people there are to focus on you as a target. The best way to stay safe on this day is to live alone, let no one in your home the night before, lock your door, call in sick and stay in for the entire day. If this is not an option, your second best option is to stay in the public eye as much as possible. Being in close proximity to those that “love and care about you” is dangerous. They are the most likely to harm you. Trust no one. I finish my run without incident and head back to my apartment. I say a silent prayer as I unlock the front door, a sigh of relief, no one changed the lock while I was out. I walk in and Stan and Jackson are standing in the kitchen, making breakfast and getting ready for their days. “Hey Jon” Stan turned to me “You want some eggs?” “No!” I replied a little too vehemently. Stan looked at me quizzically. “Um, no thank you. I gotta go shower and get dressed for work.” “Okay buddy…” He turned back to the stove, choosing to ignore any possible reasoning for my odd reaction. This was good, the more the prankster knows you are fearing their pranks, the more joy they get out of the torture. You must never let them know they are getting inside your head. I get through my shower without incident, no cold water thrown over the curtain – I rushed to be certain this wouldn’t be the case, and kept one eye outside the curtain on my towel. Yet another attempt at hilarity is taking away all towels and leaving a simple wash cloth behind for me to dry myself with. Exhausting. Walking back into my room and getting dressed goes off without a hitch as well. I check my socks for anything odd before pulling them on, my shoes to make sure there are no rocks or fake mice, and inspect every inch of my suit jacket to avoid any silly signs stuck on my back. I take a deep breath and walk into the kitchen. I look around and see a plethora of prank options. The orange juice? Probably salted. The ice cubes? Probably vodka. The sugar for my coffee? Also probably mixed with salt. Salt, one of the biggest enemies of the day. I decide to play it safe and grab a coffee on my way to work. It’s safe to get a beverage or food item from a local restaurant. If they “prank” you, you can get them fired! Well, you can try. I’ve tried, I was only able to make a complaint. Turns out the barista switching my order with someone else’s that year was just an accident…so they say. I stop by the local Starbucks and closely watch the barista who I give my order too. I see no funny business, but I’m still sure to sniff my beverage before drinking it. No complaints being filed with the manager today. I walk the rest of the way to work and hop in the elevator. I work in marketing for a grocery store chain. Its steady work and I enjoy it. Usually people are pretty dependable, but as I said before, today is a day that nobody is to be trusted. I walk in and drop my bag at my desk. I move my chair backwards and forwards and push it on a few times. I slowly lower myself into it and breathe another sigh of relief. It doesn’t fall apart or slam to the floor. I turn on my computer and Brenda pops her head in my office. “Hey Jon! I made some muffins and put them in the break room, you should come have one!” “Hey Brenda! That’s awesome, thank you, I’ll grab one soon!” Not. She takes me for a fool, but I think of everything! God knows what I would bite into with one of those muffins. No thank you. No breakfast for me. Its fine, I have a frozen meal at the bottom of the freezer out of sight that is ready for lunch today. Should be far enough from harm’s way to not be tampered with. I start answering emails and preparing for my meetings for the day. After about an hour Brenda showed up again with a muffin. “Here you go! I didn’t want you to miss out.” She smiled at me. A pushy prankster; interesting the things you learn about people on this day. “Oh thanks…” I look down as she places the muffin on my desk. I picked it up and sniffed it, pulled it apart and decide it’s not worth the risk. I toss it in the garbage and go back to work, my stomach growling. Sometimes you have to make small sacrifices to benefit the greater good of your day. I think about this and write a note to buy a bag of ice after work. I’m not taking a chance with those ice trays. The next few hours go by in silence, and then Brenda pops by again. “Are you coming to the meeting? It got pushed up to 11AM instead of 2PM.” I sigh “Oh very funny Brenda! I see what you are trying to do.” Brenda paused, visibly confused “What are you talking about?” Such a good actress. “I’m not falling for any pranks today!” “Why would I be pranking you?” Brenda walked in and got closer. I see her eyes move to the garbage can where the remnants of her muffin remain. Her confused look turns to hurt. “Did you not like the muffin? I tried a new recipe, I was nervous about it. Not many people would give me feedback.” I started to realize that I may be misjudging her and reply with an air of guilt. “Um, I didn’t try it.” I admit, “Why not?” Brenda stares at me. “You know Jon, you seem off today, are you okay?” I sigh, “I’m trying to avoid getting pranked. I hate April Fools’ Day, its so many bad memories and I just don’t want to deal with it.” Brenda chuckles “Jon, it’s April 2 nd ” “Very funny Brenda, a classic prank – trying to make me think I don’t have to worry so I won’t see the pranks coming!” “No, Jon, really, yesterday was April 1 st . Today is the 2 nd . Check your calendar.” I’m skeptical, but I’ll give her this one. I glance on my phone and see the date, “April 2 nd ” I check my computer “04/02/2021” People could have tampered with these. I Google “what is today’s date” Friday, April 2, 2021 “Oh” I’m stunned. I missed April Fools’ Day? I went without getting pranked and I didn’t pay attention? My luck must have turned. This was amazing. I crumple my note to buy ice and turned to Brenda, “I think I’ll try a muffin now!” “That was the last one” Brenda scowled and walked away. “See you in the conference room!” Damn it. I’m so hungry.


It was early July, Erica had no college now and was free at home from now on. It was Summer holidays and Erica loved summers a lot- More than snow; actually there wouldn’t be anyone who would prefer sun then snow but yes Erica was one of them.She would like dazzling out in sun,wearing those one size plus glasses and her favourite head umbrella as her protectors. Erica was only one enjoying summer, no family member was ever interested to hangout in their little beach with her.For the next few hours, while Grandma lay dozing, Erica sprawled out on her own little beach. At first, she could not stop smiling. She giddily stretched out her limbs and moved them back and forth, making a sand angel! She read a bit of a book. She picked a few oranges and unpeeled them one by one. She dug holes and then filled them in again. After that, she didn’t quite know what to do. Apparently, the pleasures of the warm sand beach were a lot less fun when there was no one around to share them with. Erica would have woken her grandmother, but she remembered that Grandma didn’t much care for the sun.She had spent the family’s entire Florida vacation under both an umbrella and a huge‐ brimmed hat. Besides, the sunny space wasn’t big enough for two.

By late afternoon, Erica wasn’t feeling very well. Her mother hadn’t been around to lather her in suntan lotion and her skin had turned a very dark shade of pink. She had eaten so many sickly sweet oranges that she now had a stomach ache. She had gotten some sand in her eye and had to blink  furiously to get it out. The sun was strong and unrelenting. She glanced over to the other side of the yard. She was      reluctant to admit it, even to herself, but the snow looked   sort of…refreshing than the scorching sun. She was flushed and bored, but most of all she missed her siblings and parents; who had gone to town nearby to attend a family wedding.

She trudged inside, showered the sweat and the sand off    from her body and then joined her Grandma, who had finally awoken, at the table. “My dear! However did you manage to get that awful sunburn?” her grandmother wailed. Erica just shrugged. She wasn’t very hungry, but she managed to pack in some forkfuls of spaghetti and meatballs.Before bed, she crept over to the backdoor and peered out. The sand, the tree, the bucket all were gone. Erica began to think that she had imagined it. She wasn’t thatdisappointed. Her siblings would be back in to the morning and she badly wanted to play with them. She just thought out of the blue even if it meant being chilly; even though she knew there’s no chilling in July. The car pulled into the driveway. Erica was up with a start and . She charged downstairs. Welcomed both of her parents home with hugs and gave one to her grandmother, too, who was preparing to leave. Then, as her mother began to ready breakfast, she pulled on her coat and joined her siblings in the back.

Next morning as Erica could barely open her eyes she was surprised to see it white every where outside. It was cold and freezing. How can it be possible to have snow in July- early July! The snow began to fall quite much early this year, in July, before Erica even had a chance to bring her puffed‐up purple winter coat out of the closet. It did not stop. Cold white confetti came down on the city of Montreal morning. Erica was wondering when this would end and her mom shouts out to the children to get down for the breakfast. The other kids in her class as well as her siblings loved the snow. They loved that sometimes, when the winds picked up and the roads turned icy, it was when college was cancelled. They liked to build towering forts and snowmen.  Erica had already been through a tough time playing out alone in the sun the previous day,she made a plan, go out with family enjoying the snow- as she knew her siblings would react to this because she was never a snow loving person. This was just a try to see how it feels to be in snow for Erica. At breakfast table this was decided and father agreed with a great surprise for Erica planning out this. Everyone got ready and the car took off through the highway towards the mountains. It was decided to go to drive an hour north to the ski hill. They would spend Saturday there, riding chairlifts to the top of a frosted mountain and following the slopes back down. Erica would have refused to go with them as always because he had nothing to do with that thick, white,powdery stuff- but this time it was her willingness to go just for once to see how it works. Erica despised the snow. More than that, she hated everything about wintertime. Her family had taken a trip to Florida two winters ago, and she wished that they could live there all year round. She had bobbed up and down in the ocean waves, sometimes floating on her back and other times, with one size plus goggles on, searching for colored fish in the water. In the mornings, her mother had squeezed fresh juice from the Florida‐ grown oranges that the hotel left in a basket at the front desk.

With her brother and sister, Erica had constructed a magnificent castle on the beach, with a moat and a long, looping flight of stairs. She liked feeling the sand between her fingers. It stuck together every bit as well as snow did, and it didn’t make your teethchatter. This time it was different – skiing was fun, they rode thought the white, soft snow, enjoying and throwing snowballs in the air and then at each other. Erica was involved in throwing too. A snowball came and hit her cheek, it was fun fir Erica to feel those cold snowflakes touching her. They created a snowman with Erica's one size plus glasses and their father's muffler. They even arranged a sledge from somewhere and riding it through the hill top and down was amazing experience for Erica, she was enjoying every bit of the time and thinking it to be much better than the scorching heat of the sun. The day was over but the snow was not over yet. It felt like it was wintertime. A day passed and they were all tired; next morning it was time to get back to car and drive back home. Her siblings, who had been throwing snow balls into the air and at each other, piled into the backseat. Soon the station wagon disappeared from view, Erica was soon asleep. She woke up with a bang of the car’s door and they were back home. Everyone unpacked the luggage and grandma settled into an armchair infront of the television. In a few quick minutes, she was asleep. Erica glanced outside and gave a sigh. Her hot chocolate was just about gone. She was about to turn towards the sink to rinse her mug when out of the corner of her eye she caught something green. Again surprised, something green in her blank, white backyard? She pressed her face up against the kitchen window.There, in the corner of the yard closest to the sliding back door, the snow had melted away. In its place, a small tree with low‐hanging fruit was growing. Erica immediately ran out to it. Elsewhere, the snowy flakes continued to swirl, but not a single one landed on this bright patch of ground, which was covered in sand. The sun beamed down on Susanna so hard, in fact, that she was hot! Sweating hot! Half‐buried by her feet were a plastic shovel and pail. She couldn’tbelieve it. A small slice of the snow filled holiday she had been missing had landed right behind her house for just a day and again it was sunny.

Then, as her mother began to ready breakfast, she pulled on her snowsuit and joined her siblings in the back. They were sculpting animals a caterpillar with snowy lumps for a body; a fish with fins. She dropped to her knees, without explanation, and began to work. Her hat was pulled low over her ears, her mittens were lined with wool, and suddenly her sister’s hand was over hers, helping to smooth out the fish’s curved tail. She was cold enough she could hardly resist. Erica could not stop wondering as if it was a one day dream that she had lived. And after giving her a new perseverance towards winters it’s again summer; just back in a day. Erica murmured- might be God's playing and continued her work.