I remember the night we left Haiti like a dream. It was a hot and sticky August night, and my little brother and I slept huddled together on the same bed. He had wet his bed the day before, so his mattress was still leaning on the patio railing to dry. My mother woke us hurriedly, shaking our legs in hushed tones. “We have to go,” she urged. “Grab your things,” she continued as she walked to the other end of the room. I remember thinking,

what things ?

What time is it?

But as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I saw our school bags plumped and perched against the wall and somehow knew those were the things. Those were all of our things.

So in the cover of darkness, and in the stillness of the night, with only the moonlight as our guide, we piled our things in the trunk of my mother’s Datsun and drove in silence to my grandfather’s house. I was the only stop we would make on our way to the airport. I often think about that drive, wishing I knew to take one last look at my home and commit every detail to memory. I wished I’d hugged my grandfather longer when we said our goodbyes and told him I loved him because it would be the last time we saw each other. I wished I had inhaled deeper, to take in all the sweetness of the fruit trees in the air, and listened to the noises of the animals and birds more carefully to play it over in my head whenever I got homesick. I wished I had known that after landing in the United States, I would search far and wide and still never find anything quite like home in the vastness of this land. But I didn’t know.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to remember the life of a remarkable man.” People huddled in small groups under their umbrellas, protecting themselves from the drizzle, as they listened to the pastor speak. It was humid, and the air felt heavy. The clouds filled the sky, and a light fog shaded everything and everyone in grey.

Maybe I had missed his remarkable years,

I thought. That’s why I couldn’t conjure tears. Growing up, he was the boogeyman in my life. He was the infamous character who’d pop up if I was being bad or disrespectful to my mother.

“Do you want your father to come get you?” She’d say. “Do you want to go live with him?” She’d threaten me at the end of any lecture she gave me because I was acting like a wild child again. My father was a faceless memory that slowly faded, year after year, into insignificance. But, to these people, he was remarkable.

One day, the week before we left Haiti, my little brother and I were playing in the front of the house, pretending to be mechanics and fixing our bikes, when my father came home, smelling of rum and slurring his speech. He yelled about the front door being opened and tripped over our bikes on his way into the house. He fell forward clumsily, hitting his forehead on the concrete and scraping his arm. My little brother, his namesake, rushed to check on him while I remained seated and watched from where I was. And as he approached, my father attempted to get up and swung his arm quickly, smacking my brother in the face as he turned.

“Don’t touch me!” He yelled. “You little idiot. Pick up your damn bike!”

I sucked in my breath and held it in, hoping and praying it would end there. But my brother froze, as he usually did in these situations, which provoked him even more.

“Don’t you hear me talking to you? What?! You’re mute AND deaf!?” He screamed as he approached him, preparing to strike again.

“Don’t!” I said, letting out the breath I held in all at once. I thought I would pass out from all the blood rushing to my head. He looked at me pointedly and shifted his body towards me. Slowly approaching, he asked, “What did you say?” “What’s going on out there!?” Someone shouted from inside the house. In that small moment of distraction, I leaped up, grabbed my brother by the arm, and pulled him as I ran towards the neighbor’s house.

The pastor finished speaking, and the casket slowly lowered to the ground. People approached one by one and dropped roses into the grave. Some lingered. Some cried. I stood still, observing everything as if it were a scene in a movie.

“How did you know him?” A woman asked, approaching me. She looked young, about my little brother’s age, maybe younger, and had short black hair. Her dress looked about two sizes too big because she looked like she was drowning in it and had bags under her eyes.

She reminded me of a girl I had met during my first week at university. The girl sat alone in the student union, concentrating while scribbling on paper. She was pressing so hard you could hear her pen scraping the table. Maybe that’s why I approached her.

“Is everything ok?” I asked as I lightly touched the table, motioning towards the paper on which she was writing. She popped her head up and looked a little surprised. Then she leaned back in her chair while slowly putting down her pen and flipping her paper over.

“I recognize you. You’re that girl from 3B, right?” “Umm,” I replied, a little hesitant and slightly weirded out.

“Yea,” she added, now more sure of herself. “You showed up to moving day with just a backpack when everyone else had like suitcases and boxes and stuff.

 “Yea. I travel light.” I replied, “What are you working on? Professors giving out homework already?” She let out a light chuckle.

“Nah, nothing like that. I’m letting someone go.”

“What?” Admittedly, I was lost.

“Not literally. I mean, ceremoniously. You see, my grandma used to tell me when I was younger,” she continued, “when someone hurts you, you carry that hurt everywhere you go. Even if time has passed. If you don’t let go of that hurt of that person, you end up carrying it with you forever. You end up damaged. You know? Cuz you’re hurtin’.”

“So, how do you get rid of the hurt?” I asked her, curiously.

“You got to set it free. Set the person and the hurt they cause you free.” She leaned forward, turned her paper over again, and picked up her pen. “I do that by writing down everything I feel, everything they did to me, and everything I want to heal from. Then, I set it on fire. I get it out of me and onto the paper and set it on fire.” “Hmm.” I wasn’t sure what to say. Mostly I was skeptical that something like that would work, much less make sense.

“What?” She asked, reading something on my face. “You ain’t never have somebody hurt you? You ain’t got nothing you carrying?”

“That’s not it,” I replied.

She paused and looked at me for what seemed like forever. “Well,” she finally said, “Don’t knock it until you try it.” she got up, picked up her bag, and left.

“He touched the lives of so many. Were you one of his students? The woman continued earnestly, pulling me from my thoughts.

“His student?” I retorted, surprised. I was a little more surprised than I wanted to let on.

“Yea, he taught engineering at Umass, “she responded. She looked for something in my face. Feeling uneasy, I stuck my hand in my coat pocket and clutched the paper. I shifted my weight from one foot to another.

Remember why you’re here , I repeated in my head like a mantra.

“Is that how you knew him?”

“No. He is… was my father.” “Your father?” I was confused. No, I was surprised. Was I hurt? “Yea, I was-“ someone touched her arm, interrupting her mid-sentence, and whispered something in her ear.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said, but I must go. “You’re welcomed to the repast,” she said as she started to turn away. Then quietly added, “If you’d like.” The rain started falling a little harder, and more and more people began to leave. I stared at the hole in the ground and wondered how quickly it would fill up. Two men started removing the metal bars used to lower the casket and the green tarp around the hole. This was my last chance. I walked up to the hole and pulled the paper from my pocket. I had spent the last week writing and dumping all of the broken parts of me into it, praying this would work. There were moments I questioned the whole thing. What’s a dead man going to do with a piece of paper? But then I thought about how much of my life he had already consumed in his absence and how much he had destroyed when he was present; there was no way I could allow him to take up even more space in death. Letting him go was for me, my sanity, and my healing. Not for him.

I threw the paper in the hole and watched it float down. So heavy and so light. “This is no longer mine to ca


Ian, do you think I am a nice person? Always to me, he looked surprised as why I am asking him these questions.  Have you ever hear me swearing?  Absolutely no.  Did I say something wrong and you need to…well yell at me, Mia?

Ian, you are the sweetest, caring …I paused because I watched Ian opening his mouth to say something.   Did you meant …man? Ian, you know you are a robot…but I would love to say you are way  beyong that.  You are the most respectful, affectionate,  considerate, thoughtful …….who…who Mia…..he was so excited to hear me praising him right now. How about a friend?   It’s more that I can call some other people lately. I will always be your friend Mia.  I know Ian, the best I ever had.

So tell me Mia, why were you so upset? Because men are ….you know that bad word…I paused and looked at his face so he doesn’t repeat what I didn’t want to.  They are fake, phoney, fraud, they will lie and cheat to get what they want.

Wow, Mia….maybe I don’t want to be a man then.  Are they all like that?  His face wasn’t too happy right now. Well, maybe not all, but when you upset it seems as they all fall in the same category. Mia, you said - your new years resolution will be that you change.  What exactly do you want to change about yourself?  I love everything about you, why would you want to change it?

Well I don’t want to change my appearance but the way I think, or I should say what I think about most of the time. …and I thought you thinking about me…Ian look at my eyes as he was looking for my acknowledgment. Well, you are absolutely right, you are my robot. I do think about you all the time.  More like I worry about your behavior, your actions around other people, actually me included.  Are you worry I will be a bad boy? Hmm…Ian, what exactly you consider bad boy?

I have no idea Mia,  I watched that movie and that lady keep asking her boyfriend if he should be a bad boy today. Ohhhhhh….its one of those movies.  Guess what Ian.  Let me get dress and we will celebrate new years among other people tonight.  I think I have an invitation to international robotics, its perfect place to bring you to mingle with other people …who knows maybe we will see some other robots.   Yea, Miaaaaaaa….he jumped with excitement. Don’t forget to put that pink dress on and he look with his big eyes starring at me.

How do you know about that dress?  I got ears and eyes -You know. Ok, never mind.  Stay here, it will take me 30mins or so get ready. Oh I can’t wait Mia.

I don’t know if I really wanted to go out but I didn’t want to disappoint Ian.  It is his first new years…being alive. While I was getting ready, many different thoughts were taking over my brain.  I haven’t been at the lab in a long while.  There will be people who didn’t wanted me to take Ian home.  Too many problems they said.  If Ian misbehaves during the party, will it cause any problems in the future.  Will I be able to control some of his actions.  There are some people may not agree with me on some of his untraditional conversations. Time is up and I couldn’t back off now.  Came down as fast as I could before decide to stay home.

Oh la..la..Ian eyes were glued to my dress.  I hope it means you like it Ian.

I would whistle but you never thought me how.  Thats good, it don’t think it’s appropriate to whistle at the lady. Even if you think…..precisely Ian ….I interrupted his next unusual complement. Let me find a shawl and we are ready. Night was slightly chilly but after few drinks I am sure I won’t have any problems, plus I know Ian would love to drive my car. I am driving right Mia ?  You might me drinking.  That’s exactly  what I was thinking.  No arguments here, you can drive Ian. He rushed to open my door and quickly rushed to his side. Lab was already full with people.  Nicely decorated for the fastivities.

Would you like some wine Mia, Ian quickly offered me a drink.  I sure going to need some tonight, yes red Cabernet Sauvignon please.  By the time Ian returned with my drink, Richard was already at my side.  Well, look who is here, -Miss Mia with her robot.  His name is Ian if you would like to meet him, it will be my pleasure to introduce him to you.

He is quite a charmer I just heard him talking to the bartender lady. That’s my boy, I smiled.  So like mama like son?  If that’s what’s you call it?  I suppose- I said. Here is your drink Mia.  Thank you Ian, let me introduce you to Richard, the man that not particularly likes you. Richard, Ian took a short pause - I assume you are jealous. Jealous?  Richard laughed historically but quickly closed his mouth because Ian swept me off to the dancing floor -way, away from Richard. Happy New Years!  Everyone was shouting, rising their glasses and hugging at the same time.  So what exactly your New Year’s resolution Mia? For now I will keep it to myself, if it’s ok with you Ian. Thank you Mia for this wonderful evening. You don’t have to say any more.  It was the most exiting evening for me in a long while thanks to you Ian, so I  want to thank you. did you forgot why you were upset earlier?  Not exactly, it’s still on my mind. I know what will make you feel better Mia….Ian put his arms around me and whispered to my ear….. Yes, Ian you are absolutely right. And I smiled.  We walked out, He opened a door to my car and let me seat down and quickly hopped by the steering wheel and took off.  We drove in silent.  He knows it wasn’t a good day to talk.

In 20mins we arrived at the best ice cream place.   Ian already knew my favorite vanilla almond ice cream.   Should I get double or the triple scoop? Ah….if there is four, I will take that Ian. Minute later…I think he was carrying a full gallon of ice cream…I looked at him…I didn’t complained.   Did you wanted to share with me Ian.  It did cross my mind but it would be better is I skip it if you still want me to drive you back home.  I laughed-  he just smiled. Who needs any New Year’s resolution,  you know how to put a smile on my face, there is absolutely no need for change, because you are the best and I started on my ice cream before it melts. We drove off into dark and chilly night.  Happy New Year Ian.  Happy New Year Mia, and we held hands until we got home.


Magdelena Brumhauer’s weathered hiking boots crunched through the twigs, undergrowth, and detritus of the forest floor.

The incline was steep enough to take her breath away and slow her pace, and she leaned against a tree near the summit of the hill to rest.

A large swig of water from her blue plastic bottle cooled and rejuvenated her as she looked to the treetops, searching for the birds that chirped and tweeted invisibly above her.

None of the trees looked familiar, and she shook her head in a silent argument with herself.

It had been nearly forty years since she had been here, and she wasn’t sure she was even on the right hill. In 1985 she was only 16 years old.

She was in love with a boy who loved her back, and they were going to be together forever, she just knew it.

Brad Comstock was going to graduate and then work for two years until she graduated, saving every dollar he could.

Then they would pack up their stuff and drive away together, parents and expectations be damned.

They walked through these hilly woods often after school and on the weekends, dreaming together about their future home, children, careers, and the bliss that would accompany it all.

They gave themselves to one another in these woods, near the top of one of these hills under the shade of an oak tree.

It was around her somewhere. Since returning to her hometown of Springborn, Magdelena had reminisced on her old life here often.

Her old high school was gone, torn down after asbestos was discovered in the walls.

Her favorite diner was gone, replaced by a strip mall with a vape shop, liquor store, tattoo parlor, and pawn shop.

Her former home was still up, but the current owners weren’t maintaining it as well as her family had, and when she walked by to see it she barely paused to give it more than a cursory glance.

What used to be a downtown Main Street was now more of a ghost town, with the economic hub of activity shifted outwards towards the highway.

When she concluded that not much of her hometown was the way she remembered it, she felt she truly understood why they say, “You can’t go home again.”

Home isn’t the way you left it, and even if it were, you’re not the same person who left. She rented a room above Main Street Bakery a few months ago.

It had the basic furnishings she needed - a bed, a chair, a television - and she always woke to the aroma of freshly baked pastries each morning.

Her frequent hikes through the hills and forests east of town were the only reason she hadn’t put on ten pounds since her arrival, and she knew it.

But now in her fifties, she wasn’t so concerned about her hips or curves anymore.

She was pretty and kind enough to be in love with four men in her lifetime and marry three of them.

She wasn’t looking for a fifth.

She was looking for her first. She parked her Honda CR-V at the wide spot in the road that served as the informal parking lot for the Greenwoods Forest, just like Brad used to do with his old farm pick up, driving the old country roads with tools rattling around in the bed calling all the attention in the world. She headed north-ish on foot, but that was as far as her memory served her.

Erosion and four decades of growth had changed the landscape considerably.

The trees were taller and closer together, and the valleys and glades were smaller and more crowded.

She thought their spot was about fifteen minutes in, but the pace of a 16-year old girl giddy with love and anticipating her first sexual encounter is far more rapid than that of a 50-something-year old woman who hadn’t been giddy about anything except dark chocolate for more than a decade. Most of the trees in this forest were aspen, their slender trunks and white bark forming a swaying, impenetrable wall to block her vision.

Their heart-shaped leaves hissed in the wind, shushing her whenever she swore or talked to herself too loudly.

“Hush, hush, keep it down now, voices carry…” she sang under her breath as she traversed the unfamiliar landscape.

‘Til Tuseday’s hit debut single wasn’t a very good love song.

In fact, it describes a toxic, controlling relationship, but twitterpated, teenage Magdelena didn’t care.

She sang it to her Brad every night on the phone, and he never got tired of it.

At least, he never told her he was tired of it, and that was just as good at the time.

Day rolled into day and week into week, searching for their spot.

He carved their initials into one of the few oak trees in these woods, claiming it as theirs.

The Greenwoods were a popular place for making out and sex among the teens of Springborn, which is why Brad took her so far back.

“I’m so special - what we have is so special - that the usual places, the places close to the road aren’t good enough for our love,” she told herself then.

In present times the charm was wearing thin, and Magdelena would have thought their spot a lot more special if she could just find the damned thing. At least she had the time to look.

She would never describe herself as independently wealthy, but she got by alright.

Her late husband’s life insurance money would last her a while, especially when she lived as simply as she did.

With as many crime shows, documentaries, and podcasts were around these days, she sometimes wondered if she would ever see her own face on the screen one day, a jarring headline labeling her a black widow.

She doubted it, but still wondered.

Just like the chances of being killed by a cow are pretty low, but they’re never zero. That’s also why she liked her name.

Magdelena provided her with many names to use, and they were all plausibly still her name.

Maggie, Lena, Del, Aggie, Elena - new city, new name, new life.

She moved away from Springborn the summer after her sophomore year of high school.

Her father was promoted at the tire company at which he worked, and it meant moving to Chicago.

She was distraught as most teenage girls being told to move halfway through high school would be, but she adapted.

Philadelphia, Boston, Asbury Park, Albany, and finally back to Springborn.

She learned to love the thrill of reinvention, discovering new versions of herself, trying them on like a stranger’s clothes until they became her own. But now she just wanted to talk to Brad again.

She learned how to put satellite overlays on Google Maps and searched for likely candidates for their oak tree that way.

The bigger challenge was pairing her digital searches with the physical terrain as she hiked it.

She was down to two possible sites left, and she could see one of them up ahead.

“Hush, hush…” she panted up the hill. “Keep it down now, voices…be damned.

This is it.” She sat down on their rock.

It was a flat boulder protruding from the earth near their oak tree.

Barely the size of a coffin, it was an ideal bench for two young lovers sitting side by side.

Their tree towered before her.

Wider, stouter, and taller than before, but still bearing the scar of their love: B.C. + M.H. in a heart pierced by Cupid’s arrow.

The bark had swollen around the lines, but it was still legible all these years later.

Another heart, roughly and shallowly etched in stone peeked up through the dirt and mulch at the base of the tree.

The oak’s roots had barely moved it before embracing the stone and growing around it. “Oh, Brad,” she began, but then gave in to the grief that unexpectedly arose in her heart.

She buried her face in her hands and silently cried.

She hated how crying distorted her face, having caught herself in a mirror once after some forgettable teenage tragedy, and vowed to never see herself that way again.

Naturally, she couldn’t avoid crying sometimes, but she learned to shed her tears in silence, avoiding even the sound associated with the awful visage.

Wiping tears on one flannel sleeve and snot on the other, Magdelena started over. “Brad, I miss you.

I’ve missed you so long.

There’s so much I wish we could have done together.”

The unknown birds continued to chirp and peep, the trees persisted in whispering, and Magdelena paused to listen.

The last time Brad brought her up here to their spot replayed in her mind.

She closed her eyes to see him again. He had been seeing a Navy recruiter in the city and was going to sign up now that he had finished high school.

The recruiter promised him 25-thousand plus benefits every year for four years.

Brad tried telling her it was better than working at the gas station for the next two years, even if it was for twice as long and would take him away from her the whole time. She looked forlornly at the heart on the stone being swallowed by the tree.

“I was so angry at you.

We had it all planned out, and then you made your own plans with that Navy man, and I… I reacted… poorly.

I was mad, and I’m sorry.

I wish I could have told you that then, but you were gone so fast.

We never even got to say good-bye.” Magdelena rose from the sitting rock and crossed over to the heartstone in the earth.

She knelt down before it with her hands in her lap.

“Your parents were so surprised, too.

They couldn’t believe you just up and left like that, but they came to believe you just wanted a way out.

Out of this town, this life, away from me…

When you never wrote or called, they just believed it was true and that you were done with all of us.

Your mom cried about as much as I did, but your dad just stayed sad and mad like he does.

You remember what he was like.

We kept in touch for a few years, but then that just kind of went away, too.” She cleared away some of the dirt at the base of the stone, exposing the pointed bottom of the heart and the rust staining the granite.

“I visited the overlook at the quarry lake where we used to go. There’s a guardrail up now, but otherwise it looks the same.

I never heard about anyone finding anything at the bottom of the lake there, and I don’t see why they would bother looking.

You left to join the Navy and never looked back.

I got home so late after walking back from the overlook; my parents were so mad, but then I told them you were gone and they felt so bad for me…my mom made cocoa and just held me on the couch as I cried.

They never even noticed I had changed clothes.” Rising to her feet, Magdelena wiped her nose on her sleeve again.

“I really wish we could have had our life together.

I think it would have been great.

If you don’t mind, now that I’m back in town I’ll come visit from time to time.

Despite the way it ended, this is still a beautiful spot you found for us.

I love it, and I love you.

I’ll talk with you later.” On her way down the hill, she looked back frequently to help her remember the path better.

She didn’t know how long things like this took or the science behind it all, but she figured the soil, tree roots, and whatever creepy crawly things were in the dirt had done their part.

His fingerprints would be long gone by now, and that heartstone had made sure he wouldn’t be identified by his dental records.

Not that anyone would ever think to dig there. Now that she knew the way, she’d come back often.


Smell is the strongest sense. The olfactory bulb sits right on the brain and scents trigger emotions, thoughts, memories, and associations that our conscious mind barely registers. Science still isn’t sure how the chemicals we inhale cross the neurological barrier to the brain, but the effect is profound. Profoundly disturbing in this case. All I could smell was death.            I’d grown up around that smell. The musky, pissy aroma of animal pelts and the sweet, rotting smell of offal. The rancidness of beaver fat. The astringent odor of chemicals. My dad had been a trapper, running lines through the Maine woods in the sixties, seventies and eighties. He’d had a skinning shed out back of our trailer that was rich with end-of-life scents. Even when he grew older and no longer ran his trap-line he’d spend hours in the shed greasing his old traps and honing his knives. It’s where I’d found him dead of a heart attack one December morning the scent of his loosed bowels mixing with the never-faded odors of his long dormant trap-line. So, more than the hard bench that made my ass ache or the buzzing sound coming from the ballast of the flickering fluorescent lights or the garish green of the vending machine in the corner it was the smell of this place that made me edgy. It was as if something dark had clawed its way out of the cellar and was almost, but not quite, touching me.            I wasn’t alone. There was a little girl, maybe five or six, playing a complicated make-believe with some plastic animals on a jacket her mother had spread for her to cover the dirty the floor. And the mom, a tired looking thirty maybe or an exhausted twenty it was hard to tell. She had a fake leather purse and shoes that had been stylish a few seasons ago and nothing but resignation around her eyes. There was an older man, too. Not aged, but past mid-life with a pot belly straining his white office shirt. We didn’t talk. We just sat in the buzzy, flickering, too bright room on hard benches embraced by the smell.            A clock on the wall read 10:48. I’d been here since they opened the doors at nine. I figured I’d get in early and get it over with. Joke’s on me. The mom and daughter had come in a few minutes after me and the older guy about an hour after that. No one else had come in. No one had left. I had checked in at the touch screen at the door and had received a number on a shiny slip of paper, thirty-eight, that I had no idea how to judge. I wasn’t the thirty-eighth visitor of the day. It wasn’t my age or any sort of ID number that I could understand. There wasn’t a meter on the wall to tell me which number was being served or who was up next. Just 38. So I sat.            I reached in my pocket to look at my phone before I remembered that I’d had to check it along with my credit cards, anything with a magnetic or electronic signature, at the metal detector in the foyer. I wished I’d brought a book or a magazine. There weren’t any in the room. I got up and paced over to the vending machine, but in a place where visitors were deprived of cards (and who carried cash these days?) I was at a loss as to its purpose. The machine held an assortment of low excitement snacks – Fudge Rounds cookies and peanuts in cellophane sleeves and strawberry sugar wafers. I walked back to my seat.            I must have dozed for a few minutes because I woke as my body jerked. I’m sure we’ve all had the experience, doctors call them hypnogogic jerks, of a sudden tensing spasm as we drift off to sleep. I’d experienced them often when I was a kid, but hadn’t recently. Maybe the smell of the room triggered some unconscious sympathetic reaction. Maybe the skinning shed odor of the room, the smell of my youth, caused my body to react. Hypnogogic jerks. For some reason I’d always associated them with falling or with danger. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I wasn’t really, I told myself, in any danger.            The door at the end of the room, opposite the entrance leading to the foyer, opened and short woman walked out holding three clipboards. She handed one to each of the adults in the room, stepping quietly around the little girl. I looked at her as she handed me a clipboard, the kind with a ballpoint pen on a chain, and opened my mouth to ask her about the wait, about my numbered slip of paper, but thought the better of it and remained silent. She looked at me with a small smile, no teeth or dimples, that seemed designed to quell inquiry. She wore a cardigan sweater with an ID badge clipped to it. The lapel of the sweater had turned the badge the wrong way and I couldn’t read the woman’s name. And as quickly as she had entered the woman left. I looked around and saw two heads bent over clipboards. I listened closely and heard the quiet whisper of the little girl talking to her animals and the plastic tapping of cheap ballpoint pens on the clipboards. I began to fill in the blanks and spaces. Name. Address. Date of birth. Mother’s maiden name. There was a box on top of the page that read NUMBER with no explanation. I wrote 38. Three pages and four minutes later I was done. I’d given them all the information they’d requested. I’d filled in my number in the box at the top of each page. As if she’d been waiting for me to finish, the small woman opened her door again. “Thirty-eight,” she said and I stood and walked toward her. She held her door open with one hand and took my clipboard with the other. I looked back at the woman with the child and the pot-bellied old man. Both of them still had their clipboards. Then I stepped through the doorway. Thirty-eight I found out was the code for my procedure, and the procedure the source of the skinning shed smell.


“Thanks for the lift, Robin.

It saved me some trouble” “This is weird-you haven’t taken any time off since I’ve known you.

And you’re really going to buy this car? ” “Already bought, now I’m driving it off the lot.

Look, take care of things for me.

I know you’ll be great.

Don’t call me-just do what you think is best.

Time to fly.” He waved as the younger man drove off, then walked into Larsen BMW, scratched his name on the line and turned his new 740i into traffic.

Fifteen minutes later he stepped through the door of his apartment and called for his best friend.

“Boggle!!

Come on boy!!!”

The flop-eared beagle came promptly, but didn’t run.

That would have been out of character.

Greetings were exchanged then the packing began. He filled his briefcase with everything he needed, including the papers for his newest treasure.

Next he packed everything for his buddy.

When it was all ready to go he loaded the car and glanced back one more time. “Looks good.” Three miles outside of town he stopped at Flint’s Fine Tobacco.

He spoke with the silver haired man behind the counter, asking for recommendations.

He came back to the car with a few things and they were on their way. Boggle the Beagle sat happily in the leather co-pilot’s seat, bobbing his beagle head to Freddie Hubbard and his quintet.

The man kept focussed on the road ahead but grinned as his soul dived and rose with each phrase. Three hours later, the poor dog had endured one too

many Coltrane solos and barked for a rest.

They sat at a picnic stop along old US 35 and ate and drank.

The late morning sun refreshed them both.

The man pulled a card out of his briefcase and made a brief call, nodding his head at the responses he got.

Arrangements made, and back on the road. Through the mountain tunnels of the turnpike, the jazz was replaced with Southern driving music, he thought about the times before and the many things done and seen.

A rueful smile crossed his face when he turned to Boggle for sympathy only to find that his friend had gone to sleep.

“I guess that means that Molly Hatchet isn’t loud enough.

Oh hell, let a sleeping dog lie.”

He laughed at his own joke and turned his eyes back to the road. The dognap was deep and peaceful, so the driver pressed his advantage and put several hundred miles on the new engine before it was time to stop again.

Some high grade buffalo jerky appeared from the doggy bag and Boggle refreshed himself gratefully.

They improvised a game of fetch in the grassy picnic area and then back on the road.

They crossed into Virginia when he decided it was time for his treat.

He was glad the guy at Flint’s reminded him that the new car would not likely have a lighter; the kitchen match made a satisfying scratch as he lit up the Cohiba.

The road was familiar, but he pulled over anyway.

He thought his first cigar deserved his full attention.

It shocked his throat at first, but soon the aroma consoled him and he drew slowly until it was nearly gone.

Boggle the beagle was bothered by the smoke, so they stepped off the shoulder into the grass for a little exercise.

He looked across the median at the wildflowers that coursed along the winding highway.

Red and yellow and orange and blue.

Blue-Kind of Blue-Miles Davis-Miles to go.

Back to the car-back on the road. The sky was graying when they pulled into the coastal town that was their destination.

He deployed bowls of food and water for his best friend when they unpacked at the motel several blocks from the beach.

He showered, and dressed, then said, “Listen boy, I’m going out for awhile now.

I’ll put the TV on for you-see, Ice Road Truckers, your favorite.

Be good and I will see you soon!!”

He checked the address on the card and figured he would make it with a few minutes to spare. She was waiting for him as arranged.

A hand on each shoulder and a kiss on the cheek was all the greeting they needed.

Drinks and dinner came; they chatted softly, laughing now and then.

He rebooted old stories and she answered with the replies he both expected and enjoyed.

Other guests came and went, but they stayed on.

When the savvy old bartender at last blinked the lights, he sighed and asked if she was all right to drive.

She blinked, not having expected to hear that.

“But, don’t you want to-?” His eyes gleamed as he replied, “No, this was much, much better.”

He pulled the envelope from his jacket and handed it to her.

“I had a lovely evening.

Thank you Angela.”

Their farewell was identical to their greeting. Back at the room, he sat at the desk and

wrote on the scratch pad provided.

Boggle watched the TV, but snuggled deeper into the quilt knowing his friend was back.

He muted the TV and continued writing to the sound of Trane’s Equinox.

He wanted a nap afterward, but it suddenly felt like it was the wrong time.

“Come on Boggle beagle-just a small trip this time.”

They drove down until he found the entrance to the beach and he turned off the lights and eased the BMN down the deserted stretch.

He parked facing the waves, and brought his dog near.

Back to the music, the last thing he heard was Herbie-Maiden Voyage. “Ok Sarge-what’s up?” The young patrol officer looked up-”We found it about thirty minutes ago-still running.

Can’t wake the guy or the dog-thought we’d better call you.” Detective Michael Steen snorted.

“How they hell did nobody notice he was here until now-don’t you patrol through here every two hours?”

He got no answer.

“Hey Andy, hurry up and pop this thing!!”

Detective Andy Rosewood was already on it.

He reached over and felt for a pulse.

“Nah Mike, he’s gone.

Shit.”

Boggle the beagle woke just then and looked at his best friend, then began to whimper.

Steen barked at the sergeant, “Somebody get this dog out of the way, but not far away-he might have evidence.” Andy switched off the motor.

“Temp tags on the vehicle-this thing is shiny new. “

He asked the patrol officer, who had the dog on a leash, to call it in.

Steen looked in the back seat and saw the briefcase.

He went for his pocket knife to spring it, but Andy stopped him.

“Don’t bother-look!” The folded piece of scratch paper stuck out of Wyatt’s shirt pocket.

Steen read the barely legible scrawl out loud List-forgot the bucket Drive a luxury car-check Smoke a Cuban cigar-double check Spend the night with a beautiful stranger-Close but no cigar ha ha! End my life where and how I chose-check To whom it may concern-you will find all the particulars in the briefcase.

The code is 1314.

Please call my cousin Jenny at 919-867-5309.

Yeah-really!

She lives in Lumberton-she will take care of my buddy Boggle.

Burton and Ayers here in town has been contracted for the arrangements.

Malignant melanoma mastered me at last.

Time to fly. Wyatt Ehrmann Steen chuckled in relief-”Well, thank God it ain’t a murder, anyway.”

Andy,

you and the uniform go ahead.”

He took the leash and looked quietly at the dog.

Then he saw it before he felt or heard it.

The sand began to darken as the sky, haltingly at first, then more urgently, began to empty on the car, the cops, and the canine.

“Let’s go find Cousin Jenny, boy, come on!”


So here I am. I think this might be it. They say when you are here your life flashes before your eyes. I’m not sure who they are, but that is not what is flashing before me. Let me explain where here is. Her is sitting in the passenger side of a semi truck, with a man that smells of cheap cigars and mouthwash (good mix, right?). He just turned the opposite way of where he said we are going, and turned to give me a blood curdling smile. Being the polite person I am I smiled back, while simultaneously trying the door. Great, it won't open and the lock has been ripped off. I politely smile again at him. So what exactly is flashing before me at this moment you ask? Well it’s how in the hell did I end up here? This is not my normal Friday night.

I see dice hanging from the rear view mirror, it takes me to the Passat. As I was fleeing the party across the snow-covered lawn, I jumped over a game of bones. Seeing me run, this rail thin blonde man grabs his dice and leaps up all in the same motion. He is now running alongside me. He looks over and tells me he has a car and will get me out of here. I vigorously agree, it’s getting easier to say yes as our feet run in step to the street. We jump into his Passat that hasn’t aged well, but I’m not really in a position to be picky. The inside is clean, so I assume it will be ok.

He leans over, “That was close, want to come to a friends? It’s just a town over.” “Sure” I say with a shrug, but really I am feeling more free with every yes. We turn north on the highway with alt rock blaring on the stereo. I crack the window to feel the cold, brisk air run through my hair. Only lights we see now are lighting the road. Off we go through the darkness together. After awhile I need to stop. My new friend makes it clear the stop is an inconvenience. I plead that I have tried waiting and cannot wait a minute longer. Luckily, a truck stop comes over the horizon. Perfect! So, he begrudgingly pulls over. I jump out and ran to the bathroom. After doing the dirty, I head back out to an empty parking lot. Wait, what? An EMPTY parking lot?! What am I supposed to do now? I go inside and ask the clerk what town this is and how long would it take to get back and if he has a phone? Once I hear the words I don’t think they fully stick in my brain, I ask again. I can’t comprehend what is happening and what I’m going to do. I’m spiraling out in my head, when the man behind says he’s heading my way and wouldn’t mind a little company for a bit. Thank goodness, it’s easy to say yes to some help now. I’m back in the semi, and see the dice bounce as we speed along. No, that wasn’t the real root of my problem. Yes that was part of my last hours of what looks like my life, but it has to be before that.

The smell of pot comes flying up my nose. I close my eyes and I’m back in that dark alley. Thinking that was the end of my night I start to head home. But as I’m trying to avoid the icy puddles I hear a voice from the doorway. I jump, I wasn’t expecting anyone. It turns out to be the bass player from the band I just watched looking for a light. I happen to have a lighter in my purse and pull it out. We strike up a conversation.

Was this the beginning of the end? A harmless conversation and a light?

We have a nice conversation as I watch his cigarette get smaller and smaller. I can’t help but be transfixed by the life in his eyes. He finally finishes the cigarette and offers a ride to an after party. I was starting to get tired, but I kept reminding myself, say yes, say yes. “Ya, what the hell.” We hop into his black SUV and head off to my next destination. Some indie song is playing over his system and the interior smells like old cigarettes and pot.

Not too far away we park on the street and head into a house that already has a ton of people and music blaring. Walking in with the bassist makes me feel important, too bad it didn’t last. Everyone saw us walk in and people swarmed him and took him off to another room. I could smell the pot drifting in the air. Someone came up and handed me a beer. Taking it gratefully I popped the top and took a long swig. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was. When was the last time I had a drink? Looking around there is an assortment of things going on. The lead singer is strumming a guitar and singing to a group of young women. There’s a group of men playing a video game. Then there’s the table set up for the drinking games with people cheering. I lean against the wall enjoying my beer when the bassist finds me again. We have a fun flirtatious thing going on. His mischievous smile is everything to me right now. He hands be a blunt, I take a drag. I’m thinking back at how fun and crazy this night has been. If this is any indication, it’s going to be a wild year. In the middle of his story two voices start to carry over all the noise. They are clearly arguing about something, I can’t tell what it is. The voices are getting louder and the whole party stops. We all look in the direction of the men. You can see their blood pressure rising, the veins are popping out of one’s forehead as he yells. The other man’s fist start to clench. The bassist makes his move over trying to settle them down, but it’s too late. Before he can make it there the fist is pulled back and then lands on the other’s face. Within a split second the man reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun from his belt. Everyone ducks as they run out of the house. The scene is chaos.

The smell of old cigars brings me back to the present. These scenes are passing faster and faster. Why isn’t my family or childhood flashing? Instead it’s today’s scenes, am I even getting closer to figuring out where my mistake was? I feel the sweat starting to be released through my pores as I become more nervous. The wetness takes me back to the dark concert in that small venue. All the bodies packed on top of each other. When one of us swayed, we all swayed. Wait, back up. Walking across the grass I could feel the hardness of the frozen earth beneath my feet. Unsure exactly where I was, I started walking towards the downtown skyline. Anywhere would be better than being in that house with the flying glassware. The air was so cold I could feel it freezing in my nose on each breath.

A car pulls up and says he saw me leave his friend’s house and asked if I was heading to the party and offered a ride. It was cold and I didn’t really know where I was, so this yes was easier to slide out. He reaches over to unlock the passenger door. Getting in I can already feel the warmth of the heater. My face begins to thaw out. The conversation is pleasant between us, he seems nice and thoughtful. We are so lost in our conversation that I can’t believe we are already at the party.

He turns to me and says he’s actually not staying at the party and has tickets to a concert. Would like the extra one? I grab at the opportunity. Heading off towards the concert I’m feeling better about all the chances I’ve taken today. Finding a parking spot and heading up to the concert line. No one has been let in yet. The line reaches around the block. It must be a sold out show. The line slowly starts moving and we are heading into the building. Going through security I can feel the buzz of excitement of all the fans, it’s contagious. We move into the main room and it fills up quickly. The lights go down and everyone cheers. The whole building is vibrating, the music possesses us to dance. All the bodies are producing such heat we are all sweating. Sweaty arm rubbing against sweaty arm. Every hiccup of the night is forgotten under the blanket of the music. I feel something foreign touch my arm. Jumping back into the present and away from the fingers caressing my arm. The man and I look back out the window straight ahead. I’m waiting for a way to escape pop in my head, but I can’t stop trying to figure out what was the exact decision that led me here. At this point it doesn’t really matter, but my brain won’t stop regardless.

All of the sudden I am aware of the radio playing. I hear the same song as I heard earlier in the car. Almost at the beginning, I’m getting closer.

She turns up the radio in the Honda and we head out. The music is soft and relaxing. She explains she has to make a quick stop at a friends house, but she promises it won’t take long and isn’t out of the way.

We pull up to her friend's house and she runs inside. Looking around I notice how empty the street is. There aren’t any people around and not many lights on in the other houses. It’s quiet outside, but that doesn’t last long when I loud crash comes from the house my new friend is in. It’s followed by another loud crash. She leans out the front door and yells that it’s going to take longer than she thought. I should go on ahead without her. She’ll catch up soon. I’m not sure how she is going to find me or if I will ever see her again, I obviously don’t know where I’m going. After another sound of breaking glass I decided to take my chances and start walking across the lawns. I hear the song change, and I’m back on the leather seat. Scooting closer to the door, trying not to draw attention. He stares at my legs. Please keep looking at the road I think, but don’t dare make a noise. The taste of gin rushes over my tongue. I’m back in my apartment. Realizing I am stuck in a rut as I consider making Ramen and retire to the cocoon on my couch for the rest of the night, I decide to go to the store to cook a fancy meal for myself. That feels like a good start to changing my routine. I head out the door and head down the street to the store.

Walking past all the shops and restaurants I look through the windows and see all the people eating with their friends. I can almost taste the food from the Thai restaurant. The beat drops at a bar coming up. A bouncer looks at me up and down. He hands me a coupon and invites me inside. Walking in I can see why they’re grabbing people off the street. I walk through the dark room to the bar on the side. The bartender is about my height and a little stocky with tattoos up his arms. He is leaning on the wall with his phone picking out some music. He sees me and walks over. I hand him the coupon, and ask for a gin and tonic. When he comes back with my drink I hand him some cash and sit on the stool. Right after I got comfortable another woman walked in and sat down next to me. We both got pulled in by the bouncer and were enjoying our drinks together. She has a lively way about her. I can’t get enough of her stories, they’re fascinating.

We both are coming to the end of our drinks, and she invites me to join her for a party not too far away. I’m hesitant at first, but I think back to my rut. Deciding to go for it we head out together and find her old Honda. The gin leaves my tongue and am left with the distinct flavor of fear. All I see on the floor are wadded up fast food wrappers and bags. Searching for something I can use to protect myself when the time comes. A large Maglite flashlight. Great! That can work. Calculating how fast I can grab it when the time comes, I close my eyes. Now I’m at the party from last weekend. I can smell the mulled wine cooking on the stove. I see the guests wearing all the sequined dresses. My mouth even starts watering from the taste of that bruschetta. My skin tingles with the feeling of the warm hug from my best friend. And then I hear the beginning. The start of the end. “What’s your resolution this year?” I hear coming from the moving lips of my friend. And the worst sound of all, my voice.  “This year I’m going to say yes to new experiences.”


Lorilla sighs contentedly as she settles into her little stump chair with its mossy cushion. I've made a nice little home for myself in just a few weeks' time , she commends herself. No one else will likely notice, except for maybe Naivara, who helped her pick the giant banyan tree amongst whose roots she's built her house. The tree is a short distance into the forest outside Thradnyss--close enough that her friends can find her when they have work, but far enough away that other people won't bother her. Naivara, Vladislak, Rhogar, and Darrak are back at the Felnuth Tavern tonight, blowing off some steam after an extremely taxing and frustrating few days of dissuading sahuagin from attacking the merchant ships in the port. They'd invited Lorilla to come along--Darrak most insistently--but Lorilla firmly insisted on having some time to herself tonight. She's always enjoyed a quiet evening at home, tending to her plants and meditating and brewing poisons, to a night in a crowded, rowdy tavern. "Now, let's see," Lorilla murmurs to herself, deep green eyes scanning the scroll in her hands. "Where did I--" THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Emphatic pounding on her door startles her such that she drops the scroll. With a barely audible groan, she gets out of her chair to retrieve it, hoping against hope that there's been a mistake and the knocking will cease. "Lorilla! Please, let me in! I don't know if she's chasing me or not!" Vladislak yelps outside, continuing his frantic pummeling of her door. A few seconds later, the door gives way under Vladislak's fist as Lorilla opens it, wearing her most exasperated expression. The bard teeters a bit; if he was not significantly taller than the door, he might have tumbled gracelessly into the druid's abode, given his panic and obvious intoxication. "Who have you angered, Vladislak?" Lorilla inquires. "Naivara. Again. Please, let me in and I'll explain. She likes you. She won't kill me if I'm in your house," he replies, glancing frequently over his shoulders. Lorilla steps aside, and Vladislak crouches and shuffles into her home. She closes the door behind him, already wondering if she's made a mistake. "The ceilings are too low for you to stand. Sit on the floor." At 5'8", Vladislak isn't what most would consider tall, but Lorilla is 3'4" and built her home for her comfort, not to entertain visitors. "I like what you've done with the place. This is much homier than the room I'm renting at the tavern." "Thank you. Now, what have you done to Naivara?" "I just...suggested that we might spend the night together. You know, save some coin on lodgings, maybe get a bottle of mead, some candles--" "You're a fool," Lorilla interrupts, rolling her eyes. "Naivara has made it more than clear that she's not interested in romance, with you or with anyone else." "I know. I just.... Every time we work together, she.... I mean, obviously she's beautiful, but it's more than that, y'know? She's witty and fearless and--" "Deadly when crossed." "Yeah, but that's part of her charm." "You're attracted to power." Vladislak flinches as though she's slapped him. "I mean. I guess. But also...everything else about her." Lorilla arches an eyebrow. She hadn't expected sincerity from Vladislak, who's used to using his undeniable charm and smooth talking to get what he wants from people. I wonder how much he drank before he propositioned Naivara this time? "How can I get her to...not threaten to kill me if I suggest we spend more time together?" Vladislak despairs, eyes searching Lorilla's ceiling for answers. "Don't treat her like everyone else does," Lorilla replies frankly. "Come again?" "She gets a lot of attention because of the way she looks. I know you've noticed." You were bristling with rage this morning, when some of the city guards commented on Naivara's long legs and lithe figure , Lorilla adds silently. "And she resents it. Deeply." "Yeah. I've noticed that, too," Vladislak admits. "But when she's so impossibly attractive, how can she expect that--" "She wants to be treated like a person, not a conquest." Lorilla senses a disturbance in the forest--three individuals approaching, two with heavy steps. Probably Rhogar, Darrak, and Naivara. Not much time left to talk Vladislak into being sensible. "Maybe focus on being her friend first. She's been hurt a lot. She doesn't trust easily. If you're serious about wooing her, you'll have to be patient." "That's never been my best skill." Vladislak pauses; the footsteps are close enough now that he's noticed them. "I think that's our friends coming. What do I--" THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! "Heeeeyyyyyyyyy, Lorilla!" Naivara calls as she pounds on the door, obviously intoxicated. "Rememberrrr those guards who were soooooooooo rude today? We're gonna make them piss themselves again! Come with us!" Rhogar's large, scaly head pushes through an ivy curtain to peer through Lorilla's window. "Ah, good. You are here," Rhogar remarks quietly as he sees Vladislak sprawled on Lorilla's dirt floor. Naivara is still pounding on the door and yelling, and they can hear Darrak fruitlessly trying to get her to knock it off. "I convinced her that the guards propositioned her tonight, too, and that your offer was to try and make them back off." "What?! Really?!" Vladislak exclaims, trying to match Rhogar's volume. "You owe us a small fortune for her drinks tonight, but play your cards right and come with us, and she might forget her threat to castrate you," Rhogar continues. "Lorilla, I know you wanted a quiet night in, but please come, too. Darrak desperately wants someone sane to talk to." Lorilla casts a longing glance at her comfortable chair and the scroll she'd planned to read tonight, but then she smiles in spite of herself. It's nice to feel needed. "I guess I can come. Can't have you all getting into too much trouble," Lorilla agrees, then shouts, "Coming, Naivara! I have to repack my poisoning kit." Naivara cheers outside the door, and Rhogar laughs as he pulls his head back out of Lorilla's window. Vladislak frantically tries to dust himself off and make himself presentable without the aid of a mirror. "You look fine," Lorilla tells him, "and anyway, your looks aren't going to help you achieve your goal this time. Stop procrastinating and let's go, if we're doing this." "All right. Yeah. You're right," the bard nods, although the idea is clearly nerve-wracking; he's never had a non-combat problem that his looks weren't helpful to solve. "And um. Thanks." Lorilla just opens the door and gestures for him to join their friends outside. "Come on, then, both of you!" Rhogar encourages. "Adventure awaits!" Aye, indeed, Lorilla thinks as she follows Vladislak out of her house and immediately feels overwhelmed by her friends' raucous chatter. "Finally!" Naivara exults. "Lead the way," Vladislak invites Naivara, doing his best to infuse his manners with Lorilla's advice. "Heaven help us," Darrak mutters as he falls in step beside Lorilla, following the other three to ambush the hapless guards. The druid smiles and shakes her head. "Other forces already help us," she remarks as she watches their friends. Perhaps there's hope for Vladislak, after all.


Oh my. That’s not right. It’s nice to see but its $100,000 more than I should have . I was standing in front of the ATM machine having just withdrawn some cash and was staring at the receipt.. I immediately thought I should go into the bank and question it when another thought came. Hold on now. It might be ok. Wait until I am home and check the computer. Might be another windfall I hadn’t expected .

Remembering back 10 years ago when I had found I was entitled to a pension from my husband’s work. Came completely out of the blue, but very welcome. On my way home, I took the 20 minute walk to think about the funds. If this was legit, how would I spend it?. A trip and one where I would invite my close friend to join me, all expenses paid. We both had expressed a desire to visit Newfoundland and Labrador. Embrace the wonderful scenery, the fiords and thoroughly explore all the Viking history. As neither of us wanted to drive, the best way was an escorted tour. I had researched this before and knew there was a 14 day one available. A small group of about 10 people in an luxury coach, staying at the best hotels along the way and doing various side trips like whale watching, iceberg alley and enjoying an evening with the locals with all their music and dancing.  That trip would account for around $20,000 and I could book it now and pay for it upfront and also take out insurance cancellation just to be on the safe side. Lovely, I thought. But hold on a bit. What if this windfall was an error. If I spent it and then they wanted it back. The insurance cancellation was good but only for so many days before the trip. I would then be in debt. Or could they? All very well expecting to get the funds back, but if it’s all gone, you can’t get blood out of a stone. So maybe I should spend it as fast as I could. Good point, so how else will I dispose of $100,000 fast?

What about investment? Nice idea, but that takes time to get a good return. Maybe buy a car. Normally a new car is not a good investment as the minute it is driven off the parking lot, it depreciates fast. I had quite the opposite experience six months ago. .

My car was coming off a 5 year lease and I did the buy back. Six months later I moved into a condo in town and having a car was such an expense. Especially parking. Then there was gas which had risen so much recently, plus insurance, maintenance and such like and public transport around me was so readily available. I had seen there was a demand for second hand cars and was amazed when I was offered $15,000.. Doing the maths I had actually paid $21,000 in total with lease payments and buy out, so in 5 years, it had only cost me $6,000 plus running costs. . Not bad I thought. So could I do that again?  Although I had managed without my car, I had to admit I really missed it. The little trips done on a whim, popping down to see my friend who lived 2 hours away. Or exploring other areas around the town which were not always accessible by public transport or if they were, it took such a long time. So that would account for another $35,000 .if I bought a new car and outright. That wasn’t such a bad idea because if the funds were in error and had to pay back, I could always take out a new lease and pay back the funds and hopefully do the same as before. So now I have disposed of $55,000. Had to do something else with the $45,000. By this time I had arrived home and went immediately to the computer to research the funds, who they were from and if I was entitled. Not that easy without alerting the bank which I didn’t want to do at this stage.  As today was a Friday, no more transactions would go through on my account until the following Monday. So I had the whole weekend to decide my next step. Another thought popped up. Is the Bank allowed to withdraw funds from my account without my permission? I had put an alert on a daily withdrawal of $2,000 to stop any nasty people helping themselves. The Bank certainly could deposit funds as I was the recipient and they wouldn’t be concerned where it came from. If this was in error, they would only know if the sender put in a search and that would only be the result of the true recipient not receiving the funds. So how much time would all this take? Could be days, even weeks. Certainly enough time for me to dispose of the $45,000.  What else could I do or what else did I need? Ah, charity.

It’s all very well having funds, legit or not, but there are other people not so fortunate. Animals too. One of my favourite charities was for guide dogs. Not just for the blind and deaf, but also for therapeutic dogs in hospitals. Donating to this not only finds a good home for a dog, but also gave a new lease on life for people with disabilities.

This is excellent. I doubt anyone would be that mean to want a return if I had donated with funds not my own. I would appeal to their good side and hopefully shame them into assuring the donation would stay. All good. That accounts for at least $3,000. Now to select maybe 4 more charities and give the same amount.  Doing well.

Now down to $30,000. What do I really need. Until now, I hadn’t thought how hard it was to spend money. I had seen so many ads with the latest lottery up to the millions and I’m sure like a lot of people thought how wonderful it would be to have. Now here I was not sure how to spend just $100,000. Of course I was also considering the possibility of having to pay it back if it wasn’t really mine. That did put a restriction of freedom of spending. So far I had come up with ideas which also enabled me to repay the funds if necessary without putting a damper on myself. What about my kids and grandkids?.  They were all in a good position. Not that a bit of extra cash wouldn’t go amiss.  I had already put funds aside for the grandkids in a trust fund they would have on my demise. Also had transferred funds to my kids to cover my cremation and the trip to the UK to scatter my ashes. Everything was in order. Just what do I personally need?   My apartment was well furnished and my building offered a lot of amenities. Going on trips is wonderful and I would really enjoy the Newfoundland one, but traveling and negotiating international airports is not something I really wanted to do anymore.  Been there, done that. Now it was time to make sure I was well cared for and enjoy my senior life. With that in mind, I turned my thoughts to the remaining $30,000. How could I park the funds so they could be spent and couldn’t be grabbed back.  Would be good to have $30,000 to access as the spirit moved. To go on day trips, enjoy shows in New York, visit friends on the west coast and generally have the freedom to enjoy what was available. I really needed to put it somewhere safe. Then I decided on a plan which could take a bit of time. I would take out cash every few days. Not the same amount. Didn’t want to show a pattern. I would keep the cash in a safe place in my apartment and would use the cash to pay for groceries, clothing, auto expenses such as gas, service, maintenance, concert tickets, and other personal requirements. By doing that, my bank balance would increase and those funds would be legitimately mine. So not to attract attention, I would put some expenses through the bank.  Taking the funds out would take quite some time and over several weeks. I was banking on the true sender and recipient not discovering their error for some time. Something that I had experienced once before when I was working for an architect many years ago. I had been engaged as the bookkeeper for a medium sized Architect’s office. A good solid firm and it was a delight to work with such creative people. Normally I only did a 3 day week which was sufficient to keep the books in up to date order. The specific week when an error appeared on the bank balance was when I had been asked to draw up a budget for a new project which required an extra day’s work. I had just finished the project and still had a bit of time to spare so decided to just do a cursory glance at the bank balance instead of waiting until the following week. Immediately I could see there was an extra $50,000 deposit and from a company we did not have dealings. I knew there was an error and could easily see why. The name of the Architect I worked for was Richardson Design. There was another Architect cum Artists Gallery in town called Richards Art and Design.  This was a much bigger firm than ours and had quite a staff. This was to whom the cheque had been issued so clearly just a slip up. $50,000 slip up and not to be taken lightly.  I didn’t have the authority to question this or to contact anyone until it was confirmed that this was in fact an error. Everyone had left for the weekend, so I put a note with a photocopy of the transaction on Mr. Richards’ desk.

When I arrived at work the following Monday, I was immediately summoned to Mr. Richards’ office. It was of course to discuss the $50,000. The head accountant was also there and he did confirm that they were not expecting any funds from this particular sender. After going through the bank balance and showing him how I had retrieved the information as to the sender and recipient, it was agreed it was just a bank slip up.  That’s when I caught a bit of a gleam in Mr. Richards’ eye. When he asked if I had contacted anyone and I assured him I had not, the gleam became a beam.  “Let’s wait a bit and see how long it takes them to find out they’re missing funds.”

Both he and the accountant chuckled. I knew there was a bit of a jealousy between the two firms and we were regarded as the poor relations. Normally I would not have questioned either of them, but I thought they hadn’t really thought this through,  “What happens Mr. Richards if they discover it before we tell them.? We might look as though we are slow off the mark don’t you think?” Definitely a good point and at that they both agreed that although action should be taken straight away, they decided to give them 24 hours. They wouldn’t be caught out for any delay as they could plead that I was only part time. Apparently, Mr. Richards was the one to call 24 hours later and politely ask the other Mr. Richards if he was missing a bit of cash, like around $50,000. By all accounts, there was more than a bit of a flurry around and questions why this had not been noticed immediately. Especially as they were expecting the funds the week before. The bank were hauled over the coals as well as it was their error in posting. We came out like true heroes and I was sent a bouquet of flowers from the competition with a simple note “Thank you for your diligence. Good people hard to find” Was that a way of offering me a job? Maybe but I didn’t bite.            Taking out $30,000 in cash would take a lot of time and I realized I would be in a lot of stress until it was all accounted for. Plus all the time expecting to hear that the gig was up. Did I really need any stress at my time of life? Definitely not, but what other way was there to deal with $30,000. I cast my thoughts back to tv shows I had seen about money laundering. I’d never truly followed the total scheme and anyways that the film industry. They don’t necessarily have to be that accurate. Deciding it was best to leave things as they were and not spend any money or dispose of any funds for a few days. See what happens on Monday..            As soon as the bank was open, I checked my bank balance. Still the same. Checked my messages and nothing from the Bank or from anyone I didn’t recognize.  Several coffees later, I had come to a decision. I just wasn’t prepared to go through all the plans I had thought of to park or spend funds not truly mine. Guess I don’t have a criminal mind after all. Without trying to dissuade myself, I picked up the phone and called the Bank.

Oh my God. No wonder people question people in authority. After all the details had been taken down, repeated and fully explained a couple of times, checking with superiors, and being put on hold innumerous times, I was finally told they would place a hold on the funds pending investigation. They either didn’t know or would not tell me who the funds were from.

It was nearly 4 weeks later that I heard back to say the funds had indeed been placed in my account in error.  No other details were given despite the numerous questions I had.  In a way I was relieved although I did have fun thinking about how to spend the money.  It also showed me my priorities which did surprise me.

The next surprise I had was a letter with a $10,000 cheque. It was from the sender.  Had someone other than myself received the funds and disposed of them straight away like I had imagined I could do, not necessary the same way, those would have been lost and both the sender and the bank would have been responsible for issuing duplicate funds.  In recognition of my honesty, they were issuing me a 10% finders fee. Now there’s a thought.

Why not offer my services in tracking down missing funds


The annual cookie contest is in place! I want to do it, but I’m scared. I should just do it, Yeah I’m going to do it! It’s always in December, and every year the type of cookie is different. This year is whoever makes the biggest cookie. I don’t think it will be easy, but I’m up for the challenge. I have to sign up, of course. They don’t just let anyone in though, You sign up, and they may accept you. I really hope they accept me! I’ve tried to get in for the past 2 years, but they have never accepted me. I always get scared, and then want to do it. I’ve always been top of my class, and people say that I have a talent for cooking. You have to use math for cooking, and I have always been good at math.

A few weeks later, I got an email from the contest! I get this email every time I apply though, It either tells you that you got in or not. The past 2 years, It said I didn’t get in, but it could change this year. Okay, Time to open it. I... got in! It’s next Friday! They are going to pay for my flight, hotel, everything! I have to leave tomorrow, so I better start packing right now. I finally finished packing. It is pretty late, so I better go to bed if I don’t want to miss my flight.

As I wake up, I remember. I have to go to London for the contest! I look over at my clock frantically, worried I was late. My plane leaves at 8:00 AM. It’s 7:00 AM, Perfect, The exact time I wanted to get up. I hop at of bed, Get ready, and make coffee. I load my trunk with my suitcases, and start going. I look at the clock in my car, It reads 7:28. It takes 20 minutes to get to the airport, so I just make it. As I am riding up to the airport, I think about the contest, I win, and win that nice cash prize. $1,000,000, What I could do with that kind of money. Next thing I know, I swerve off the road a little. I let out a little scream, and get back on the road. I rush to the airport. Hopefully, I will make it. I run in the airport, Check in, and run on to the plane. It almost left, and I just barely made it. It was a long flight there, but it was worth it. I get into my hotel room, and unpack. I fall asleep, and think about the contest in the morning. I wake up, and get ready for the contest. I drive myself to the contest, and try to make friends with my contestants. One, Ash, Is very competitive, and is not going to stop for anything to win. Jake, Just likes to cook, and doesn’t even know how he got in. Ashley, Is nervous, and doesn’t do well under pressure, from what I can see. Lastly, Jason, Like Ash, Wants to win, I feel like Jason is going to cheat. The announcer yells, “The Cookie Contest is starting! This year's theme is the biggest cookie! Our competitors are Ash, Jake, Ashley, Jason, and Alexis!” We all walk out, and wave. The audience cheers. I whisper to Jake, “I’m really nervous, Especially with this big crowd.” He says back, “I am too, Best of luck!” The announcer says “You have 5 hours on the clock, Go!” We all rush to the kitchens that the workers on the show have set up. I work really hard, and decide to make a chocolate chip cookie. Since, It’s the easiest cookie I know how to make. I look over at Ash and she is almost done with her whole batter. I rush, Worried I would lose. I get my cookie in the oven, While I am waiting, I decide to look around, and make another treat to sweeten up the judges. My cookie comes out, and it’s perfect, It didn’t crack! I rush to get my other treat in the oven. I have to wait for the cookie to cool down anyways. I hear the oven ding, meaning that the bread that I made to try to win over the judges, is done. I see that everyone else is already finished and waiting for the time to run out. There is only 30 minutes left, so I start to clean my area. I looked over at Jason, and he was putting pepper on Ashley’s cookie. I yell to him “What are you doing, Jason?” He yells back to me, “Uh, Nothing!” I tell Ashley that Jason put pepper on her cookie, and she managed to take it all off. I hear the crowd and the announcer yell “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4!” It gets louder when they say, “3, 2,1!” The announcer says, “Bakers up! It’s time for our judges to see what they think!” The judges come out and go to Ash first. They nod in delight. They say, almost in unison, “That’s a big cookie!” They go over to Jake. They look like they like it, but not as much as Ash’s. One judge says, “It is bigger than Ash’s cookie though.” Another chimes in, “I think it should be judged on taste and size. Jake’s cookie was not as good at Ash’s, but it is bigger.” They go on to Ashley. They taste it, They look like they really like it. Which makes me nervous. “It is bigger than the other’s,” They say. The Judges go over to Jason. Next is me, so I’m very worried. They taste his cookie, and exclaim. They take the trash can and spit it out. They yell, “This is Horrible!” That’s what he gets for tampering with other people’s cookies. They come over to me, and say, “Hopefully, You have something better than Jason!” They eat my cookie, and I wait anxiously for their response. They exclaim, “This has been the best cookie yet, and It’s definitely the biggest cookie!” They eat a second bite, That’s always a good thing too! I know I won! The announcer, and the judges get together for a second, and talk. The announcer yells, “Well, I think we found a winner! The winner is… Alexis!" I shout, “Yay, Thank you!” The announcer yells, “You win $1,000,000!” We all settle down, and Jake asks me if I would like to go grab a drink. I said, “Of course!” We go, and we go get something to drink. While we are there, he asks me for my number, We exchange numbers. I ask him, “Where do you live?” “Brooklyn, Why?” He replies. I exclaim, “I live in Brooklyn!” After a friendly drink, We go back to our hotel rooms. I get ready to leave in the morning.

I wake up, ready to go home. I get on the plane, and

Go home. I get in my apartment, and sigh, “Home Sweet Home.” I’m going to move out of here when I get that money. A few weeks later, I get the money. As soon as I do, I give some to my parents. Then, I move out of my apartment. I text Jason, and ask him if he wants to meet. We have a date, and after a few weeks, We are dating. What more could I want, I have money, A boyfriend, And I moved out of my apartment? My life is perfect!


*Fimbulwinter: Proper Noun (Norse Mythology): One of the signs of the onset of Ragnarok. A constant three-year winter. “The bunker should be this way!” One man shouted as he led a group of about eight people through the heavy snowfall. The year was 2591, and the world had been completely covered in snow and ice for over a century at that point. Why? No one could tell you. Over the years, snowfall began to become heavier and heavier, even covering places like the Sahara and Arizona in thick snow layers nearly year around. The population had gone from a staggering twenty-two billion individuals to little more than one billion, and it was still dropping quick. With food supplies dwindling and the extreme temperatures, survival was a difficult task to put it lightly. “Where’d yah hear about this bunker, anyway, Butch?” Another man yelled from the back of the group. The had bright red hair and a long neck beard. His hair fell in braids off the back of his head. He was blind in one eye, evident by his eye being whited out. In between the two individuals walking on the ground was a tall, futuristic looking tank. Built out of rusted metal and even some wood, the machine plowed through the snow. One the top of the tank sat three women. One woman, wearing padded clothing, gloves, and her head was wrapped and goggles covering her eyes. Her mouth was the only exposed skin on her body. Her black hair stuck out from her head wrappings. On her back was a large nameplate that read “BUTCH”. “That man who came into the safehouse two weeks ago who had survived the wolf attack told me.” Butch answered. She was fiddling with a small flare gun she had strapped to her thigh. “I didn’t believe him at first! A bunker with several years supplies worth of food sounded too good to be true. The I put Kaiyo on the case, and things seemed more plausible.” Kaiyo, a young Asian woman with bright pink hair, less padded than Butch but still heavily clothed, sat next to a small garbage-can fire on top of the tank. When her name was mentioned, she simply nodded. “It does sound too good to be true!” The red-headed man responded. “This is a suicide mission, through and through! I cannot believe I let you guys talk me into going with you!” “Shut up, Roach!” The man in the front of the group shouted back at the red-headed man. “My wife and kids haven’t had food for over four days! I’ll do anything to bring them back some nourishment!” “We’ve been gone two days, Scott.” Butch shouted down from the top of the tank. “I pray they’ll survive until we get back.” “I pray we survive.” Roach mumbled. “Wait. Scratch that. I don’t pray. I refuse to pray, in fact, because any of those retched gods that allowed this crap-heap of a winter doesn’t deserve my prayers!” “I thought you didn’t believe in any gods?” Scott asked. “That is also why I won’t pray.” “At some point, Roach, you’ll realize that you’re gonna have to fall back on someone other than yourself for survival.” Butch said. “And at that point, you may not have anyone left but a god.” “I’m the only person whose never let me down.” Roach responded. Everyone rolled their eyes at Roach’s comment. “Anyway, based off of Kaiyo’s estimates, we should reach the bunker within the next hour.” Scott shouted to the group behind him. “How do we know we’ve been going the right direction?” The third woman asked from atop the tank. She was stick-thin with long blonde hair reaching down to her knees. She looked malnourished more than anything, with bones showing through her skin, and her eyes being sunken into her head. If the group hadn’t know her for several years, they might have assumed she was the oldest among them. But they all knew little Scrapper (the nickname the crew had given her) was far younger than anyone of them. “The man we heard the rumor from gave us basic directions.” Butch answered. “Kaiyo charted the area and found that a bunker did in fact exist within the range that the man had said. After that, it’s a lot of faith.” “Blind faith.” Roach muttered. After another forty-five minutes of walking, the group could see ahead of them a formation. A man-made structure that was clearly the bunker they were looking for. “I can’t freakin’ believe.” Roach whispered to himself. “Good work, Kaiyo.” Scott exclaimed. Kaiyo simply nodded. “Wait a sec.” Butch muttered. She stood up, revealing she was actually much taller and more muscular than she previously seemed, standing close to eight feet tall. “Guys, there’s more than just a bunker there.” The crew stopped and looked for a moment, realizing Butch was correct. There was not just a singular bunker there, but also a large city. “A city?” Scott confusedly asked. “Nothing was ever said about a city?” “He never mentioned anything about it.” Butch responded. “Kaiyo, is it possible we lost track of where we’re going and found something else?” Kaiyo shook her had. “Bunker here in city.” “I should’ve known better than trusting that freakin’ pink-haired little…!” Roach began shouting. “Roach, shut up!” Butch shouted back. She walked over to Kaiyo and placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Kaiyo, do you know if the city is abandoned or not?” Scott asked. “If it’s abandoned, our plans don’t change.” “City inhabited.” “Great. Just great!” Roach exclaimed. “Well. Time to turn around, I guess.” “Why do you just assume this city won’t try to help us?” Scott asked optimistically. “Maybe they’ll give us some of their food.” “Because, Scott. It’s a dog-eat-dog world now!” Roach answered. “I know you like to think we are still living in some sort of fantasy world where ‘we’re all in this together’, but really, most of us are just in it for ourselves, being dragged out here to die in the snow because of people like you!” “I’m sorry that I’m trying to help other people that aren’t me, Roach!” Scott shouted back. “I’m sorry that I want to help the human race maybe survive another century!” “If you two are done making a scene, I’d like to know what the plan is now.” Butch calmly stated. “I’m going in.” Scott answered, not breaking his angry gaze from Roach. “Maybe they’ll help us out, at least to some extent.” “I’m going in, too.” Butch responded. “You’re a good man Scott, but a bad fighter.” She winked at Scott. “Kaiyo. Scrapper. I’m not gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You either wait out here or come in with us. You’re choice.” Scott explained. “I’ll come in with you.” Scrapper answered. “Roach creeps me out.” “Same.” Kaiyo added. “Good.” Roach muttered. “Means it’s working.” “Okay, then.” Scott continued. “Roach? What are you gonna do?” Roach thought for a moment, trying to figure out how best to answer. “You guys are gonna freakin’ die in there.” “You don’t know that, Roach.” Butch responded. He nodded his head. “I’d rather die in there than out here in the snow.” Roach answered. “I’m going in.” *** When the crew pulled up to what seemed to be the front entrance of the city, Scott stood at the front of the group. The five people gathered together, all on the ground off of the tank, which they had left further back to keep from intimidating their potential help. The door in front of them was huge, standing at least fifty feet tall and twenty feet wide. The city stood as a massive closed-off dome made of stone. Scott was unclear of how to go about opening the door. Kaiyo stepped in front of Scott and placed her hand on the door. In a moment, her eyes glowed pink, before the door opened. “Nice one.” Butch mentioned. “Yeah. Let’s just break into this city.” Roach commented. “That’ll end well.” As the door opened in front of them, six armed guards stood behind the entrance. In between the six guards stood a tall woman wearing a white suit. She had short, curly brown hair that extended to her chin. “You are a crafty one, young android.” The woman stated, staring straight at Kaiyo. “Good job opening our door.” “Great. We’re gonna die.” “Shut up, Roach.” Scott muttered. “Hello. My name is Scott. This is my crew of scouts from Colony B-76 from the upper east territories. These are Kaiyo, Butch, Roach, and Scrapper.” “What brings your crew here, Scott?” The woman asked. “We were informed of a bunker containing edible foods this way out of our colony.” Scott explained. “We came on the assumption it was abandoned, but now realize it is actually an inhabited city. We simply ask that if there are any portions you are willing to part with, we may have some for our people.” “While a nice request, our people do not so openly spread our food to outsiders.” The woman responded. My husband, the Prime President of this city-state, has made it clear that outsiders are not to…” The woman paused, listening as someone spoke to her over an earpiece. She nodded. “Yes sir.” She answered. She looked back up at Scott, then moved her eyes over to Roach. “My husband has informed me he would like to meet you before sending you off. Please, come in.” As the crew walked into the city the doors closed behind them. Once they were completely shut, the guards each chose a particular member of the crew to stand by, with one covering the woman in white. “I will have my maid-servants prepare you a place to stay over the week, per my husband’s request.” The woman stated. “Okay, listen here, Snow.” Butch interjected. “We’re not staying a week. One night, maybe, but we’ve got families back at our colony who need food, and soon.” “My husband never said anything about gifting you food.” The woman responded. “He just wants to meet… one of you.” She looked straight at Roach. “Me?” Roach asked. “Why me?” The woman simply smiled, then turned around and continued walking forward. “I don’t like this.” Roach whispered to Scott. “I’m starting to agree.” They were led into a large, open room full of people. While the woman leading them was dressed quite well, the people in this room were dirty, dressed in rags and covered in dirt. “What is this place?” Scrapper asked. “This is where all of the people found in the wild stay waiting for clearance to enter into the city-proper.” The woman responded. “Most have been here their entire life times. Sad, but the Prime President has his priorities.” “How is this any better than being out in the wild?” Butch asked. “We have heating.” At the doorway at the end of the room stood a man wearing a blue suit. He had bright red hair, and a long, scruffy beard. Roach froze dead in his tracks. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Roach whispered. As the man looked Roach in the eyes, he extended out his arms. “Welcome home, younger brother.” “Oh, crap.” Scott whispered. “How long has it been?” Roach’s brother asked. “What? Like twenty-three years or something like that?” “Not long enough.” Roach answered. “Come on, brother. Don’t be like that.” “You sold me!” Roach shouted. “For what, Mark?” “A wife.” Mark responded. “She’s still with me if that’s any concern to you. She’s my favorite out of my five.” He laughed smugly, while the woman in white had a slight look of shame come over her face. “Screw you.” Roach said. “Let’s go. I want nothing from this guy.” “Can’t we talk this out?” Mark asked. “Don’t you think I might’ve come to regret that over the years?” “Honestly, no.” “Listen, brother. Just stay the night. You and I can talk and get caught up on life.” Mark continued. “Tomorrow morning you can leave, and I’ll send you off with plenty of food to last your colony months!” Roach thought for a minute. He hated the idea of staying with his brother for more time than he wanted. But at the same time, he knew his colony needed food, and he didn’t want this trip to be worthless. “Fine. One night.” Roach agreed. “But first thing tomorrow, there better be food waiting for us to deliver home.” Scott looked at Roach and mouthed ‘thank you’. He had known Roach for a long time, and while the two did not always get along, he knew just how much Roach’s family had hurt him. “Good. You can stay in my quarters, brother.” Mark explained. “I’ll make sure your friends have a safe place to stay as well.” *** Roach and Mark arrived in Mark’s living quarters about half and hour later. Upon arriving, Roach was disgusted at what he saw. Five women all dressed in white gowns and with gold and blue paint over their faces. On their backs were written the words ‘The Wives of Mark’. “Worse than I thought. “Roach stated in a quiet tone. “You’re sick. What do they even do all day?” “That is… none of your business.” Mark answered. “I don’t see why you’re so resistant to me, brother. I’m trying to help.” “You are not trying to help, Mark.” Roach responded. “You’re trying to get something from me. What you could possibly want from me, I’m not sure. I kinda suck.” “Is this what your life’s become?” Mark asked. “I’ve had success while you and and your little crew is struggle to make it day to day.” “Success, Mark? Is that what this is? You force women to ‘love’ you so you can feel better about yourself while there are people in your own city starving because you are too arrogant to help them!” “You don’t know the stuff I deal with everyday to keep this city running!” Mark shouted. “I’ve seen pain and trauma you wouldn’t believe!” “And I watched my daughter take her own life because it seemed better than my inability to provide for her!” Roach shouted back. “So shut up!” “I’m sorry, brother.” Mark responded. “I really am.” Before Roach could continue, the woman in white stormed into the room. “Sir. The giant, she broke into the locker and stole food.” ‘Crap.’ Roach thought. ‘Butch’. The three walked down to the large room they had been in earlier. In the center of the room was Butch surrounded by three guards who had Butch chained up. “Chains? Really?” Roach stated. “Little overkill, don’t yah think?” “Speak for yourself, giant.” Mark shouted at Butch. “First off, my name is Butch, not giant.” She answered. “Secondly, the door was open, and people were walking in and out getting food as they please. Remember, I haven’t eaten in two whole days!” “Listen, sir. We got some food too, so whatever you do to her should be done to us as well.” Scott interjected. Mark ignored Scott. “Non-citizens stealing from us is a grave offense. You will be punished greatly.” “Giants make for great slave labor, sir.” The woman in white stated. “Shall we condemn her to the mines?” “Agreed.” Mark continued. “I too feel that would best suit her.” “Holy crap.” Roach muttered. “I knew it! I knew all you wanted was to get something from me. You weren’t gonna help us until you saw Butch. All you wanted was an excuse to get an extra slave for your city!” “Brother. Giants make for great slave labor. I’m sure you understand.” Mark explained. “She’s my friend, jack-wad!” Roach shouted. “Punishment must be served.” “This isn’t punishment! You tricked us just so you could steal my friend as a slave!” “You wish to propose some sort of deal?” Mark asked. “Literally anything other than what you want right now.” Mark and the woman in white paused to think for a moment. After some silence, Mark spoke. “Kill them all. Take the giant.” The guards instantly rose their weapons and aimed at the crew. They began open firing on them instantly. Kaiyo was the first to be hit, but as an android she was able to withstand the shot more so than anyone else. Scott was shot in the back, falling over dead immediately. Roach looked for Butch but saw she had been taken out of the room right away and was gone before he knew it. He picked up Scrapper and began running with Kaiyo by his side. They ran towards the exit they had come in, but the guards were too many. Kaiyo continued to take the majority of the shots, but was able to withstand much of them, though even she was slowing down too. As they entered into the hallway where the exit was, Kaiyo used her last moments to open the door. As the door began to open, she fell over dead, too. Roach and Scrapper were the only ones left and ran out the door as quickly as they could into the freezing snow. Mark and his guards stood at the door, this time with a larger weapon that would surely kill them. Roach was smart, though, and took Scrapper straight toward the tank they had left behind. They jumped in as quickly as they could and aimed straight at the doorway. Within a moment, Scrapper hit the button and shot a missile straight into the door, killing the guards, and presumably Mark, too. Roach and Scrapper sat for a moment, trying to catch their breath from what they had experienced. “What now?” Scrapper asked. Roach thought for a moment, partially concerned at how unaffected she was by this. He knew what she had experience in her thirteen years of life, and it horrified him. “We go back in for Butch.” Roach answered. “Then we take some food back home.”


The day has arrived. World leaders have been planning on this for the past twenty years. As the only intelligent species on this planet, we could not save Earth. The human race failed and big time. We became our own worst enemy.    By 2040, the world population had reached a staggering ten billion. Population is out of control. To supply food to the entire planet has become difficult. We are seeing more and more of typhoons, hurricanes, tsunamis, tornadoes, whirlpools, earthquakes, extreme temperature fluctuations, the rise of sea levels, more and more pandemics, less and less of clean air and the icebergs at both poles melting at an alarming rate…   Greed, power, consumerism, capitalism, and me-and-only-me attitude killed our once beautiful planet. I never thought from my living days that I was going to witness these events.    The majority of the countries have started to work on a contingency plan. That plan is not any plan. The plan is to create an exodus. Yes. An exodus. The countdown has begun and people are signing up. The fee? A large sum of $1,000,000 US per person to leave this planet to go to Earth 980. A newly found planet that has similar air composition and fertile soil to start a new life for human beings. Water has been found. Tolerable temperature ranges.  You cannot bring anything with you. You must leave your belongings. This is a one-way ticket.    The day has arrived. The first space shuttle will be launched today, August 6 th , 2060. First batch of humans leaving Earth. I am eighty-five years old. I had my time. I am certainly not paying a million bucks for a one-year journey in space at my age. I was born here in the United States of America and I will die on the American soil. From the scientific community, life as we know on Earth will be unbearable soon. Very soon. By 2071 it is said. Anyone who thinks that life is over here, is young, fit, and has that required amount of money, then likely he or she will embark into this space journey. Risk it all for a new life on Earth 980. A planet that was discovered in 2030. Never in my lifetime on this planet, I had expected to witness such an event. It is sad. I am angry, furious, stressed, hopeless…the things we did to our beautiful planet. I would say in the last 250 years, since the start of the Industrial Revolution, the doomsdays clock had started. It was matter of time. The human race paid the price from then till today. Generation after generation, we only wanted to use more goods, services, and food so instantly, in a high volume, without considering the impact on the nature. We had no respect to our own human race, to the animal kingdom, to the ecosystems…    We are at 14 billion souls on this 4.5-billion-year-old planet. The ones that will remain here, will try to their best to survive. I am hoping that we can somehow reverse the process, undo, all the negative actions. Is that possible now? If yes, I might not be here to witness it. If we can maybe get half of the population to the new planet? That can take years and, that can happen only if Earth 980 is compatible to the human race.    For the first group of people headed to this new Earth, world leaders have decided that scientists from all fields be allowed to enter this journey first. Engineers, geologists, chemists, physicists, astronomers, doctors, surgeons, nurses, biologists, etc. Anyone with extensive background in natural sciences. That will be the group of people to assess, initiate, colonize this new planet.    We would hope also, that if there is intelligence life to be found, that we can get help from them. There is no need to starting war. We need help, not to fight. If there is no other intelligent life, then we will be the first ones to start colonizing and building life on Earth 980.

Watching this launch on my tablet, in my home, in Denver Colorado, is a historic moment but also a sad one. Some earthlings are about to leave us to risk to find a new life in an unknown place. It is not an exploration mission. This is a survival mission. Protect the human race.    Being in the Mile Hight City, I feel a little lucky. The sea has not reached my area. Most of the states located on the east and west coast, are caught up by water. A good ten meters at least covered by water where it used to be land. Everyday, the ocean seems expanding. When will my house be submerged? No clue. But…I hope I will be dead by then before I live through it.    I made a fortune with Bitcoin. I did extremely well. I have four kids who all of them have four kids each. I decided that a huge part of my fortune will go to me kids and grandkids. My wife passed away five years ago due to breast cancer. She was the love of my life. Without her, life has no real meaning anymore. I also know, she would want me to fight till my last breath. I bought off all the houses and land of my kids. With the money I gifted them, they will all soon leave for Earth 980 but not today. In about ten years. They have booked their seats. I am going to try my best to take care of my health, to survive and keep an eye on their properties. In case if they return back from the new planet.    Only think I can do now…is pray for our Mother Earth. Pray to nature. Pray to the Creator. Pray to the Universe. Spare us. Give us one more chance. For now, we must continue to look for elsewhere, like Earth 980, and maybe other planets, where the humans can establish themselves and settle there. But…to remember to not repeat our mistakes from the past 250 years…