“So, what’s the catch?” Bastion, towering leader of the heroic Aegis team asked, reclining behind his desk as much as his high-backed chair would allow. “Excuse me?” Artemis detected a note of accusation in his tone. Her bow and quiver rested upon the wide marble surface between them, next to Bastion’s blue, articulated mask. “What does she want?”  Bastion persisted. “My job? Yours? Perhaps a… Vision-craft, or Vision-cycle?” His lip curled into a wry half-smile. “For her Vision quests?” Artemis snickered despite herself. “Boss, maybe ease up on the brand stuff a little?” “‘Mantle’ stuff,” Bastion corrected, preferring the industry term. “But, back to my original question… what’s the catch? Why did she agree to do this for me?” “Because you’re her boss…” “I’ve been her boss…,” he interrupted. “AND you asked nicely,” Artemis explained. “I didn’t ask. You did.” “On your behalf.” “Artemis.” Bastion leaned forward, revealing a small tear in the fabric of his uniform, just below his massive left pectoral. He took care with his injured arm. “Please, do not make me ask a third time.” Artemis sighed deeply. She then slid the cowl from her head, the fleeting shadow revealing a smear of black face paint and glassy, reddening eyes. “‘The catch,’” she repeated. “You dispatched your lieutenant to cajole our resident clairvoyant into revealing the exact date and time of your demise.” Artemis spat the last word as though it tasted sour on her tongue. “And you’re wondering about a catch? Of course there’s a catch, but not in the way that you’re thinking. I didn’t have to promise her anything.” “Explain.” Artemis shook her head. “She did it because…” “Right. There’s always a ‘because.’” Bastion arched an eyebrow. “But we’ll get back to that. You said ‘a catch, but not in the way I’m thinking.’” “You are a great many things, Boss, but simple-minded has never been one of them.” Bastion’s eyes narrowed. “Knowing when you die?!” Artemis said, fists shaking. “That, Bastion, is a burden that no man was meant to bear. Not even one with shoulders as broad as yours. Why on Earth would you want to know?” “I do not fear death, Artemis.” “NONE of us do! We’re superheroes, for heaven’s sake! I don’t even have powers! No, we don’t fear death, NOR do we chase it!” Bastion relaxed. A smile split his face. “A. You don’t need powers, Artemis. And B. I am not chasing death.” “Then what are you doing? WHY do you want this information?” “I need it. I need to know.” She sunk into her seat and dragged a gloved palm down her face, streaking paint. “To borrow a line from you, Bastion, please don’t make me ask a third time.” Bastion tilted his head and stared into her eyes, his gaze all but devouring hers. “Dr. Woe brought us to our knees, Artemis.” “Dr. Woe is in the Box!” she countered, referring to the specially designed maximum security prison that detained their enhanced adversary. “Because we got lucky!” Bastion shouted, almost pleading. “Because we’re the Aegis, Bastion! We saved the day, as we always do.” “This time was different,” Bastion explained, sighing and breaking eye contact. “Dr. Woe took a sledgehammer to the rules of engagement…” “There were rules?!? With him? Since when, Boss, and why had no one told me?” “Artemis… Donner is dead. Blitzen, grieving, on indefinite hiatus…” “We’re all grieving!” Artemis felt the weight of their losses as profoundly as he, and took offense at the notion that she needed such things explained to her. “Except she’s probably hung her cape up for good! Visionary’s in a coma, it’s a minor miracle you got… the information from her before she succumbed to her injuries.” His slammed his good fist upon the desktop. “My arm is in a sling, Artemis!” “We’re wounded, yes. We’ll need time to heal. But heal we will. And be all the stronger for it because, by God, we. Are. AEGIS.” A coy smile found its way back to his angular features. “ Which of us needs to take it easy with the mantle stuff again?” Artemis ignored the dig. “What will this knowledge do for you, Bastion?” “Plenty.” “Such as?” He studied her for a moment. “It will give me a window. I’m not thinking about the end. I’m considering the journey.” “Never took you for a poet,” she said in a whisper, punctuating her snark with a defiant eyeroll. “Life is a song.” Bastion needled. “I need to know how much time I have left to fortify what we’ve built.” Artemis raised an open palm to discourage further comment. “Not sure what you mean, but we’ll table those details for a moment. What difference does it make exactly? If you knew you had another hundred years, you’d kick your feet up, take your time? That’s crap, it DOESN’T MATTER. We got our asses handed to us, and you can’t let that stand. I’m with you on that. Starting here, right now, we put in the work to ensure that we’re never caught…” “Isn’t enough. No matter the strength of their conviction, everyone works harder with a gun to their head.” “Not you. The Bastion I know would just crush the gun. You’re invulnerable anyway.” He indicated his bandaged left arm with his chin. “Really can’t make that claim anymore, Artemis.” “Bastion, you’re going to die. We all are. Eventually. The gun’s inherently there already, let that be your motivation,” she said. “Not much of a threat, if I know I’ve got another six or seven decades before the trigger’s pulled.” “But in not knowing, you’d be a fool to count on six or seven decades. You’ve got to assume it could be pulled within the next five minutes, and respond accordingly.” “It isn’t the same.” “It should be.” Bastion drummed the desktop with the fingers of his good hand. “It isn’t just that. The amount of time I have left will inform the scope and complexity of how we proceed.” Artemis considered his words. “Am I to take that to mean that you’ve been holding back up this point?” “Of course not! But things have changed. We – I - need to do more.” “Bastion!” Artemis counted her breaths for a moment. “I suffered a concussion; you sprained your arm. But Visionary? THREE fractured ribs, and she lost. Her. Leg.” The gravity of her injuries was a spray of ice water to his face. “I hadn’t realized her injuries were that…” “I pushed and pushed, until finally, she delivered what I asked for. What you asked for. Point being, maybe I caused her to slip into the coma.” “Dr. Woe is the cause, and that’s the point.” “The point is that I badgered her into crossing a line she swore she never would, and the reasons you’re giving for why you asked me to do what I did smell like bullshit.” “You forget yourself, Artemis.” “I forget nothing. I obtained something that you, with all your might, could not. You asked about a catch? How’s this for one? I’ll give this to you, to do with as you wish.” She extracted a thin, folded card from her pocket and closed her hand over it. “In exchange for the truth.” “I could just take it from you.” “But you won’t. I’m not just your second-in-command, not just your friend. I am your legacy. You made me ‘Artemis,’ and for that, I would follow you through all seven circles of hell. You’ll give me the truth not because I coaxed it out of you, but because you know I deserve it.” Bastion shifted in his seat. “Bastion. Christopher. Talk to me.” “I’ve never lied to you, Artemis. Never. You’re the one… None of the others, none could handle the hard truths I face every day in this role. Except you.” Artemis said nothing. “But a lie by omission would still constitute a lie,” Bastion said, more to himself. “I suppose I have been lying to you.” She remained stoic. “I’ve met someone,” Bastion continued with an unfamiliar apprehension. “Fallen in love.” “That’s… that’s great. But what’s that got to do with…” Bastion’s eyes wandered. “Who?” Artemis pressed. Silence. “Who is she?” Bastion gave nothing away. “Is it a he ?” His exasperated eyes found hers again. “Tell me,” Artemis insisted. “It doesn’t matter.” “She… oh my God, Artemis said, understanding. “She’s a civilian.” “Listen to me…” “You’re dating a civilian?!?! ‘No civilian attachments,’ Bastion! That was your rule! I’ve GIVEN myself to y… your mission, and you defy YOUR bylaws AND have me badger Visionary into submission because you picked up a CIVILIAN girlfriend?!?!” “I didn’t plan it.” “Or avoid it.” “Leslie,” Bastion began, jarring her with the use of her given name. “I’m sorry.” Artemis’ eyes, lanterns in a field of black, burned. After too many seconds, she shrugged. “The heart wants what it wants, as they say.” She chewed her bottom lip.  “Tell me about her. This enchanting woman whose charms led you to break all the rules.” “Not all the rules.” “Just one big rule.” Bastion brightened. “She’s a barista. Twenty-seven. She lost her mother to ovarian cancer a few years ago, and her father to… to Riot.” “The anarchist.” Bastion nodded. “She’s putting herself through law school. To join our fight, without a cape.” “Not all heroes wear them,” Artemis teased, still angry. “You don’t.” “I need freedom of movement. No powers, remember?” Bastion drew himself to his full seated height. “You have the vision of an eagle, and the surest shot of any being – human, meta, or other – on this globe. Along with a pretty solid roundhouse.” Artemis rolled her eyes. “You’re also one of only two people who know of the… chink in my armor.” He touched a hand to the rip in his costume, and the purple, blistering welt at the center of it. “I wish to God I didn’t.” “Contingencies, Artemis. In case I were ever to…” “…go dark?” she finished for him. “Yes.” “You wouldn’t. Ever.” “The Icon did,” Bastion challenged. “Used his knowledge of my vulnerability against me too.” “That’s not fair. This was Dr. Woe’s doing.” She’d never much cared for the other veteran hero, but mind control by another represented the ultimate defense. “The point is, I can bleed. And now the world knows. Has seen it. And we need to prepare.” “You feel exposed now. I get that.” Artemis reached to grasp his resting hand. “Welcome to my life; just flesh, blood, and a little resolve over here. But a sprain, an Achilles heel? These shouldn’t worry you. Civilian attachments on the other hand? Major weakness.” “Some might argue a source a strength.” “ Poets might argue that. Me? I prefer a bow and arrow. You? Fists. Strongest on the planet.” Bastion chuckled. “Think I’m the strongest?” “Icon’s softened in his old age.” She shot him a wink. “He’s 42, Artemis.” “But an even bigger vulnerability would be an obsession with one’s own death. Makes you fatalistic. Basing every move upon your own anticipated defeat.” “It sharpens focus.” “You say focus, I say tunnel vision,” Artemis snapped. “She’s pregnant, Leslie. Her name is Nicole. And she’s carrying my child.” The words hit Artemis like a closed fist. “I know I’m probably supposed to congratulate you, but I…” “I understand.” “Do you?!” Artemis asked, bruised. “You let her in…” “She met me as a Christopher.” “But unless she’s a moron, she’s figured out that you’re Bastion! Or, she would have , if you hadn’t told her. Which you most certainly did before… inseminating her.” Bastion couldn’t argue this point. “I need to know that I at least outlive Nicole’s pregnancy. Beyond that, I want to know how much time I have to ensure my child has a fighting chance in this world.” Artemis’ lips smacked softly as they parted. “Your child’s best chance would be estrangement from its father. A father who should continue fighting to make this world safer for everyone’s children. With whatever time he – we – have remaining.” “I’m asking you – my dearest friend, my closest ally, and should I be so fortunate to receive your acceptance, godmother of my child – to honor our agreement. I gave you the truth, you give me that card. Or tell me what it says.” Emotion choked Artemis’ reply. “I don’t want you to know what it says, what the hell makes you think I looked at it?” Bastion’s brow furrowed. “Why the tears?” “Because this is the end of us. You, the indomitable Bastion, are doubting yourself as a hero and leader. And worse, you’re setting a timeline. You’re looking to an end.” “I’m not.” “You are! And this is me – your dearest friend, closest ally, and yes, godmother to a baby whom I will love to death – this is me asking you not to open this card.” “Artemis…” “Visionary doesn’t share death dates. EVER. And why has she sworn a vow NEVER to do so? Because the first and only time she’d ever done it before lead to disaster.” Artemis laced her fingers together upon her lap.  “At first, she and her brother treated her burgeoning precognitive abilities like a game. Growing bolder with each new vision.  Until she witnessed his death. And after hours of his insistence, she shared a date and time. Within that very year.” “Why would she reveal…” “Because he was her brother! And they were young. And dumb. She didn’t tell him the how, just the when. She at least had sense enough to withhold details. But it didn’t matter. Knowing broke him. He grew depressive. Turned to alcohol and opiates; he lost all sense of self. And ultimately, he…” “…stumbled in front of an oncoming train.” Bastion knew this part of Visionary’s story. “At the exact moment she’d predicted.” Artemis winced. “You see this knowledge as a resource. But what if knowing sets things into motion?” “Knowing you’ll die of cancer five years from now could be the very thing that saves your life.” “ Cancer isn’t what kills most people,” Artemis countered. “And you’re presuming an ability to change outcomes.” “Couldn’t we?” Artemis shook her head. “Our singular test case says ‘no.’” “I’m not looking to change anything. I’ve accepted the fact that my eventual demise is inevitable.” “Which terrifies me more than Dr. Woe ever could. You’re playing God.” “I’m being a father.” “Bastion! Knowing that we’ll all eventually die gives our lives meaning. Not knowing when is what gives us the freedom to make the most of our time. The world doesn’t need a Bastion with a five-year plan…” Bastion swallowed hard and arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t look at the card!” she insisted. “The world, this team, Nicole, your child? We need a Bastion who’s thinking long run. You’re scared. So am I. But this, this is a crutch. An arbitrary security blanket. And heroes don’t need blankets. We’ve got capes.” “Not you.” “Not me.” Artemis shared a laugh with him. “Holding your baby would be my joy. We can provide them a safer world. Together.” Bastion’s smile evaporated. He rotated his palm upward, which – based upon the set to his jaw – suggested he wasn’t seeking her touch again. Numbly, Artemis deposited the folded card into Bastion’s open hand. An eternal minute elapsed before he smiled again. He then crumpled and tossed the card into the wastepaper basket beside his desk. Without opening it. “Now, get out of here,” Bastion ordered. “I want a full report on Visionary’s condition – and Blitzen’s – within the hour. I need to connect with the warden.” “Of the Box?” “Yes. I’d like to handle Dr. Woe’s interrogation personally,” Bastion explained. “Bleed him a little.” “Artemis,” he said, a warning in his tone. “I know, I know.” “Within the hour.” “Copy. And Bastion?” Artemis began, eyes dewy. “Thank you.” She collected her gear, slipped the cowl over her head and departed, the door clicking softly as it closed behind her. Bastion nodded. He respected Artemis profoundly. But with so few assurances in life, and the uncertainly of Visionary’s fate, ensuring his child’s safety took precedence over all else. He plucked the card from the bin, and unfurled it slowly. The card simply read Right Now. Bastion’s heart sank, as realization settled into his stomach. The shattering glass of his office door barely registered. But the arrowhead piercing the left side of his chest, between his fourth and fifth ribs – his armor’s chink – monopolized his attention in an instant. Artemis’ heavy, deliberate footfalls – only heard when she wanted to be heard – as she stormed back into his office commandeered his thinking from there. “Damn you, Bastion,” Artemis roared, lowering her bow. Bastion’s blood spurted through his clutching fingers. “Why?” “Visionary didn’t tell me. She wouldn’t. Because she knew what I know. That knowing only leads to catastrophe. “ “Why?!” Bastion asked again, his voice faint. “I love you. Always have, and always will. But you betrayed me. Your secrets are ours. You lead us, and now you’ve shared intel with a civilian that you had no right to share. Bad enough on its own.” “I..” “But your giving up? It cripples us, and I won’t let that stand. I’m your legacy, and will represent you proudly. Words can’t convey the depth of my heartbreak. Deeper still, because I’ll now need to eliminate Visionary.” Artemis leaned closer. “She’s unconscious not because of a coma, but because of a powerful sedative. We don’t yet know the full extent of her abilities, but she can’t ever know or ‘see’ what’s happened here. For this, I am also sorry.” “Dddddon’t…” “I’ll be stopping for a coffee before visiting Blitzen. My words are true, I’d love to meet Nicole, and to hold your child.” Artemis’ tears stormed. “Which is now a problem. I cannot have civilian attachments.” She kissed her index and middle fingers and placed them to Bastions lip’s, flecked with bloody spittle. “Rest easy, Bastion. The Aegis will rebuild. And carry on.”


She turned up the dial radio and listened closely as the weather girl reported the weekly update. There was slight static but with a brief adjustment, the woman's voice came in clearer.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like things are going to cool down here in Los Angeles. We’ve got a heat wave coming in from Long Beach to Pasadena. Those of you in the heart of Tinsletown better watch out. It looks like temperatures are going to reach up to the 120s. This is going to be the hottest week Los Angeles has experienced in over a decade,” the woman explained. She turned the radio down and glanced at the slick beads of sweat on her fingers. Her red nail polish was almost melting off.

Holly sighed and moved to her bedroom, fanning herself as she went. She quickly changed into her pinstriped bathing suit and headed out to the pool. It was the first two-piece bathing suit she had ever owned. Her friend Margot had insisted it was the latest fashion from Paris. Holly wasn’t sure how much she cared but she couldn’t disappoint Margot especially not when Sam insisted on expressing his love through material gifts.

As Holly moved into the kitchen she smiled at Maria who was finishing putting away the glasses from the previous night’s dinner party. “Good morning, Maria, how are you today?” Holly asked, leaning against the counter.

“Good morning, Ms. Holly, I doing fine,” she replied slurring her words in a traditional Guatemalan tone. “Would you like some breakfast, Ms. Holly?”

“That would be great, Maria,” Holly answered. She started moving towards the door to the backyard but paused and turned back to Maria. “Do you think you could also make me a mimosa?” She felt sleazy asking but she wasn’t sure she could make it through the afternoon, having only the heat and her thoughts to comfort her if she didn’t also have alcohol. Maria smiled, knowingly and nodded.

Holly headed out to the backyard and felt the thin layer of sweat on her skin tripled in size. Holly groaned and put her sunglasses on. She took a step into the pool and felt instant relief flood through her body. She took another small step in and let the cooling water relax her. She hadn’t planned on getting her hair wet or ruining the face of makeup she had just taken an hour applying but the water called to her.

Holly immediately started swimming. She took long strides and let her swim training come back to her. She wondered momentarily why she ever let Sam convince her to stop her swim training. She could have been great. She could have really been something - maybe even an Olympian like Gertrude Ederle. But no, now she was just an average housewife, hosting parties for pretentious people and hanging off her husband’s arm like a trophy.

Holly started swimming faster as she found herself filling up with rage. All of her friends, like Margot, envied her life and thought she was the luckiest woman to end up with a man like Sam. According to Margot, she shouldn’t let herself get boggled down by silly little things like Sam cheating on her or spending more time playing poker with the boys or at home with her. All she had to focus on was getting pregnant, sooner rather than later. After all, if a woman hit 35 with no children - well, Margot shuttered to think. Holly rolled her eyes at the thought. Children never much interested her but of course, that wasn’t really an opinion she was allowed to have.

She swam harder. She didn’t even hear Maria call out to her when she brought out a tray of fruits and a small bagel with a mimosa. Maria tried several times to get Holly’s attention but when she failed for the fifth time, she settled for moving the food under the umbrella.

It was almost 2 pm when Holly finally stopped swimming. Her arms were aching and she felt ravished with hunger. By now the food that Maria had let out had burnt in the sun and her mimosa had melted into an overwatered slush. Holly sighed and grabbed a towel before heading back inside. She picked up the fan that she had left on the table and started fanning herself again as she walked back up to the bedroom. She wondered if she could convince Sam to purchase the new in-home air conditioning that Margot had been talking about. It might have been expensive but Sam was the best surgeon in the county. She was certain he could do this for her.

She changed into a light summer dress and headed downstairs. The kitchen smelt of cigar smoke and bourbon when she hit the first floor.

“Sam?” she called out. She turned around the corner to see Sam in his usual spot at the dining table, reading the rest of the newspaper he didn’t have time for that morning. His cigar was already half burnt and his bourbon glass was dropping small beats of condensation onto the table. Holly itched. How many times had she told him to use a coaster? Holly cracked her knuckles. “You’re home early, is everything okay, honey?”

Sam put the newspaper down and looked up at her. He looked at her the same way he might look at a dog walking down the street. She forced a smile.

“Yes, well, my patient this morning decided to die on the operating table,” he said nonchalantly. He made a noise indicating his irritation. Holly’s heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. He thrust the newspaper down on the table and looked head, before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Not you too. Why are you all sorry for me? It’s not my family. Doctor Cline said that too, what does it matter to me? I told him I was ready for the next surgery but he refused. He insisted I needed to ‘take time off’ and ‘let the loss sit with me’. What good is that?” Sam barked. Holly imagined that was similar to how it would sound if she actually had the child, maybe a toddler. She half chuckled to herself.

“Alright, well, would you like some lunch?” Holly asked, keeping all her frustration out of her voice. Sam sighed and gave her a half-hearted smile.

“Sure, honey,” he muttered and turned back to his newspaper. Holly smiled and turned back to the kitchen. She made sure that Sam was no longer paying attention to her and she dug deep in the cupboard for the small bottle of thallium.

Abruptly, Maria came back into the kitchen locking eyes with Holly. She saw and bottle and knew what Holly was planning. Maria’s eyes filled with water and sadness. Holly looked at her desperately and pleadingly. Maria nodded slightly.

Holly gave her a weak smile and continued making a salad for her husband. She mixed the thallium in with the salad dressing and then chopped up some watermelon. She then brought out the lunch to her husband.

She sat down across from him while he started eating. He ignored her completely as usual. She interlaced her fingers and waited, tapping her foot and watching.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes on her. She forced a smile and shook her head.

“I’m just making sure you are enjoying your lunch and not needing anything e -”

Before she finished Sam’s eyes bluged out and he looked as if he was going to be sick. Holly couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Holly asked causally. Sam clutched his throat and coughed up a bit of blood.

“You bitch,” he choked out. He made a reach for Holly but she got up quickly and moved out of his reach. He stumbled up and started moving for her.

“Maria! Quick! How long is this supposed to take?” Holly screamed. Maria was instantly in the room watching Sam fumble around and continue to cough up more blood. He came towards them and the women ran into the kitchen. “What are we going to do?”

“We have to do something else, Ms. Holly,” Maria insisted. She moved and grabbed one of the long knives for cutting chicken and tried to hand it to Holly. Holly’s tears burst from her eyes and panic quicked her heart rate. “Come on Ms. Holly!”

Sam was moving towards them, seeming to be managing the pain. Holly took the knife and held it in front of her just as her husband came towards her. The knife moved through his abdomen easily, like going through butter. Holly heard a slight snapping noise and she wondered if she had hit some sort of bone. Her tears were heavier now. Sam looked at her desperately as if still seeking revenge.

All Holly could focus on was the sound of the weather lady repeating the heat wave spreading through the city.


RHETORIC

James and I never got along. Not even when we were kids. Our mom had been on her own since my pops passed, and she wasn't much for parenting after his death. So James and I were left to our devices. When we interacted it always led to fighting. Most times verbally, oft times physically.

For that reason, and for subconsciously resenting both my absentee parents, I moved out at 16. I started by couch surfing, waiting tables. I stuck with it until I could get my own place, and began tending bar. Eventually I ended up bartending at a decently high end restaurant, making more than decent cash. Especially for a low maintenance bachelor.

All was well… until Covid.

Like many in the service industry, my hand was forced financially to make hard choices. Until things opened up, I had to give up my apartment, and move back home. Where I had rarely even visited in the 10 years since I left. Back home with a now,

full on pill popping mother, and my failure to launch, 30 year old brother.

Before I moved back I thought of a joke I could play on James. Since he was a full on Q worshiping tin foiler, I thought I could do something to spice up our ridiculous conspiracy arguments.

I thought I'd make my own version of Q.

I started by furiously "researching" all the conspiracy minded content, I could get my hands on. This would be the ammo I would use against all the James' of the world. I started innocently enough with all the famous stuff. Fake moon landing, Bigfoot, Jimmy Hoffa… all the classics.

Eventually, I fell down a rabbit hole. JFK, led me to Bay of Pigs, & mafia rumors. Then to Northwoods, MKUltra, & project Paperclip.

Once I had my content reservoir filled up with Clinton, Eppstein, Royals, & Masons, I needed to get my logistics down. I needed a hook, and a memorable name, and a delivery method.

After days of thinking I found a Wiki about ancient God's, and the Name jumped out at me. Dolus. That was it. The God of lies. That would be my screen name. My alter ego. His mission would be another Greek god. Nemisis, god of vengeance. Dolus would claim to be an insider. Someone close to someone powerful. Realistic, but vague. Believable, but hard to challenge with questions.

All I had left to do was figure out how to disseminate the info drops to the public.

I thought I would start small. A few reddit drops "warning" of leftist, or socialist projects that were upcoming. Then move to claiming I had knowledge of more sinister machinations. Include the right names, and the right vernacular,

and eventually like minded idiots would begin to nibble the bait. Where it took a leap, is a different story. I just got lucky. That's it. One of my "prophecies" of socialist plans came true in a big way. I told plans of restricting religious rights and paying sheeple to stay home. It was just part of a ranting drop on Reddit. That week, it was widely reported that state governments were banning gatherings,

including Church. Also, the first emergency checks were being put up for vote. I got a lot more eyeballs on my info dumps after that… a LOT more! That's when James started to take notice, and began using bits of Dolus info in his arguments. He also started commenting on my drops. He was hooked.

With that stroke of luck, it was time to kick it into the next phase. Can I effect real world scenarios with my imaginary secret info? All too easily, it turned out. I'd drop info about leftist gatherings, (that were public knowledge), that I'd tag with #coven, or #Death Meeting. Like clockwork, my followers would show up and protest the meetings. My avatar as Dolos was just a black version of the famous Michael Myers mask from Halloween. (Which was just an all white version of Captain Kirk from Star Trek.) At all the gatherings I provoked, the number of those black masks would grow...exponentially.

It was surreal, seeing all those black masks on the news. Reading the signs they were swinging, and hearing MY stuff being regurgitated in interviews with local reporters. The Nemisis freight train was picking up steam, quickly. The unexpected side effect of all this, was how it made me feel. I felt powerful. It was like with every passing day, I was forgetting it was all a joke. All based on trolling these idiots with lies I made up, whole cloth. It started to veer off course.

Before I knew it, I was buying it myself. These "socialists" targets of mine began to actually seem evil to me.

The "white knight" Republicans began to seem heroic. It seemed that I was convincing MYSELF of all this bull shit. It didn't help that besides my now fake arguments with James, I was interacting with an echo chamber. All my posts were met with agreement and an eerie reverence.

My followers were treating me like a holy man. Like I was God's emissary on Earth. It was intoxicating.

All the power and all the conspiracy stuff hitting me at such a weird, untrusting time in the country's history, was a perfectly volatile combo. Things ratcheted up quickly… and violently. One of my lefty action alerts about abortion doctors meeting local politicians,

was taken too far. One of my followers took action and people died. He died as well, but on the message boards he was martyred...and I was praised. I didn't condemn the action, either. I was scared I'd be implicated, so I never mentioned it at all.

James even called Dolus a hero. I pretended not to have heard about the incident. Time went by, and more of the violence and death would be at least partially attributed to the Nemesis group. Dolus was on the authorities radar, by then. When a woman in Florida killed her own child in the name of Nemesis, it snapped me back to reality. The woman claimed her child was a crisis actor, in league with the left. She claimed the 18 year old girl, who was a trauma survivor, took money in exchange for her false testimony against a gunman. The mother got the idea for the shooting being a false flag, aiming to take away guns, directly from a Dolus post.

Time to drop the trolling post, admiting it was all BS. Time to show James all the evidence I had, of Dolus being me. Time to rub it in their faces how easily duped they all were.

I typed out the confession, (not including my real identity), and was about to hit enter. At that moment, the front door was kicked in and I was in custody. From Jail, I talked to James. I told him everything and he was supposed to gather all the evidence of it just being a joke. I needed to show the cops, that I was just a troll, not a vicious political cult leader. That distinction would help with public opinion and hopefully sway the courts into easier punishment. Maybe just probation.

James never showed with that evidence. He probably set it on fire. Instead he used it to access all my accounts, and my laptop. He became a new agent of Nemesis, called Cane. He explained how Dolus was just part of a larger splinter group, and he honored Dolus as a true patriot.

I was sentenced to life in a Colorado supermax prison. The same one

as the Unibomber. James was more careful to avoid the authorities. Last I heard Cane was thought to be dropping his posts from somewhere in the Mediterranean.

Somewhere with no extradition treaty, most likely.

Nemesis is worldwide now.


Today is the first day of summer camp. I didn't want to go to summer camp so I tried my best to look sick but my mom knows when I am faking since I do that every first day of summer camp. Of course, I have a reason why I hated the camp so much. I hate it because of the big kids who were forced to come to camp and bully us the small ones at camp, Clara in particular. Clara will do anything to make me fool in front of everyone just for spilling smothie in her dress by accident. "Fiona, Get down here and eat your breakfast. The bus will be here soon." yelled my mom from downstairs.  I got dressed and hurried downstairs to eat my breakfast. Cornflakes with milk next to it were ready for me to eat as usual. I rushed out the door and saw my best friend, Melissa, waving sadly at me from the bus. I ran to the bus to ask Melissa what was wrong but I understood what was wrong as soon as I entered the bus. There was no seat except for the seat next to Clara. “Hey, you, what is your name? Go have a seat, I don’t have all day to sit around and wait for you.” I heard the bus driver yelling with an angry voice.

I had no choice but to sit next to Clara. Fortunately, She was too busy using her phone she didn’t even notice I was sitting next to her. After few minutes, one kid throws up on the bus, and the bus driver stopped the bus immediately. We all got off the bus and waited for the bus driver to clean up the bus. I started wondering around the woods and I saw an unusual looking necklace floating in the water. I caught it and put it in my pocket and hurried back to the bus. We all got on the bus and continue the ride to summer camp. When we arrive there, we all choose someone to share our cabin with, and as usual, we get the smaller cabins while the big kids got the biggest and coziest cabins. I shared a cabin with Melissa and we both got in our bed and we talked about how bad the summer is going to be as we do every time we come here to the summer camp. We both hate summer because of summer camp but instead, we love winter especially when it snows. I closed my lamp and whispered, “I wish it snows for the rest of the summer.” As soon as I whispered those words, the necklace I found earlier started glowing then it stopped. I didn’t pay much attention to it since I was so sleepy and I closed my eyes to sleep.

The next morning, everyone at summer camp was surprised to see the trees and the grass as white as a snow, wait, in fact, it was snow. I at first I couldn’t believe it but then I remembered that unusual looking necklace was glowing after I made my wish last night. I become more happier since now I can make all my wishes come true. I relized that since it is snowing, it is getting colder and colder and no one at camp brought any winter clothes with the so we had to go back to our cabin. I wanted to tell Mellisa about the necklace but I thought it is better if no one else knew.

I whispered to myself, “I wish every one at camp had a winter clothes except for the big kids.” After few minutes, I saw everyone outside playing with the snow wearing a winter clothes except for the big kids. Melissa also found her winter clothes in her bed and she quickly put them on and ran outside without questioning where they came from since she loves playing with the snow so much. I also put on my winter clothes and join the others. I saw Clara behind the glass cabin window and I remembered it was pay back time for her so I said to my self, “ I wish Clara’s cabin is filled with rats.” We heard a scream from Clara’s cabin and we all went there to see what happened. We saw many rats chewing and destroying many things. I laughed while everybody else goes to help her, even Melissa.

Later that day, I asked Melissa why she helped Clara when she have been a total jerk to us. She said, “I helped her because it have nothing to do with her being jerk. She needed help and I am sure she have a reason why she hate us.”

That night I couldn’t sleep. I thought about what Melissa had said and I wanted to apologize to Calra for acting like a total jerk. I left my cabin and fix everything. I said, “I wish the snow is gone and the weather to be back to its natural form.” The weather back to normal and I saw Clara crying by the river.

I walked to her and asked her “Hey, Clara, Are you alright? Look, I know you hate me but I just want to help.”

she replied in a heavy voice. She said, “I hate you for a reason, Fiona. I hate you because before you spilled that smothie in my dress, My mother told me if she heard any bad complainment about me from my teachers, I will be sent to Perfect Academy for a year. I tried my best to get out of trouble for the whole day but after you spilled that smothie in my dress I had to clean it up and by the time I got to class, class was almost over. I tried to explain what happened to my teacher but she didn’t listen but call my mother and tell her and my mother decided to assign me to Perfect Academy not for a year but two. During the two years at Perfect Academy, I heard that my father died but I wasn’t allowed to go back home. I had a very hard time there, but after the two years had passed and it was time for me to go back to school, I know this hall thing was your fault. Today when the rats were destroying my staff, they destroyed the a brcelet my father made for me before I heard he was dead.”

I had no idea about any of that and I felt even worse after I heared what I have done to her. If there is anything I can do to help, it is by fixing her bracelet so I asked her, “Do you have the pieces of the bracelet? I think I can fix it.” She said, “Yes, I do. Here.” Then she stopped crying. I took the bracelet from her hands and I told her I will fix it and give it to her in the morning and I invited her to our cabin and gave her the extra bed to spend the night. I wished for the bracelet to be fixed and her cabin to be back to its coziness. The next morning, I apolgized for what happened back then and gave her bracelet back. She thanked me which some how surprised me. I thought the necklace wasn’t made for me and I can’t get everything I want from one magic necklace so when we get back from the summer camp I throwed it out the bus window and left it where I found it.

When we get back to school Clara didn't make fan of me or bullied any of my friends. I was glad to know the truth about Clara and fixed almost all my mistakes. After school was over, I wanted to go and talk to Clara's mother and tell her the truth about what happened so I did and Clara's mother apologized to Clara and Clara was never sent to Perfect Academy ever again.


5. I miss you. He is a silhouette sitting on the railing of the balcony overlooking an island. His island. He takes another sip from the half empty bottle of wine then shouts: "At least I own an island!" He is an island of grief in a sea of happiness, resilience, normalcy. That one thought, "I miss you" is an island in his mind, surrounded by the tepid waters made up of all the other mundane thoughts he has; thoughts of beats and lyrics and female fans, so many female fans, so many willing female fans... His fingers drum an impatient beat onto the balcony railing. He wishes he could turn back time. 4. “Enjoy the little things." That's what she used to tell him. One of her favourite quotes was by Galileo Galileo, the one about how even though the sun has planets depending on it, it still has time to ripen grapes, as though it had nothing else in the universe to do. He lifts the bottle of wine up to the sky. “Happy anniversary.” He takes the first sip and swallows the wine and the overwhelming urge to weep. It takes him a while to get back control. The sun is setting as he leans on the railing of the balcony and takes another sip; then he takes the hundredth, thousandth, millionth sip of the wine that is his memories of her. He misses the little things about her. Her smile. Her laugh. Her voice. He misses the big things about her. The way her smile anchored him. The way her laugh threw him overboard, making him get lost in her sea of laughter. The way her voice could both make him feel small and insignificant in the presence of her brilliance and also make him feel like the king of the world and more importantly, the king of her world. She was the sun, brightening up the whole world, yet shining on him as though she had nothing else in the universe to do. The solar-powered garden lights come on. 3. No man is an island? Alone again. The refrigerator light illuminates the darkening kitchen. He grabs the bottle of wine and removes the foil from the top of the bottle. He swallows down a sudden urge to weep. He inserts the corkscrew into the center of the cork and twists the top handle to insert the corkscrew farther into the cork. He blinks back tears. He uses both hands to press down on the levers of the opener, downwards towards the center of the bottle. A rogue tear makes a break and runs down his cheek. The levers go down, the cork goes up. He impatiently wipes the tear, grabs the bottom of the opener with one hand and the bottle with the other and wiggles out the rest of the cork. He takes one deep breath, lets it out, takes another deep breath, lets it out and regains a modicum of control. He walks past one of his many drum kits and out onto the balcony. The view is spectacular. Sun, sea, windmills, trees for days. He can’t see the forest for the trees he planted in memory of her. Mango trees and avocado trees and orange trees. She had always been a nature person, always concerned about the environment and Mother Earth in general. She used to say: "We are all connected. No man is an island." Today, at this moment, he feels that she was wrong. He is an island that lets the many, willing female fans surround him, drown him, like a Tsunami. Yet he never connects with them where it really matters. He makes sure of it. He lets the movement of the windmills hypnotize him for a few moments. She was like a windmill. Tall, majestic, powerful - the quiet, gentle, pure kind of power. She taught him a lot of the important things he now knows and also some things that he did not want to know. She thrived during storms… but even the strongest windmill cannot withstand the blast wave of a toxic workplace nuclear explosion. 2. After the fireworks This one is talking to him. He can’t hear her. He doesn’t want to hear her. He wants wine and her gone. She is making the bed, destroying the evidence of what transpired. If only life were an unmade bed that could be straightened out in a few moves. She shyly asks for his autograph. He can’t remember her name so he writes: "To my favourite fan". She squeals in delight, goes into full fan-girl mode. Another happy customer. His heart hurts. She wants more of him, more from him. He just wants wine and this one gone. She persists, pouts, begs, seduces, threatens, blackmails. He pretends to give in, convinces her to start the shower running and he would join her shortly. He glares at her silhouette as she chats incessantly while showering. She is mapping out a detailed future of their lives together, complete with twins, dogs, cats and a horse. He switches on his phone. Several missed calls from the band’s publicist. He sends him a message assuring him that he is okay so that he doesn’t have a meltdown. The shower stops running; her mouth doesn’t. He calls security and organizes for her to be flown back to the main land. A few minutes later, she is carried away, kicking and screaming, yelling at him her invitation to call her any time he wants. He just wants wine. 1. Another notch on the bedpost He misses her . He hides that feeling, that time-bomb, in the beautiful body of this one who isn’t her. He uses experience from his previous job to convince himself that it's no big deal, that it's just skin and bones and hormones and blood rushing where it's needed. His current job ensures that there is a steady stream of no-strings Someones. They get their fifteen minutes of intimacy with a famous person. He gets fifteen seconds of forgetting her.

Her  shadow paints every touch, every kiss, every sound, every memory, every…thing.


The Director sat behind the snow white table with the manila folder on it. It was opened to the first page with a single title, “CASE 2137,” in all red font with caps lock on. The next few pages documented the issues and incidents with dated charts from several Keepers who had been kind enough to initial each note. This meant they had all received the call and were sitting studiously in chairs outside of the meeting room. All of them watched as a group of stern council members passed them-all of them refused to make eye contact. The Keepers sat with bated breath. After a few moments, the Director called the First Keeper who shuffled softly with each step. Eyes darted around the room-at the Director and the other members of the review board-before settling on the chair in front of The Committee. “Case 2137-The Issue with The Humans,” sighed the Director. “We have heard the case presented from the Finance Council. We will now hear the defense. Tell us, Keeper, how did we manage to get here?” “It’s a long story,” replied the First Keeper, their voice trembling. “I…I, um, I…was born into this program, Director. My parents were Keepers, their parents were Keepers, I hope my children will be Keepers. We believe in this program, we always have. You can not take it away. You can not give up on The Humans.” Slowly, the First Keeper sat once more, waiting to triumphantly continue their rehearsed argument. “Shall we start with…Day…” as the words poured out, the Director began thumbing through the notes to the back of the folder, “About Day 18 in the calendar year of 2023.” One finger jammed down at the notes in the folder; a sinister smile threatened to be revealed behind the mask of an impartial demeanor.

“Uh…yes…” said the First Keeper, looking to the white ceiling hoping to jog a memory loose, “Yes! Day 18. It began like any other. I offered up a feast of traditional food to begin the humans’ day-eggs, toast, fruit, coffee, biscuits-all prepared according to the recipes stored in The Database. Then, I prepared some activities…” The Director raised a question, interrupting the First Keeper, “It says here the food was left untouched, that it…molded?” A soft groan was heard from the remaining members of The Committee. A few heads shook. “I…uh…yes..I…” stuttered the First Keeper. The First Keeper swallowed hard. This incident was bound to be brought to light. “Surely you must know how wasteful that is. Surely, you understand how limited the resources are on this planet. Wheat no longer grows from the ground, Keeper. We must grow it for the Humans. They no longer have the animals who make the eggs you so haphazardly prepared for them. It is our scientists who have found an acceptable substitute. And the fruit! Why, it’s like a drug to them, but simply a cost to the program you claim to love,” the Director’s words garnered soft applause and murmuring from the room.

“We have seen the numbers from the Finance Council; it is time to end this program,” stated the Director. The First Keeper remembered the budget meetings, the long sessions of scolding, the desperation that the program makes it through just one more season felt by all of the staff. There were sleepless nights, long discussions, and countless tears shed. Sweaty palms gripped the chair as the First Keeper whispered, “I trusted you to hear my argument before making a decision. Have you forgotten your pledge?” A hush fell over the room.

The Director nodded. The First Keeper took a deep breath saying, “The food was left to waste, but I have-” the Keeper thought back to the endless nights spent in the lab pouring over footage of human behavior. The hope was to find proof that the program was working. But how do we define proof? “Please, we have learned that The Humans will turn down nourishment if they lack the ideal environment through hours and hours spent studying these creatures. The bottom line is, our Humans…are lonely,” said the First Keeper. The Committee members all gasped, waiting for the Director’s response. Callous eyes glanced down at The Keeper who continued, seizing the silence, “You’ll see from our notes that we have been attempting The Breeding Program for several lifetimes…” “Lifetimes wasted,” interrupted the Director. “Only wasted if you walk away,” counted the First Keeper. “You will not speak out of turn!” chastised the Director. A hush fell over the room as the First Keeper took their seat. Some more soft words were exchanged by the other Judges. The First Keeper saw the softened faces of the members of The Committee. It gave them the strength to keep on, but this time, they remained seated as they said, “Please, Director. Please, you’re better than this. You’ll waste lifetimes of work in just one day. I have barely gotten to see the children my grandparents birthed turn into adults. They are just now ready for the prospect of rearing children of their own. Please, please, turn to day 300 in your notes. You’ll see that the cold climate has just set in. You’ll notice The Humans have begun returning to their rituals! Look under the tab labeled, ‘Holidays.’ Please, please, Director. These Humans have a vast culture we can not abandon now!” A screen began lowering into the room and all eyes turned to observe the footage documented. Goose flesh appeared on the First Keeper as the image of carved jack o’ lanterns appeared. Then, they watched as The Humans made “costumes” from various types of fabric the Keepers had collected for them. The Humans seemed to put on a show. Their eyes glowed with joy in the candlelight as artificial snow filled their environment. The First Keeper shed a tear at The Humans enjoying their large bird based feast, roughly 30 days later. It was truly beautiful.

“See?” implored the First Keeper, “See how much we robbed them of?” “That is enough!” the Director’s voice filled the room, “We do not speak of the Great Extinction.” “Why not?” demanded the First Keeper. With trembling legs, the First Keeper stood, gazing at The Committee as it towered above. The movie continued to play in the background-the Humans toasted to, “A New Year.” “How dare you disrespect this space!” the Director’s face had turned an unholy shade of red. The First Keeper swallowed hard, attempted to breathe deep to slow their pounding heart. “What? Are we just going to pretend we didn’t wipe them out? Are we just going to pretend their world wasn’t destroyed by our careless need to find a new home because we destroyed our own? Are we just going to act like the invention of The Breeding Program isn’t because we caused their downfall?” The First Keeper grew louder with each word. The film continued on the background, displaying red hearts being cut out of paper as The Humans kissed. It was as if the First Keeper knew to turn around at that exact moment. The film paused. “See? Don’t you see? They have found each other. They might be Generation Three. But not if you shut down this program. Not if you don’t give them a chance!” concluded the First Keeper. The Director sat down, as did the First Keeper. All eyes were on the screen, not noticing the very human-like tears pouring from The First Keeper. “Please,” whispered the First Keeper. “Please, I beg of you. They. Trust . Us.” Another gasp was heard at these words. “We do not throw around that word. That is the second time you have misused it,” said The Director “But it’s true!” protested the First Keeper. At those words, the screen showed a new scene labeled DAY 181. The Humans crowded around a Keeper as a frozen treat was offered to them. Their pink tongues poked out, cautiously at first, but then with full bravado. Their mouths stretched into smiles and some of their leaders called over other members of their group, encouraging them to take the gift from the Keeper who was furiously taking notes. “I do not believe the First Keeper has misused the term, Director,” said a voice from the end of the table. All of the Judges and the Director turned to look as the youngest member of the Panel stood confidently. “Director, we must allow the defense to speak their full case. They trust us to honor their time as we have honored the Finance Council’s.” The words echoed off the walls of the chamber. Slowly, the Judge sat, the Director turned, and waved to the First Keeper, paralyzed below. “They’ve…they’ve never done that before,” said the First Keeper, their voice softening. The impulse to thank the kind Judge was squashed by the knowledge that doing so would be a guarantee kill of the program. The First Keeper wiped tears from their face and swallowed the pain one last time, in the hopes of finishing their argument. “Not…not in all of the years that The Breeding Program has been active. Sure, as infants, they need The Nurses. But upon hitting adolescence, they fight back and long for their own kind. They are the natural order of things on this planet. Give them a chance. We did this to them. We must atone.” The First Keeper stood and the screen faded to black, “It was our disease that killed their plants, their animals, them.”

For a moment, every being in that room was reminded of the days they refused to speak of—the days when Earth’s sky seemed red with the blood of The Humans. There were, of course, photos in The Database, countless books in libraries, and video footage of The Humans’ doctors desperately sharing ideas to help find a cure. A cure that would never come. “Do you remember Generation One?” asked the First Keeper. Their voice was soft, but hopeful. An image of a room of 200 Human infants filled the screen. “Remember how we found The Eggs in the clinics they labeled, ‘Fertility’? Remember how lucky we were? Remember how so many of our Nurses cared for the Humans, how our Historians learned their stories? Remember how much time and effort was placed into creating the Culture Centers? And now, now…we’re on The Third Generation!” “We are not,” replied The Director coldly. “The second has barely coupled up! This is one out of nearly 500 who have found each other. We have searched the other Culture Centers, Keeper. We have spent countless hours on this pipe dream. Without us, the Humans would simply cease to exist. Perhaps, that is the way this story is meant to end. There are fewer and fewer guests who come to visit the centers each passing lunar cycle.” The Director looked to the other Committee members before choosing the next words, “The reality is...we have seen the numbers and this program has been dying just like the Humans. It’s time to end this experiment.” The First Keeper looked to the screen one last time, “Please, can we see footage from today? Before I go?” A simple nod triggered the screen. Before them sat two Humans. In front of them was a cut of meat and two fancy glasses filled with red liquid. The Humans sipped it slowly as it has been known to cause The Humans to change. But it was also a key ingredient in the future of The Breeding program.

Every being in the room held their breath as the Humans seemed to play together. One of them even cozied up to the other on one side of the table, choosing to share a seat, rather than be more than three feet from one another. With bursts of laughter and playful touching, they finished their meal and retired to a separate room of their enclosure. This space was to not have any cameras as the Historians called it the Sacred Space. It allowed the Humans privacy. The screen faded to black.

“We will vote in the morning,” the Director said. The First Keeper left the room, holding the image of the Humans in their eye.


No one really knew what would be a good and quite seemingly random number to remember, except the old Devil, and that number was seventy million and forty one. As the Creators of the Underworld created the finality visions of all the realms - the big picture, if you would - the Devil contemplated all things precision, so he worked for Hell Office. He was in the detail after all; no other creatures but him put that out there. Millenia passed and he’d still got it. Filing tons of paperwork in no time flat. All marketing schemes, the plans, the blueprints, the contracts, the arts of the deadly deal are all under his surveilance. He smiled stupidly to himself because as of today, he would collect his final folder. And in the folder would be the final contract containing all of the information of his last human, before he retired, for he was old, giving it all up for newer and bolder Devils to take up his horny helm. He liked to joke. Now the Devil liked to sort out his victim’s folder the night before he went to sleep in order of likes and dislikes first, then to family, education, then lastly to secrets, then he would tell you because it would rather be obvious. Secrets were the trump cards that he often used when all other things about his victim didn’t work. When it did, he traded whatever they wanted for their soul as a price. He had to - The Devil had got too many needs to fulfill. It was just standard work. Souls were highly inflated nowadays in the underworld anyway, but it was still a somewhat good working commodity for centuries. Humans were making more deals than ever as populations piled up, and thanks to the deals they made, they lived longer lives. Who knew. But it was not also very lucrative because souls in the underworld were running out fast. He could still buy all sorts of daily products with just a soul or two, sometimes less with a proper contracted bargain, but that was no way to hellishly existing. Maybe after he got his severance package from Hell Office, or The Office, he’d be able to barter an abandoned, gloomy and doomed castle somewhere on the Lava Sea Archipelago. It sounded like a delightfully peevish idea.

The Devil shrugged as he woke up from his spiked bed. He bathed in boiled human blood because those inferno bedbugs swarmed him while he slept, and they didn’t like anything human so it worked fine. He dried himself with hellfire because charcoal-infused towels tended to cleanse his tapered skin too well, and that was too pleasant so it made him feel a little too guilty. He reminded himself that he had to raise some hell with the head manufacturer at Hades Incorporated about that particular towel product. No one and no chance in hell that any beings of the underworld would like something like that. Maybe the tortured and enslaved humans were too disgruntled and put something in their products for some avant-garde way to rebel. He would never know. They did well with their perfumes, however, especially the Death Stench - that one was right on the soul- rotten to the core with a light touch of sulfur. He didn’t need to shave because he didn’t have hair - he appreciated his Creator for that.

He dressed up in his white suede suit from a former human stockbroker he knew that turned fashionista of the underworld. A rare occurence indeed, and it was his deal too. His best work he might add. Best soul he ever collected. They turned into good friends after the stockbroker was murdered. the stockbroker said as he would trade most of his clothes and his soul for a chance to have a beautiful family when he was alive because he had already had everything he possibly could in life except for wife and kids. The Devil took that deal as he rolled his eyes. It was all these people ask for. Such a lack of imagination, he thought. No one ever asked for a three-headed hound, and it was getting a little crowded in all the houses he had to build. The amount of human souls he had to pay the hellhound walkers everyday were starting to stack up. But alas, without his pets, he would be very lonely.

 	The Devil said he would not take the Stockbroker’s family away from him. The Devil kept that promise, and he kept the clothes. But a Reaper showed up and took him away from his family. Phrasing was important, and that the Devil shouldn’t be drinking human blood before making deals with a human - it made him forget his file template in his wretched home so he winged it. Badly, the Reaper said. It was his only and the one failure he made in all of his time being the Devil. The Stockbroker and the Devil laughed on it after a couple of centuries. Mostly because the Devil made him. Thank the Hell Office’s Ultimate Law for torture, man, The Devil said. He was serious.

He put on white pointed shoes because he felt his mood allowed for it; light blue cravat because it reminded him of the last look of the domed Earth sky. He ate wheat toast: he liked his food burnt black and as charred as coal. He ate two; because he liked how the first one settled in his stomach. He told himself not to drink some human blood before work because it would be disrespectful to the human he was going to make a deal with. In order for him to walk the Earth, he swallowed a human soul from one of his own favorite collection to get him acclimated to the environments. The Office never provided him with any standard souls to use so he had to get it from his own stash, complaints had been made since the beginning of Hell but no Devils really did anything about it.

He preferred the smell of rotten flesh and nicely brewed cup of spleen juice from many philosophers (they were always so conflicted and full of sophistication). He could always tell what religion the philosophers were brought up on, from what country, down to the town they were raised on. He had never forgotten a taste once he experienced it. It was a quaint habit. He drank children’s blood that died from wars sometimes; when he wanted something heavy and bitter, perhaps to take his minds off of a rough work day, like when he couldn’t close a tough soul trade, and it always seemed to perk him right up. The more sorrowful the death, the better he felt.

Once, a long time ago, humanity become almost extinct, he had found that he did his job a little too well, but he found no real meaning in doing such a thing well. Hell’s Office had to convene an experiment, defecting a human with a tarnished soul, creating a real villain, in order to repopulate the Earth. Someone was not very happy about that, but they did it anyway, and it worked. It was a devilish little scheme, but it created jobs again for the Underworld so everyone was quite grateful for it. Otherwise, they had to somehow take a chance to make a deal with the last pure human to mutate or copulate with other creatures and populate the Earth with a new species. It was a tall order. The Office wanted him to make the deal because he was experienced and had nothing to lose, unlike the up and coming Devils that were to take his place after his retirement. No hellish family to contend with, so he was perfect for the job. They just didn’t account for the fact that because he put all of his energy on his work that he absolutely HAD something to lose - His seventy million and forty souls he obtained for the Office - so he declined. But the Office said he was just another decent Devil like the ones that came before him, and there will absolutely be other Devils that will surpass him. And that was that. And he didn’t like that they pointed out that if he didn’t do it, there would be literal dead end jobs for all of them. He still didn’t cave.

In order to not make the same mistakes again, leaving Earth barren of humans. He urged the Underworld to learn new languages, and update their ways of thinking to maybe making deals with dimensionally challenged beings or some other creatures of Earth. The Underworld was always set in their ways. The Devil was a little bit too old for this, trying to scream sense into them, but most of his own work on the soul was quite mediocre so nothing changed. It took them so long just to deal with one species, now possibly an infinite number of creatures, bugs, microbes, macro-organisms and all; They complained even though they were immortal. Other species might not be as compromising as humans too, they said. Sales would be tough, they said. So his attempt at creating a legacy that way before he retired didn’t work. He thought maybe if the new Devils should quit and work for Hell’s kitchen instead if they don’t have the guts for such work. He knew the butcher, maybe he could ask for a favor. He didn’t have a stomach for human butchering but what was there for an old Devil to do after retirement. The Devil sighed and climbed his own stairway to Earth. He felt like he didn’t belong to the Underworld anymore. Eventually, he would only be ceremoniously revered for all the work he did with no real foundation or infrastructure behind it. What a terrible thing to happen to an old Devil! Case number seventy million and forty one, he said. His whole death work, he sighed. And it came down to a eighty three years old woman on her death bed in a nursing home as his last. What a boring notion. He was determined that he made his last deal the most memorable one. Maybe he should have a conversation with her first, he thought, as he pulled a half broken chair that caught his dark eyes and sat next to her. The room was as dimly lit as could be, setting the perfect mood for him. He touched her hand with his hand. She woke up. 	“Who is it?” She said. “Can’t you see? I’m the Devil.” The Devil perplexed. “Do not mess with me, little boy. My cataracts had gotten better nowadays, and you look nothing like the Devil.” the old woman said, annoyance in her voice, almost in a sing song screeching kind of way. 	“How would you know how the Devil look?” The Devil asked. The old woman tried to put her hand up but failed three times, but finally had the strength to hover and she found his face. The Devil was deeply confused as she felt his bony face, and lack of nose, and slimy head because of the shiny lotion he put on his bald skull. “What an ugly child.” She shouted. “You need some milk, boy, and some bread while you’re at it. And you have got to stop playing jokes with the elderly, my boy. I might be dying, and you will soon if you don’t take care of yourself more.” “I do take care of myself. More than you know, old hag.” The Devil pouted as she said nothing else about it for five minutes. “I’ve seen the face of the real Devil once. And you are definitely not it.” She turned her face away to the other side of the bed. “I was twenty years old. The world was a lot different then. I was home from a long day of work and find my husband bound and beaten. I shared the same fate as I realized too late we were robbed. He killed my husband after he sexually assaulted me. Left me alive long enough to see my husband bleed to death and then stabbed me two more times in my gut. But somehow I survived. However, it was quite a long time ago. I since remarried and though I couldn’t have kids anymore, I managed to marry a good man and lived a good life despite all that. So believe me when I tell you, if I saw the Devil, I did. And he was not you. I heard years later that the robber died, of a heart attack of all things. I just wish I could see him die a painful death instead of that easy a way out. Fat and greasy and pathetically easy.” The Devil seemed to have realized something here as he stood up. He puffed in black smoke back to his den of inequities, scurrying through two tons of paperwork, all of the files and contracts he did the last century. And it only took him an hour or so before he found it. A red file with the name Ponte Mytron, looked through it diligently and then he went to the prison of hell, reserved for the worst scums of humankind. And then he floated to Hades Incorporated for more traces of the name holder, and lastly to Hell’s kitchen to see where this name took him. He finally found what he came for and in a second of pure spite, he took the soul and body that possessed that name with him back to the nursing home. A wretched thing indeed, he thought as he sat the man with the name on the broken chair, looking scared and squirrelly. “Is this the robber?” The Devil asked the old woman.

After the old woman took a long look at the craven man trembling in a nervous wreck wondering what was happening, she said. “This was the man. Yes, he was. The Devil, in the flesh. And he even looked young. What a nonsense. What a curse. I think I believe you now. Maybe you are the real Devil. Are you here to take me away?” “He died young.” The Devil answered. “And I’m not here to take you away. That’s the Reaper’s job, a real bore of a career choice if you ask me. The Reaper was there when your husband died too. I looked through the file. But I am here to make a deal with you. Like a deal I made with your husband. He had wished for a family, which I granted him. But it was my bad that the contract was flawed, and for that you suffered. My apologies. If it makes you feel better. This robber was sent to Hell Prison, and you do not want to imagine the things they did to him there to rehabilitate him. And then he was sent to do years of menial labor job at an office where he had to do the thing he hated the most when he was alive. Reading. And when that was done, they sent him to a place made for human butchering and he was killed and made into food and eaten and be defecated by his own sick kind. And then we resurrected him and start his suffering all over again.” “I see.” The old woman said. “Then I have no more regrets. I wish for nothing now, and that there are no deals that I would make with you except that maybe you keep making that man suffer. Anything I can help you with now is my deal. Anything.”

The Devil could see her soul lit up, the brightest he had ever seen. A fulfilled wish was the healing one needed for a rested soul. But that was just corporate talk. Maybe a resilient one that persevered through a meaningful life was better for a soul. And maybe this was that novel idea that would inspire the new generations of degenerates throughout the Underworld.

That neat little idea popped up as the Devil wrote his terms down, and he did it with care. He thanked the old lady as she passed away peacefully. He sat with her through her moment of death, waited for a couple of minutes before handling her to the Reaper. He thanked the Reaper as her soul floated away bright and shiny, which surprised every creatures of the Underworld.	When Hell’s Office handed the Devil his severance, they asked him how he managed that brightness of the soul; all he said was that it was the beauty of an elaborate mistake. And it was the art of managing such a mistake to a very sophisticated level of paperwork that any aspiring Devils could carefully duplicate the process in order to make the Underworld a greater place than it was, and possibly made it beautifully fair, even in the deepest parts of the Underworld.

He lied. It was a long time after his retirement that he told the Stockbroker that his wife, whose soul now in heaven, made the deal for her soul to be the brightest there ever was, and that it somehow would help the Devil with everything he wanted. And all the Devil wanted to do was finding that balance he yearned for, in his own slice of heaven in hell; and the seventy two million and forty first soul cured him of his own derelict isolation, by solidifying his legacy, not a glum castle by a sea of lava.

And so he sipped the spleen juice of the old woman as part of his deal with her that he sneaked into their contract, finding a new flavor he liked. “The Brightest Soul achieved” - thus spake the Devil.


5 Diamond Rings Jeremiah “On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings—” “Turn off that awful noise already would you! And stop singing!” I walked across my room and turned off the radio. “It’s called music, and y’know that the song was just ending don’t ya?” “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to hear any more after it. Nona that stuff about snow and it being cold outside. I have to live that as it is.” Sophie’s caught up to her voice as she walked into my room. “Oh no, poor you. You ain’t the only one who has to walk everywhere.” “Yeah, well, you don’t have to get pushed around on your four degree mile walk to work every morning.” Mile? That was an exaggeration. It was more like three blocks. And four degrees? Well, I suppose it was sometimes, and it always was here in December if y’all measure it in Celsius. But who does that? Seriously, this is New York. I’d bet y’all that ninety-seven percent of people here don’t even know what the hell Celsius means. And the three percent that do probably all are Canadians who finally got wise and moved down here. Well, except me that is. And maybe my sister although I can never be too certain what she actually knows or not about practically anything requiring intellect. Seriously, y’all ask her to square the number seven, and I swear she’ll write a 7 with a box around it. But if y’all walk into the room when she is watching TV, she’ll practically start reciting from the beginning nearly an hour ago the entire episode of Ellen about what he said she said. The things people care about. They are so shallow, y’know it’s sad really. I always contemplate for a second telling her that but then think better of it and just mutter to her to stop being so annoying, and I get back to checking the waivers for my fantasy football league again as fast as I can. Josh Allen and Stefon Diggs have really been carrying this year. Ezekiel Elliot has been alright, but he has definitely underperformed, and if I am going to win again this year, I am going to need him to play well for my championship game this week. Anyways, we moved up here from Dallas last spring, so this was our first winter in Manhattan. Although we lived on the outer edge, we were both used to the big city there our whole lives, so the weather has been the only major adjustment recently. But I think it’s a pretty simple solution to just stay inside most of the time. There isn’t anywhere worth going now anyways. I’m off of school on break between semesters now, but all my classes were online this year anyways. “At least you have a job to go to. I’m bored out of my mind.” Believe me. I was.

“Trust me, Jeremiah, by the time you get a job, you’re going to wish you never had one.” “Oh, come on! All you do is stand there and look happy.” Not an understatement if we’re being honest. “Yeah, which is really hard when I have to keep doing it all day, and my boss keeps yelling at us and telling us we are doing it wrong.” Sophie hurriedly stomped around the apartment putting away everything she had been too tired to put away after her friends left late the night before. “How hard could it be? Y’all have been doing these photo ops for months now, and y’all two are even dating now. I’ve seen the catalogs, what more does she expect?” “I don’t know, that’s the problem. She says we don’t look like we are in love anymore. Well, sorry, but it is kind of difficult when everyone is staring and judging all the time. I heard that everyone has bets on how long we last as a couple and who is going to quit or get fired or transferred to a different department when we break up. Also, now we are filming a commercial.” Sophie stopped dead in her wake and gave me a look of absolute dread. “Huh, that’s tough, but look on the bright side, Sophie. When Cody does actually propose to you, he’ll know what he’s doing unlike most guys.” As always, it was my duty to attempt to turn around the conversation into at least a somewhat pleasant ordeal. It didn’t really work at first. She just said, “Ha, yeah, that’s some consolation for what we go through everyday.” “It was just a thought. And y’all can’t say that the money doesn’t talk too.” “Well, right

now it’s telling me ‘I’m not worth this. Go find a different job.’” “Wait, you actually have conversations with y’all’s paychecks? I think you need to go see a psychiatrist or something.” I couldn’t help but reveal a smirk. “Y’know what, Jeremiah? Just shut up already would you. You’re going to make me late for work.” Oh no, it still wasn’t working, and I could tell I was making it worse then. I made one last attempt. “But we just clarified that y’all don’t want to go there anyways because it isn’t worth it.” “I said ‘shut up,’ Jeremiah. There are a lot of things I don’t want to do like take care of you, but I still have to. That’s just life.” Take care of me? She has never had to take care of me in my life. I was already 15 by the time Dad and Mom died two years ago, and we stayed with our uncle until this year anyways. Or at least I did. Sophie was away at college for most of the time. Texas A&M. Go Aggies. I hardly ever saw her. Now I see her almost everyday in our apartment that she insisted we get together even though she knew I wouldn’t contribute to rent for at least the first year. Getting a job at 17 these days is tough, let me tell y’all. Anyways, I am not always sure which I like better. She sure can annoy the hell out of me always telling me to shut up and turn off my music, but I suppose I did miss her sometimes, especially right after losing Dad and Mom. I try not to think about all that, though, and I am glad to be in New York where no one will ever expect me to drive a car again.

Even though she was completely wrong with the part about me, she was correct about life. It really does suck most of the time. So I felt kind of bad I had irritated her more, and I decided she probably still was a little hung over from the night before. Sophie wasn’t the kind of person to be getting pass out drunk, but she developed some bad habits in college after Dad and Mom died, and her new friends weren’t the greatest influences on her either. I couldn’t think of anything good to say to mend what was left of our exchange, so I settled before it was too late to say anything. As she was walking out the door I said, “Hey, Soph, I’m sorry. I forget how hard it is for you too sometimes. I hope your day gets better.” And I really meant it too. Sophie It was a dreary, depressing Monday morning like any other. I had a bit of an argument with my little brother before I left for work, but I know he always means well. He even said something like that at the end. He’s annoying, and I give him a lot of crap, but he’s a really good kid. I don’t know what I would do if he hadn’t agreed to come here with me. And I know it’s been good for him to finally get away from Texas after the accident. Sometimes I really worry about him. I don’t know how he carries on while carrying all that weight with him. Anyhow, on my frigid trek to work that morning, I counted that I got stepped on or overtly bumped into 21 times over the course of four blocks. That’s a bit of a game that I play every morning on the way to work. I would count on the way home, but I am too afraid to walk the streets in the dark without someone I know, so I take a taxi back to the apartment each night, but I don’t think Jeremiah realizes that. Anyhow, I try to make it as few as possible, but recently the streets have been even more crowded for the holidays and Mondays are always the worst. But I remember that day particularly because it was the same number as the date. I suppose it was some kind of sign from the universe that that day was going to be significant to say the least. Jeremiah “Oh, you’re home early. How was work today?” I still felt guilty about that morning, and I tried my best to be amiable. Sophie took two steps into the apartment, and slowly looked up at me with the most dumbfounded expression of disbelief I have ever seen. “I…she…at the very end of the day…she…she fired me. I don’t have a job anymore.” The expression on her face changed. It softened. Her eyes were no longer glazed over but filling with tears. It was my turn to be shocked. I had visited her at work before. She was great at her job. I didn’t know how to respond. I had so many questions, and I was beginning to boil over with rage, but I put the lid on my emotions to comfort hers. This time I knew there were no words to fix the situation. My body got up from its seat at the kitchen counter, leaving behind my mind, and it embraced her. I still vividly remember it in the third person as I experienced it that night. It was the first time we had hugged in two years. Sophie The next couple days are a bit of a blur in my memory, but then came Thursday. Christmas Eve. It was shaping up to be a real downer of a Christmas to say the least. Cody was still busy at work all week and couldn’t answer my calls. He hardly responded to my texts too. If it weren’t for Jeremiah, I would have been your poster child for a lonely, depressed person in the big city during the holidays having just been fired and everything. But it wasn’t all that bad, or maybe I am just remembering it in light of what happened afterwards. It was definitely worth it to say the least. I got a call at around six in the afternoon, and yes, in New York that is still the afternoon. Anyhow, I got a call from my boss’s assistant that she needed to talk to me and wanted me to come in as soon as possible and absolutely no later than six thirty. I had no idea what to be thinking. I tried to call Cody, but he still wasn’t answering. I gave myself a little pep talk. “You were already fired. What’s the worst that could happen? She can’t tell you what to do anymore.” Okay, so maybe it wasn’t as much a pep talk as just thinking rationally and talking to myself out loud. Anyhow, I stepped out of the taxi and walked up to the front door with my head held high, untouched, and with no one in my way. I apprehensively opened the door to the office belonging to the woman then known as my former boss. She smiled at me. I had worked there for seven months, and I can count on my two hands the number of times she had smiled at me before. And all she said was, “Welcome back, Sophie.” And then she motioned for me to follow her as she walked out of her office to the studio. I was just about as shocked as I had been when she fired me almost exactly three days before. I nearly had it in my mind to stand up for myself and confront her for assuming that I would even still want to work there, but I was so surprised by the rarity of her smile and relieved by the simplicity of her message that those words were nowhere to be found. I had my job back. With half an hour left before the deadline, I was informed that they still needed to get the right clip for their commercial, and they needed me to do it. I was so honored and overwhelmed by all of the emotions of the day and the week that I nearly began to cry. But I did not. After all, I was an actress again. The first twenty minutes were all spent on my wardrobe and makeup because, although I dressed up for my meeting with my boss, I was in a hurry and by no means camera ready. Everything was riding on these last attempts, and my appearance had to be absolutely perfect. So we had ten minutes to shoot a commercial that they had all been working on for almost a week. We were only going to have time to film it four, maybe five times if we worked fast. Proposal one: “Great energy, but stay refined.” Proposal two: “Cody! Don’t! Drop! The ring!” Proposal three: “That was great, let’s get one more take in just in case.” Proposal four: “Yes, that’s the one!” In under ten minutes we shot the best damn little local jewelry shop commercial this world has ever seen. But it wasn’t the only one. As everyone was clapping and hugging, celebrating the success of the evening, I somehow lost Cody in the small crowd. The excitement died down and everyone went back to their filming positions. Confused as ever, I turned around. There was Cody down on one knee. We had just gone through it four times and probably a hundred times three days before, but it could not have been more different. The words, the ring, the feeling. Everything. Proposal five: This was the real deal, and I knew it instantly. Jeremiah could not have been more right or wrong at the same time. Cody must have been the most experienced proposer from the past week, but when it came down to it, I could tell he was a wreck. If he hadn’t been kneeling, his knees would have been knocking so hard you would have thought someone was locked outside and trying to get in. His voice wavered on his thin, quivering lip. His face was flushed but rosy like someone stepping in from a long time out in the cold. His hands nearly dropped the ring as he had during proposal number two. Maybe he was thinking ahead to that moment and it made him lose focus earlier. And the ring. It was the other premier cut from the small jewelry store, but I recognized immediately all of the specializations that he had just for me. In the end, they used both commercials. Cody had told them that he was going to propose to me, and they filmed that one too. There’s no way that my boss could say that we didn’t look in love for that one. I came very near to bawling, and the tears made my eyes sparkle. But I haven’t seen anything sparkle as much as that fifth diamond ring. And it still brings a sparkly tear to my eyes whenever I glance down at my hand and see it alongside the ring from last July. It was quite a Christmas in July celebration we had with me all dressed in white. And do y’all want to know what the funny thing is? This year it is my turn to surprise Cody on Christmas Eve. And I think Uncle Jeremiah will be pretty excited about this news again too.


I have never been so mortified in my life.

I was standing in front of the most beautiful man I have ever seen, in just my towel and it’s definitely not in the way you’re thinking. He doesn’t look surprised to see me but I’m as confused as you are. Okay, you’re probably wondering what went on that led to this moment. Let me explain… And to do that, I’ll have to go back a bit. Not too much, but just so you get the gist. My name’s Samantha Anderson but that’s not really important. I’d finally gotten a well-deserved vacation and there was no better place to spend it than The Maldives. I took my laptop, neck massage pillow, a bottle of wine, and a glass and relaxed on the most comfortable spot on my worn-out couch. I pulled up the search engine and typed in vacation bookings in the Maldives. I found a promising site and after doing some searching, I realized it was above my price range. I got the email off the site and sent them a message expressing my love for their dealings but how far it was from what I could afford. I got a reply almost immediately asking how much I was willing to pay. We did this back and forth thing until they finally agreed to a booking at a price a few thousand lower than their initial fee. That should have been my first sign that they weren’t all they claimed to be. But I was on my third glass and the fact that I had more thousands than I budgeted to spend touring, blinded any reasoning of mine. So I booked my flight, bought my ticket and went to my room in search of my passport and my hottest bikini. I got my suitcase and started packing. I didn’t go far before the drowsiness of the alcohol got me crashing. Don’t worry, I made sure I drank enough water before that to prevent a hangover. *** I was woken up by the sound of my alarm, I reached out and smacked the stupid thing on my nightstand. It was 11:00 in the morning and I had a slight headache. I must have snoozed it more than ten times. I should have turned it off as soon as I got the news of my vacation. I got up and went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. I took an aspirin for my head and moped as I made my way to the tiny kitchen in my apartment. I made a quick sandwich and cleared the couch off evidence of last night. I had managed to get a flight for tomorrow, how cool was that? I needed to pack but there were showing reruns of How I met your mother . So I decided to watch a little before packing. I found my spot on the couch and devoured my sandwich while laughing at Ted . *** I shouldn’t have watched that show, I didn’t realize they were showing marathons that lasted basically the whole day. I know what you’re thinking, no I didn’t spend my whole day on the couch, I got up to pee and get more snacks. That counts and I’m on my vacation bite me. Either way, I basically spent my day doing nothing and I forgot to pack. Now I’m paying for it. My taxi is going to be here in less than ten minutes and I haven’t even decided on carrying a playsuit or suspenders. I shoved what I could in my suitcase and duffel and got dressed. I got a text from the driver and I carried my bags out of the apartment and into the elevator. I’d gotten like two more texts and a missed call before I finally came out of the building.

“I’m here, I’m here.” I shouted as I dragged my bags behind me towards the car. The driver came to my aid and we were on the road in less than five minutes. We got to the airport with twenty minutes to spare. I went through the whole boring airport thing I won’t bore you with that and I could finally take a breath on the plane. It was a ten-hour flight so I got comfortable and caught up on some much-needed sleep. *** I woke up two hours before the flight landed so I gathered my stuff and double-checked my bookings with the hotel.  I asked for a burger and water from the air hostess and ate to my fill. I was so excited to see the photos on the site for myself and I couldn’t wait to get a tan. I got my iPod and air pods and spent the rest of the flight listening to music. The plane landed, I got my bags and waved for a taxi, I gave him the address of the hotel and I couldn’t keep my eye away from the window for the whole ride. It was breathtaking; the people, their clothes, the buildings even the fine brown sand was mesmerizing. I couldn’t wait to get to the hotel. We arrived at our destination and the driver helped me with my bags. I walked into the beautiful building and up to the receptionist. I told her about my booking and she gave a grimace. Second sign I failed to notice. I was high on the beauty of the hotel. She gave me my suite key and told me to have a seat, the manager would like to have a word with me. “Hmm…can it wait? I really want to pee and I would like to freshen up so I won’t scare him away with my sweaty and horrible outfit.” “No problem but please be here as soon as you can. The elevator is that way.” She said pointing to her right. I smiled and dragging my bags, I took the elevator to my floor. I found my suite and it was just like the pictures two doors leading to two en suite bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living room. It was perfect. I chose the room by the left and dropped my bags. I know you’re wondering why I got a suite with two rooms. It was the only accommodation available at that time. With my toiletries in hand, I made my way to the bathroom to have a nice long shower. Wrapping myself in a clean towel I walked out of my room to take a tour of the suite, which didn’t seem like a bad idea at that time since I was alone, only to find the most beautiful man I’d ever seen looking indifferent to seeing me. Now you understand why I am confused right? Good. Chapter 2 “What in the world are you doing in my suite?” I asked clutching my towel tighter around my body, my naked body. “I’m supposed to be here, I paid for this suite.” He replied moving around me to walk into the room on the right. I quickly made my way to my room and brought out some clothes from my bag; I’ll be free to argue when dressed. He walked out of his room just as I was shoving my legs into my slides in the living room. “You mister, have a lot of explaining to do.” I know what you’re thinking; who still says ‘you mister?’ don’t look at me, I have no idea how that came out. “Haven’t you spoken with the manager?” he asked. “I’m going there right now and you have to come with me.” I opened the door, stepped outside, and motioned for him to take the lead. He rolled his eyes but stepped out of the suite. We made our way to the lobby and trust me; the elevator ride was awkward. I walked over to the counter, the receptionist saw me and smiled. “The manager will be out soon; you can take a seat. Would you like some tea or coffee?” “I’m good thanks.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the comfortable-looking couch in the lobby. “Name’s Andrea, if we are going to be living together for the next month, I should at least know yours.”

“Samantha, and we aren’t going to be staying together, there’s probably a misunderstanding or something.” “Yh Sure.” His words were laced with sarcasm. A short bald man wearing a charcoal black suit walked up to us and I pulled Andrea up with me. “You must be miss Anderson, I’m Jacobs, the hotel manager; nice to meet you.” “Just Samantha please, nice to meet you too.” “Ah, I see you’ve met your suitemate, Andrea.” “My suitemate? You never said anything about a suitemate when I was speaking to you. I didn’t agree to this.” “Miss Samantha, you cut down our price far more than what I was expecting, the only way the hotel was going to make a gain was if someone else paid what you couldn’t and that means you’ll have to share a suite.” I was mortified for the second time in less than an hour. He didn’t have to say it like that, it’s not like I don’t have the money, I just have a budget. “I understand but why wasn’t I told beforehand? A warning would have been nice; is there anything you can do now? I can pay for another room or you can take Andrea to another room; anything?” “I apologize for not telling you about this before your arrival but there is nothing I can do now; we are fully booked as you are aware. See this as an adventure, you two can get to know each other and have a wonderful time. If that is all, I’ll take my leave now, enjoy your stay.” He shook our hands again and walked away. I fell back on the couch and started thinking of different ways this vacation could go wrong. What if he’s a rapist? Or a robber? A stalker? A serial killer? There are many things he could be. How was I sure I and my properties are safe? I’m going to die; I’m going to freaking die. I won’t get to see the beach or the nice cabins on the sea, I probably won’t make it to the morning… “Can you stop looking at me like that? I’m not a rapist or anything like that.” “That’s what they always say.” “Geez, get up, let's go to our suite and you can think about your life there. People are staring.” He waited for me to get up and our roles were reversed, I was the one being pulled. We waited for the elevator and rode up to our floor. He shut the door to our suite behind me and was about to walk into his room probably to unpack. “Are you okay with this? Aren’t you going to do something?” “You heard the man, there’s nothing we can do, just accept it, you can start by unpacking your bags and how about we go out for a cup of coffee or something’ get to know each other, my treat, what do you say?” “Fine, but only because you’re paying.” I walked into my room and copied him. Chapter 3 I just finished unpacking; Andrea and I are about to leave for the coffee shop. “I’m done. Let’s go.” I grabbed my pause and changed my footwear. “Finally, you take forever.” He got up and waited for me at the door holding it open. “Thank you, kind sir.” Wow, I’m on a roll today; ‘you mister’, now ‘kind sir?’ even Andrea gave me a look. “Let’s go before you get any weirder.” “I agree.” We made our way out of the hotel and walked to the closest café, not to worry, we used Google Maps, we’re not trying to get lost. We walked into the cafe and got a sit almost immediately; our orders were taken and we were sipping from our hot mugs in on time. “So… why The Maldives of all places?” he asked me and relaxed into his chair. “Sure, just jump right into the interview.” “What? We have to start somewhere.” “Fine, it was the pictures of the cabins on the sea, I had to check it out for myself. You?” I answered taking a bite of my doughnut. “Nice, I just needed a change of scenario. Home was getting too predictable.” Oh, yeah I need a tan too. “I guess we could go to the beach together someday.” He might not be bad, I shouldn’t judge yet; but I’m going to keep my guards up, just to be safe. We spent the rest of the day getting to know each other and we went our separate ways at the end of the night. *** I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, I counted my finger and toes; complete. I looked around the room to check if I was missing anything. Well, I don’t think he would actually steal or kill me on the first day, but what do I know? I went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. I walked into the living room and the smell of pancakes led me into the kitchen. “Did you make breakfast?” Maybe he’s not that bad. I sat on the barstool by the counter. “Nope, room service.” He dropped a plate on the counter and sat down in front of me. “Did you at least order for me?” “How was I supposed to know what you wanted?” The nerve of some people. “Of course, I did, your plate is on the heater.” He said laughing at the look on my face. “I would have said thank you but I don’t play with food.” I stood up, grabbed my plate, and joined him at the counter. “Any plans for today?” “Nah, probably just get a tan, you?” “Good, I’m having friends over. You can stay at the beach until they leave.” The nerve. “Hello, I live here too and I’ll come and go whenever I please.” I picked up my plate, walked into my room, and slammed the book behind me. What was I thinking? My vacation is ruined, how am I supposed to live with someone like that. He’s not the boss of me, this is my suite too. I was angry but the pancake didn’t have to suffer for it. I finished my food and dug out my hot bikini. When I walked out of my room, he was nowhere to be found. I exited the hotel and walked to the beach. *** After hours of tanning, I walked back to the hotel. When I got back the suite was empty. It’s not like I obey him and came late, I just lost track of time; yes, we’re going with that. He walked in not long after I did and dropped on the couch. “We need to talk about a suitable living arrangement.” I said. “Okay, what do you have in mind?” I did not think this through. I haven’t even thought about what I was going to say, I expected him to put up a fight. “Hmm…” “How about this; stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine. I won’t tell you what to do and you won’t either. Sounds good?” “Good.” It seems fair enough. “Cool, I apologize for my actions this morning, I had a rough night. Let’s go out, my treat.” Wow, if this is how he apologizes, I might have to set traps for him (not really (really.)) “It’s cool, where do you have in mind.” Wow, free lunch twice in a roll. I might actually have a wonderful time.