(This is a fun, if a bit dark, alternate history short story written up off the back of a game of 'Hearts of Iron 4', in which I played as Ireland and really leaned in to how silly it got. I tried things and made an awful mess. It's not intended to be serious, or to reflect the real personalities of people named in the story. It isn't remotely realistic or historically accurate. About a 5 to 10 minute read!) How did we get here? James Larkin could only ponder this as he watched the last of the Irish air corp's enormous strategic jet bombers lumber into the air, heavy with their deadly cargo. If you had told him as a boy that something that heavy could fly, he would have laughed at you. They were setting off for what was once Iceland, now the northern extent of the fascist 'Resurrectionist Ireland'. Before, it had been part of Larkin's Irish People's Union. Better times, Larkin thought bitterly. He absent mindedly brushed a finger across the patch covering his ruined eye. In a few weeks, America's eastern seaboard would awaken to German carriers and fighter planes; the Italian navy would bombard the coast, and Axis troops would land their forces - probably sending what remained of the Irish army in with the Hungarians and Romanians as cannon fodder to establish a beach head. The lads would be cut down on the Jersey shore, in the name of Der Fuhrer. How did we get here? 1936. Tensions rise in Europe, as Germany re-militarises the Rhineland. In Ireland, the annoyance this causes the British leads to mirth, but serious people are concerned. James Larkin and Eoin O'Duffy represent opposing sides in the debate over what we should do - join in the Communist revolution (the Soviets, not being fond of the British, would be sure to protect us, and to fend off the fascists); or throw our lot in with the Reich, following the seemingly growing list of countries going that direction. Of course, there was also De Valera, and his tired brand of conformity and pandering to his Catholic idols. An Irish people yearning for identity, and seeking strong leaders to help liberate her northern province, appealed to the Communist and Fascist factions for promises of freedom for their northern cousins. In the end, in spite of the German Reich's successes in demanding territory across Europe (or perhaps because of it), the Communists won out. O'Duffy would be a thorn in Larkin's side for years to come, the threat of a Nazi sponsored fascist coup always lurking around the corner. The revolution was really a peaceful referendum for Ireland, but De Valera would never been seen again. James Larkin began planning to retake the north from Britain. The years that followed saw rapid development. As the Communist state machinery was erected, from Soviet youth schools to political commissars and ideology training centres, Ireland also rose to the challenge set for it by Stalin's USSR: "grow strong". The introduction of widespread conscription, limiting of export trade, and reduction in luxury goods being manufactured, was coupled with massive increases in military infrastructure. Research was directed towards producing infantry and artillery weapons; submarines and destroyers were designed, and dockyards built; fighters and bombers crept off small production lines, but accumulated nonetheless. Russian research and material support helped, but Ireland's scientists found themselves extremely well funded and given free reign to work on anything that would help us to fight. Scientists fleeing the Nazi party would find refuge in Ireland also, aiding our efforts. In time, the Irish armed forces stood around 300,000 strong - enough to make a contribution. Landing at Molotovsk in 1938, they marched through Russia to volunteer with Communist China in the struggle against Japan and her puppet Chinese statelets. They acquitted themselves well, but ultimately had to retreat and return to Ireland due to the harsh conditions and short supply in the eastern theater. And then, on the eve of the USSR's acceptance of Ireland's membership of ComIntern in 1939, war broke out between the Allied and Axis powers. Poland fell, then Belgium, the Netherlands, Luxembourg...and France. As the Germans turned their sights on Denmark, an increasingly desperate Britain could not tolerate a strong Communist threat to her west. In a move nobody saw coming, they sent a diplomat named MacDonald with an offer. Join the war on their side, he said, and they would return Northern Ireland to our control. Larkin was stunned. It was his mandate for taking power, and it would simply land in his lap. There were only two problems. First, ComIntern would not take rejection lightly (joining the British in the war against the Reich would surely count Ireland out, as Germany had signed the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact with Russia). And the bigger problem: for the past 3 years, Larkin's people had been smuggling weapons in to the British Raj and Turkey, fuelling communist insurrectionist movements in India, and hoping to trouble British north African concerns from Turkey. To join the British war now might be suicide; a Britain without the manpower and resources of the Raj and Africa would be in real trouble. After much debate, Larkin elected to accept Britain's offer - then immediately betray them and complete the joining of ComIntern. The Irish felt no sorrow for this betrayal against the old enemy. Once their troops were removed and ours occupied their forts and coastal batteries, Britain would not dare try to retake a strong, unified Ireland; especially while at the same time trying to wrest control of Africa from the Axis. Much less would they try anything once India rose up in defiance. And as an added bonus to getting what Ireland wanted, "Unkle Joe", as Larkin had come to think of Stalin, would surely be pleased to see more Communist countries born from the ashes of the bourgeoisie. Having had so much success in coming to power and building Ireland up, having delivered the north to his people, Larkin supposed that his luck was about used up. This was confirmed in several ways. The insurrection in India was wildly successful, very swiftly removing Lord Linlithgow and his garrisons from power. However, the new India then decided that their best course to continue fighting the British would be to declare for the Axis. In joining Germany's Reich, they effectively closed themselves off from helping ComIntern - indeed, they would end up fighting against it. Turkey, taking their cue from the Indians, did the same. Ireland did join ComIntern in the end, though their apparent mismanagement of the outcomes in India and Turkey did not help. Who could have predicted that the Indian hatred for Britain was stronger than their love of the worker, or that the inheritors of the Ottoman Empire would be so easily swayed? In spite of her weakened state and desperate position, Britain declared war on Ireland in 1941 and began bombing. The effort was small, but enough to do damage and cause many casualties. People questioned Larkin's judgement, but spirits were kept high - and we fought back. Ireland's scientists had made much of the materials provided by Mother Russia, and by 1942 could build and fire simple rockets. From each of the four provinces, their vengeance weapons rained down on the UK, as many as four per day hitting somewhat random locations. Ireland was effectively cut off from Soviet supplies by the British navy, meaning the arms production which had now grown the army to over 400,000 halted in its tracks. Fuel reserves were low, so Ireland's fighters, bombers, submarines and destroyers had to greatly reduce their operation. Motorised troops became foot infantry again as trucks were mothballed. In late 1942, the Axis breached the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact, and went to war with ComIntern. Ireland, (together with the USSR, Mongolia, and some place called Tannu Tuva) was now at war with all of the Axis and Allied powers simultaneously. As the Soviets fought Germany on the east front, and the Allies tried to gain a foothold in Africa, Ireland could only sit back and watch. In one piece of good news, shortly after going to war with nearly everyone (but especially the British), a small Irish force had managed to go off shore before the British blockade descended, landing on Iceland. Iceland had declared for the Axis, and as such it was a valid ComIntern target, and lightly defended. Iceland was taken with minimal casualties, and supplies could be moved home by air. Ireland would survive the British blockade, albeit with severely reduced growth. For the next several years, the war raged in Europe. The Americans had joined in 1941, throwing their forces time and again against an impenetrable coastal defence in France and Italy. Without strong UK support, and with the war in Africa all but lost, things looked grim for the Allies by the mid-40's. Casualties stood at over 8 million, though this was dwarfed by Soviet losses. The Reich lost people too, but enormous industrial output and manpower from captured territories fuelled their divisions. African resources were increasingly reaching them instead of the Allies, as the UK and France were squeezed out of Africa. Japan entered the war and worked its way south through the Philippines and Dutch East Indies, eventually taking isolated Australia and New Zealand. In Europe, the front lines moved little, and losses mounted. It was a war of attrition, lives the currency which would buy victory. 12 years in to the war, in 1950, all that remained of the Allies was Canada, the USA, and the UK. Distracted by their western front with Japan, and having bounced off French and Belgian shores for perhaps the 10th time, the USA was powerless to assist when German forces, using Italian naval power, stormed the beaches of Britain. Paratroopers captured towns and villages, while tanks rolled through the cities, a blanket of fighter and bomber cover atop their positions. The UK had endured through so much, but capitulation was inevitable. Ireland had fended off small British and American attempts at landing and capturing our island, but serious questions had to be asked about determined Axis landings from British shores. In the end, the German forces returned to Europe, leaving an occupying force in the UK and concentrating on fighting Russia. Ireland, freed of the UK naval pinion, was now entrapped by Italian boats. At least the bombing stopped. Irish rocketry had matured and come in to its own, and the rocket bombardment was redirected to western Germany. Jet engines were discovered by 1951, and Irish designers created a strategic bomber with enough range to bomb German factories and infrastructure. When the Italian navy relented, moving off to fight elsewhere, the majority of the Irish army set off to join the eastern front in the fight against the Axis, landing once more at Molotovsk. They found the front line much further east than they would have hoped - a huge German salient extended to Yaroslavl. Worse, they discovered that several years of stagnation in terms of arms production left them with obsolete equipment, particularly the artillery which simply could not compete. Their anti-tank was not up to par either. German panzer divisions pushed them back time and again, and the massive air power of the German Luftwaffe meant they could not hold a position for long. The Irish fought bravely, throwing themselves in wave after wave at German positions; even the Russians thought they were crazy. They briefly retook and held Moscow before a vicious counter assault threw them out of the city. Eventually, the tattered rags of the army returned home, hoping to rebuild and fight once more. At this time, another of Larkin's secret plots came to fruition. Irish scientists, with Russian research and some stolen nuclear material, had been working on nuclear bombs. Nobody knew that the fancy new power plant in Castlebar was spinning off a deadly side product, something which could smite a city like the god of the old testament himself. In early 1952, two bombs were prepared: Fear Saille and Buachaill Beag. They were loaded on to a pair of bombers, and the high command saluted them as they took off on their path to glory. Frankfurt and Hamburg were the targets. The devastation was immeasurable. Rather than weaken the German resolve, it led them to make an even harder push to their east. Larkin's generals reported on Christmas day 1952 (a day that had been renamed "Irish freedom from oppression day") that a Soviet collapse was expected imminently. On the 26th, it was officially confirmed. A communication was received from what was probably the last standing outpost of the Russian military. Their message simply stated "All is lost. The revolution has failed. Europe and the world are Adolf's playground. I can only say that I will go out with a grenade in my mouth, and a Nazi throat in each hand. Good luck comrades." In Dublin, Larkin convened his generals and began to plan for the defence of our shoreline. The room grew unusually quiet, and Larkin sensed spaces opening up around him. Eoin O'Duffy held the pistol. There was a bang, a flash of light, and then darkness. The bullet had destroyed his left eye and maimed his face, but Larkin survived. In the end, the Irish people's gratitude saved him from execution - making him a martyr might have ignited a deadly civil war. O'Duffy's moment had finally come. Resurrectionist Ireland rolled its flags out everywhere, and a people now worried for their survival embraced, on the surface at least, fascist ideology. It struck Larkin how easily the extreme leftist tools of state could be turned to the use of the extreme right. On release from hospital in June 1953, Larkin was given a token post in the military, and never found himself in want of company - fascist thugs became his shadow, everywhere he went. In the end, the Germans were welcomed ashore when they arrived some months after the coup. Much to O'Duffy's annoyance, the officer in charge of their forces declined to meet him, instead asking to have Larkin brought to his ship immediately. Boarding, Larkin felt sure he would not walk off again. The man who had ordered two nuclear detonations in German cities could surely find no forgiveness in the jaws of the wolf. Ushered in to an unexpectedly plush cabin aboard a German warship, Larkin met SS Oberst Gruppenfuhrer Sepp Dietrich. "Herr Larkin. Komm her. Sitzen." Dietrich came close, handing a glass of whiskey to Larkin, and stared intently at him, taking in every detail of his face - showing no awkwardness at pausing to closely examine a wrinkle here, a laughter line there, the protruding scars under the eye patch. Finally, he spoke again. "So good...to finally meet the brave, powerful man responsible for Hamburg. And Frankfurt of course. But for me...mostly Hamburg. Mein schwester...my sister was there, and her children." Larkin swallowed. What might these sick SS have devised, what ways could he be made to suffer? Whispers and stories told of secret camps behind their lines where unspeakable things were done...what if they were true? Dietrich chuckled menacingly. "No need for concern, Herr Larkin. No, it is I who should be sorry. Mein Fuhrer has guided me, and made this clear. He taught me that I should be sorry...that we were not strong enough to stop you." He slammed his drink on the table, causing Larkin to nearly drop his own. "The might of your little nation is unquestionable. And now it will serve us. You will work with O'Duffy to disarm the divisions that were most loyal to you. We will send what remains of Irish forces to fight elsewhere. You will use your subtle expertise to ignite a coup in Canada, and another in Mexico - fascist coups, this time, Herr Larkin. And above all, you will send your verdammt bombs down the throats of the Americans. Finish your drink and get off my ship." Larkin swallowed his whiskey. It was excellent. It is 1953. Irish jet bombers are gathering in Iceland, preparing for their first sortie over the eastern seaboard of the US. They wait only for the signal that the skies have been cleared by the Luftwaffe. James Larkin, with his remaining eye, watches the last bomber dissolve from a dot in to nothingness as it fades from view. In a few days, the USA will be engulfed in flames, and the world's best hope for freedom from the Reich's grip will blink out and slip away. "I brought us here", thinks James Larkin.


Have you ever disliked someone so much… hated even… that you wish that they would just die? Aoife did. Aoife disliked a lot of people throughout her life. When she was 6, there was a girl called Katie in her class in school. One day, their teacher split the class into pairs to do an art project. Amy was paired with a boy Aoife liked called Barry. Aoife instantly became jealous and from that day on, she grew a disliking to Katie. But she didn’t hate her. Another person who Aoife disliked was her friend Marie’s mom, Brenda. Brenda was a strict parent. When Aoife slept over in Marie’s house on occasion, her mom would regularly check on them to make sure that they were okay. But they both knew that Brenda was just being nosey and trying to catch them as they were up to some mischief. Nothing in particular, just mischief. One time, Aoife and Maria caught Brenda eavesdropping on them outside Marie’s bedroom when she was leaving her bedroom to use the bathroom. Of course, Brenda played it off, but they were 12 years old at that time and were well used to Brenda’s snoopiness. Yes, Aoife disliked Brenda too, but she didn’t hate her either. One person who Aoife did hate was Emma Whitmore. Aoife thought that Emma Whitmore was the devil incarnate. Aoife first met Emma when the began secondary school. She was a year ahead of Aoife and made her life miserable for three long years. One time, when Aoife was on her way to biology, Emma pulled her back by her ponytail and she fell to the floor. The other girls in the hallway saw her taking her tumble and they all pointed and laughed, whilst taking videos and pictures on their phones. Another time, at a school disco when Aoife was dancing with her friends, Emma came up behind her and pulled up her dress and held it up as Aoife failed miserably in pulling it back down. A boy who Aoife liked, Brian, was at that disco and saw the whole fiasco. He didn’t laugh, but the damage was done to Aoife. That incident had mentally scarred her for years. Yes, Aoife not only disliked Emma Whitmore, but she hated Emma. Aoife hated Emma Whitmore with a fiery hatred that was so strong, Aoife would physically shake and her heart would race. Aoife had her first panic attack whilst at home thinking about Emma Whitmore. Emma dumped her books out of her bag in school that day and some girls laughed at her again as she picked them up,. Looking pathetic and defeated. As Aoife sat in bed that night, thinking about Emma, she thought about how she bullied her for the past 3 years. “I hate her so much. I hate her. I hate her.” Aoife said to herself, whilst holding her knees to her chest with tears running down her face. “I just wish she would fucking DIE!” Aoife thought about that a lot, but she never said it out loud. But it felt good. She said it again: “ I wish she would fucking die! I wish. She would just. DIIIIEEEE!” She screamed silently under her breath. Aoife hung out with her friends that weekend and had a good weekend. She needed it and she felt much better going into school on Monday morning. On Monday morning at assembly, the school principal, Mr Irwin began the morning with a somber tone. “Ladies, it is with a heavy heart that I begin this week with some very sad news. Unfortunately, one of our students tragically passed away this weekend. Emma Whitmore.” The whole hall gasped simultaneously, including Aoife. “Before we begin this morning’s lessons, I want to make something very clear.” Mr Irwin continued. “This was a tragic accident, and the details will be revealed in due course. In the meantime, I don’t want anyone to spread rumours. As the details have not been released yet, anything you hear today from a fellow student will be false.” Of course, kids being kids, rumours did spread throughout the day, the most popular being that Emma killed herself. Another that came up was a drug overdose, which Aoife immediately dismissed as false. Another was that an intruder broke in and murdered Emma and her family in their sleep. Another theory that made Aoife rolled her eyes. Aoife spoke with her mother about it that evening and her mother also said that she didn’t know what happened. There was a lot of confusion about what happened to Emma. After a couple of more days, once the funeral had come and gone, the truth came to light. Emma Whitmore had merely died in her sleep. The doctors said they couldn’t figure out why. She had no underlying conditions. It was a brain hemorrhage, nor a heart attack. She just… died. Aoife didn’t feel happy when she heard the news. Yes, she hated Emma Whitmore, but she wouldn’t wish her dead, not really dead anyway. But she would be lying to herself if she didn’t feel relieved. From the day Emma Whitmore died, Aoife’s life became much better. She was no longer bullied. People seemed to forget about the disco incident and she never heard the chants “granny’s panties” in the halls again. When Aoife turned 18, she finished secondly school and went on to study Physics and Astronomy in college. She grew a fascination with the universe and how worked. She dreamed that someday she would go on to work for NASA. While in college, Aoife met her first serious boyfriend, Colm. Colm was a country boy who played hurling in secondary school and for his local team. He would drive an hour home 3 times during the week to train and would go home on Sundays for matches. Aoife would often go to his matches on the weekend. She enjoyed watching hurling and seeing as Colm was rather good at it, it only made her more and more infatuated by him. He was a romantic. He bought her flowers on her birthday and bought her random gifts, such as pajamas when it was her time of the month and funny mugs related to private jokes they had. She lost her virginity to Colm and knew from that day on, he was the only person she ever wanted to be with, physically and romantically. Even though it was only a month into their relationship, he was so gentle and tender towards her, she instantly fell in love. Of course, she didn’t tell him she loved him for another couple of months and only after Colm had told her first. Yes, Aoife absolutely adored Colm, and when she found out that he cheated on her while in Tenerife on a boys holiday, it destroyed her. Aoife had never felt pain like it. She received an anonymous photograph of him kissing a girl on a beach at night while lying on a sun lounger. At first, she couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be him. He told her he loved her a thousand times. But the more she looked at it, she knew it was him. She felt a knot in her stomach and she thought her heart was going to explode. It was a physical pain that she had only heard about in movies, but had never actually experienced herself. Aoife replied to the anonymous message on Facebook asking “who is this?” But the account was deleted soon after. When Aoife approached Colm about it, of course, he denied it. When she showed him the picture, he studied it closely, biting his bottom lip whilst trying to come up with an excuse. Eventually, he dropped his gaze to his feet. He couldn’t look Aoife in the eye. “How could you?” Aoife asked through tears that wouldn’t stop flowing and were making her vision blurry. “How could you?” She screamed this time, demanding a response. “Aoife, I’m sorry,” Colm said again, tears welling up in his eyes. “We slept together one time and I regretted it immediately afterward. I was drunk and I think someone spiked me and….. look that’s no excuse, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” When he looked up, Aoife's mouth was hanging open. She sat down on his bed, staring at the ground. Now she couldn’t look him in the eye. “You slept with her?” She asked.”I thought…. I thought you just kis…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She felt like she just found out about the cheating all over again. The pain in her stomach. The crushing pain in her heart. Her legs were weak, she thought she was going to be sick. “Yeah, why? What did you hear?” Colm asked, instantly realizing that he had told her more than she knew. And when Aoife looked up at him again, with her bloodshot eyes, tears streaming down her face and puffy cheeks, she could only let out one word: “Why?” And with that, she got up and left Colm’s bedroom and house for the last time. When Aoife went home that night. She cried. She cried in her bedroom as she had cried the past couple of nights since finding out. She had cried harder than she ever had before. Harder than when her grandmother died when she was 11. Harder than when her pet cat, Oliver, died when she was 16. This was a different kind of pain. The ultimate betrayal. She had given every single part of herself to Colm, and he spat on it and threw it away like it was nothing. Had she meant so little to him? So little that he was willing to go behind her back for an easy fuck on a boys holiday? Yes, Aoife loved Colm. She loved him more than she loved anyone ever before. But in that moment, while she held her knees to her chest, crying uncontrollably in bed, she hated Colm. She hated Colm with every fiber of her being. “I hate him,” she said to herself through the tears. “I hate him so fucking much” she to herself though the steering pain in her chest. “I just wish he would fucking die!” And with that, she fell onto her side and wailed, and wailed and wailed some more, until she finally fell asleep. The next morning, Aoife woke up to 5 text messages and 8 missed calls from her friend, Amy. “Can you talk?” One text said. “Call me.” Another read. “Hello?” “Hello?” “Pick up!!!!!!” Another read. Aoife sat up in bed and rang Amy back. Amy answered almost instantly. “What’s wrong?” Aoife asked while whipping her nose with her sleeve. “So you heard?” Amy asked, after hearing Aoife’s tone. She was clearly upset and was crying hard recently. “No?” Aoife responded. There was a pause on the line. “Aoife… Colm passed away in his sleep last night.” Aoife’s jaw dropped open. She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her world was caving in on her and there was no way out. “Hello? Are you still there?” Amy asked. Aoife hung up the phone and dropped it. She looked around her room, confused and disorientated. She began hyperventilating and clawing at her chest gasping for air. She was having a panic attack, her first one in a couple of years. Her vision became blurry and soon, she passed out. The next thing Aoife remembered, she was on her bedroom floor, and her mother had a wet rag on her forehead. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Aoife? Are you okay? I heard a crash and you were face down on the floor. Did you have another attack?” Aoife sat up a bit in her mother's arms, and then it all came back. She looked at her mother as she felt like her whole being was collapsing in on itself. “Mom… he’s gone.” She squeaked out and she began crying again. “Who? Who’s gone?” Her mother asked. “Colm.” She responded, looking at her mother with tears in her eyes. “He died. Last night. He’s dead mom.” And she began sobbing into her mother's chest so hard she thought that she would never not feel pain again. Yes, Colm had cheated on her. But she didn’t want this. She didn’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t this. And now all she wanted was to have him back. To go back to 2 weeks ago and lie in bed with him with a cup of tea and watching Netflix with him in the pajamas he bought her a couple of months prior. That’s all she wanted, and she would never have it again. The doctors did an autopsy on Colm and they found no complications or cause of death. The said that it was sudden adult death syndrome. Nothing caused it, he just went. They said that it would have been very quick and painless. Aoife went to the funeral and cried more. And she cried more and more for the next couple of weeks. She didn’t go to class and barely left her bedroom. She lost a stone in weight over the 2 weeks and her classmates sent her their notes and assignments, but she never looked at them. She felt dead inside. She felt nothing but pain. When Aoife did start leaving the house again, she went to see a therapist and kept seeing them for three years. It became a habit for her. An expensive habit, but a habit all the same. She enjoyed going to see her therapist and felt it helped her with her relationships with friends and family. Aoife failed her second-year exams. Colm’s death had taken its toll on her and she decided she would repeat them the following August. After getting a full-time job as a hotel receptionist over the summer, Aoife ended up going full time and dropped out of college completely. She worked at that hotel as a receptionist for 11 years, until her second child came along and she found it too difficult juggling a job and 2 children. And her husband, who she was now married to for 3 years was earning enough so that she could stay at home. Aoife still thought about Colm from time to time. How could she not? He was her first lover, the person she thought she’d have children with and grow old with. When she was standing on the altar and saying her vows to her would-be husband, Craig, she couldn’t help but also think of Colm. Even though she hated him, he had left his mark on her. Aoife loved Craig. She loved him with all her heart, but she gave a piece of herself of Colm, and Colm took that piece with him when he died suddenly that night. On a summer evening on the way home from a family day, Aoife drove as her husband and 2 kids slept after a long day at the beach. Her phone vibrated in the centre console and she picked it up. There was a message from “Mom”. As she went to unlock the phone, she dropped it and it fell to the ground between her feet. “Fuck.” She said and looked in the rearview mirror to make sure the kids were still asleep and didn’t hear her. They were. Aoife reached down with her right hand to try and reach her phone. As she reached down, the car slowly began to drift to the right. When she reached the phone, picked it up, and sat up, she quickly corrected her positioning on the road. She pulled the steering wheel to the left to reposition herself in the centre of the road but pulled the wheel too quickly. The car jackknifed and flipped 6 times before landing right side up and she was knocked unconscious. When Aoife came too, she was being wheeled from her wrecked Nissan Qashqai and 4 firemen were cutting the roof off of it with a buzzsaw. She couldn’t see into the front passenger seat to her husband as the windshield was completely smashed. What she could make out clearly though was the blood on the inside of the windscreen. “What happened?” She asked the paramedics, adrenaline beginning to fill her with panic. “Ma’am, please stay calm, you’ve been in an accident and we’re taking you to the hospital.” “What happened?” Aoife asked again, raising her voice. “My babies, where are my babies? Where are my babies?” She began to scream, the reality of the situation sinking in, as the paramedics put her into the back of an ambulance. There were 2 more ambulances around her, 2 fire trucks, and 2 police cars. There were flashing lights all around her and glass and metal all over the road in front of her. Aoife began to scream in horror and despair. “I need my babies! Let me out!” She screamed at the paramedics in desperation to find her children. A moment later, she was fading and fading until she was eventually unconscious after the paramedics sedated her. The next day, Aoife woke up in a hospital bed. She had a cast on her arm and a bandage on her head. She had a splitting headache and her left eye was completely red from the trauma, but that would also heal in time. Her vision in that eye would be temporarily lost. Her mother was sleeping in a chair next to her. “Mom.” Her Mom jolted awake at the sound of her daughter's voice. “Oh baby,” she said and kissed her cheek gently, careful not to hurt her fragile face. “Mom, where’s Craig?” Her mother’s eyes began to fill up with tears. “Mom, where are my children?” That sickening feeling in Aoife’s stomach and physical pain she had felt in her heart over a decade earlier had returned. Her mother shook her head. “I’m sorry baby, they didn’t make it.” Aoife laid her head back in the pillow and let out a wail that would haunt her mother forever. It was a sound only a mother who had lost her children could make. A sound no one should neither make nor hear. But here was Aoife, wailing in the trauma of the loss of her family, in the realization that she’ll never hold her children or hold her husband again. All she wanted to do was tell them that she loved them and that she was sorry. And she would, every day and night until the day she died, but they would never hear her. As the weeks and months past, Aoife’s pain never subsided. She fell into a deep depression, moved in with her mother, and spent her days doing chores around the house or watching TV. On Wednesday’s her mother would bring her to her therapy session. That was the only time she left the house. She didn’t want to live anymore. She didn’t think she deserved it. She thought that she killed her family and if they couldn’t live, why should she. She thought about killing herself plenty of times, but she was always too afraid too. And she hated herself more for that. So she decided that she would live but it would be a miserable existence. As punishment to herself for what she did. One night, Aoife sat up in bed. The television had some reality TV show on that she wasn’t watching. She was alone, with just her and her thoughts. “I hate you.” She said to herself. She looked left, at the mirror built into her wardrobe door. She rolled off the bed and kneeled, looking at herself in the mirror. “I hate you.” She said again, stronger this time. “Why don’t you just fucking die!” She screamed and punched the mirror. She held her hand in pain, it was bleeding and the mirror was cracked. Her mother came into the room. “Aoife, what did you do? Let me help you, honey.” She brought her to the bathroom where she cleaned her wound and bandaged it up. “I know it’s hard Aoife. I don’t even know what to tell you, or how to help you. I just want you to forgive yourself. You’re not a bad person.” “How can I forgive myself, mom?” Aoife asked through her tears. Her mother helped her back to her room. She turned off the TV and light. “I love you, honey. I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe we could go out for a walk?” “Maybe.” Aoife responded” “Goodnight,” her mother said and closed the door softly. Aoife cried some more that night, as she did most nights. She fell asleep and she dreamt. She dreamt of Colm. Colm said that he was sorry again for hurting her and that he was glad that she was found happiness with her family. "They're waiting for you," he said. She dreamt of her old school bully, Emma, who gave her the finger and spat at her. "Some things never change," she thought to herself. She then saw her family. She saw her children, who came running towards her and she hugged and kissed them and she told them that she loved them. She cried with joy, as she did most nights when she dreamt of her children. They asked her would she bring them to the park and she said, of course she would. And she saw her husband Craig. Craig kissed her on the forehead and put an arm around her. Aoife began to cry and said she was sorry. She told Craig that they deserved better and she wished it was her that died and not them. Craig kissed her on the forehead again and said “It’s okay hun, you're here now. Come on guys, let’s got to the park. And then there was….. nothing.


My alarm blared, jarring me from sleep. The bright light of my clock showed that I was an hour late for work. Crashing on the floor, I threw on rumpled clothes and slipped on my shoes. I jumped into my car, breaking the speed limit on the way and cursing the traffic in front of me. My heart pounded as I drove toward the giant black obelisk, my stomach knotting with a sense of dread. Either way, I had no choice but to be here; it's my job, and if I don't do this, someone will replace me. Gerald, the security guard, was sitting smugly at his desk. He yawned and stretched his long body and looked at me with half-open eyes. "What costs nothing but is hard to find and can be lost?" He asked, brushing his paw against his chest and looking at his claws. "Look, Gerald, I don't have time for this, I'm already running behind, and I have to get to work." "Ma'am, I'm required to follow security procedures. No one gets to the obelisk without answering the question," he said."Fine," I rolled my eyes. "The answer is time, and I'm running out!" "Well, your answer is correct," he flexed his wings and stretched on his hind legs. "You may enter." I was late, and management would notice. There went my bonus for the year. I pounded up the stairs and logged into my phone. I turned on my computer, and it just froze. The little white circle on it kept spinning. My phone chimed, and I dropped my headset before I could answer it. "Hi, this is Drew with Obelisk Corporation. How may I help you today?" "Why is my bill so high?!" screeched a voice on the other line. "If you give me a moment, I would be happy to research that for you-" "I need to know why your company is overcharging-" "Please hold."I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. I opened them to see my screen was still loading. The blue screen of death appeared. "Ma'am, bear with me one moment, I'm having technical difficulties-" "I am tired of you and your crappy company overcharging me and then putting me on hold." "Ma'am! My computer is booting up." "Your corporation needs a new system. You can afford it with all the fees you billed me." I got my computer up and fumbled through retrieving a copy of her statement. The woman kept me online for an hour, why I explained each charge. Most of the costs were for legitimate services we offered. "I want all the charges refunded!" "Ma'am, I don't have the authority to do that," I said. "Our policy states that all sales are final." "I want to speak to your manager!" she shrieked. My finger hit the transfer button on my phone only to realize I forgot the extension. I opened my bottom drawer to find the giant leather tome with a chain. It fell open, and a plume of dust flew right in my face. I split my thumb into one of the ancient pages. Blood spilled, and a small portal opened. The portal then spoke. "The number to resolution is 666333." I dialed the management's number. On the other end, there was nothing but a low growl followed by squelching sounds. Good, let her deal with them. Hitting the transfer button, I breathed a sigh of relief. The portal started spinning, and my stapler flew into it. It made a slurping sound and sealed shut. Great, another item I would have to request from maintenance. At this rate, they were going to dock my pay. Smoke poured from my station tower, my screen turned blue and then white. The scrawled text formed on the screen, and the numbers bled downward. Lovely, I had to call tech support to let them know that my computer was having Zalgo issues. I turned through the pages and found the number to tech support."Please remain on hold. The next representative will be with you in one hundred and twenty minutes."Out of synch, hold music played, interrupted by mysterious chanting over static. After several hours, tech support answered and asked for my IP. I provided it, but the technician said my desk was unregistered in the system. I would have to pack everything up and move.I sighed as I picked up my headphones and a few things to move. Coworkers with various degrees of hooves, horns, and scales took up all the desks. I spotted a small, dusty desk in the back corner of the office. Ms. Naga was in the cubical beside me. Her long body coiled over her chair. She was wearing heavy makeup, and her scales polished to a mirror sheen. A Prada bag rested beside her. "Excuse me, do you know the supervisor on duty?" I asked. "He' ssss on vacation. Email him." "Is it all right if I use this desk?" "Yesss, but keep it down. My clientele is crucial." "Yes, ma'am."I unpacked my things and started the computer up. As soon as I hooked my phone to the headset, it rang."Hello, this is Drew with the Obelisk Corporation, with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" "What?" said a man's voice on the other line. I could hear loud crashing in the background, followed by incoherent roaring."Sir, can you go somewhere quieter? I can barely hear you." "Damien, I told you to get away from the fridge!" A voice yelled in the background."Sir?" I asked, louder."No! Damien, don't eat the fridge. Bad!" I chuckled."Are you laughing at me?" asked the man. "No, Sir, how may I help you?" "I need a new refrigerator, the old one… it has some damages." "Sir, the Obelisk Corporation doesn't specialize in appliances we… "I trailed off. A wave of panic hit me. I could pull up a statement of services, but it didn't list what the services were. I forgot what Obelisk Corporation did. "Ms. Naga, can you help me?" "I'm on a very sssspecial call! What did I sssay about interrupting me?" "Sorry," I said. I searched my computer for information. Sweat started to bead on my forehead. I googled the Obelisk Corporation only to find the slogan: Obelisk, may your soul find its way here. I cross-referenced, trying to find more details. I looked at the interface of our corporate site, but it gave me nothing substantial. "Sir, I found the main website for Black and Decker. They can help you with your appliance. It appears to be an email service; you'll have to fill out a form." "I'm swamped. Can you fill out the form for me?" "I'm not a representative of Black and Decker," I said."Well, your no help at all! No, Damien, don't eat the couch, please stop.. NO.."There was a loud crash in the background followed by another roar and a gulping sound as the call disconnected. The call ticker on the screen read that 666 calls were waiting in the queue. "Why is our queue so high?" "Shhhhhhh!" the entire office said. I shook my head as my phone rang again. "Obelisk Corporation. This is Drew speaking; how may I help you today?" "Look, ma'am, I'm having an emergency, I need your help." Her voice quivered on the verge of tears. "I'll see what I can do. What is the nature of the emergency." "I'm so scared, help!" "I.. I need to know more details so I can help you." "My name is Selena Johnson. My account number is 66633I typed the account into my search system, and nothing came up. "Ma'am, I'm having a little trouble locating you.." "My son is injured! I need your help!" "Ma'am, hold on, I'm connecting you to emergency services!" "PLEASE HELP ME!" She screamed through sobs. I flipped through the online pages looking for a solution, but my mind blanked."Noooo! Please, God, not now!" A whispering noise came over the phone, followed by a loud thud and then silence. I unplugged my phone and sobbed. My nose started to run, and makeup ran down my face. Horrible things happened to that woman because I couldn't transfer her to the right place. I'm just a messenger and a coward, a useless cog. I took a deep breath and picked myself up to go on a break. After today I would look online to get another job. I can't keep doing this. A giant hoof lowered gently on my shoulder. I turned around to see a massive devil. He had massive black horns, charred red skin, and hooves instead of hands. Yet he wore a nice business suit, had a neat goatee and gold-rimmed spectacles. "Miss Drew, are you quite, alright?" He asked. "I.. I'm sorry, I'll pull myself together-" "This has gone on long enough; I need you to see me in my office. Follow me. "My heart pounded, and I felt the icy knot in my stomach as I followed the Devil to an office with an elaborate oak door carved with sigils and markings. Inside, the office was rather cozy, with wood paneling and an ornate clock ticked softly. An enormous desk sat in the middle of the room with two overstuffed leather chairs. "Have a seat." He nodded towards the chair across the desk. Nodding, I took a seat. My face was sore from crying, and my hands were shaking. The Devil handed me a tissue, and I blew my nose, making a loud honking sound. "There, there, child, it'll be all right," he said while his hoof patted my shoulder. "What am I doing here?" "Do you remember the last thing that happened before you came to work?" "I overslept, I headed here as soon as I could. I'm sorry I was late; it won't happen again." He shook his head. "No, child, the day before." I thought hard but ran into static. "Do you remember the heart attack?" He asked. It all rushed back to me. I worked at a call center for an umbrella company. They were laying off people for restructuring. I pushed myself hard just to keep up. Yesterday was abysmal. The queue was high all day, and customers were screaming at me for the increased call volume. There was a sharp pain in my chest, but I brushed it off as another panic attack. I slept on it, and I woke up here. "I'm dead, aren't I? I never lived, and now I'm dead. Trapped here forever in torment. "The Devil grinned sardonically. "Yes, and no. Yes, you are dead, but no, this place is not permanent, at least not for you. You'd have to be damn evil to stay here forever." "What?" I looked up, and the Devil vanished. In his place was an elderly Asian man in warm orange robes. He was wearing the same golden glasses. "Souls find this form less intimidating." He said as he bowed his head. "What do you believe I am?" "I don't know," I said. "Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, my ex-husband?" "If you believe so." He shrugged. "In a way, I am, but I'm also not." He smiled. "Why do you believe that you are here?" "Because I worked far too much. I wouldn't make time for my family. I was so worried about getting ahead. I was so focused on making a life for myself that I didn't live." "One shouldn't have to push so hard just to live. In a way, I think your employers will be here a far longer time than you," He sighed. "But I digress, what will you do better next time?" "Next time?" "If you had to live your life again, how would you live it?" "I'd spend more time with my family. My parents and sisters missed me, but I never made time for them. Work came first. I'd travel more, walk the Appellation Trail or drive cross country. I wouldn't worry so much about the rat race." "Then, my work finished." The little man smiled and gestured. A glowing white door opened behind him. "Remember this lesson in your next life, child." "Next life?" "Why yes, your soul will move on to the next life, and you will live better. You'll spend even less time here next time. Eventually, the world will be Paradise" He took off his glasses and polished them. "It is always a work in progress, I'm afraid." "I move on to the next life and make things better, and Earth becomes paradise?" "Or you don't work together, fight each other, and continue to pollute the earth. And the earth will become the Hell of Revelation. It's up to you guys. I'm just the keeper of the in-between." "Oh.." I opened my mouth and then closed it. "Are you God?" "I am whatever you believed: God, Satan, St. Peter, Anubis weighing your heart against a feather, and the never-ending void. I am all of these and none of these at the same time." "I see," I nodded. "You need you to go through that door unless you want to wander the earth for eternity." "But I didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone," I said. "I'll let you visit one last time in spirit if you promise me one thing." "And what is that?" "Be more remarkable in your next life, be more memorable. Leave something other than labor for a company that never cared if you lived or died." "I will."I hugged the old man a hug as I walked through the door. My heart felt full of life. I hovered over my family as they stood over my casket. I overheard them speaking to each other, saying they wish they knew me better. My sister wanted me to come over to see her son, my newborn nephew, in her arms. A wave of sadness hit me. "I'm sorry, I wish I could have been there more." My employer would hire an extra worker, and they would forget me, in this life at least. There was no point in staying here. I floated through the glowing door. Blinding light hit me as the world rushed through at breakneck speed. A wailed out in confusion as I was freezing and naked. They wrapped a warm blanket around me and lowered me into my mother's arms.


Mum had stuck around after lunch to make sure that we were both properly organized. She made Margaret go into a fit of embarrassment again, marveling at all of the handmade textiles that Margaret had. Margaret, when not feeling bashful and trying to hide it, proved to be quite bright and very sweet. I was glad to have made a friend out of the young satyr, despite how nervous she seemed. I also think she was grateful to have a friend too. She had mentioned during lunch that, even in her hometown of Huger, South Carolina, she didn't have very many friends. It was rather astonishing too. She was so helpful and kind, always asking what she could do next. As we worked, she told us about her family and her life in South Carolina. Her greatest ambition was to be a Potions Master, working for a Potions Research Facility. Just like my dad had been. It was the reason that she had enrolled into Trevirsa. I told her about our life in Traverse City, Michigan, including all of the rescue and rehabilitation farms that my grandparents owned. She brightened to hear about all of the work we had done and were doing for different magical creatures in the state. Finally, by the time that Margaret and I were settled, it was nearly eight-thirty in the evening. "Well, I guess it's time I took off." Mum admitted as she brushed her hands on her skirt. She had a slightly wistful look on her face as she pulled me into a hug. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself. I know you're a brave girl, just don't be foolish. Use that big brain of yours to make good choices and stay out of trouble, OK?" She murmured into my ear as she hugged me tightly. I nodded into her shoulder. "I'll be fine, Mum. I promise." I assured her. She sighed and broke away from me, keeping a hold on my hands. "Also look after Margaret, she looks like she could use the help." she added quietly, leaning in a little. Margaret still had heard what Mum had said and blushed. Mum let go of my hands and turned to Margaret. "It was nice meeting you, I hope that you two don't become strangers. I'll be around to visit every once in a while, don't be afraid to say hi." she offered, opening her arms to hug Margaret. the satyr seemed a little unsure before slowly moving to embrace Mum. After they let go, Mum winked at her and nodded to me before sweeping out of the room. I sighed, dropping wearily back into one of the wire cafe chairs. Margaret shuffled her hooves on the floor awkwardly in place. "Now what?" She asked, looking at me timidly. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back and forth, stretching my neck. "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. I'm probably going to read a little then get to bed. My first class is at nine-thirty and I do not want to be late." I yawned. She twisted the hem of her tunic and looked a little like she was having a battle with herself. Finally, as if she had made a decision, she spoke. "K-Kiska..... I'm... um.... I'm sorry to ask this of you, but can I stay in here with you for the night? I've always shared a room with my younger sister and so I'm a little nervous to stay in my dorm alone." She looked a little tearful and scared. ***Honestly, I was a little relieved that she asked. Despite having my own room in the apartment that Mum had, I still was used to having someone else with me. I too wasn't quite ready to be fully reliant on myself yet. In a week or two, maybe........ right at that second, not in the slightest.*** "Absolutely. Grab a pillow and one or two of those bean bag chairs that you have and we'll have a right old slumber party." I replied with a sleepy grin.


Jack cleared his throat. This was a big moment. A huge moment. A historic moment. “*My name is Jack Platt…”* His voice was croaky. He cleared his throat once again. *“My name is Jack Platt and I am honoured to announce that we at Platt Ltd. have created the world’s first time machine*!” Silence. Jack was actually standing alone in his empty garage. The presentation was purely for his own amusement. The content however, was very real indeed. Jack had hoped for a big reveal in front of all the world’s media, but the Coronavirus pandemic meant it wouldn’t happen the way he wanted it to. So for now, it would be his secret. At least until things got back to normal. Not that staying in isolation had been a bad thing, it had actually sped up his process. Apart from a brief visit to the shop last week, Jack had spent every waking hour inside his old garage working away at what had been his life’s work. At 47 years old he had wasted much of his life trying to figure out time travel, but this year was the year he finally made a breakthrough. His dream became a reality. Jack stood back and admired his creation: a steel chamber about eight feet tall, glimmering despite the dull lighting, the glass door ajar welcoming him in. Would it actually work? Jack had no clue. Where would he go? He wasn’t too sure on that either. But he was convinced this contraption would take him to anywhere in the world, at any point in history. “*No time like the present…or the past,*” Jack chuckled to himself before his throat began to tickle. He stepped inside. Now this was the tricky part. In reality time travel doesn’t work like it does in the movies: You can’t just put the time and date in; you can’t step into a cupboard and close your eyes; and you certainly can’t just jump into a hot tub. Jack fired up the software and began coding to calibrate the machine. Jack mopped sweat from his brow - he hadn’t ever remembered the time machine feeling this hot, but then again he had never felt this much anticipation. Eventually it was ready. Jack tried to take a deep breath, but was struggling to compose himself. He put it down to nerves and pulled down on the lever in front of him and prayed to every God there ever was that this would work. ***BANG*** This wasn't right. Jack was thrown from one side of the chamber to another. ***BANG*** Jack was on the floor. Short of breath and struggling to get up. ***BANG*** The door swung open. And as Jack picked himself up off the floor, he couldn’t believe his eyes. In front of him was a bustling market place, which couldn’t be further from the silence of his garage. People pushed past him, the noise of chatter filled his ears. He was definitely somewhere in Asia, but had no idea where. It was all very alien to him after the constant pleas to social distance for the past six months. *“Where am I?”,* he muttered to himself. *“When am I?”* He turned around and took in his surroundings: stalls of food everywhere, a currency exchanging hands that he didn’t recognise, and buckets full of fish lined the alleyways, but for some reason he couldn’t smell a thing. He began to cough. Jack noticed a newspaper at his feet and picked it up - it was all in Chinese, apart from the date: *17th December 2019.* Pre-COVID. Jack suddenly dropped the paper and began to splutter, he was really struggling for breath now. Everyone around him started backing away as he continued to wheeze. If he was struggling for breath before, the next thing he saw took it away completely. He had noticed a banner above him, raising his head to read it: ***WUHAN FISH MARKET*** Jack felt a plunging feeling in his stomach as the realisation dawned on him.


I have been working as a housekeeper in this hotel for almost 5 years now. This was the last room that I had to clean before my shift got over and then I’ll go back home to my son, I thought. Managing time between home and work is tough for a single mother like me. I feel like I am always in a rush. In a way this is good as I become more efficient and have fewer things to worry about. I stood outside the room and checked the sheet, to see if the guest had checked out or not. The sheet said that the guest had not checked out so I rang the bell. Nobody answered the door for 4 minutes, so I followed the general protocol and used the master key to open the door. As soon I opened the door, I smelled the smoke of cigarettes. The smell of smoke always makes me remember my time when I used to smoke a lot, drinking scotch and weed almost everyday. I slowly entered the room, and walked across the restroom. What I saw really shook me. I saw a man wearing a grey suit outside the window section, who I believe was about to jump to end his life. I was in room 503, which meant the 5th floor of the building. I quickly needed to do something. I said “Hey Sir, Is there anything I can help you with?”. There could have been something better to say at this point I guess. The man didn’t respond. “Can I atleast get your name?” I asked. “Robert”, He quietly said. “Any moment now..”. I moved close to the window section to look down, to see the height of the fall. The window section was directly above the entrance of the hotel and there were a few people standing there probably waiting for the cab. Probably that is why he didn't open the door as he would have been waiting for the crowd to clear. “I am Lisa”. I didn’t know what else to say. You don’t get trained for this while pursuing your housekeeping course. “Lisa, I didn’t want to put you in this situation. You can go out and pretend that you saw nothing.” Robert said. I could do that, I thought. But I won’t be able to pretend that I didn’t know anything and couldn’t try to save a man’s life. I needed to buy some more time. Get him to talk. I need to know him in order to help him. What has made him think about such a horrible decision. I saw a pack of cigarettes on Bedside table. I grabbed it, and found 1 cigarette in the box. I asked “Do you want to smoke your last cigarette? Might help you numb your feelings”. I took out the cigarette and lighter and went close to him to pass them. I saw his face. He didn’t look nervous or scared. He had a clear face with no expression at all. It felt like he was certain about his decision. He seemed hungover yet calm and was constantly looking down, waiting for his right moment. It felt like he didn’t like me for staying there as I was invading his personal space. I passed the cigarette and the lighter to him. He put the cigarette into his lips with one hand and his other hand was holding the wall. I waited for him to light the cigarette and his first puff. I then asked him “Why are you doing this Robert? What is making you do this?”. I waited for half a minute for him to say something. He ignored me as if I wasn’t even present. I tried persuading him saying “You know, the crowd might take some time to clear and you should smoke this cigarette to the last puff. So while you are here let's make this less awkward”. Robert took a deep sigh, looked up straight to the opposite building and said “A month back my girlfriend left me. We were supposed to marry this month.”. I remained silent as I remembered my own past. “I had so many plans for our future. The trips that we’ll go to, the house we’ll buy… Now everything is ruined.” he continued. Robert looked like a fine gentleman and I couldn’t control myself asking him “Why did she leave you?”. He smirked, took another puff of cigarette and said “I really don’t know why she broke up with me but all I know is she found a new guy.”. I believe people who commit suicide are somewhat selfish. They think about themselves more than others. How their parents and friends would feel when they hear the news. Sometimes, people should see their lives as third person, and analyze their thoughts and mistakes they are making. In the current situation I didn’t know what to say to him. Should I just ask him to “move on, you’ll find a new partner”, or “she was a bitch, don’t take your life for her”. I really didn’t know. I just went with saying “Life is full of possibilities Robert. You shouldn’t give up on yourself. Maybe this is not the end of the road. Maybe it’s the starting of a new road.”. On hearing this, he started looking down again. He replied “Maybe this is just my end of the road. I truly loved her. I believed we were soulmates and were going to live happily ever after”. Well, I find the concept of these soulmates truly absurd. These are just man made stuff like casteism, religion and others in hope to keep ourselves happy. As stupid as this sounds to me, it is manipulating a man taking his own life. Pathetic. I asked him “And why do you think she was your soulmate... your true love?” He said “It's not about what I think, It’s about believing. I felt special around her. Our likes and dislikes matched most of the time. Also people used to call us that all the time. That we are made for each other. A perfect couple.” I explained it to him saying “I really know how you are feeling. I believe this concept of finding one’s soulmate is just over hyped. These movies, songs, fairy tail stories corrupt our mind into believing them. They are to blame for all the heartbreaks and crying.. They are all just liars.. ” He interrupted me furiously by saying “Maybe you believe it's a lie because it didn’t happen to you. And how the hell would you know how I am feeling.” I understood his bitterness. It’s hard for anyone to listen to conflicting beliefs. Beliefs that we learn from our childhood, from our parents and society. Beliefs that are buried deep inside our mind and develop an idea of a happy and beautiful life. A similar thing happened to me as well, I remembered. I also had the same beliefs and believed that me and my husband will live happily ever after. I wanted to tell him that he is not the only one going through this. It happens everyday. Such beliefs which worked for someone may not work for you. Finally I gathered courage to tell him my story. I told him “Guess what! My husband left me, just after 6 months I gave birth to our son. I also believed that we are made for each other, and will have a complete family. But it didn’t happen.” He turned his face towards me and looked me in the eyes for the first time. I saw his forehead getting wrinkled as if he had a million questions for me. His anger boiled down and politely asked “why did he leave you?”. I moved close to the window section and glanced down. The crowd below had moved out. I observed his cigarette was half over too. I had to change his mind before the rest of the half got over. I told him “He found a new girl. A younger and prettier one. We were in love for 7 years. Well, I think so that we were in love.”. We were both quiet for some moments. I think he understood that we both are in similar situations but our reactions are quite different. Well maybe he won’t jump If I make him remember his loved ones. People who are worth living for, I thought. I said “You know, in such depressed times your loved ones can help you a lot. I had my son in my weakest moments. I had to live for him.”. I waited for him to talk about his loved ones. His family, siblings, friends, someone to live for. But nothing came out of him. I looked around for any note, that he might have left for his loved ones. I couldn’t see any such letter. Then I asked him “Usually people who commit suicide, write a note for their family and friends. Don’t you think you should do something to tell them that you loved them, for the last time.”. He slowly said “I have no one.”. I saw his eyes were watery. He was probably missing moments he spent with his friends and family. I asked “Not even friends?”. He said “My parents died a year ago in a car accident. All this time I was so much focussed on my profession and my relationship that I forgot to make true friends and spend quality time with my parents. I worked really hard to get my dream job you know. For 7 long years I worked there. And a week ago they kicked me out because I wasn’t performing well.”. I realized that we would spend most of our lives making money, having a good lifestyle, running this race with no finish line. Most of our time we spend to impress others, to uplift our social status. I told him “Maybe in the end it doesn’t matter on what you spend your life on but on how you spend your life.”. “I guess so”, Robert replied. I realised that all of Robert’s loved ones are gone. He is directionless and aimless. His pyramid of having a good life has fallen. He spent all his life making money so that he and his family would live happily. But when his family was gone, then he had no interest in making money. And now he feels worthless. Also, putting all this effort and facing a rejection from his girlfriend, has pulled him down further. I am lucky to always have someone in my tough times which wasn’t the case with Robert. I said “Before giving birth to my son, Zack, I used to smoke a lot. Almost a pack a day. After my husband left me, I got used to smoking even more. So much that 2 months ago I was diagnosed with lung cancer. And doctors said I have around 4 - 5 months left. So I just try to cherish each day of my life, as I get to see him growing up”. I realized smoking cigarettes was more or less like a suicide. A slow suicide perhaps. Suffocating myself in the smoke, so as to live the present and forget the past. Unknowingly I was also taking my own life. “How old is he, your son, Zack”, Robert asked. I replied “He is 3 years old now.”. Robert asked with a lumpy throat “What will.. What will happen to him, when you are passed?” I said “I have looked for some orphanages. I believe Angel Guardian Home is good.”. He asked “Shouldn’t you be spending time with him rather than working here?”. I replied “I want to make sure I could earn money as much as I can for his education and other needs”. I sensed his caring attitude towards my son. He took the last puff of the cigarette and started to put it out. I took a pause as I wasn’t sure about my next statement. I asked him, “Do you want to take care of him when I am gone? He is a very sweet child. Perhaps you won’t feel lonely around him”. He looked at me with tearful eyes. I smiled at him and continued saying “All you have to do is take the leap, either this side or that side of the window.” Robert looked down for a few seconds, and then at me. He looked down again at the disposed cigarette and said “It's quite strange. The cigarette which has almost taken your life, has saved my life.”. My eyes were full of tears too. He started slowly moving to the open window so as to come in. I was relieved. I said “Indeed. It’s astonishing”. He came inside. Took some time to clear off his tears. Still, I could see some tears in his eyes. He said “Thank you for clearing up my mind... Would you like to grab a cup of coffee ?”.


So This is a story about one of my very lucid dreams. I am currently converting my dream journal into short stories, but from a characters points of view instead of my own. So here is my first entry: Recently I find myself living on the street. When just a few weeks ago I was an aspiring artist selling my work for a living wage. However, in just the past few days my eyesight has completely deteriorated. Doctors told me they could not help me. It was inevitable. So now, I sit on the streets, selling art that I cannot even see for myself just to scrape by. Once I ran out of paintings to sell, I had nothing left, and nowhere to spend the cash. At this point, I had given up on life, I began wandering aimlessly through the streets getting help from strangers and sleeping wherever I could, until one day when walking down a long alley I bumped into a man. “I am so sorry!” I exclaimed as I bumped into someone. “You are quite alright” a man’s voice responded. "You poor thing, are you ok? Do you need a place to stay?" his voice was deep yet soft, it brought much comfort to me. “I am blind… I don’t have anywhere to go,” I responded. “Well now, I can take care of you.” His voice sounded sincere and true. I was at such a low point in life what was I to do with an offer like this? Someone willing to take care of me; help me get back on my feet? On the other hand, multiple scenarios played out in my head, was it all a trick to lure a poor blind man away just to be murdered? A few seconds of silence passed before I finally replied. “I would like that.” “Then no time to waste, we have places to be!” he exclaimed and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, he felt rather bony. He led me further down the alley before stopping. “The car door is in front of you, be careful not to hit your head.” I cautiously opened the car door and entered. Upon opening the door, a wave of new car smell hit me. As I sat down, I felt that the seats were made of leather. The car from what I could feel and smell was very nice. The man entered shortly after and began to drive. “What should I call you Mr.?” I asked the driver. “I don’t really go by a name… I do not have one… I guess you can call me J.” his answer was rather odd. In addition, it seemed like it took him a second to come up with the name J. Did this man really go by no name? “Well since we are using initials as names you can call me T” I crossed my arms and leaned back in the seat. “Only a few more minutes and we will be there.” His voice sounded excited, but I still felt anxious about it all. Later we finally arrived. J exited the car and opened the door for me. I stepped out and he grabbed my shoulder. “Let me show you the way. We have quite a lot of stairs in and around the house. Wouldn’t want you to trip and fall.” He carefully walked me towards a staircase leading towards the house. I felt each step with my feet and once I was comfortable began ascending. We reached the front door and I finally entered his home. “Obviously you can’t see, but if you haven’t put the pieces together I am a rather rich man. In this house, I have 26 bedrooms but no one to enjoy it with. I do hope we can become better acquainted in due time.” His voice was sincere. “I hope so too,” I responded smiling. After a short discussion, J led me around the entire Mansion. Allowing me to feel the walls, marble flooring, and the most expensive of furniture. Some rooms were so large I heard a faint echo with every word. After a few days, I had a map of the entire mansion in my head. I knew where every staircase was and which ways were shortcuts throughout the house. Many days I found myself walking throughout the house looking for something new. In addition, talking to J when I felt lonely. From then on, J had taken the responsibility of taking care of me and getting me back on my feet. In just a few days, the Man had begun to teach me braille, and how to live a normal life. This coincidence of chance was life-changing and amazing, but there was something wrong about all of it... the Man had never told me his real name, or any name at all, and refused to do so. "I have no name," he would tell me every time I asked. I grew frustrated with his repeated answer and eventually stopped asking him about it altogether. Besides his odd answers, everything in my life seemed to be falling into place. It was almost like a dream that I could not wake up from. I was perfectly content with my new living situation besides one small odd occurrence. Late one night I awoke to a peculiar sound. It sounded as if something was ripping, or being squished. It was a gross combination of wet sounds that made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I finally rose out of bed and went looking for the source of the sound. It sounded as if it were heading from the main living space near the kitchen. I walked down the stairs and reached the bottom in front of the living room. “What are you doing awake?” J’s voice pierced through the silence and squishing sounds. His voice alarmed me at first but I was quickly relieved. “Oh, it’s just you J. What is that gross sound I keep hearing?” “It’s just the rain. It's making quite a racket tonight isn’t it?” I heard him stand up from where he was sitting and he approached me. He caressed my face with his hand. Parts of his fingers were damp and the wet touch caused me to retract and quickly wipe my face. “I am sorry. My hands have not dried from the dishes I recently finished. Why don’t you just go back to bed?” his calm soothing voice had relaxed me. My fear of the sounds seemed to vanish now. “Alright, talk to you tomorrow” I walked back up the stairs and went to my room. As I closed the door, the gross sounds continued. I ignored them as best as I could and went to sleep. This strange occurrence happened frequently over the course of a few weeks. The odd gross wet sounds in the night echoing through the halls sometimes waking me in my sleep. If the sounds did wake me, I would cover my ears and roll back to sleep. That was until one particular night. I woke up to the wet sounds once again late in the night. I looked around my bedroom and blinked a few times. I then realized I could see. I could actually see the room I was in and everything around me. My heart leaped with joy. Somehow my eyesight had returned to me, but I was not about to question it. I quickly began to affiliate everything I have touched with what it actually looked like. I began touring the mansion once again with a new stride. It was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. Marble pillars branched upwards holding the ceiling. “Just how rich was this guy?” I muttered to myself. After touring the glamourous mansion my attention went back to the terrible squishing sound. This time I was going to figure out the cause of it. I walked to the center staircase and began descending. As I neared the end of the staircase the sound, grow monstrously loud. I quickly jumped down to the last step of the staircase to finally see what was making the sounds. I was swiftly taken back by what I witnessed. A few feet in front of me was this large skinny naked figure with its back towards me. It was hunched over rising and lowering itself with each breathe it took, but even then, it still seemed six or so feet tall. Its skin was dark and leathery. Its skin gripped its body tightly revealing its bone structure, which was very humanoid. Through certain parts of its body, thick long spikes protruded from its bones. Down its spine, it was ribbed with 6” black spikes sticking out every other bone leading all the way to its tailbone. These spikes were also protruding from its elbows. It was hunched over a pile of red goo which I quickly figured out it was in fact blood. I stood there frozen trying to process what I was even looking at. Was this all a nightmare I was having or was this some kind of otherworldly being in the house? Suddenly the thing stood up. It had to be almost 8 feet tall or so now. Its arms reached past its knees and its fingers were much too long to be natural. This entire “thing’ wasn’t natural. In its mouth was a hunk of flesh and in the pile of blood was patches of fur and flesh. Cats it seemed like and who knows what else it was eating. With one long-clawed hand, it grabbed an end of the fresh flesh and ripped it with its jaw and claws. It made the terrible squishing wet sounds. I had been hearing this sound for weeks and now I knew the source of it all, this Thing. It turned directly toward me now. “T, what are you doing out of bed?” its voice was deep and smooth. Then it all came together. This “thing” in front of me was J. the man who had taken me in and took care of me for weeks. What was this thing and what did it intend to do with me? Was this in fact the same man who I had been living with? When it spoke to me, my heart dropped. Was he going to kill me now that I have seen what it actually was? I stood there in silence for a while trying to collect my thoughts and calm down. “Is something wrong?” it asked me calmly. His mouth did not move as he spoke. The voice just seemed to emanate somewhere from it. As I stood frozen, I began to see its face. Its eyes were none existent. Instead of eyes, it seemed to have a sunken impression where eyes should be, but skin grew over them leaving skeletal sockets. Its jaw then began to hang. It began to hang lower and lower. It extended as far as its chest and drooped unnaturally. It had rows and rows of sharp long teeth that looked almost like needles. With a few teeth in the front being much larger and thicker than the rest. I looked to the floor and tried to come up with something to say or even the slightest of mental strength to even speak. Then I remembered something. It still thinks that I am blind. Maybe I can use this to my advantage, I thought to myself. I pulled myself together as quickly as I could and responded. “I had a hard time getting to sleep… I kept hearing those weird sounds again…” I tried to focus on what I was looking at. I didn’t want to give him the slightest impression that I could see what was happening. He then got on all fours and began crawling to me. My body completely tensed up and I tried to leave my eyes focused on one central point. So that I would not scream. Its hand extended towards my face and caressed it. Blood streaked across my face as he did it. I pulled back to the wet touch. “Oops, I’m sorry; I forgot to dry my hands after dishes again.” It began to laugh and as it did; its jaw dropped lower and lower almost hitting the floor now. Its breathe then began to reach my nostrils. It smelled of rot and iron. Like a handful of old pennies mixed with decay. Its face then loomed closer. Was it on to me? Had it figured out I could see its monstrous form? “Go back to sleep.” His voice sounded very deep as he guttered the words. Its long hand reached back and gripped another piece of flesh. It brought it to his mouth and began ripping the flesh apart. Small spatters of blood sprayed across the room some even hitting my cheek. “It’s just the rain!” he laughed again, this time almost hysterically. The human quality of his voice almost seemed none existent as he said it this time. It sounded like something words cannot possibly describe. A sound that should not exist in this world. “I’m going to bed now!” my body forced the words out of me. The thing then turned and looked directly at me with its sunken eyes and terrifying mouth. It smiled a smile so sinister it shook my soul. It stretched far and long creating something horror stories could have only conceived. With the final bit of will power I had left, I turned around and ascended the staircase. I could hear the splatters and squishes continuing behind me. As soon as I reached the top of the staircase and turned the corner, I ran for my life. Tears were rolling down my face as I ran for the exit. I escaped with my life and quickly called authorities. I was later informed that the police found no one in the house. The only damning evidence there were pools of blood and flesh belonging to many things. People, cats, rodents, and other assorted animals. The police found the house under no one’s name, and there was no vehicle to find whatsoever. The house technically should not have even existed at all come to find out. There was no address for it, or permit for building the home. The entire situation was clouded in mystery. Besides determining whom the victims were who were mutilated and eaten, the case was closed and nothing was ever brought about from it. By the end of it, nothing made any sense and nothing could rationalize what I saw and experienced. I still do not know why J had taken me in to take care of me. On the other hand, how could a creature like that have a car, house, and luxurious life like the one it had. When I look back at the times I spent with J, none of it seems to make sense. What exactly was going on the entire time that I could not see? I doubt my encounter with the thing at the staircase was the only monstrous act it was committing while I was under its roof. What did it intend to do with me? Did I have some kind of purpose for being there? Was there some alternative goal that I do not know about? Today I am going to find more answers. I have everything packed and ready and I have weapons with me. For if I am to encounter J again I will be ready to fight back. I am going back to the house, and I am going to get answers.


# Happy Saturday, serialists! Welcome to Serial Saturday! \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ ***New here?*** If you’re brand new to and thinking about participating in Serial Saturday, welcome! Feel free to dip your toes in by writing for this challenge or any others we have listed on the handy dandy ! We appreciate all contributions made to this thread, and all submissions are of course welcomed, whether it addresses a previous challenge or the current one. We hope you enjoy your time in the community! Take a look at our inaugural Serial Saturday post for some helpful tips. You don’t need to catch up by writing for each of the previous assignments, feel free to jump right in wherever fits for you, with whatever assignment or theme fits for you, and post it on the current thread with a link to whichever previously posted challenge you chose to start with. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ # This week it’s all about The Event That Changes Everything. Well, folks, . If you need a bathroom break, now’s the time ‘cause we’re all hoppin’ on this train with a . So let’s talk about The Event. What is it? The Event That Changes Everything is the ***catalyst*** for your story-- it’s the thing that hooks us as readers. It’s the phone call that starts with . I want to make sure I’m not leading anyone astray here: this is ***not*** the installment where aliens invade, or the volcano erupts, The Last Battle begins, or where Mr Darcy tells Elizabeth Bennet the truth about Mr Wickham. This is when the two night guys in the control room look down at the radar and say “hey, what’s those two blips getting closer and closer to our airspace?” and the other replies “probably a glitch. Let's file the bug and order lunch. Do you want burgers or sub sandwiches?”. When your MC re-tells their story to their alien grandbabies, this is the part where they go ” This could be a chance encounter that blindsides your characters or gets them started on their journey. Let’s lay out what this may look like: This week our hero Bill was demoted at the paper company after his rival Frank bumps into him huffing glue in the lunchroom and reports his to HR. Naturally we can assume in Week 7, Point of No Return, that Bill begins gathering the tools he needs to bury Frank (figuratively…. *Or is it?),* and get his old job back, when in Week Eight, Raised Stakes, we learn that Frank landed the Regional Manager position. Now the entire office equilibrium is at stake if Frank is allowed to assert dominance. Something must be done about this corduroy wearing, Land Cruiser driving, The TT Serialists among us may ask, "what if we already have a catalyst point, what now?" Don't you worry Use this opportunity to let . I’m here for it. If you are ready to double down on your current plot and hit the gas, For others you may not quite be ready for that, and that is perfectly ok-- in three weeks time we’ll be hitting The Storm and *that’s* when things will get real. This may be a personal moment for your protagonist, when his car breaks down on a deserted highway halfway from Salt Lake, out of gas and his phone dies. ***The Event That Changes Everything will either send your protagonist in a new direction, or accelerate the urgency of their plans.*** How does this phone call/ letter/chance encounter/UFO sighting start your MC on their track to glory/death/running over Frank in the desert/welcoming our new overlords? **\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*** **You have until \*next\* Saturday, 9/19, to submit and comment on everyone else's stories here. Make sure to check back on this thread periodically to lay some sweet, sweet crit down on those who don't have any yet!** \*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\* # Top picks from last week’s assignment, : **Fan favorite with the most votes:** It’s a tie, between and , and it’s not hard to see why! Go check those stories out! This week the **Smoking Hot Challenge Sash** goes to /u/Lynx_elia, for taking us . And honorable mentions: /u/Xacktar, with a . And /u/Mazinjaz, with some \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ **The Rules:** * In the comments below submit a story that is between **500 - 750** words in your own original universe. * Submissions are limited to ***one*** serial submission from each author per week. * **Each author should comment on at least 2 other stories** during the course of the week. * That comment must include ***at least one*** **detail** about what the author has done well. * Authors who successfully finish a serial lasting longer than 8 installments will be featured with a modpost recognizing their completion and a flair banner on the sub. * Authors are eligible for this highlight post only if they have followed the 2 feedback comments per thread rule. *Yes, we will check*. * While content rules are more lax here at /r/ShortStories, we’re going to roll with the loose guidelines of "vaguely family friendly" being the rule of thumb for now. If you’re ever unsure if your story would cross the line, feel free to modmail! \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ Reminders: * Make sure your post on this thread also includes links to your previous installments if you have a currently in-progress serial. Those links must be direct links to the previous installment on the preceding Serial Saturday post or to your own subreddit/profile. * Authors that complete a serial with 8 or more installments get a fancy banner and modpost to highlight their stories. * Saturdays we will be hosting a Serials Campfire on the main voice lounge. Join us to read your story aloud, hear other stories, and share your own thoughts on serial writing! We start on Saturdays at 9AM CST. **Don’t worry about being late, just join!** There’s a *Super Serial* role on the Discord server, so make sure you grab that so you’re notified of all Serial Saturday related news! **Join the** **to chat with prompters, authors, and readers!** Previous constraint: Have you seen the ? No? Oh boy! Here's the current cycle's challenge schedule.


The fire in winter I wish you tasted as good as you smelled. You decive me every time i press my lips against you and out comes the burning sensation of coal and fire. Bitterness. The taste of actual dirt. As if someone just put soil in my cup and mixed it with water. Coffee. I have always loved the smell of coffee but i never knew what to do with it. I never knew the secret method to make this fantastic smell taste as good as i want it too. My earliest memory of coffee was waking up early morning and seeing my dad make a cup of coffee before work. He was a grizzly trucker man who loved the bitterness of just black coffee. He never added anything to it and the smell filled up the kitchen. It was beautiful and mocked me for never consuming it. I asked my dad for a taste and he laughed because he knew i would not enjoy it. I guess he knows it can taste better but bitter was his choice. When i tried it for the first time, my tounge was on fire and my mouth tasted like i ate a chunk of dirt. This was so confusing to me. I couldn't comprehend how something that smells so good can taste so bad. In a way i did like the deception because it was a hard feeling to express. I knew it could be possible to like this, i thought i wasn't old enough yet so i just enjoyed the smell and never bothered to try it again. My second experience with coffee was on a cold saturday. I was staying with some family in an R.V out of town. There was six of us in that mobile home and no one bothered to check the weather for that weekend. When i woke up my parents have already showered so i decided to jump in real quick. I didn't stay too long because i knew i would just get cold again after so the false sense of warmth i felt from the water was short felt. When i got dressed and opened the bathroom door. My nose was greeted with a familiar smell. The aroma of heavens delight was waiting for me on the counter near the sink. My cousin had went to a corner store near us and grabbed a coffee for us all. I held onto it just to make my hands warm. I studied my cousin as she opened the lid of her cup and added sugar and cream. Two packets of sugar and two cups of cream. I fallowed her recipe exactly and stirred it all together. I half expected it to taste the same as when i was a kid but when i drank. My insides were starting to warm up and i stopped shaking from the cold. This was better then what i ever could have imagined. It was love in a cup and i was floating. All six of us just chatted for the next hour even after our drinks went dry. My breath had a funny taste and i imagine this is what people smell from another coffee drinkers mouth. I liked it.


Mist roiled across the cobblestone stones as the moon winked through the clouds at irregular intervals. A lonely stature clad in a frayed cloak walked quickly through the streets. With a bang, they threw open the doors to the pug. It was like a completely different world, the lights were bright and the people were rowdy. The clocked figure threw off his cloak! The people paused and stared. A knight in shining armor raised his sword. “Cheers!” The knight cried. The place erupted once again. The knight made his way through the crowded place to the back tables. He slammed himself onto a bench and ordered a round of drink for the other 4 people there. After getting tipsy, he asked the table “Can you guys tell me about the tower outside of the city?” A bearded dwarf sighed. “You’re here for the princess too? You know that I might just be a legend, right? A 1000 year old princess in a tower guarded by a dragon? A human living that long is funny enough but the fact that she needs to be woken up by a kiss is stupid. If a witch wanted her to suffer they would have but a pain spell on her or something, and that kind of curse is harder then a pain spell.” The knight chuckled. “Thanks for looking out for me but I’m mostly here for the dragon. If there happens to be a beautiful princess in the end as a reward, all the better.” The dwark chuckled and chugged his beer. * * * The next day, the slightly hungover hero arrived in front of the tower. It looked like a typical wizarding tower, coned top, shooting into the sky, and magic symbols that had long decayed. The Oriental Dragon with it’s long body was coiled around the tower. From the knight’s distance it seemed like the dragon could wrap its body around half the perimeter of the average city if it wanted to. It was black with large purple horns pointing to it’s back. *Roar* It raised its head from the cone top and stared at the knight. It was true that dragons were favored species. WIth just that roar it, the knight could feel the mana running rampant. His Shining white armor with gold designs light up even more. The rampant mana was drawn towards his sword. It had a white and gold design with a dragon on it’s handle. *SHOOOO* The mana in a 40 foot radius was drawn into it. The dragon stared at the sword, it’s eyes widening. It uncoiled and ascended to the sky to create some distance. It roared again and the clouds parted making the sky clear. It’s figure cast an enormous shadow across the plains. Opening its mouth it gathered energy, the dragon watched the knight. The knight dashed towards the tower, his sword running across the ground. The dragon’s body swelled more and more. When it was close to bursting, if squeezed his entire body, blasting out all the mana in the form of a black beam. *DOOM* It streaked across the sky, hitting the earth in a second and shaking it. The knight quickly pulled out a sheild from its back. This was a multi colored scaly shield. It didn’t look that good, quite ugly in fact but as each of the scales lit up, the mana ran rampant once more and the image of a dragon appeared, tens of times larger then the purple dragon. This faint outline swallowed the black beam as he purple dragon adjusted it’s aim to follow the constantly running knight. The outline rushed towards the panicked purple and went through it. *Thump* *Thump* The purple dragon was filled with a sense of dread and emptiness. It decided run. But it was too late. The knight had finished drawing his inscription circle. He stabbed his greatsword into the center. “God’s Avatar:Imitation!” He cried. *SIIII* The ground evaporated in a perfect sphere with a radius of 100 meters in all directions. The knight stood on the patch of land the circle occupied, about half of a football field, balanced on a thin column of land, remained. The rest of the land transformed into energy that fueled the circle. A semi translucent, humanoid figure rose up from the circle. Starting from the size of a mouse, then growing the size of a human, then to a orc, then a giant, then to the size of the tower. Eventually it grew to the point the dragon would barely take up it’s palm. As it grew larger, the dragon flew away faster. With a speed that the knight’s eyes couldn’t follow, the giant leaped forward, quickly snatching up the dragon from mid air. They tumbled into some mountains, crushing them. The sound was deafening and the impact even more so. All the glass in the city was shattered and the people were stunned. The translucent humanoid, without missing a beat pummeled the dragon. By the third hit, the dragon was died and by the 5th, the humanoid had disintegrated. The earth shook and ruptured, the city was practically destroyed. The knight fell to his knees. He quickly took out potions to recover. With the knight’s measly mana of 5,000,000 points, he could only hold the skill for 3 seconds, hence why he got close to the dragon before using it. The knight quickly got rid of the circle, then he pulled out a teleport scroll and ripped it. He quickly arrived at the purple dragon’s corpse. Picking up a scale, he placed it onto his shield. The rest, he collected in his storage ring. He ripped another scroll and arrived back at the tower. Make no mistake, each scroll was worth hundred of thousands, but dragon hunting was a very rewarding job. The knight entered the tower, going through each floor, and each room. “Nothing. There’s nothing here???” Everything was barren, not even a scrap of paper was left. Whoever sweeped this place clearly did a good job. As the knight reached the peak of the tower he saw a stunningly beautiful women floating at the top of the tower. She was naked, her clothes probably stolen. ‘That dragon was one hell of a perv staring at her all day, how is she not cold while being so exposed?’ The knight thought. He reached out and pulled her down. He wasn’t gonna lie, this girl was hot. He smirked thinking about how she might ‘thank him’ for waking her up. He leaned in and gave her a deep kiss. Her eyes snapped open, piercing, cold. The knight who had his eyes closed felt shivers down his spine. He snapped his eyes open and pulled back. The girl’s expression was gentle, her eyes warm. She examined her body for a moment, then with a snap she rightened herself up and clothes appeared on her. She approached the knight and hugged him. “Thank you sir! It’s been so long since I was able to open my eyes, without your help who knows how long it would have-” She froze as she stared at the shield of scales on the knights back. She took a step back. “Sir, are you a dragon slayer?” She asked with a beaming smile. “Ha, ha, so you noticed? Yes, I am!” The knight, eager to impress the lady boasted about his feats, from slaying the ice dragon, Ignoi to his travels around the world. The lady listened, her smile growing wider and wider. As they walked down the tower, the lady pulled the knight into a room. She pulled the knight into a passionate kiss. Though the knight was caught by surprize, he was more then happy to go along with it. The lady snapped again and a bed fit for a palace appeared. The knight thought nothing of it, hile it was rare, there were cases of people inscribing themselves with spacial spells in which they could store items just like any spatial ring. Stripping the knights armor off, she pushed him onto the bed. It had been a while since the knight had seen some action because he was traveling so much that he eagerly took off his clothes. She quickly stripped and climbed on top of him. Leaning down she whispered “Mister dragon slayer, my name is Alisha, the Dragon Tamer.” The knight tried to get up, but like with the dragon, it was too late. A dagger had inserted itself inside his heart. Alisha got off the bed and drew a magic circle on the wall. A miniature dragon’s head protruded out of the wall. “Come forth the spirit of Olisha, the mother of all dragons! I offer this ones filthy blood and soul as tribute. Grant me strenth!” With a smooth flick of her wrist, the blood on the dagger was sent into its mouth.The head spat out a ray of light, hitting Alisha’s chest, before disappearing back into the wall. If an aura master was there they would have been shocked. The aura surrounding Alisha which was previously dim and faint grew brighter and clearer. It quickly expanded to fill the room and then the tower! She was a walking war machine! Teleporting above the tower she looked down at the cracked and destroyed land. “Hanna, last time you caught me by surprise, this time I’ll crush you.” This was the beginning of a new legend! The legend of the strongest mage in the past era, and her revenge. “Rise” Alisha commanded the tower. In the depths of the earth a roar resounded. The ground rumbled and split once more as a creature, larger then anything humans could easily comprehend rose from the earth. 1/100 of a continent disappeared as a dragon of stone rose. The tower previously seems was just a little horn on top of it’s head, barely noticeable. It reverted to it’s true form- a throne. Alisha placed herself on it and the dragon flew up, soon to become a symbol of terror everywhere.