This story may be sensitive to anyone who has suffered a miscarriage. I remember it like it was yesterday, the future I almost had. It’s nothing compared to the future that lies in front of me, but I still mourn it. I stare at myself in the mirror, a woman ready to conquer the world, and my mind flashes to the events that led me to this moment. It was the middle of January, my senior year in high school. At home, in the bathroom, I anxiously stare at the thin, white, plastic strip, waiting to see whether or not a pink stripe will appear. A plethora of thoughts and fears race through my mind, and even with the few silver linings that come up, this is not something that I wanted or expected.

“What if I am pregnant?” I think to myself. “Sure, I’m eighteen years old, but Tony is married! He would never want or be able to raise a baby with me! Also, how will I tell my mother? She doesn’t know about my relationship with him, and she would flip out if she found out that her only daughter is sleeping with a married man and she’s having his baby.”  My mom knows Tony but doesn’t know about the depths of our relationship. My professional relationship with him began when I was sixteen years old. I applied for a job at a new cafe that opened in town because I wanted to earn my own money. My mother is a single parent, and I have always admired all that she’s done to take care of me, but since I became old enough to work, I wanted to help ease the financial burden on her. Tony owns the cafe, and when he interviewed me, he offered me the position almost right away. I worked with him for two years, and over the last year we’ve become really close. He even offered me a way to make extra money as babysitter to his three-year-old daughter when he and his wife wanted to go out, so I took him up on it. His wife even loved me, and I’m feeling that betrayal a lot more heavily now than I ever did. One night, we were closing the cafe together, alone, and one thing led to another. That was three months ago. And now here we are, my whole future dependent on a six-dollar piece of plastic. I wait for what feels like an hour but is actually only a few minutes, and finally time is up. I stare in disbelief. I’m pregnant. I’m going to have a married man’s baby. This can’t be real. You play, you pay, girlfriend. My thoughts are snarky and not very helpful, but they’re right. This is my fault, but it’s also his. How do I tell him? Do I tell him? Or do I just go at this alone and hope for the best? I suppose I can give it up for adoption, because if I have a baby at eighteen, there goes all hopes of college. Oh no, college!! I was supposed to start Ithaca College in the fall. I was going to pick my courses over the summer, and I was going to live on campus and finally do something that no one in my family has ever accomplished. And now that’s all gone, because I can’t live on campus with a newborn. Geez, what have I done? As much as I admired all that my mother has done in raising a child on her own, I never wanted her life. Yet here I am, following in her steps. The only difference: the man she had sex with wasn’t married. Good going Grace, you idiot. My thoughts really need to shut up. Standing in the bathroom, I feel my heart rate increase, my hands start trembling, and my breathing becomes labored. “So, this is what a panic attack feels like.” I think to myself. I need to stop dwelling on this and take action, before I let the panic paralyze me. What should I do first? Tell my mom? Tell Tony? Buy another pregnancy test to confirm the results of this one? I can have another test done, but I don’t have to buy one. I’ll go to Planned Parenthood and have them check me out. Now I have a plan, I just need to put it into action. “Maybe the test was a false positive and things will actually be ok.” I pray to myself. I pick up the offending piece of plastic and the box it came in, rush downstairs, and bury them deep into the garbage can so no one will see them. Then I head out the door and walk the five blocks to my town’s Planned Parenthood. My mom won’t be home for at least an hour and a half, so I have time to do this. Less than an hour later, I walked back into my house. According to the doctor at Planned Parenthood, I am pregnant, about six or seven weeks. My due date will be somewhere between August and September, but I have to go back in a couple weeks to have the date narrowed down. I go into the kitchen and start cooking dinner for my mother and me: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. That seems like a comforting meal, which is what I need today. While I’m preparing the food, my heart sinks and my body goes numb.

My mother is going to be livid. Tony will probably never speak to me again, or he’ll try to convince me to get rid of the baby. The life I had wanted for myself is no longer a possibility, and that thought is devastating. As I place the first pieces of chicken into the frying pan, I hear my mom walk through the door. She heads into the kitchen, greeting me with “Mmmm, something smells good.” and we chat about her day while I set the table and finish cooking. After we sit down and start eating, I decide that I’m not going to tell anyone about the baby yet. I’m barely two months pregnant, and I probably won’t show until I’m closer to five or six months, being chubby does have its perks. I take a bite of my chicken and silently pray that I don’t experience any morning sickness, otherwise everyone will know I’m pregnant. I stare at the beautiful lavender dress I’m wearing. It hides my expanding belly with its frilly layers, and I’m thankful that I’m still able to hide my baby bump. Time has flown by so quickly; I can’t believe that tonight is prom night. I’m even more surprised at how easy this pregnancy has been on me these last twelve weeks. Other than excessive fatigue, some weight gain, and the occasional swelling, there really hasn’t been any evidence to tip anyone off that I’m almost five months pregnant. I never even dealt with morning sickness. I’ve always been chubby, so my weight gain could easily be explained away as stress from senior year. I twirl in front of the mirror and watch as the skirt of my dress floats around me. With my hair professionally done in a half-updo with springy curls, my makeup making me look like a movie star, and my perfectly poofy dress accessorized with my modest heels, I am ready for tonight. I know I’ll probably be bare foot by the end of the night, but that’s ok. I’ll keep the shoes on for my entrance, pictures, and when I leave. The rest of the night I’ll be barefoot and pregnant. The wording of that makes me giggle to myself, even though this is no laughing matter. I hear a knock at the door, and I know it’s my date. I asked Trey, one of my best male friends, to come with me to prom. Since he’s a year younger than me, and most of his friends are seniors, I figured this would be a great way for all of us to go to prom together. I walk downstairs to open the door, being extra mindful of my heels and how easy it would be for me to trip and break my neck. I make it safely to the landing and open the door. He’s standing in front of me, extremely handsome in his tux and holding a beautiful light pink tulip corsage to go with my dress. My mother takes some pictures of us together and sends us on our way.

Senior prom was everything I hoped it would be, with the exception of having Trey as my date instead of Tony. Since I found out I was pregnant, I reduced my communication with Tony to only work-related topics, and he didn’t seem to mind. He still doesn’t know that I’m pregnant, so I guess that’s all I need to know about how he feels about me. I shouldn’t be wishing that he was here with me at prom, so I’m not going to dwell on that tonight. It’s my prom, I’m here with a wonderful friend, and we look stunning. I’m going to forget about married men, babies, and ruined futures for one night and enjoy myself.

The food was delicious. The music was perfect. We danced most of the night. I was right about my shoes, they came off once we started the group dances. All of our friends were there and we laughed so much during the group dances, especially the electric slide, because Trey kept turning left when he should have been going right. I couldn’t have asked for a better prom.

When Trey and I decided we wanted to leave, I put my shoes back on, my swollen feet protesting against the straps. We stepped outside the venue into the night air and headed towards the concrete steps that lead to the parking lot. He offered me his arm, but I told him to go ahead and start the car and I’ll meet him there. I know I’m going to be slow going down the steps, so I don’t want him to have to wait. And this way, I’ll be able to jump into the car and take my shoes off again as soon as I get inside. Trey got a few steps ahead of me as I began to descend the stairs. I don’t know what triggered the next set of events. Maybe I was tired from all the dancing, or I was unaware of how unsteady I was with my swollen feet in heels, or the pregnancy made me lose my equilibrium, but my right foot twisted under me until I felt a painful pressure on my ankle. I tried to catch myself on the wall of concrete that runs up the side of the steps like a rail, but I couldn’t get a strong enough grip to keep myself from falling. I leaned too far to the right, then I tried to correct my balance but I overcorrected with my left foot and missed the step. My left foot kept going down the staircase as my right foot bent underneath me. I fell down the remaining steps, hitting what felt like every part of my body, and landed at the bottom on my left side. I couldn’t move due to the pain, but I heard Trey yelling my name, and screaming for someone to call an ambulance. The last thing I remembered thinking was “I shouldn’t have put my shoes back on.” Then everything went dark. I woke up in a hospital bed, my mom sitting at my side, a look of relief on her face, and some other expression. Anger? Disappointment? Is she mad that I fell down some stairs and hurt myself.? “What happened?” I asked, because it was the only thing I could think of to say that would help me determine her mood, and find out how badly I’m injured. I must be drugged up because I don’t feel a lot of pain, but my ankle is in a cast, my head feels foggy, and there’s an uncomfortable feeling in my lower abdomen. “Well,” my mother starts off, and I know this tone. She’s about to tell me something that made her angry. That tone is usually followed by me being grounded, so I wait for the bomb to drop. “You fell down the stairs last night at your prom, you broke your ankle, you have a concussion, you broke a rib, and you lost the baby you’ve been carrying for the last five months . The baby that you never told me about. The doctors weren’t aware of it either, until it was too late. If they had known sooner, they might have been able to save it.” Oh, shit. She knows about the baby. Wait, I lost the baby? A spectrum of emotions run through me, and I don’t know which one is dominant because they all seem to be equal in intensity. Fear, grief, pain (both internal and external), guilt, and…is that…relief? Relief that I’m not pregnant? Wow, I am a horrible person. I was looking forward to meeting my baby, but now that will never happen. The future I was planning, the innocent life I was excited to meet, all gone. I am equal parts devastated and relieved, and the part of me that feels relief has increased my self loathing exponentially. Even more so than when I found out that I was pregnant with a married man’s baby. A lump rises in my throat as tears fill my eyes and start streaming down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry mom. I didn’t know how to tell you, or anyone, about the baby. I was planning to tell you after I graduated, because I didn’t want you to think that having this baby meant that I wouldn’t finish high school.” “But what about college?” she asked. As an afterthought, she added “And who is the father? Is it Trey?” “I know I wouldn’t be able to attend college in the fall, but I was planning to start community college next spring, get a job, and work on my degree while taking care of the baby. It would be hard, I know, but I was prepared to do it.” I intentionally ignored the question about who the father is, because I really did not want to get into that. “ I guess it doesn’t matter now.” I say, and let the grief wash over me as I mourn the future with the baby that I already love and will never get to meet. Here I stand now, six years after that dreadful time, staring at the woman I’ve become. I remember how the doctor informed me that my baby was a girl, and when I fell down the stairs at prom, my stomach was hit with such force that it caused the placenta to rupture, and she died in the womb. Since no one knew about the baby when I arrived at the hospital, and since I was unconscious, the doctors didn’t know that she should have been their first priority. By the time they realized I was pregnant, it was too late. They aborted the lifeless baby while I was unconscious and they were attending to my other injuries. I decided to name her Adrianna Marie, and gave her my last name. Even though she’ll never be around to carry it, my baby will never have Tony’s last name attached to hers. He found out about my accident since I was unable to work for six weeks. Incidentally, he found out about the baby and one day he made a comment about how he’s “glad I’m not having it anymore”. That was when I decided to end our relationship, my employment with him, and my desire to ever sleep with a married man again.

I didn’t follow my original plan to attend Ithaca College, but I did go to college. I got my four year degree, got into law school, and am finally graduating. In the mirror, I adjust my cap, zip up my gown, and head out to meet up with my fellow graduates to take our seats. During the commencement speech, I think about the future that I almost had. A future that I wasn’t expecting, but would have happily accepted. My little girl would be almost six years old now, and even though I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone to law school, I know that my life would have been full of accomplishments and love. I hear the Dean call my name, and I walk across the stage to receive my degree. As I grab the piece of paper and walk to the other side of the stage, I think to myself “Adrianna, this is for you baby girl. I hope you’re proud of your mama.” and I look out into the crowd, catching a glimpse of my mother’s smiling face…pride glimmering in her eyes.


Daniel delighted at the sounds that would be made in his absence. He could hear them now. The outcries at being introduced to a lesson that no one would want to learn. Far more valuable than the grubby notes that lay in the bank under Daniel’s name.

Of course, his absence would be sizeable. He was a big man. At the age of just 9 years old, he proved to be bigger than all the other boys his age, even at the most aggressive point in their growth spurts.

He was tall. His shins were the size of “4 octaves on a piano”. This may seem an odd measurement, but it was a thorn in his huge heart. His large digits had tried to wriggle this bloody stump out, but despite improvement, the scar still twinged every so often. At 12 years old, he had shown the work ethic and the desire to hone his musical talent and wanted to become a classical pianist. Daniel dreamed of filling orchestra halls with the uneducated, and over the course of the evening bewitch each pair of ears with the incomparable beauty; the tremulous majesty of the piano. His ambitions were as well built as his limbs. This was not just a flimsy hope, or a daily mantra for his attention to switch elsewhere by the next sunrise. He knew that this was his path to tread. It had therefore been particularly painful to be told that he would grow to be the size of a man who was too big even for the grandest of grand pianos. The teacher who had told Daniel this, on seeing that the young boy couldn’t possibly grasp the horror of this sentence, made sure that he fully understood by saying ‘Look, Sweetheart, we’ve had the measurements in. Your feet are already as long as A-G twice over, your back, closer to a Clavinova keyboard. You’re just too big for the piano’, and then her eyes lit up, promising something else. ‘The local zoo needs someone to feed the giraffes - the older they get the less flexible their necks become-I should know, I grew up on safari; learned the xylophone under the careful eye of Africa’s first-ever documented musical chimpanzee’. She sighed, trying to be maternal, ‘I know it’s different to what you had in mind’.

Lynette, a tactless but well-meaning woman, was right. Daniel completely understood. Although, to use his love as a weapon against him, and to bludgeon his dreams with his own passion, seemed unfair. She was like that though. Talented when it came to musical notes, and yet, totally without skill in human affairs. What stung, even more, was that Daniel had a crippling fear of giraffes. It was their eyelashes. They unnerved him.

You may think that a benefit of Daniel’s anatomy could at least be the part of a man’s body normally celebrated for an unusually large size, however, this area of him proved to be disappointingly average in the shadow it cast. As ever, when it seems that one opportunity is closed to you, another one opens. This unexpected route was how Daniel stepped into the world of therapy, only seeing patients over 7ft to discuss exactly the best methods with which they could fit in. He knew what it was like to have your size make you invisible to so much opportunity. As word spread across the country from the biggest mouths to the widest plains of ear lobes, the longest humans flocked to him to try and accept their existence on this earth. Daniel found that initially understanding music was different to understanding people, but as soon as you started to listen, he realised that every person is just a composition of different notes. He still heard the music, both in his waking hours and in the unconscious spell of sleep, and his ability to help those who had suffered similar losses to him eased his own dissatisfaction of never being able to take to the stage.

His success was not just via the impact that he had on the lives of others and the glowing reputation that followed him. Daniel’s work made him a very rich man, and it was the coffers and coffers of money that he was known to be the owner of, that his family dreamed would one day become theirs. (The hearts of the small giants among us cannot beat for as long as the more ‘text-book’ sizes’, and an earlier demise was tragically inevitable’).

Not that this point was due to be soon. He still had at least a decade on the great clock that ticked inside of him, and there was no illness slowly, or rapidly, eating him alive. But, he had been recently advised as he approached his 50th year on this earth that he should start to turn his thoughts towards a will. He did have children, an ex-partner of a 3-year marriage that finally ended because the practicality of their lives together - door and quilt sizes - just couldn’t be resolved. As with all domestic break downs, the simpleness of the final inciting incident was only a cover-up for a much deeper schism. But as Daniel wrote his will that afternoon following a busy morning of clients, he pondered on the content. It wasn’t that he was an unkind man. His new career had helped him to grow massively, not by his already triple-figure jean measurement, but spiritually. With every mind that opened to him, he had soared to greater heights in his ability to listen well, and his understanding of the human condition had plunged deeper depths.

But he still couldn’t understand his family. On the outside, they were beautiful creatures. Limbs proportioned expertly with the rest of their bodies and the world’s expectations of a ‘normal’ human being. They were all a tall height, but nothing such as the lofty levels that Daniel’s own forehead grazed. Yet, for all the attractiveness of their outer beings, the part that the rest of the world saw before anything else, their insides were of a very different quality. They were ugly, greedy and un-empathetic people and Daniel could not understand the dark matrixes that made up each of his family’s insides. He had tried, in the same way that he had practised scales before this world had been sealed off from him and his huge fingers, he had ploughed time and effort into being able to see the beauty in this strange lot that was his family. The genes that made Daniel so massive did not mix into their gene pool, however, it seemed that neither did any of his other qualities of humanity, or a desire to see past what is directly in front of you.

It was with this knowledge that he decided to write his will. A large portion of his fortune would be left to his charity ‘It Doesn’t Have to End at the Basketball Hoop’, but an even larger one should go to his family. After all, as one half of a parenting team, he had a duty to both his offspring and his ex-spouse, but he knew that to leave them money wouldn’t actually help them at all, past qualifying for a new credit card. Instead, as he wrote his will, sucking thoughtfully at the end of one of his custom made biros, he decided to leave them access to a world which he hoped would help them blossom into something else. With this inspiration, words formed under his nib explaining that he had paid for a lifetime of twice-weekly music lessons, for each of them and any family members that would become their duty to look after. He leaned back in his huge chair. The warm glow of glee spreading across his face as he imagined the people that they could be if they could only learn that everyone had a light that shone out of them, even if they looked different to you. ‘My family’, he wrote in this short letter afterwards, ‘I am leaving for you an opportunity to learn that beauty isn’t limited to the realm of the ‘normal’. Music has always taught me that is entirely untrue, that there is a certain mix of notes that makes one kind of perfection. None of us are the same symphony, but if you trust that each of us has the power to be the most beautiful thing you have ever heard if you would only listen to each of the notes that make it up, it is you, who will be richer than everyone else.’


It was a typical Monday evening. The dark colour of the night outside contrasted the bright colours of the lights in a bustling restaurant. A pair of small dark brown eyes eyed the door of the restaurant. It was packed with families and couples who came to have a good, hearty meal. The little girl shifted uncomfortably on her small brown stool beside the counter as she scanned the faces of every customer with worry. "Father?" She asked, shifting her eyes to the black haired man in the kitchen behind her. The man in the kitchen wiped the sweat off his head with a hand at her call, and smiled at his 9 year old daughter. "Yes, Martha?" He asked before getting back to cooking. The nametag stating "Head Chef" neatly placed above his heart glistened slightly with the light in the restaurant. Martha's father was the head chef of the restaurant. Martha's mother was often busy with her job overseas, so her father liked to bring Martha along with him to the restaurant to that she could be taken care of much easily. "Is Aunt Julie okay? She hasn't eaten here in a long time." Martha replied, frowning. "That's right, I haven't seen her in a while. She used to come here to have her dinner everyday, I do wonder if she's doing fine lately." Martha's father replied, a hint of concern in his words. Martha bit her bottom lip and scrunched her eyes in concentration, trying to think of ways she could help Aunt Julie. Aunt Julie was Martha's favourite regular in her father's restaurant. She lived in the apartment block right beside the restaurant and could come in quite often. At times, when there were little people in the restaurant, she would go up to Aunt Julie's table and have a short conversation with her. Martha still remembered the time she was invited inside her apartment for a short tea session. She was an amazing aunt to be around as she had many interesting stories to tell about her past, and had an amazing personality. However, the restaurant got more popular these few weeks, and more people came pouring in to eat the food at the restaurant. Martha hardly saw the face of her favourite aunt, and had to opt to sitting around the counter to help if needed. She was determined to visit Aunt Julie again. Suddenly, Martha had an idea. She got down her stool and made her way into the kitchen through the back door, grabbing a small container from a cabinet. She then returned to the counter with a slight skip in her steps. Her father, who just finished his shift in the kitchen, just so happened to walk towards the counter. He looked at the container in surprise. After a few seconds, he seemed to understand what his daughter was doing and shot her a knowing grin. He rushed back into the kitchen. Not long after, he exited the kitchen again. His hand held small containers of rice, salmon, and vegetables. Martha raised an eyebrow. "Father, are you sure we can use the ingredients from the restaurant's kitchen?" She asked, feeling a bit unsure. "Not if it's for a customer." He replied, giving her a cheeky wink. Martha chuckled at her dad as she opened the containers with rice. With her spoon, she managed to gather a good amount of rice in one half of the small container. She then placed the cooked salmon on the other half of the compartment, together with a bunch of broccoli for a healthy touch. Martha closed the small container with a smile before placing the container in a carrier. She then rushed to get a note and a pen from the counter. Her father chuckled at her kindness, and managed to slip a small container of miso soup into the carrier without her noticing. He knew that Aunt Julie would definitely miss the restaurant's miso soup, as it was a great finish to a meal. Martha quickly rushed back with a post-it note and sticked it to the front of the carrier. She turned to her father, mouth open to ask a question when he interrupted her. "Don't be back too late." He said, patting his daughter's head fondly. Martha closed her mouth and gave her father a grin before going out of the restaurant. She followed the familiar path towards Aunt Julie's apartment and knocked on her door excitedly. There was some muffled shuffling behind the door before it opened. The door revealed Aunt Julie, who looked shocked as she noticed Martha. "Martha!" She exclaimed in surprise, bringing the younger into a big hug. "How have you been? I'm sorry for not coming to your restaurant lately, my back was strained not too long ago and i was advised to rest at home." Aunt Julie explained to Martha, a sad smile on her face. "The restaurant's been really popular lately! But I missed talking with you in the restaurant, so I decided to visit with a bento that I made with the help of my father." Martha said, raising the carrier with the containers towards her proudly. Aunt Julie received the carrier, the corners of her eyes burning with tears at the little girl's actions. She couldn't believe how much kindness the little girl held within her heart. "Thank you so much, Martha. But you should head back to the restaurant, it's getting late. I wouldn't want your father to worry." She spoke, as she gestured towards the door with a warm smile. Martha hesitated for a bit, before nodding her head. "Alright, I'll head back. Eat the food while it's still warm. I hope that your back heals up soon!" Martha said, before she closed the door softly. Aunt Julie patted the carrier in her arms as the faint footsteps outside slowly faded into the distance. She noticed a post-it note on the carrier and picked it up curiously. On the paper, there was a neatly written note. " A bento love for you "


Once upon a time, there was a woman named Vanessa no older than 42 age that lived in Los Angeles, California all her life. Back in her days, she was the popular one in high school and college. All the boys liked her and everyone wanted to be her friend. They always invited Vanessa to all the parties, and she had lots of fun. But now them days are over. She graduated from high school and college. Now she is one of the top doctors in Los Angeles. Now today she’s divorced once with two kids 5 and 8. Things were hard for her after the divorce three years ago. But she could pull through it for the sake of her kids. And that’s what she did and living a happy life. She had gotten a big promotion today at work. And you know what that means, more money. Vanessa was so excited about the glorious news. But it is bittersweet because she didn’t have anyone to share the good news with. It would’ve been nice, Vanessa said in her head. But she was still happy with where her life had gone, she thought to herself. She also thought in her head, I will find someone to love me one day if I have any time. It would be nice to run into someone, but it’s been too long and I am too old. No more parties and dates for me at this age, especially with two little kids. Let me just get that happy ending out of my head, Vanessa said. Since she was at home now, she checked on the kids and was sound asleep. So Vanessa went to her room at hopped in the shower from a long day of work. Once she got and got dressed, she went downstairs to fix herself some leftover spaghetti and garlic bread. Vanessa grabbed her food out of the microwave and proceeded back upstairs to her room. As she laid in bed eating her food watching a romance movie, Vanessa thought, I am always sitting here at home on a Friday night when I don’t have to work doing the same thing. She ate her food and went downstairs to put her plate and cup in the sink. Vanessa turned all the lights out and made sure that I had locked the doors for safety. She went back upstairs and snuggled back under her covers. But she wasn’t sleepy yet, so she put on another movie but this time it was an action movie. After a while, she found her eye slowly going down as she fell asleep with the movie still playing. Waking up to the sound of her kids running into her room and jumping on the bed. Going morning mom, good morning kids. Vanessa got up and to fix the kids some breakfast. Pancakes anyone, me the kids said. Now in the kitchen, she made the kids some pancakes, eggs, and some bacon. Breakfast, Vanessa yelled, then here came the kids running down the stairs to the table. As the kids ate, Vanessa wondered what she was going to do with her day after playing with the kids for a few hours. As Vanessa and the kids played, she looked at her phone and seen that it was time to put the kids in the tube and straight to bed. When done, they went to bed; she went around to their rooms and tucked them into bed, saying I love my angels and they replied love you too mommy. She turned the lights out and close the door. As she walked away and went downstairs, she hopped on the couch, turning on the TV. Vanessa went through the channels and couldn’t find anything to watch. But her phone had rung. It’s my friend Crystal. I wonder what she wants, so I answered. Hello, Hey Vanessa what you doing right now? Nothing but the same thing, watching nothing on the TV. Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come to my birthday party tonight. Tonight, Vanessa replied. Aren’t you too old to be having a birthday party? Nope, age ain’t nothing. I’m living my life, Crystal said. But anyway, the party starts at 9 so will you come so we can catch up? Hum Hum, please, said Crystal. Huh, okay, let me call the babysitter and see if she can watch the kids. Okay, great, I will text you the address of the place. Okay, bye. Vanessa got on the phone with the babysitter and asked her, could you come and watch the kids for a few hours? Sure said the babysitter, I would love to. Why so late? My friend invited me to her birthday party replied Vanessa. That’s great you finally got out of the house but why your face looks like that. I am very nervous because I haven’t been to a party in a long time no less than I don’t know a lot of the people that are going to be there. Well, everything is going to be fine and you have some fun. Just go in there and be yourself. Okay, we will see replied Vanessa. Vanessa looked at her phone. Shoot, I’m going to be late for the party, I better get going. See you later, the babysitter said. Okay, I will call you when I’m on my way home from the party okay bye. Bye!! Vanessa made her way to the party, and it was many people in and outside. Vanessa walked in with that same nervousness that she had on her face before she left home. She really didn’t know anyone, and it made her feel uncomfortable. So she made her way to the back tables and had a seat. Guys came up to her trying to talk to her, but she was acting too shy and she was nervous. Vanessa hasn’t talked to other people besides her friends and patients. Soon enough her friend Crystal walked in, entering. She said hello to everyone and thanked everyone for coming. But now it was time to party. Vanessa's friend walked off stage she notices her seating in the back and she ran right over. Why are you sitting in the back? Just nervous and don’t know too many people here. You don’t have to be nervous, here take this glass of wine and loosen up. We are going to have fun today. A few glasses of wine later, Vanessa had loosened up. And then her friend came over and grabbed her hand to pull her onto the dance floor. Vanessa started dancing slowly but then she shook her nervous off and started having some real fun. Vanessa danced the night away until it was time for her to go. So she said bye to the people she just met, then to her good friend Crystal. You had a good time? I sure did say, Vanessa. Now I’m about to go home to the kids. Okay, talk to you tomorrow. Bye. As she drove home, she had a big smile on her face, saying that wasn’t that bad. Vanessa pulled up in the driveway and the babysitter came to open the door for her. Hey, how was the party? It was great, and I had a lot of fun for the first time in a long time. That’s great to hear. By the way, the kids woke up and so we just watched a movie eating popcorn but now they're back in bed fast asleep. Thank you so much, I don’t know what I will do without you replied Vanessa. Vanessa paid the babysitter, and she walked out the door saying see you tomorrow. Vanessa replied okay bye. While she got ready for be all just keep thinking that sometimes you have to put yourself out there to make yourself happy. She turned off the light to tell herself good night.


In a world where light was powered by the Sun and stored by the Moon, a lunar eclipse was the blackout. * The right night to catch the wild animal had come. The Shaman told them. “Why?” One of the hunters asked. “Because Silver Ball is full. Look how perfectly round it is! Look how it floats in the blue-dark waters above your head,” the Shaman said. “You will see, when its silver claws will stretch on the wild animal; you will catch it, wherever it will try to hide,” he added rubbing his hands greedily. The hunters moved among low bushes and cluster of rocks, speeding up their steps when a tree showed up nearby; to hide for a while behind its trunk, before starting crawling again. Under the shadows cast by Silver Ball, behind the giant mountain, Kalaky -the city built in stone- waited for them. They had to cross it; the forest where the wild animal lurked was just beyond its walls. They entered the main arch, making sure their boots sounded like silk. Smaller arches let the Ball piercing the walls with its silver light; standing on columns, stone by stone, they guarded hundreds of dwellings and its sleepy inhabitants. The stony path ran clear under their feet, drawn by Silver Ball’s light. Shadows were casting soft lines of pottery belonging to solid clay jugs. A man shaped shadow stood from behind a corner; they had to run away; nobody had to know they were about hunting: that night was one of the Kalaky’s twelve sacred nights; no one had to be killed. One of the hunters peered from the wall bending the corner, “it’s a statue; let’s move on,” he whispered to the others. Beyond the corner, under porches and between high columns, a row of warriors looked at them, standing still in their bodies made from stone. An invisible eraser must have bumped into the warriors, if one by one they started to fade before the hunter’s eyes. At first shadows began to shrink; then they disappeared, dragging with them the stone and the clay bodies they belonged to. Darkness was felling around. Dwellings, arches, columns, walls were swallowed by nothingness. Neither floated Silver Ball. Its  shape slowly decreased into something less round and less bright until it disappeared behind a cloud growing darker, dragging with it the North Star, the queen of the compass. It was when a howl uttered from the forest, echoed by the giant mountain behind the city. The hunters froze. The Shaman had told them something else. The only shades the wild animal’s eyes could detect were black and white; in the darkness this sharped its sight. It could see them. The other way around was not true. Beneath their feet the insects of the darkness grew bigger and bigger, crawling slowly, slithering slower and creeping faster from a corner to another looking for food. Among the tiny legs and wings, some of the Kalaky’s inhabitants were taking advantage from the sudden darkness; the unexpected blanket of nothingness was apt to cover up all sorts of misdeed. And forbidden love as well. A tallow candle blinked. That was the sign. From behind her window Kaleeka’s tallow candle replied back to her secret love. Only the darkness knew how many prohibited kisses were exchanged from window to window that moonless night, from mute lips shaped by tiny flames. FIRE If the sight was limited, their smell was still working fine. The scent was telling them that something was burning. Their noses led them to the center of Kalaky. At the corner wall of what had to be the main square, reddish fingers stretched upwards. It was fire, and it cast light and shadows against the darkness. Around it one man stood in contemplation; leaning against a frescoed column, his shadow was twice his size. He saw them peering at him. A cough faded among the crackle from the fire. “Not the right night for hunting, isn’t it?” The man shouted. The hunters needed light, and that fire had light. They could not disappoint the Shaman. They had to catch the wild animal, despite Silver Ball’s light was gone. “If you want it, you have to take me with you,” the man around the fire added. “We are not going to a trip; let us take a burning ember.”- “You will burn everything around to have light, isn’t it? I’ll give you fire, but at one condition: I have to come with you. This fire will not last forever by the way, you need me to reach the forest; I will lead you, so I said.” So they did. The hunters crossed Kalaky’s stony streets, turned at several corners, and listened to the sleepy inhabitants’ s snoring. If someone woke up and peered from the windows, at first they would realize that Silver Ball was missing, despite the calendar drawn on the sacred wheel said it had to be full and round; then they would see a small man walking with a flaming tree branch, waving it among his leather gloved fists; half a dozen of hunters following him. On the stony floor the insects of the darkness ran away in madness looking for the darkest corner and for the thinnest gaps between two stones, escaping from the reddish light cast by that walking fire. WATER In the distance high trees gleamed under the fire; the wild animal lurked in the forest from that direction.  They moved farther, crossing more arches and turning at more corners; the flames grew smaller, just in time to cast the last flash of light into clear water laying into a stone basin. Standing nearby a well a fountain poured new water into the basin, the last flame told them before fading in the dark. A cough faded among the gurgling water.  “Come here; look,” the small men said. “You promised to lead us to the forest. The fire is dead, and to the forest still a long way to go.” The hunters’ patience was almost gone. “Come here; look,” the small men said again. “Look into this water, before it’s too late,” he urged. The hunters did as he asked, and they caught a glimpse of blue lights floating into the water. “So?” One of the hunters asked, patience all gone. “You don’t understand! The last flame of fire is showing you something! Blue lights, aren’t they? They are not running from the fountain; they only mirror themselves into the water. We must follow them. We will find other light.” The small men said raising his nose from the fountain and pointing it to the east, where the blue lights gathered under the water; his feet took the same direction. AIR The hunters followed him to the furthest east part of the city. They reached the place where the blue lights had their source. Thousands of spheres were dancing at mid-air; sometimes they looked like floating candles. A cough faded among the popping sound from the moving lights. “Will-o'-the-wisp,” the small men said. “Welcome to Kalaky’s graveyard. Despite Silver Ball has floated away tonight, there’s light here. The souls’ light, we believe.” Before their mesmerized eyes, the hunters saw the blue lights landing on the spartan tombstones. Under fading blue halos handwritten signs read the Kalaky’s language; engraved on the stone were the memories of past lives. After the tribute, the blue lights gathered in one single point in the air. Up, where air floats in the lack of gravity, the dark sky knew that Silver Ball had moved into the planet Earth's shadow. It knew even more: Golden Ball, Earth, Silver Ball and Earth were on the same line somewhere in the Universe. Down, stem by stem jumping fireflies queued drawing a golden line in the dirt. The wings spread open and flew among the blue lights. The blue-golden arrow they shaped in the air pointed at one direction, not north, not south, not even east neither west. It pointed to the ground, before disappearing and leaving Kalaky in the full darkness again. EARTH Their eyes landed on the earth beneath their feet. Dirt and grass and small rocks shared the space with less and less stones. Looking closer, reddish light sparkled among the grass. That was the only light left. The lunar eclipse was casting a long-lasting darkness over a huge part of the world; but to the hunters and to the small man this was unknown. A cough faded among the pawing sound raising from their boots against the dirt. “I hope you will catch the wild animal,” the small man shouted, leaning against a tombstone. “You promised to lead us to the forest! Are you trapping us?” One of the hunters said, raising his fists against the man. He started for him when his feet got frozen. There was no small man anymore. Only a grey shadow swirling among the tombstones that grew darker and darker. They were alone, swallowed by darkness. One of the hunters started to kick his boots against small rocks; mud and dirt flew around together wit his anger. One of his hunting arrows jumped from the lather backpack, landing steady on the ground; its bronze head thrust on something that felt like a molten rock under his hand trying pulling it away. Pulsing rubies snaked in a trail on the ground. It felt warm. It cast light. They followed it. “This must be the giant mountain’s blood,” one of the hunters said, remembering what the Shaman told them. The path drawn by the reddish lines on the earth started to fade under their feet. Suddenly it stopped. * The wild animal might be just behind the trees, peering at them; at those creatures standing on two legs and suddenly blind and powerless under the longest lunar eclipse of their times. “You came late.” That was the Shaman’s husky voice. “Who did it?” One of the hunters asked. “Did what?” The husky voice thundered in the darkness. “Who did kill the wild animal?”- “Killed? It’s not dead. And it is not thanks to you. It’s her you should thank.” The smell of fresh blood grew stronger under the hunters’ noses. Fear grew in their mind as darkness got thicker around them. The Shaman’s voice sounded closer. He was before them, invisible as everything was. “The wild animal got trapped tonight. Haven’t you heard its howl? It called for help. And I did call for your help… and you came late.” His voice was full of disappointment, and sadness. A cough raised as his sentence ended. A voice struggled to find the right words, to sound steady despite fear trembled from young lips. “I… I was following you with the idea to lead you from Kalaky to the forest. I tried to catch your attention.” A cough came from the same voice.  “B… But you were too busy to…” “Who are you? Where are you?” The hunters asked in terror, only now remembering those fading coughs. They had assumed it was the small man who coughed. The young voice muted. Instead the Shaman spoke: “she is Lakira; and it is thanks to her if the wild animal is sill alive. I sent you to rescue it; all these years of training and lessons, and you… came late.” “How could we know she was behind us? Everything got dark! Don’ t you see it? Where is Silver Ball gone tonight?” One of the hunters said angrily.” “Is it dark?” The Shaman asked, then he went on, “is it dark Lakira?” The young voice struggled again looking for steadiness, “I don’t know. What is dark? What does it mean?” “Are you blind, young lady?” One of the hunters asked not even trying to hide sarcasm from his tone. “Is she? Lakira are you blind?” This time the Shaman’s voice sounded furious. “Lakira’s sight is impaired, yes, since she was born.” “How did she manage to…” The hunter who just spoke tried to ask. “This is a question I must ask to all of you. How despite her impairment did Lakira manage to reach the forest and rescue the wild animal and you did not?” The Shaman asked. The hunters felt confused. Their understanding of that odd nightly task was they had to kill the wild animal; never thought about rescuing it from some trap. Darkness had made things difficult to achieve. * “You focused on one skill only. Sight! The lack of light made you focus just on sight, isn’t it?” The Shaman asked calmly. “Desperately looking for something unavailable. And what about all your other skills? What about your feelings? What about smell, tactile sensation, instinct? Has Silver Ball erased all of them from you?” The hunters had forgotten their strengths and believed in false assumptions, under the lunar eclipse which for one night had erased the visible world from them. They closed their eyes, opening their heart to the invisibility of the darkness. Before them, like in a black and white movie, white shadows lined the body of a young girl. She sat under a tree; among her arms a wolf was looking at her with sparkling eyes. Blood had spotted its fur with white flowers.  It was safe.


Mother Nature Has Different Plans By Kerri Shanley It was the year Mother Nature was confused. Hades was holding Persephone longer than the agreed-upon terms, causing winter to go on longer than usual. The gray days of December and January extended into April and May. When June rolled around the weather started to warm up, but not much, like the mild breezy spring weather. Masey Higgins went to a college in Utah, not too far away from where the famous people hang out during the film festivals. Masey took a weekend job at one of the resorts so she could get free lift passes. The resorts were happy about the extended ski season, but Masey was growing weary of the long winter. The weekends were still busy with local skiers and snowboarders, even some of the celebrities would still make their way to Utah for a mini getaway. Most of the college students went home in the summer to work and save up for the fall, however, this summer Masey decided she could make more money working extra hours at the resort and decided to stay behind. “Hey, at least we get to spend more time together,” Steve winked at Masey. Masey smiled back and gave an awkward chuckle. She had a crush on Steve for a long time but questioned his intentions. He was a major flirt. “Yeah, just me and you working the guest services counter.” There was a lull in the clubhouse Masey leaned over the counter tapping her pen, while Steve was leaning back in his chair looking up at the ceiling “you know we’ve worked together for the past two years.” “Yes. We were hired at the same time,” Masey responded, “What’s your point?” “Well, we’ve spent a lot of time together, and we barely know anything about each other.” “Well, usually we’re both working and don’t really have time to ‘get to know each other.’’ “Let’s remedy that,” Steve responded. Masey was concerned that he might have ulterior motives behind getting to know her. There was an opening in management, and he seemed highly motivated to get ahead. “I guess. What do you want to know?” “That’s no fun. Let’s play a game.” Masey let out an exasperated sigh “I don’t know we could get into trouble.” “You’re so cute when you worry about your job,” Steve tapped her nose. Masey smiled a little, and their eyes lingered for a bit until Steve broke the gaze “Darts!” “What?” Masey stepped back a little and tucked her hair behind her ear. “We can play a dart game.” Steve grabbed her hands and pulled her into the recreational room, “Since we work here, we don’t have to worry about paying. Masey was bewildered by his comment, “Ok?” “So, here’s how we play. If I hit the center, you tell me one thing about you. It can be anything you want” “And if I hit the center you tell me one thing about you” Masey added. Steve shook his head and continued “But, if you hit anywhere on the board you tell me about the worst date you’ve been on.” A little shiver crept up Masey’s spine “I don’t want to do that.” “Well then, you better hit the center. Now, if you completely miss the target, you have to take a sip of hot chocolate,” Steve smiled wide. Masey’s eyes brightened, Masey was horrible at darts, but she loved hot chocolate, “All right. I go first!” She picked a dart out of Steve’s hand and threw it haphazardly at the wall. It stuck in the cork wall a few inches away from the target. “Give me that hot chocolate.” Steve handed her the mug she took a sip, “You have a whip cream stache.” He wiped it off with his thumb. “Thanks. Your turn.” “Ok.” Steve turned towards the dartboard and stuck out his hand. He concentrated on the target. He released it and it landed outside the center. “Well, I guess I gotta tell you about my worst date.” “Yep,” Masey responded taking another sip of hot chocolate. “A year-long relationship had ended, and I bummed around the apartment for several weeks. My roommate John decided to set me up with a girl from one of his classes. She was cute, but I still was hung up on my ex. So, I was an emotional wreck. “Really? You? An emotional wreck?” “Yes. Guys have emotions too,” he smirked. “Anyways, all I could do was talk about this other girl. About an hour in she asked to go home, when we got to the front of her apartment, she told me not to walk her to the door, or to call her. She jumped out and slammed the door, hard. It shook the whole car.” Steve looked away while Masey listened sympathetically. “Wow. That was harsh.” “Well, I guess I deserved it.” Masey frowned, “No, you didn’t. I understand wanting to leave early, but she could have been a little nicer and told you to call her when you got over your ex.” Steve’s eyes gleamed, “Thanks. It was really hard for the first couple of months after the breakup. But I moved on.” Masey nodded and took another sip of the hot chocolate, “Hey you’re not supposed to drink the hot chocolate.” Masey almost choked on the hot chocolate and put the mug down “Sorry. It tastes so good.” Steve chuckled. “So, what happened between you and your ex. I mean why’d you break up.” “Nope. If you wanna know that you have to hit the center.” He told her handing a dart to her. “Fine.” Masey grabbed it out of his hand, “Here I go. I’m gonna hit the center.” She said focusing on the center of the dartboard she did a few fake throws “When I hit the center you have to tell me why you broke up with your ex.” She stalled. Masey concentrated intensely, when she was ready to release, Steve walked up beside her and blew in her ear. She was thrown off and missed the target. “Well, at least you hit the board this time,” Steve laughed. “Not fair! I get to go again.” Masey reached for a dart “Nuh-uh,” Steve put his arm behind his back so Masey couldn’t reach them “You have to tell me about your worse date.” “Fine. Let me think.” Masey took a minute. It wasn’t a matter of recall, but which horrible date story to tell. Steve sat down on a stool and crossed his arms. He waited patiently. “Ok. Got it. I recently went on a date with a guy from my French class. He was pretty cute and good at French. We decided to study together and reserved a study room at the library. After a couple of study sessions, he asked me out. He took me to an Italian restaurant.” Steve avidly listened, so Masey started to relax. “I saw him slip the hostess some money, and I thought it was to get a good table with some privacy. I just assumed he wanted to show off how much money he had.” Steve didn’t blink, or yawn, nor did anything else. Masey was impressed with his laser focus attention. She was still a little apprehensive, she wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t trust Steve or if it was rehashing the memory of that miserable night. “The guy already sounds douchey.” Masey laughed “Yeah, you haven’t heard the worst part yet. So, when the server came to take us our drink order she looked really mad. She didn’t yell but raised her voice just a little bit ‘I thought I told you to stop coming here with your dates.’ I was so confused.” Steve looked shocked. “He didn’t?” “Yep. He took me to the restaurant where his ex-girlfriend worked and asked to sit in her section.” “Well, if I wanted to make my ex jealous, I would show you off.” Masey blushed, “Yeah right.” “No. Really. I mean it” Steve stroked her cheek. Masey shivered “It’s cold in here.” She backed away. Steve looked slightly confused. “Here.” Steve took off his jacket and put it around her. “Thanks. Well. It’s your turn.” Steve hit the center this time. “Oh-oh, you have to tell me something about yourself.” Masey was shocked and dismayed “Fine. I’m from California. There.” “Nope. I already knew that. Tell me something I don’t know.” “That’s not fair. That’s not the rule,” Masey whined. “You have to tell me something I don’t know about you.” “Uugh! Fine. So, you know that guy from my French class?” “The douche.” “Yeah. Well, I ran into his ex-girlfriend a couple days later, and she apologized for what happened. She told me about their relationship, and why they broke up. So, she saved me from a fate worse than death.” “So why did they break up?” “Oh. Well, he seemed to rush things, and after 3 dates he asked her to marry him.” “No way?” “Yep. According to her, his parents got engaged after three dates. He was so oblivious to her feelings and was just so set on getting married. Which was weird for her.” Steve laughed and Masey started to feel more comfortable around him. “He even bought a ring. When he got down on his knee, she kinda lost it and told him she needed some space. She went out with him one more time, just to see if he had gotten it out of his system. But it was just weird. He started to get really obsessed with her. He felt like she was ‘the one’ and thought that he could win her back by making her jealous.” “Well, obviously it didn’t work.” “Haha. No. I guess not.” They both stopped laughing, and Steve continued to give his undivided attention to Masey. Masey broke the silence. “My turn. I’m gonna hit the center, so you have to tell me about your ex.” “If you say so.” “No cheating.” “Fine.” Steve backed away. Masey threw the dart and it hit off-center. “Aw man.” “You have to tell me about another bad date.” “Fine,” she gave him the death stare. “So one time I dated a guy that had a pet hamster. He hid it in his pocket. We went to a soup and salad restaurant. When we sat down to eat, he let the hamster out and gave him some of his salad. He actually asked if the hamster could eat some of my food. The manager asked us to leave. I called my roommate to come pick me up. He still doesn’t understand why I didn’t go out for a second date.” Steve laughed really hard. “Ok. OK. Just go.” Steve purposely missed the target “Oh man.” He faked feeling bummed out. “Here. Drink.” “No. I think you’ve suffered enough. I’ll tell you what happened between me and my ex.” After Steve finished his story, Masey apologized, “I’m sorry. That really sucks.” Steve nodded “It’s ok. I mean life happens. The weather was bad. You can’t control nature.” “No. I guess not,” Masey bit the inside of her cheek. “So how long ago did this happen.” He sighed before answering. “After Christmas. She was coming back from break.” “Wow! I didn’t realize. That explains why you took the time off back in January and February.” He nodded. “You know, we were talking about the next step—“ “You mean getting engaged?” “Yeah. When we spoke over the break. I got the feeling that she wanted to break up. Before she went home we looked at rings, but didn’t settle on anything.” “You know I never liked that. Ring shopping together. I think it’s so stupid.” Steve kept his head bowed but looked up, “You’re old fashioned, huh?” “I mean, yeah. It should be a surprise. From the guy’s heart. You know. Like he gets the ring that he can afford and that he feels is the ‘right’ one for his future wife. I sometimes feel like it makes the girl look snobby.” “You know, coming back to work really helped me get over her.” Steve got up and started to walk over to Masey. “Really. Well, they say that the only way to get over a lost love is to pour yourself into work.” “No that’s not why.” He wrapped his arms around Masey. She was taken aback, and before she had a moment to process what was about to happen, he leaned in to give her a kiss. She melted into his arms and let go of her inhibitions. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled away first, and Masey swayed [swooned] a little. “The reason I came back was because of you. Masey looked confused. “What? How? I didn’t even know you were in a relationship, let alone that she died." “I know. It was nice because you treated me normal. Everyone looked at me with pity. Like I was going to break down any minute.” “You were always flirting with everyone.” “No. I was working. I was getting tips from the customers.” “We can do that?” “There’s no company policy that says we can’t. I only flirted with you.” Masey furrowed her brow. “Even when I was with my girlfriend, I had feelings for you, but I pushed them aside because I felt like I owed it to my relationship with her. I never got vibes that you liked me, so I didn’t pursue anything.” “So, you went after an easy target.” Steve chuckled, Masey realized what she had said, “No pun intended.” “No, I get it. It wasn’t easy. She returned my advances.” “What?” “You were the hard target. We’d known each other for so long, that I thought it would happen naturally, but you didn’t give any signals. Lisa showed interest. We got along. We were compatible enough. But I guess she picked up on my lack of commitment.” “Typical.” “What? I couldn’t commit because I had feelings for you. They never went away.” He grabbed her cheeks. A flurry of butterflies started up her throat. “We work together.” “That’s where the best love stories start. You know Pam and Jim?” Masey laughed. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She just wanted to hear Steve tell her his feelings. She felt like she would ruin the moment. “That’s why Lisa seemed so cold and distant over the break. The last time we spoke on the phone we got into a fight. I took the time off because I thought I needed time to heal, but I started to realize that I missed you. My roommate thought my moping around was over Lisa. It was a combination of both. I mean I had feelings for her and was about to marry her, but you know the stages of grief. Well, I got to acceptance pretty fast, I maybe skipped some stages, but it was because I came to terms with my feelings for you.” “I’m glad winter lasted through June. Those 2 months I took off were miserable, but I think Mother Nature extended the winter season so we could spend more time together.” He leaned in for another kiss, “Yeah. I’m glad we got to spend this time together.” Outside the bar, the manager called for Steve and Masey. “We better go see what he needs.” Masey sighed and opened her eyes “Yeah. I guess.” “There you two are. The guests are coming back from the slopes you need to be at the desk to assist them.” “Yes sir.” They said together. They both looked at one another and laughed. “I don’t know what’s going on here but cut it out.” The manager left them alone and they continued to laugh. “Hey look, it’s snowing!” “Snow in June,” Masey looked over at Steve “Mother Nature has something else in store for us.” Steve wrapped his arm around Masey. Yes, Mother Nature had different plans for them, indeed.


Lisa Angel had a gift. Whenever her gift would activate, she could never remember the day of her birth or major events in her past. Sometimes Lisa’s gift would give her nightmares. She could see into the future, but she could only see people’s deaths. Lisa’s morbid clairvoyance manifested when she was 5 years old. Now Lisa was 37 years old. She was the mother of a tall, dark, and handsome young man named AJ. Lisa’s son didn’t know about his mother’s gift until he experienced it firsthand one night. He went to visit his girlfriend. While kissing his lady friend, he received a text message from his mom which said that him and his girlfriend needed to leave the house and call the police immediately. AJ didn’t understand the text message, but a voice inside him told him not to disregard his mother’s text.

AJ and his girlfriend, Chrissy, took shelter in his car, which he parked across the street directly across from her house. As AJ sat in his car, he called his mom before calling the police. Before he heard his mother pick up the phone, he saw a muscle car roaring down the street. It came to a murderous stop in front of his girlfriend’s house. AJ watched as a young man jumped out of the muscle car, brandishing a gun.

He remembered his girlfriend telling him that the young man was her ex-boyfriend. Thankfully, Chrissy’s parents weren’t at home when her ex-boyfriend kicked down the front door, preparing to shoot everyone in the house. That night, AJ’s mother saved their lives.

The police arrested Chrissy’s ex-boyfriend. AJ walked away with his life and Lisa thanked God that her supernatural gift saved her son.

The evening came and Lisa made herself comfortable in her bed beside her husband. While holding her husband’s hand she thought about the night she rescued her son and his girlfriend, who soon became his ex-girlfriend. This incident occurred two years ago. Lisa didn’t want to let go of her son. The last time Lisa saw her son was in his dorm room. She helped him unpack his things. Lisa laughed to herself while thinking about how she hugged and kissed all over her son’s face, not caring about embarrassing him in front of his college roommate. Lisa had to stand on her tiptoes to kiss her son goodbye. She told herself not to cry in front of her son. Lisa couldn’t accept the reality that her baby had become a grown man. She still saw herself coddling a toddler. She saw herself playing hide and seek with her son. She saw herself pushing her son on the playground swing. While Lisa hugged her son, her sadness struck her like a fist after she realized that her days of playing with her son as a baby were over. Lisa had her face buried in her son’s chest with her slender arms locked around his waist. She cried so hard that her tears drenched the front of her son’s Notorious B.I.G t-shirt.

Lisa didn’t care about embarrassing herself. She didn’t care about blowing kisses at her son and watching him squirm from his mother’s overstated affection. She didn’t care about her husband taking her by the arm and dragging her out of her son’s dorm room. Lisa knew she looked psychotic in front of her son’s roommate, but she didn’t care.

“He’ll be okay,” Lisa’s husband, Harrison, whispered to his wife. He stopped reading his book after he heard his wife release a mournful sigh. Harrison laid the book down on his chest before leaning over to kiss his wife. “I know he’ll be okay, but I can’t stop worrying. Our baby went to college today. He packed all of his things and he moved out. Now he’s fucking gone, living on a college campus that’s forty miles away from us.” Lisa looked away from her husband while wiping a tear off her face. She normally didn’t cuss, but she was so distraught that The F-Word escaped from her lips. She had an upright position in the bed with her back pressed against her pillow and the headboard. Lisa brushed her flowing caramel-brown hair away from her wet face. She forced herself to smile at her husband when he gave her another comforting kiss on her cheek.

“Our baby is fine. We’ll see him again,” Harrison reassured his wife through his relaxing, deep voice. “He’s a man now. He’s gonna make new friends. He’ll find his future wife just like his father met his future wife at his college,” Harrison chuckled out his words as he tickled his wife, causing her to giggle. “See! I’m making you feel better already!” Harrison tossed his book to the side. He let the novel fall off the bed as he scooted closer to his wife.

Lisa gave her husband an amused stare. She knew what her husband wanted when she felt his hand slide up her stomach before coming to a stop beneath her left breast.

“When you look at me, can you still remember your past?” Harrison whispered the question with his mouth hovering over his wife’s full lips. He knew about his wife’s supernatural gift and it would always stimulate him sexually. Lisa knew that her gift aroused her husband, but his question unnerved her. She knew her husband presented his question as a joke, but she didn't find the humor. “What’s the matter?” Harrison looked puzzled after he brought his lips in for a kiss, only to get halted by his wife’s hand. Harrison hated to see his wife turn away from him. “I don’t think you should joke about my gift. It’s too damn serious to joke about.” Lisa gently rebuked her husband while folding her arms and turning her back on him.

Harrison laughed nervously. “Look, I’m sorry. It was just a joke.” Harrison’s smirk and his playful attitude didn’t warm his wife’s heart.

“I’ve been a clinical psychologist for twenty years, but I feel like a freak.” Lisa rested her hand above her cleavage while turning to look back at her husband. “You have no idea what it feels like to counsel a person, knowing that they’re going to die. I can’t save every client who walks into my office. I dread it when I look into a client’s eyes and I can’t remember my past, but I can see their future death. The premonition of death I see through a client’s eyes erases my childhood. When I see someone’s dark future, it’s like I cease to exist.” Lisa’s whispering became harsh. When her husband nervously dropped his gaze, she clutched her fingers beneath his chin forcing him to look back into her eyes. “Look, forget what I said. My question was a bad joke and I’m sorry,” Harrison profusely apologized, hoping it would stop his wife from discussing her supernatural sight, but she crushed his hopes.

“I accept your apology and I pray that I will never forget my past when I look at you.” Lisa stroked her finger beneath her husband’s well-defined chin. “I had a client who came to my office a year ago. He needed treatment. He was psychologically scarred because his mother molested him every night. She was a crackhead and a prostitute. Her pimp would beat her and put her in the hospital sometimes. This young man told me that his mother’s job made her feel powerless and she hated men. So she reinstated her authority by sexually abusing her son. She imposed her hatred for men onto her 4-year-old baby. On some nights, she’d beat her son and strangle him the same way her pimp would do her. On other nights she’d sexually abuse her son the way her male clients would abuse her and treat her like sexual trash. The abuse she received for being a prostitute didn’t give her the right to abuse her son. Her child didn’t deserve to suffer because of his mother’s poor lifestyle choice.” Harrison didn’t want to hear his wife’s story. He wanted to make love to his wife, but he forced himself to listen. Sometimes his mind would drift. He’d try to stop his eyes from admiring his wife’s slender neck, and how it melded perfectly to her shapely body. Harrison tried to keep his eyes off the voluptuous form of his wife’s boobs, concealed beneath her silver negligee. The man fought with his desires as he kept his eyes on the symmetrical beauty in his wife’s face.

“I couldn’t help him.” Lisa never broke away from her story even when she could see the disinterest in her husband’s eyes, which disturbed her a little. “He had severe depression. The medication prescribed to treat his bipolar wasn’t helping. I could hear his suicidal thoughts as if they were my own. I’ll never forget the day he came into my office in tears. My past vanished when I looked into his eyes. I knew he was going to do something bad to himself that day. I tried so hard to talk him out of it. As I’m looking at him, I’m seeing a vision of him hanging from his bedroom ceiling and I couldn’t remember my date of birth. I couldn’t remember our wedding. I couldn’t remember giving birth to AJ. When you see someone’s death, it’s like being pushed off the roof of a skyscraper, or drowning in the middle of the ocean. That’s what it feels like for me. Nate was the one client I couldn’t save. Or maybe I could have saved him, but I didn’t try hard enough. I could’ve canceled all of my appointments for that day and just focused on Nate. But I knew that I had other troubled clients like Nate, and I couldn’t cancel their appointments.” Lisa paused, wallowing in her regret. Harrison kept his eyes on Lisa’s face and he had his chin resting in his hand. He had his other hand coasting down the side of his wife’s arm.

“I let him walk out of my office after we talked for three hours. I told him he was beautiful and that his life was precious and that he shouldn’t throw his life away.” Lisa bit her bottom lip. “I couldn’t save him. When he walked out of my office, I thought about calling the police. But I didn’t want the police to arrest him or harm him. I just wanted them to protect him. I didn’t see him hanging from the ceiling anymore, which gave me hope. But I still sensed something wrong, and that’s when I heard a loud pop. I heard the gunshot as I was dialing 911, and I knew he had shot himself outside my office. He was 19 years old. He was just a baby who was no older than AJ. He had a bright future. That bright future was ruined because he had a bitch for a mother.” Lisa hated how her tears would make her eyes itch. She wasted no time using her fingers to clean away a few tears that cascaded down her nose. Harrison folded his hands. He had his hands pressed against his lips while staring up at his wife with intensity in his eyes. He kept quiet for a few minutes and he rested his folded hands on his wife’s chest.

Lisa took hold of her husband’s hands. She wanted him to say something and she waited to hear her husband’s voice while bringing his hands up to her face.

“You need to let go,” Harrison told his wife as he leaned closer to her face with his eyes longing to look down at her neck and cleavage. He only said those five words before bringing his lips to Lisa’s neck.

Lisa felt lost. She wanted her husband to say more. Lisa remembered her husband being more supportive and soothing with his words. When he told her she needed to let go, it sounded heartless. Lisa didn’t like her husband’s simple words, although she did like his touch. A few alluring kisses to the side of her neck put Lisa’s mind at ease for a moment. Lisa wanted to force her husband to say more. She wanted to push him away, but she couldn’t. Within a blink of an eye, Harrison had his wife on top of him with his hands going up the bottom of her negligee.

“I need to let go? That’s all you’re going to say?” Lisa whispered down to her husband. She waited for Harrison to answer. Instead of an answer, she felt his hands massaging the back of her thighs. Soon she felt her husband’s hands coasting across her butt and coming to a stop on her lower back.

Harrison stayed silent as he guided his hands up his wife’s negligee. He held his wife on top of him while bringing his sneaky fingers closer to her breasts. While getting him a handful of boobs with one hand, he forced his wife to bring her face down to his lips with his other hand. Harrison brushed his wife’s hair behind her shoulders before giving her a steamy, enveloping kiss.

The kiss triggered every pleasure sensor in Lisa’s body, but there was something unfamiliar about her husband’s kiss. Lisa wanted to withdraw her lips, but the kiss between the wife and her husband remained unbroken. She had her hands massaging his wide muscular chest and she expected to feel her husband’s solid masculinity inserting itself into her vagina. Insertion would come at a price for Lisa. The air in the room became hot. Sweat enveloped Lisa’s skin at an unusual rate. She still had the mountaintop position on her husband. Lisa would always close her eyes while kissing her husband, but something told her to keep her eyes open.

Kissing her husband would always put Lisa in the mood, but Lisa discovered that the man she enjoyed kissing was not her husband. She discovered the truth when her husband brought his lips to the side of her neck. Lisa brought her hands down on her husband’s back when he sat up slightly to kiss her neck. This gave Lisa a chance to look down her husband’s back. She finally noticed that her husband wasn’t sweating. He had bone dry skin, but his bone dry skin isn’t what startled Lisa. Her mind went blank when she noticed something growing out of her husband’s back. The growth reminded Lisa of metal spikes.

“Baby, what’s wrong with your back?!” Lisa blurted out her question. She screamed when her husband’s massive hand gripped her throat. “Don’t be afraid,” the imposter Harrison hissed in Lisa’s face through gritted teeth. “You sacrificed yourself and now you’re with me.” Harrison’s face morphed into a reptilian-like form as he continued to speak. “I want you. God wants to keep me from having you, but God can’t stop me!” A dark split lizard tongue emerged from the monster's mouth whenever he'd chuckle.

Lisa couldn’t talk, mainly because the reptilian man was squeezing her throat. She tried to fight off her otherworldly attacker and as she struggled to breathe, the room became hotter.

“I don’t get it. You stopped a gunman from killing a group of college boys. You’re a heroine who took a bullet to the chest, but yet you’re down here with me. I don't think God loves you.” The creature spewed his words in Lisa’s face. He got pleasure out of watching Lisa fight to breathe.

Lisa heard a distant voice calling out to her. It sounded like the voice of her son. Hearing her son’s voice gave Lisa the strength to break free from the reptilian man. Lisa slapped the creature across his face. She struck him a second time with her fist. The creature became enraged when Lisa punched him. A guttural, demonic, growl escaped the monster’s throat. In a fit of rage, he hurled Lisa across the bedroom, causing her body to slam into a wall. A fire erupted around the bed. When the reptilian man arose from the bed, the smoldering flames leaped up, kissing his bulky, shirtless, tattooed body.

Lisa kept hearing her son calling after her. She had to escape the bedroom and she saw the fire rising from the floor.

Lisa bolted toward the bedroom door. The reptilian man tried to grab Lisa around her waist, but the woman’s elbow sent him tumbling to the floor.

A white light swallowed Lisa when she opened the bedroom door. The woman followed her son’s voice. She soon heard her husband’s voice calling out to her. When Lisa opened her eyes, she was lying in a hospital bed. There was a bandage below her collarbone. Lisa looked up to see her son sitting at her bedside. Her real husband, Harrison, sat on the opposite side of the bed, holding his wife’s hand. Lisa raised her hand to caress her son’s face when he stood up to kiss her. She placed her eyes on her husband, who had tears of joy in his eyes. Flowers and gift baskets surrounded Lisa’s hospital bed. Harrison kissed his wife’s hand when saw her eyes open. He broke down in tears when his wife caressed his chin. The man thought he had lost his wife. He also thought she'd be in a coma for a long time. “Your supernatural gift made you a hero,” AJ whispered to his mom after kissing her. The young man held his phone up in front of his mother. Lisa read the news headline on her son’s phone, which said; A YOUNG BLACK MOTHER PREVENTED A GUNMAN FROM SHOOTING HER SON AND HIS COLLEGE FRIENDS AT THE MOUNTAIN RIDGE UNIVERSITY. THE MOTHER FOUGHT WITH THE GUNMAN UNTIL POLICE ARRIVED. SHE SURVIVED AFTER SUSTAINING A GUNSHOT WOUND TO HER CHEST. THE GUNMAN WAS A WHITE SUPREMACIST. POLICE ARRESTED THE GUNMAN AFTER USING LETHAL FORCE.


My childhood is a far away memory, abstract and serene. Green trees and mountain hikes are what I remember best. Such a jarring divorce from today. Now, everything happens on our smartphones, but this is not the smartphones of old. Smartphones on which we happily shared pics and vids of our happy lives on Instagram or Tic Tok. The smartphone is now your life, literally. No smartphone, no money. No, smartphone, no freedom, that is if freedom is what you want to call it anymore. Covid 19 came and went, then it was the climate crisis overlaid with a bunch of foreign forever wars, then Covid 25 and the first real lockdowns and forced injections, then Covid 27, 28,... and then we stopped counting. Just a merry-go-round of lockdowns, medications and ever more censorship. When the fight went out of us, we were gradually herded into oppressive slums. Now drones constantly scan our smartphones from above, checking vaccine status and of course our precious social scores. To add to the insult, CBDC wallets capriciously choose what you can or cannot have and how much, where you can go or what you can do. A single litre of synthetic milk (cows are banned or extinct, we are not sure anymore which) is all a family of four is allowed each day. Bread was more like a thick cracker. Then there were ‘matties’. A patty of fake meat. Cost: virtually free. It’s the only thing that we can eat without limit. We had long given up speculating what it really was, so the popular debate was, how close to real meat it in fact tasted? *** Your social score is everything today. Those that fall below 8 vanish. Theories as to where they go are whispered in hushed and paranoid tones. Discussing it is taboo on MetaX, the only social media platform that exists. Though strategies on how to improve your score abound and are easily the most discussed topic online, though bitter experience, raising your points was akin to blitzing a snap test in a subject you never studied. But losing points, now that's as easy as breathing. I had 9.2 and John, my brother, had 9.3. Clive, from next door showed me with mock rebellious bravado that he had only 8.1. That was a few weeks ago. I have not seen him since. I wonder how brave he feels now, or indeed where he is. This was the other eternal topic, where did the sub 8’s go. Nobody I know had ever witnessed any abductions, or arrests, but nobody dared to discuss this on MetaX. *** Clive had a sister that I liked, but I was sure she didn't even know I existed, until today. I was coming back to our apartment with whatever I could find at the market for us to eat when she suddenly grabbed my arm in the crowd. What I remember was the look in her mesmerising blue eyes: manic fright, as a bizarre counterpoint was that pink tight cardigan she wore, with the top button undone, hugging her inviting breasts. I could not help but smile to myself for the sudden attention. She grabbed my hand and sharply led me to one side out of the crowd, behind a large dumpster. She pulled my head close to hers and in a raspy whisper said: “Clive, they took him!” Before I could ask where , my smartphone chimed. I looked at it and saw the screen: bright red and in the middle -1 flashing in large bold yellow characters. My knees went weak! A -0.1 was chilling enough, and the rare -0.2, was always accompanied by a colourful story, but -1! I tore out of her grip and boldly reentered the crowded lane. Looking up for a drone, I loudly proclaimed “What have I done wrong, why a minus one”. The crowd gave me immediate space. “What did I do?” I hollered into the air. I looked back at the dumpster and Clive's sister had melted away. I was alone in the crowd. My smartphone chimed again. Another -0.1 gone! “What's going on?” I yelped into the air in desperation. A drone silently approached overhead. Then a second. I was looking up at them questioningly when I felt a yank on the plastic bag in my hand. A grubby child, face hidden in a hoodie, was tearing at it. The strength was unexpected. I lost interest in the drones and began convincingly losing a tug-o-war over the bag down the darker lane behind the dumpster. Only a handful of metres away from the thongs of people, the urchin turned and stabbed my hand with a needle, then everything went dark. *** I woke up lying on warm concrete surrounded by a crowd, all ignoring me. Knots of people stood at concrete tables toiling at some strange tasks. Others just stood or milled around whispering to each other. Everyone was naked except for black boxer briefs. All ages except the very young were there, but no women at all. Everyone's faces: grave and serious, and the smell! An intense mix of faeces, urine, sweat and vomit scorched my nose.

An older gaunt man slowly approached me and gave me a hand standing up. “Your headache will pass” he said in a quiet voice. “Whats going on? Where am I?” “Block 9” “What is block 9?” I asked “Everyone has the same questions when they get here. Sorry but it's too dangerous to answer some questions. All I can tell you is where you are,... or else”, the man said, ending with ominous foreboding. Before I could get another question out, a loud siren wailed. Everyone stopped whatever they were doing and began to head in one direction. The old man clapped me lightly on the shoulder and said, “Chow time” It took me about half an hour pushing and shoving in the crowd to get to the ‘feed trough’ filled with matties. I managed to grab 2 of them in the melee of hands. They were cold and definitely tasted inferior to those I was used to. There were bits in them that did not feel like food at all which I spat out. As I was retreating through the crowd, the man from before came up next to me and led me away to a quieter spot. “I am A3F49r-9, but you can call me Alex” I gave him a stunned look. “Your ankle tag…”, he added. I looked down to notice the red ankle bracelet fixed to my own right leg with a large bold white number V8h8R2-9 written. “We are the sub 8’s” Alex added while wolfing down his food. A lingering question about Clive was now finally answered. “How long do we need to be in here?” I asked. Alex shrugged, then added, “I only know of people going down.” “Down?” “Yes, down. None of us really know for sure, but we know there are levels below us” The stunned look on my face triggered Alex to stand and grab my arm and lead me off through the crowds. The entire place was a single open space with concrete floor and ceiling interspersed with imposing columns, like an ancient car park of old. As we walked on, the smell in the air freshened and a new quality to the light grew. We finally reached a low concrete barrier above which was the outside. A wide brown featureless desert vista yawned open topped with an intensely bright blue sky. The barren landscape was dotted with enormous cubic structures emblazoned with huge numbers: 8, 7, and 6 barely legible in the distance, with many more blocks stretching to the horizon. Block 8 was close enough to make out some detail. The bleached concrete block was ringed with black bands in which I could just make out small figures moving around. There were dozens of layers, which became more tightly bunched toward the ground. The only interruption to the minimal form was a circumnavigating upward facing angled wall protruding beyond the cube’s footprint. I guessed it was to catch rainwater, but that sounded ridiculous. The only other movement was from large drones flying back and forth between the blocks. “Well maybe down is out?” I suggested, but Alex’s jaded look did not boost my optimism. “The only rules I can tell you about are that if you work at the tables, you are rewarded with a few minutes advance notice of feeding time. And if your collar continuously vibrates, that means you are going down. The tubes to take you down are in the corners.” Alex said in a flat voice. I ventured with naive hope: “And out perhaps” Alex just shrugged and cocked his head with mock optimism, then shuffled away. *** Over the next few days, I caught sight of Alex a few times but otherwise I kept to myself like most of us did. I tried to get to the work tables but they were popular. But to my delight I ran into Clive. “Hey neighbour” I said gaily, siding up to him in the crowd. Clive looked at me with shock, then glee. I hugged him despite us not really being much of friends. But then a second later, the mirth vanished from his face and a tear began to roll down his cheek. “Hey man, it will be OK, we will get out of here sooner or later” I said in a vain attempt at levity. His face did not brighten. “I was so stupid. A stupid fool full of bravado, showing off how low my score was. Well now I am here and I don't see how I will ever get out. I don't even know where here is. None of us do.” “Come on Clive, do…” Clive clamped his palm over my mouth with force before I could say anymore. He whispered close to my ear, “I am not Clive. Never use my name. Never tell anyone your name, I mean your outside name. NEVER!” “Ah, OK” I said, trying to fit this new fact into my understanding of Block 9. “How did they get you, aah…” I looked down at his ankle. ‘D2Jf76-9’, “…David?”. He shook his head in short jerky movements, then said: “Have you seen Claire?” I understood his signal and change of subject, and casually answered “Yeah, she’s fine” and I tried to add as much context with my eyes as I dared. “Ahh, she’s a great kid, everything I am not. Beautiful, smart,...” Clive wanted to continue but was unsure what he could safely add. A relief washed over his face. “I feel better knowing she is OK”. He leaned in to me and said in a whisper, “I only have this one thing to remind me of her”, and he stuck out his tongue. On it, in the dim light I could see a pearly pink button glistening. The memory came flooding back. This was the missing top button from her cardigan. One of the last endearing memories I had from the outside. Now it was my turn to shed a tear, at which Clive, no David, gave me a glance with as much concern as he could. I simply nodded and gave a thumbs up to dispel his anxiety. *** If you stay near the edge, then you enjoy the change of day and night. Inmates' jealousy held onto these positions, but the troughs were nearer the middle where the work tables were so migrations around the floor were constant and holding onto any territory was almost pointless. Despite this, bullies still persisted in vain territorialism. I managed to get a few sessions at the tables but this earned me no advantages so I stopped bothering. I was hanging out near the perimeter one day when my bracelet buzzed and would not stop. A few guys nearby gave me looks of trepidation mixed with hope. In the very corner of the level was a group of round disks. One of them was lit showing my number, I stood on it and a metal tube came down around me, then came the sensation of descent. The tube retracted and I found myself on a new level, much the same as the old one, except the ceiling was noticeably lower and the light dimmer. *** And so the next few weeks progressed and I moved down the levels. I ran into Alex one more time but only in passing. An oppressive unspoken resistance seemed to be associated with any kind of bonding between inmates. Like an infection of the mind, but I could not say what it was and I was not keen to discuss it either. Nobody seemed to know each other well, nor cared to become friendly in any way. It was very lonely being in such a densely crowded space without anyone to really talk to. The days were very long and tiring, shuffling around the huge featureless space. I developed some painful sores on my hip from sleeping on the filthy hard floor, but there was no one to complain to. One day I found a spot close to the elevator tubes. They were constantly busy with people vanishing and appearing from the tubes. At least it was something vaguely interesting to watch. A disc lit up with a number. A tall man approached with trepidation and stopped just short of it. He was hesitating. This began to attract attention. The buzzing grew louder and more urgent and he was experiencing increasing obvious discomfort from the bracelet. The disc began to flash along with his bracelet. His head was just shy of the concrete ceiling and I empathised with his plight. The flashing and buzzing intensified, then the ankle bracelet suddenly exploded with a dull thud. The man fell to the ground, his right foot blown off up to the shin. A large bloody stain spread out on the floor with pieces of meat and bone strewn for a metre or so. His scream was not what I expected. It was not one of shock and pain, but a cry of pathetic defeat. A sound I will never forget. Nobody came to his aid, instead many just turned and left the scene. Three discs which I assumed to be lifts raised out of the floor and disgorged three drones. Two came to either side of the man and lifted him bodily into the air. He made a feeble attempt at resistance as they moved to the low wall and threw him over. The third busied itself cleaning up the mess while playing a kind of pacifying elevator music as it worked. An AI’s demented idea of a ‘human touch’. It was completely surreal and horrifying. The whole episode took under 20 seconds. *** The inventor of this abomination must have had a macabre sense of humour, or was an especially bitter midget indeed. The lowering ceiling over the next 2 levels brought almost everyone to a permanent slouch or hunch, with the tall reduced to sitting or crawling. Defeated and broken would sum up the collective mood perfectly. Few bothered with the work tables any more. The hymn of droids as they carried out their grim work was heard more down here. The only highlight I can share is spotting Clive. I tried to approach him but paused when I got up closer in the dim light. Sallow and gaunt, he was blindly shuffling about with his chin buried in his chest. I had to admit that I was not far behind him, but I am an stoic optimist by nature and was probably proving harder for this prison to break. I found stupid trivialities funny and broke out in manic laughter at the slightest prompt. Others would look at me like I had succumbed to insanity. Perhase I have in my own way. Everyone had to dig deep into their souls to find a way to cope. Staying near the edge was popular down here. The light hardly filtered to the centre of the floors anymore. I was scared to even venture into that darkness fearing what I may find. Around the edge, the air was somewhat more bearable, but the price was steep: being a witness to the stream of human tragedies. I watched as inmates would take their own lives over the edge. The regular monotony of it destroyed our souls. Some prayed beforehand, some just lept, and others hollered their epitaphs. I began to guess that this was the only way out. *** I just got sent down this morning, but where I landed can only be described as abominable. As the tube retracted, it stopped at my waist. I squatted down on rickety knees and froze at the scene I beheld. A dim light filtered past figures crawling on hands and knees. The ceiling was so low even standing on your knees was impossible here. The moaning and despair filled the air along with the heavy smell of death. Inmates now uncaring about their fate ranted and raved. Their echoes tormented those still clinging to sanity. I crawled away from the lift, but not far. I don't think anyone gets far down here. I lay down the first chance I got and stayed till the siren howled for meal time. It took an enormous effort to crawl to the trough. I grabbed a mattie and shuffled away to eat it in peace. As I chewed it, I bit down painfully on a pebble or a rock. I spat the piece out into my palm. This was no rock, it was a broken piece of plastic. Not just any plastic either, this was a broken piece from a pearly pink button. Claire’s button.

That was the moment I died inside.