In the rumbling of all the crowd gathered in the house I could hardly listen to new year's eve  concerts. New year eve and birthday of the eldest person in our family, my grandmother, to be on the same day. Ahh! What else one could ask for. Heaven. Absolutely heaven. But.  .  .  did I forget to mention,"not for me". The only thing I would wish on the new year is a little time of my own, and if possible, a room of my one. But when your maternal and paternal- aunts, uncles, cousins all ACCUMULATE together on that one very day, I shouldn't have even thought of that solitude on the first hand. My other, for a long time is carrying the CD of Sarah Vaughan's 1986 concert, which would be impossible to listen, At ALL. I did give a thought to it, that I should play the record for everyone, and mind, I did. Though, it seems grandma's story about her young times far more interesting than Sarah Vaughan's four octave sonorous adventure. Hmm. I think I missed the sunday sermon when Father, the local eloquent pastor, was elaborating the verse,"neither cast, ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them. under their feet, and turn again and rend you." In the end, it just puts you off, that everyone is jolly in their circle and you, only to be on that far end, where they all think you are a special kind. That is the best way to make anyone feel miserable, by adding in the," he is just so bright and intelligent." Loneliness is shaded with all the best colours of interpretation. Well. As mentioned before, the entire household was dipped deep in to the preparations for grandma's birthday, new year was inferior. "Ahhh. Adi, where were you?" My overly enthusiastic aunt, one on my father's side, bellowed from the kitchen, slightly peeping from behind the door. It was too late to escape her eyes because it took me long time to find her pupils in that thickly applied eyeliner. "Nothing aunt Manda. Nothing at all." For unknown reason I said the 'nothing at all' in a sort of British accent. That was meant to repel her attention away from me. Alas ! It didn't. But before I turn around, a very important thought struck my mind. I changed my expression, voluntarily, from reflective to absorbing, and asked aunt if she had anything specific to say. "Oh yes. Will you bring the onion basket from the storeroom. It's already very late for the breakfast. Your father and all your uncle's must be waiting long now." You too, aunt Manda. I wished too say that. But decided not to, and went upstairs to fetch the stuff. As I climbed the stairs I couldn't help but run my sight over those frames of my family's ancestors. Yep. My family's, not mine. The frames of ancestors were hung in my humble abode, my little room that was next to the storeroom, that specific location too upon my request. As I walked by, my eyes wondered over to those beautiful walnut streaked walls. From upon them, my ancestors humbly looked down on me. Anne Bronte, first in the row, lord Byron followed and next to him, Alfred Whitehead, below him, perpendicular, Toni Morrison. Above my bed a wallpaper stamped on the wall with grandeur, that read," who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?" Below it, "Democracy". While I descended the stairs, no stones in my pockets, I had a unfaithful encounter with my cousin Max. Too lost in his 3DS simulation console, but not enough to pass by me without recognising me. He looked up, freshly returning from the Pokemon world, where he had become the champion last night, bagging most of the Pocket Monsters. He blankly picked an onion, threw it towards another of my cousin, Shruti, then just smiled. Like everytime, that cute, sharp teeth peeped out from behind his upper lip, then he almost walked away. Till, I dared to stir him. " Wow. Whole game in two days. That's cool." I uttered with as much calmness possible but with sharp tints of surprise. " Right, hah ? But anyways. Didn't wom tell you sobthing." He said while taking over my path, going away. He has cold since last three days. Change of air or water, perhaps. And that abrupt ending, well that's just him. A little late but I delivered the onions to aunt, who had a lot of things to say to me about punctuality. This time I didn't venture to be more welcoming. I left the kitchen until I couldn't hear her words anymore. I can't stand someone pointing out my faults. Because that is my faculty. I - as much my inert lower would let me, try to change myself enough. So others highlighting them, though with good intentions, wreck my nerves. Still I couldn't feel all right. As I remembered that thing again, I came up with a reason to indulge in the kitchen, and had a short conversation with aunt. She appeared pleased this time, and I, satisfied. Some two hours passed in the whole breakfast and morning get-together thing. Before everyone would leave their places, uncle Raju brought up subject of decoration for the evening events. With so many people in house that was an absolutely perfect topic discuss. Then like any cliche indian family, we all started to declare our own plans. My voice, though hidden the strong sound waves of other's, so show reached some ears. "Oh come on Aditya. Floral arrangement? That's most common thing anyone would come up with." Mathilda, my maternal aunt, reacted. Before I could make my case, Pallavi, another cousin, came up with idea of encasing the whole interior with those beautiful little gleaming bulbs. To which I heartily agreed, but not heard. The discussion was quite ferocious, my words though, everytime unheard, but I still enjoyed it. After that heavy, thick conversation, it was decided that Pallavi's suggestion was the best and to be followed. As we all rose up, I noticed Leonard's, who happens to be my hot and happening older brother, eyeing me till I passed out of the hall and his eyeballs on the verge of popping out. Yeah, I know. Why would you even suggest something so stupid, he will say. But it is of no consequence. Some fifteen minutes after the family  brain trust's storming discussion-Pallavi, Rohan and Ploppy, all my cousin's, were out through the front door. I caught up with them. Asked if I could join them. Ploppy reminded me I wasn't  good at such tasks, thanks to my low indulgence in any shopping endeavours at all, that being true, I decided to help any other way I could. But I didn't find anything substantially becoming of my capabilities, to do. That fate too was obvious. I before I could help anyway, it was already evening, and our frail, violently shaking, but as uncle Patrick says "strong for her age" grandmother descended her wheelchair with most efforts from her grandchildren. Looking all around, either with admiration or inability to recognise the faces, and then slowly ascending the beautiful ottoman that was especially her's. A beautiful and happy event it was. Such a sweet gathering. And oh! I was so very tired. I decided to retire to my room now that everyone was talking to each other about matters that were, perhaps, beyond my comprehension.  Opening the drawer of my table, I took a small notebook. And then marked some small boxes infront of some sentences and at the end of the page wrote 43%.  I saw the clock, it was just seventeen minutes to twelve, I turned the page and started writing under a headline, 'summary' . Before I could pen down the first word, a broad, veiny, big hand siezed the notebook right from my hand. The gold ring on thumb didn't miss my eye, oh! It was my brother. "It's nothing. Give it back." I struggled to get it back from him, as he effortlessly held it infront of his face without even rating his hands up, yup, that's the difference in our height. Before I say anything further, he came, "So you have been doing this stupidity. You idiot. You won't change, will you." "It is important to me, you won't understand. Now give it back." "There isn't anything minutely, possibly important into this. Why you have to be so like this all the time." And that my nerve. Then I returned I powerfully as I could, "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! I .." "ENOUGH." "Why you have to be over everything everytime. Why you have paint all your problem in such stupid way and. ." "Why would you understand? It is not your place to understand. You have it born in within you. I just wished to be less awkward around everyone." "And who said you were? Why you have to make it your goal to be more sociable? WHY? and why you have to follow behind everyone just satisfy yourself that they gave you enough attention ?" " I - I just wish to be in everyone's circle." I laid it bare, submitting my will and hold. Soon I was groped by my shoulders, his fingers, metaphorically, digging into my bones. "Why that way Aditya? Why not widen your circle to let everyone in? Why make your own mind your best friend when you could have everyone for a friend - especially me?" "It's just wierd to be out. And so ." " Don't make assumptions about people. Let them know you for you to know them. It is not becoming of you to tail along to them. Be little more considerate for yourself Adu." I think. It is a way of thinking about oneself, that don't consider. It's wierd that I always thought of him closest to me. Yet I dreamt of being out of everyone's circle. It was not a big emotional moment but a silent awakening, that I accepted as it. And after my beloved advice, I guess I just decided to be more considerate for my own self. Because no one will no my disposition unless I dispose it to them. Irony ! ! !


One night I Maria went upstairs to read a book but suddenly I heard noises down stairs I went to wake up my daughter Paula we both went to check what was going on suddenly the lights were turning on and off we both got scared that we went running upstairs to my room then we heard a loud noise it sounded like they drop some dishes on the floor then suddenly we heard footsteps coming upstairs I had the Bible in my hands and also a cross from God in my hands my daughter was so scared that she couldn't wait until the night went over then it was morning then somebody nock on the door I look threw the window it was my friend omar he came to visit us we told him what happened at night he couldn't believe the house was hunted he told us to bring a] padre to the house to put Holly water so spirits can go away from the house so I decide to call a padre to do his work in the house the next night there we're no noises in the house me and my daughter were so happy that we slept good at night and we ate breakfast in the morning then suddenly the house seem normal no more noises at night then we decided to throw a big party in the house invite my friends and my daughter friends we decide not to tell anybody of our friends that the house was hunted my daughter went the next day to school she came from school went upstairs to do her homework suddenly she heard a noise outside she saw a men standing outside spying on her she was so scared that she call the police the guy disappeared when my mom came from work I told her about the man being outside I told my daughter when she came from school to lock all doors and windows the next day I decided to buy a house alarm for the protection of my daughter from that stranger guy that was outside when I went to work I leave my daughter some dinner for her to eat she comes from school eats dinner and does her homework and goes to bed only the days she stays up late when she doesn't goes to school me and my daughter wash movies and get some popcorn to wash the movie we wash scarry movies or action movies sometimes cartoon movies we enjoy the night together or sometimes we make fresh homemade cookies to wash the movie and relax we even play monopoly to have some fun together on my day off I take my daughter to the movies we buy a big soda to share with some popcorn then we go home to relax then the next day I go to work and my daughter goes to school one day the school call me cause my daughter had a fight with a student from class the reason she fight her is because that girl was making fun of my daughter she was telling my daughter didn't match with her clothes so my daughter got mad and fight her she got suspended from school for a whole week one of her best friend brought her homework to the house then when her week suspension went over she tried to ignore that girl that she fight with so she wouldn't get in trouble from school so my mother would be proud of me from not getting in trouble no more I had good grades in school all A's in my classes my mother was proud of me when I was walking from school back to my house I suddenly look at a house that freaks me out the lights turn on and off by itself and nobody leaves in that hunted house I always end up running cause I was so scared of that house its every day I go to school I see that hunted house I get really scared it reminds me of my hunted house that I leave in thanks to the padre he took the ghost out of my house it was coming prom night my mother took me shopping for a beautiful dress the color of my prom night dress was royal blue dress very long my friends at school love my dress my partner for the dance was my best friend omar we dance all night enjoy the food and had a fun night at the prom he took me home on his black convertible car then before I got out of the car he gave me a kiss and told me if I wanted to be his girlfriend I said yes right away cause I always felt butterflies in my stomach when I see him at school he is so cute that I fail in love with him then it was graduation night my mom bought me another beautiful dress this time it was red dress kind of short to my knees when graduation was over my mother made me a big party at the house I invite all my friends from school we had champagne to celebrate our graduation party we had Mexican food to celebrate our graduation party we all had so mush fun we put music to dance I dance all night with my boyfriend omar he told me I look so pretty with my red dress I told him thank you and I told him he look cute with his black tuxedo so we end up kissing again at my party my mother was serving the food to my friends at the party we had Mexican tacos enchiladas a delicious cake that my mother made some margaritas that my mother put little bit of alcohol and some salad also all the food was so delicious that I got really fool me and my boyfriend got fool from eating a lot that me and my boyfriend went for a little walk before it got dark then came back to the house the next morning me and my mom did some cleaning from the party then me and my mom went to the mall to eat Chinese food then she bought me some cute black boots that cost like 50 dollars at the mall we had fun at the mall.


"Do you know who these belong to? I think these are Joey's. That's definitely Sunrise Films logo on all of this stuff." Amanda said as she looked through the camera equipment scattered throughout the storage unit. "What does it matter? Can you sell them on Facebook Marketplace for me or not?" Sam said, starting to feel like his sister was going to let him down yet again. This always happened and it infuriated him. He thought this would be an easy slam dunk, and give them a chance to bond, while at the same time putting some much needed dough in his pockets and giving his sister a little financial aid too. But, he should have known better. With Amanda, it literally was always something. "This gear definitely belongs to Joey from Sunrise Film Productions. I worked as a PA for him on a few commercials a few years ago, and he let some of us assistants use his gear to film a few weddings to make extra cash during the down times. He was a really nice guy...I wonder how all of his gear ended up in this storage unit...maybe I should just give him a call...I don't think he went out of business...Do you think someone robbed Joey and stored the stuff here while they tried to sell it online "Amanda, look...this is turning out to be a lot more complicated than I wanted it to be. I thought this would be something that you would want to do, to help me and to make a few quick bucks. I asked you, because I know you have experience working with this kind of gear...you have friends in the industry who would be interested in getting some of this stuff for cheap, and you're always getting rid of spare and random stuff on Marketplace...but now it’s like...I should have known better...of course you would put Joey over me." "Sam, I'm not putting Joey over you, just let me give him a call, if his company folded and he couldn't pay the storage fee, then it’s all good. But if somebody jacked this stuff from one of Joeys trucks, which is kind of what this looks like...then I can't do that. Joey's a good guy." "Forget it Amanda, just forget it." "Sam you don't have to be that way. It's not like I'm making this up. And, hey, I know you're a little strapped for cash right now...but you're not a thief, you're not a crook. If somebody found your DJ gear in a storage unit...and someone had stolen it from your car...you'd want to know right?" "Of Course. But Amanda...it's just I do really need the money. The pandemic has basically wiped me out. I thought I could make it. I thought, you know, I can live off my savings for three months, even six months...but this thing has gone on for almost a year, and I'm wiped out. I put my last little chunk into this unit...I can't afford to not sell this stuff." "Well, Sam. I got to call Joey and let him know, to at least ask him. I mean maybe his film company folded and this gear is up for grabs fair and square...then we can sell it and have a clean conscience." "Amanda, you don't have to help me. Forget I asked you, come on let's go. But you can't call Joey either. I have to sell this stuff, even if it's just to get what I paid for the unit back...I don't think you get it. I'm really in a tight spot right now." The two got into Sam's van and started driving back to Amanda's apartment, when Amanda's conscience took the reins. "What are you doing...Amanda...give me your phone." "I can't...Sam... you’re better than this...trust me...just let me reach out to Joey...you know he's a great guy, he'll probably give you some reward money...plus it's just good karma...I mean..." "Amanda...give me the phone..." Sam said between gritted teeth as he reached across the space between the velour covered captain's chairs and snatched the phone out of Amanda's hand, tossing it nonchalantly into the boulevard. "Saaaaaaaaaaam!!!! Stop the car." "Amanda...you weren't listening...all you had to do was be cool." "Stop the car Sam." "I should have never asked you to help me. You never come through. You never ever do anything to help me. And after all I do for you and continue to do for you." "Stop the car before I start screaming Sam. Let me out." "Oh, I'll stop the car." Sam said as he pulled the van over onto the side of the road. As soon as the van slowed to a stop, Amanda flung the door open and jumped onto the grassy shoulder. "I hate you Sam. You're such a selfish pig. You've always been a pig." "Me? Selfish?" "Are you kidding me...I do so much for you and not only do you

never do

anything to help me or Debbie or Ty...but you don't even appreciate everything I do for you." "We're done Sam. As far as I'm concerned I don't have a brother." "Yeah well...if you ask me I've never had a sister!" Sam said as he pulled away glancing back angrily in the rear view mirror as Amanda started walking up the road trying to find what remained of her phone. Sam stormed into the house where, as luck would have it, his wife was just Facetiming him. She had quarantined with her family in Atlanta and got stuck there when the lock down hit and decided to just wait it out because she didn't want to risk bringing any sort of virus back to Sam or their 7-year-old son Ty who was in the other room studying the different trees for his science class. "Hey Honey." Sam said sitting down to answer the call on his IPad. "Hey Baby! Oh...What's wrong Sammy?" "Nah... it’s nothing." "Baby come on, you're fuming what happened? Is everything ok...where's Ty? "It's all good it's just Amanda..." "What did she do now shug?" "It's the same old thing...she just...she just has different priorities, and it's just so frustrating! You know I do so much for her...when she got married two years ago I DJ'ed her wedding...got all of the equipment set it all up, did all of the formalities, broke it all down everything. I found her a videographer and a photographer and covered it all! I mean that was a lot of work...and it wasn't cheap." "You're a good brother Baby..." "I'm done though!" "You don't mean that." "Yes I do! This was it. "This was a chance for Amanda to make things right, not only for her to pay me back, eve just a little bit for the wedding but for all of us to get a little bit ahead and ...man...I just thought it was a no brainer...but of course not. "Baby...what happened?" "Don't worry about it Debbie. I don't want to talk about it right now. It's all good, I'll figure it out. But I'm done with Amanda. This was it, this was her chance and she blew it. She's out. She's done. She's cut off. I don't want anything to do with her... or her husband or their life. "Sammy, you're just mad...I know it can be really frustrating...whenever somebody feels like..." "They're giving more than the other person...with no reciprocity and no gratitude." Sam interjected. "Exactly, and you are a very good brother, but and this is tricky. You can't expect Amanda to be as good of a sibling as you are. You are an incredible brother and an incredible son and you are constantly putting your family first, and Amanda just has...a different way of seeing things." "Screw her." "I know you're mad...Hey why don't you take Ty and go for a hike in the Nature Preserve...let this go and just enjoy spending some quality time with your son...then get a nice dinner at that Mexican place you boys love...what's it called...Three Amigos!" "That's a good idea D... thank you...I love you." "I love you too...tell Ty his mama loves him and I'll be home soon...I can't wait to be with my boys." "Us Neither. We miss you something terrible. Bye Deb." "Bye sugar! Love you!" Sam got up from the blank screen and called for his son..."Hey Ty?!" 'Yeah Dad?!?" "You wanna go for a hike in the Nature Preserve?" "Yeaaaaaaaah!" "Get those fancy new boots on then and let's go. How many birds do you think we can spot this afternoon?" "How many trees do you think I can name?" "Let's find out buddy boy!" "Oooh! I wanna see what the biggest tree in the Nature Preserve is ... Dad, what do you think it is?" "Hmmm...I bet it's a Sweet Gum!" "Sweet Gum? Come on man you know that there are some massive Tulip Poplars in that forest that are like Legacy Trees...I bet it's gonna be a Tulip Poplar." "Well let's go see...loser buys dinner...Three Amigos?" "Oh yeah! You're on Old Man!"


Cruelty Mirrored Trigger Warning: Sexual and Physical Violence. They mutilated my brother soon after he was born. When he was declared a boy, my mother rolled over on her birthing bed and let the nurses take him. From there, they laid him on a table and went to work on his joints. First, his knees were dislocated, and later his hips. They then castrated him, which caused his screams to grow louder.

I cried out for him, but the nurses pushed me away. “Why? Why are you doing that to a child?” I yelled, but the nurses ignored me. They had gotten used to ignoring such cries. Even as my brother howled a piercing scream of a newborn in pain, they did not flinch. When they were done, they left him alone on the table. “There, there,” I whispered to him. His face was still fresh out of the womb, and his hair still contained traces of my mother. He was not given an official name, the boys never were, but I called him Adelphes. “Adelphes, dear brother, I whispered while petting his head.” He calmed against my touch, but I could imagine the pain he was in. His flesh swelled red where they twisted his newborn body. I could see his future in an instant, he would grow up deformed and weak like the other sons that were allowed to live. Perhaps he could become a craftsman if he was skilled enough, but that was only half a life. I wept knowing the cruelty that awaited him. “I did him a favor,” my mother said as she walked into the nurse's hut. Even so soon after birth, she wore the strength of a general. She was known as the great General Enyo, a trusted companion and lover to Hippolyta. “I could have let him die.” “Why do we do this?” I yelled, causing Aldephes to cry. I tried my best to soothe him, petting him softly and whispering sweet words that did nothing to ease his discomfort. Nothing I did could help him. The gods had already cursed him into being born a son of Amazons. “He is just a baby.” “He is a baby that could grow into a man.” my mother spit. “Do you know what men do to their wives in the rest of the world? They keep them at home, they beat them and they do not let them ride horses or fight in battle. They destroy their spirits and their bodies ensuring them a life of essential servitude. We are not like the rest of the world, daughter. We are not in Athens or Thebes. Here we can be free, but only if we never let these men think they can overpower us.” I had heard similar speeches before, the show women loved to tell stories about the glories of the Amazons. They claimed to be champions of all women, only spilling the blood of the immoral sex. At 12, I had already begun my training to do just that. Yet, looking at Adelphous, I could not see any pride in the future that had been promised to me. “He is your son Mother, your flesh and blood.” “I have no son!” she yelled. I stepped backward, I had sparked her temper. “The Amazons have no sons, we have boys whom we let live through displays of mercy. Do not confuse the two Myrina, if you are ever unfortunate enough to bear such a creature you will understand. You will dispose of him just like this. Your energy is better spent on raising strong daughters.” “It is cruel,” I whispered. I would never do that to any child of mine. I prayed to the gods at that moment not to bear a son. I could not do as my mother had, I could not renounce a child of my flesh. “It is to protect the Amazons against any man that thinks they can overtake us. Come daughter, let us practice your bow.” I looked at Adelphes one last time, before leaving with her. I spent the next 8 years training as all the women did, and proved to be the strongest in my cohort. My mother was proud, boasting about her daughter’s prowess. I was strong, but my true talent was speed. I could shoot arrows in rapid succession, which proved useful on hunts with quick-moving targets.

While I trained, Adelphes survived the best he could. He could not walk, but he had quite the wit. I

checked up on him regularly and made sure he was fed and clothed. He proved to have a talent for textiles, so I gained him an apprenticeship with a craftsman. One of the few surviving men. He was rumored to be Hypolytas brother, but the queen did not entertain such claims. I was 20 when I was sent on my first raid, a pirate’s ship on the western sea. It was a small ship, and I was to lead the charge. My mother had explained the process to me, of how I was to tie the man down and cut him after I received his seed, but such descriptions made me uncomfortable. I had no choice, this would mark the end of my training and my title as official warrior.

My mother came with me on the siege, striking sailors left and right. She was no longer of childbearing age and was happy to kill instead of take a man. The other woman scattered, choosing sailors of their choice, but as the leader, I was to take the captain in his quarters. I broke the lock and entered, and found not a man, but a boy. He could not have been much older than me.

“You are the captain?” I asked. He sprinted to the corner, looking fearful. “I am Myrina of the Amazons.” “I know who you are,” the boy said. “I thought your people were legends.” “I am no legend,” I said. “Don’t hurt me,” The boy closed his eyes and shielded his body away from me. He looked pitiful, and I could not bear to see such fear come from him. What they were doing to these men was cruel. I raised my sword to his neck, and he flinched at the cold of the steel. “I will spare you,” I said. “But you mustn't tell anyone about such mercy. Lie down and act dead. When we leave, you can take your ship to safety.” “Thank you,” the boy fell to his knees kissing my feet. I stepped backward, the bile rising in the back of my throat. I left my first siege with no baby in my belly, but something else was growing in me. A conviction, a vow not to kill anyone that was made in the form of the gods- be it woman or man. I got Adelphes’s help making fake blood, which I would carry with me during every siege, pouring it on the bodies of the man, asking them to lie dormant, while I pretended to kill them. I could not save all of them, it would draw too much suspicion, but my speed made the number of “kills”

I made believable. It went on like this for two years, before my mother grew suspicious of my childlessness. “Are you barren?” she asked me. “Perhaps,” I nodded. I did not long for children, did not want them raised around such displays of cruelty. “You know I have heard rumors,” Enyo said pointedly. “I thought you were above rumors, Mother.” “There are rumors that men have been escaping our attacks thanks to a benevolent Amazonian beauty.” I froze as she got closer. “Now, I don’t know anyone so bold as to trick their people like that. Do you?” “No, that would be foolish,” I said as plainly as possible. “That is why such rumors are unfounded.”

“I hope you can conceive Myrina soon, perhaps I should make sure you are not confused as to what your duty is,” she said. “I know my duty well, Mother. I pray to Cybele that I will soon be with child.” “Good.” she smiled. “May you be blessed with a daughter.” I could not find it within me to kill as my mother instructed, but I saved in lesser numbers. Cybele did indeed my prayers, for one day I was met with a familiar face. It was a normal siege like any other. I was old enough now to lead them on my own, which was a comfort because my mother kept a careful eye when she was around. I moved to the captain's quarters to see him staring back at me.

“Myrina,” the captain got onto his knees. “Merciful Myrina.” his hands were trembling. “I’ve seen you before,”

I said. He looked up at me and nodded, it was the first boy I had saved, though his boyish features had faded. He looked like a man, and a man is what I needed. I got onto my knees to match his height. “I have shown you mercy, but I now must ask for a favor. If I continue to save the sailors at sea, I must have a child. If you are willing to give one to me, I will humbly accept. Do not fear for your life captain, you will be saved either way. My sisters can be cruel, but I do not intend to take the form of seductress or tyrant.”

“I will help you,” he said, placing his mouth on mine. He undressed me slowly, his hands delicate against my skin. When we finished he kissed my temple and wished me luck. “What happens if it is a son?” he asked on my way out. I did not have an answer to give him.

In the months that followed my belly swelled, and I felt a love like no other for the life growing within. For a while, I was safe from my mother's suspicion. Pregnant women were expected to rest. This gave me more time with Adelphes.

“There is a baby in here?” Adelphes placed his hand on my abdomen, feeling the baby kick from the inside.

“Yes, soon you will be an uncle.” I kissed his forehead. The other women thought it strange for me to love Adelphes like this. My mother blamed herself for not giving me sisters, but I did not need sisters. I just needed Adelphes, and this baby growing within me. I prayed for a girl so that I would not have to watch her be broken, but in my dreams, I saw a son. A little boy, not crawling on his forearms as Adelphes does, but one who would run with me through the sand. I woke up one night crying, clutching my belly and swearing that I would protect him at all costs. He would not bear the fate of the boys before him, he would not be mistreated as Adelphes had been. I could feel the birth coming, it started with steady intervals of pain. It was earlier than I expected, but with it came a deep fear of what was to come. It dawned on me that I had no choice. If I was going to let my son thrive, I needed to leave my people. I took Adelphes out of his quarters that night. He could not walk, and I did not have the strength to carry him. We kept a slow pace as he crawled next to me. The time between the pains was shortening, and I did not know if I could walk for much longer. When I fell and could not go on, Adelphes dragged the both of us to the beach. He did as I instructed and covered my mouth with a cloth as I gave birth. Finally, after a timeless amount of pushing, my son was born. He was a big baby despite his slight prematurity. I held him to my chest and kissed his forehead.

“Hello, little one,” I whispered into his hair. “Your mother will protect you. I’ll make sure you grow up big and strong little Alcaeus.” he cried against me for a long while, and I held him and Adelphes close. In the throes of my pain, I had decided that we’d take a boat tonight and seek refuge on the first ship we’d find. If they were to kill me for being an Amazon, I could at least get my brother and Alcaeus to safety. We started moving a few hours after I had recovered. Adelphes held onto my back while I carried Alcaeus in my arms. It was easier traveling now without the labor pains, but I was still weaker than I would have liked. The ships would be at the harbor near the sentries, but there were escape rafts on the far side of the island. I placed Adelphes and Alcaeus in one raft before an arrow was shot at my feet.

“Myrina!” my mother hissed. “Since when did I raise a traitor?” “Mother.” I had no sword or arrow to fight with. I could not carry them and my brother at the same time. “I am asking you to let me go.” “You would ask me to betray my job as a general?” she looked at Adelphes who held Alcaeus close to him. “I should have never humored your attachment to that boy. The baby I assume is a failure.” “He is my son!” I said with all the strength I could muster. “Alcaeus is my son, and Adelphes is my brother. They are your kin too. I am not asking you to betray your duties, I am asking you to honor them. All my life you have been a general, I am now asking for my mother.” “I am your mother Myrina! I have done everything for you. Do you know how the others talk about you, how I must defend your honor at every turn? Hippolyta wanted to have the nurses test your virginity, but I had my suspicions. I did everything to protect you.” “I know,” I sighed. I had known of my mother's support, even if she had never vocalized it. Without General Enyo’s support, my actions could not have continued long. “I know, and I thank you, but there is no happiness waiting for me on this island.” “But you are a warrior, why throw it away? They will not let you fight out there, they think of us women as weak.” “I do not plan to stop fighting Mother,” I turned to the raft. “I will fight, not with arrows, but with resolve. I will protect my family, and I cannot do that here.” “You are my family Myrina.” my mother started crying, I had never seen her cry. Such a surprise grounded me in place.

“I am still your family, and I always will be.” I moved closer to her and kissed her cheek. “ I just hope you can realize the cruelty we display is not the only way to protect ourselves. Talk to Hippolyta, you can change the way we do things. If you can send word that they will be safe, then I will return.” I embraced her one last time before getting on the raft. Tears still trailed down her cheeks as we readied to leave.

“Goodbye Mama,” Adelphes said, catching me by surprise.

"Goodbye my children," she replied as we drifted away.


I twirled the fork in the spaghetti that was on the plate in front of me. I was eating dinner at my parent's house. I didn’t have the appetite to eat.

“Go on and tell me about it.” Mom began to drag out the chair across the table from where I was sitting. There in front of her was a cup of God knows what. She enjoyed keeping certain secrets to herself but when it came to receiving rewards, she would gladly show them off.

After not having anything to brag about for years, she was excited when she found out she was pregnant with me. She knew that with a child, she had the ability to brag again.

 As a kid, I was placed into a number of extracurricular activities. I went from being a libero in volleyball to solving math equations for a prize with the mathletes in the same year. All of my rewards and trophies were embraced more by my mother; she was a spirited person.

It’s not that I did not appreciate what I received, I just thought “Thank You” was enough. Though, I was more energetic as a kid than I am now.

I haven’t seen a reward in years though, now that I am 29. My mother has been as quiet as a lamb and her famous mantle of rewards has become full of dust.

I work at a bank and I’ve never been employee of the month. My boss says that I am more than advanced at what I do, but I “intimidate” the other workers. Never understood what it was though.

“Carter and I got into another argument.” I sighed.

Carter is my husband, who seems to be holding onto our marriage by a thin line. We’ve been married for 5 years and yet it feels like we’ve been tied to each other for eternity. For the past couple of weeks I had been escaping to my parent’s home with every opportunity I got, because I could never face Carter alone.

“Have you tried speaking to him yet?” Mom lifts up the cup, to take a sip.

“You know I haven’t.” The room was quiet for a second, only the sound of her cup hitting the table softly, broke all silence.

“What were you two fighting about?”

“How clueless I am on the definition of kindness.”

I couldn’t see it, but I knew mom was crossing her legs. She was preparing herself to side with Carter...because he is the reasonable one.

“Basically it was his way of stating that he is a better parent than I am.” I looked down at my plate. I was getting bored of the sight of the fork. The best option was to put it in my mouth. It was the same roll of noodles from earlier.

“What did he say?”

“We were at Benny’s toy store when Leah asked for a really expensive barbie doll. I wanted to buy it for her but I just did not have that amount of money on me. I told her no...but Carter got mad at me and told me that I never buy her anything she wants. I responded by telling him that’s how kids become spoiled and then he just..went on telling me about how Leah is not even spoiled because she has no more than 5 toys at home and the least I could have done in that moment was let her be a kid…” My fingers were pressing into my temples. The more I rethought the situation, the more stressful it got.

Mom sighed a harsh sigh before leaning over the table, giving me all of her attention. “Did you tell him that you did not have enough to buy the toy?”

I shook my head. I could not bring myself to tell him that, but it was easy for me to tell my 4 year old child no.

“I am going to tell you right off the bat that you are not a selfish person. In the 29 years that I was given to be your mother, I know you are far from it.” Mom’s arms were lying out on the table, as she crossed her palms together. “And Carter is not either. You lack emotion. You are too serious with yourself that you put it out on others. You keep doing this and it’s gonna get to Leah’s head.”

I looked down at my plate and then into her eyes. “I don’t know how to change.”

“You’ve done it before. You used to be such a bright and open child. Something changed you and it is up to you to figure out what it is, if you wanna change for Leah.”

From being overcome with fear I forgot how I was always open. The problem was that I couldn’t remember what made me turn into this emotionless human being. I was clawing my way through my memories to figure out what was the cause of this. For the first time in forever, I was becoming anxious. If I could not remember what made me stop opening up in the first place, then how was I supposed to change?

And like a struck of lightning or heaven sent, I remember why.

“Do you remember the summer of 92’?” I asked randomly.

“It is an honest shame that I can not remember the details, but I know that it was a summer that you would never forget.” She grinned.

Mom leaned back in her chair, awaiting the story. Her fingers were curled around her cup as she brought it to her lips to take a quick sip before placing it down on the table.

I took a quick glance at her face to find her grinning, almost smirking.

“Summer of 92’. It was right before my senior year of highschool; my first time as a counselor at Camp Waverly.”

Camp Waverly was the popular sunnyside camp that was located an hour away from our town. It was packed with campers that were eager to play around in nature, while counselors were trying to make money and stay productive during the summer.

“Camp Waverly, you loved it there.” Mom’s face enlightened at the thought of it.

“I really did. I regretted not coming yearly to be a camper.”

Mom was now smiling hugely, while staring into my eyes.

“What?” I asked with a hint of concern in my voice. It was a time to remember, but the way she was smiling was too extreme.

“Are you sure it was the camp that you loved so much?”

She was right again. She could see through me like I was transparent. Even I couldn’t hide the fact that there was something else I loved about the camp. The camp was there for people to make memories, but something particularly special about Camp Waverly was what made it have a special place that was buried deep in my heart.

So deep, I couldn’t even find it without someone reminding me. That someone being my mom.

“It was where I met Carter.” I admitted.

Camp Waverly was the place where I met my husband, Carter. A young boy at the time, who loved to wear the same yellow duck t-shirt that was always tucked into his khakis. It was a miracle that I was able to get his attention because everyone at camp loved him.

“On alternating days, the camp administrator would host games so that counselors and campers could interact off trail. It was our 5th night at camp and the sun was just beginning to set. Everyone had gathered around the huge centered fire pit to keep warm while the administrator was explaining the rules for this game. Both counselors and campers were required to participate and were split into groups since there were so many of us. We were assigned a path and by each mark on the path we were asked to do something silly like do the hokey pokey. Whichever group completed all of their tasks would win a personal stuffed bear.”

“So I take it you won?” Mom was curiously driven into the story now. “Uh, not quite. I remember that my group came in last. To ensure that no child left camp in despair, the administrator made everyone feel victory and passed out, I think, tootsie rolls.”

Tootsie Rolls were a binge of junk back then. Giving that candy to children was like daring to play with a wild animal. It had the weirdest taste, yet no one could stay away from them. We were practically hypnotized into buying them at corner stores or not thinking twice to take free ones that were offered, like at camp.

“Carter’s team won. You couldn’t miss catching a glimpse of those stuffed animals because his campers brought them everywhere just to show them off.”  I laughed at how I remembered this one kid from his cabin, Billy the youngest, ran up to me once with the biggest smile on his face and showed me the bear prize he chose. It was yellow and dirty, but the look on his face represented that he didn’t care. He had his bear and as long as it was in his presence, he would continue to show off his small pearly whites for the world to see.

“Carter chose one for himself too. It was a scarlet red coated hand sized bear that had a grey bow around its neck. He gave it to me on the night that he confessed his feelings. He had nothing else to give, but that.”

“I don’t believe you told me about the red teddy part.” Mom furrowed her brows contemplating whether or not I told her.

“I didn’t. I guess it was because that part was a little painful. On the last day of camp, I lost the bear. We looked everywhere for it, but it was nowhere to be found. My best guess is that one of my campers from my cabin took it.”

I cleared my throat as the image of the bear carved itself into my mind.

“It sounds dramatic but at the time, I was miserable. It was Carter’s first gift to me when he confessed his feelings. I remember blaming myself for losing it because it was the last day and we could not do anything about it.”

“Do you still blame yourself for it?” Mom asked as I shook my head.

For the first time in so long, my eyes were tearing up. I still blamed myself for that incident. Most people would say it was just a toy. Carter told me multiple times that I do not have to worry about it because “accidents happen”. In truth, the red teddy was just a toy. But I couldn’t stop blaming myself for losing it.

“You asked me to find out what was the reason that caused me to change into this person who feared showing emotions and it was because of that summer. I forced myself to forget that part of camp so that I would not have to undergo the guilt I was putting on myself. That’s why I never told you about it. I know it sounds crazy for someone to change over the smallest thing, but I just couldn’t accept it. I thought I had forgotten about it, but it was only the memory that was forgotten. There was still a string attached to me and that guilt, which I refused to cut.”

“You need to let go of it, honey. I know it’s difficult, because it was his first gift to you that you hold dearly, but you have to move on. Carter still trusts you, more than ever now that you are married and you have a child. Carter moved on from it, so now it’s your turn. Forgive yourself.” Mom smiled.

I thought she was going to scold me. She was being too soft, that the tears were moments away from pouring down my face. This escalated too quickly. Even after years, this incident still brings me to tears. I feel weak every time it’s brought up. How was I going to get over this? How could I forgive myself?

“You’ve figured out the problem, now figure out your solution and come to peace with it for once and for all.”

I wanted to tell her the only way I could come to peace with it, was if the bear was found, but then that would be too easy. It was the one problem that seemed harder than a calculus math equation.

A knock appeared at the door. Mom watched me for a second as I sat there, looking weak, before she pushed out her chair to stand up.

“Hold on sweetie, let me just see who is at the door.” She disappears from around the corner, as I took that time to wipe away the tears from my eyes.

It wasn’t long until mom came back around the corner towards the kitchen table. She was smiling again as if the convo between me and her never happened.

“Look who’s here.” She turned towards the people who walked through the door and emerged from behind the wall.

It was Carter and Leah. Leah’s eyes met mine, as she ran over to the side of the table where I was sitting and wrapped her arms around my head, pulling me down closer to her. Her face was filled with joy which made me feel even more guilty. Not just about the doll I couldn’t afford, but also about the impression I put out towards her and others.

“Why are you at grandma’s house mommy?” Leah innocently asks, her blue eyes beaming at mine. “I was just having dinner, sweetie.” I smiled through the pain, for her.

“Leah, baby, why don’t you come with me to watch some cartoons while mommy and daddy have a little talk?” Mom had her left arm out towards Leah.

Leah ran from my embrace towards her grandmother and took her hand. They walked over to the entrance, where Carter was leaning before disappearing into the living room.

I didn’t know where to start. If I could, I always ran away from problems and now that one of them is backing me into a corner, I wasn’t sure what to say. My head fell towards my hands in my lap as Carter made his way closer to my seat. I turned out so that my legs weren’t under the table as Carter squatted down in front of me, to receive my full attention. My eyes looked into his; they were filled with remorse as his lips began to part.

“I had a feeling you were over here.” He says, as his lips formed into a grin.

He could tell that I was still having trouble finding the words to talk.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have argued with you like that in the store.”

“No, I am sorry. I wanted to get her the toy, I just couldn’t afford it. I didn’t want to tell you because I couldn’t gather up the courage to so I just made up the whole spoiling situation.” My voice was becoming shaky.

The tears ran down my face like a river stream. I gave up on fighting them back as they were too eager to fall. Carter hadn’t seen me cry in months.

“I am also sorry for everything else. I didn’t realize how distant I was being until I put it all together today. I kept bottling up my feelings until I got lost.” It was like a trance.

His face softens as he smiles at me. His hand runs along the right side of my face, to prevent the tears from falling. It was his way of telling me that he forgives me. “I got you something.” His voice was soft. I hadn’t noticed that he was hiding his right arm behind his back until it came into view.

He places a double sided photo frame on my lap. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was a hand drawn picture of the red teddy bear. I flipped the picture around and it was a photo dated back to 1992 of me sitting on my bed smiling, in which the bear happened to be on the bed as well.

It was like he knew this whole time that this was the reason for my “downfall”.

“I know you had a hard time dealing with the ‘teddy situation’ and you blame yourself for it. I also know that these past couple of weeks have been rocky for us. The way you’ve changed over the years, all of it, leads to the bear.” He admitted. “How did you know?” I looked into his eyes.

“I noticed your sudden fear in expressing emotions. It took me a while but I finally figured it was because you couldn’t forgive yourself for losing it. So I paid someone to draw the bear and dug through that disposable camera we brought along and found a photo of you with it. I thought it might help you put you at ease.” He looked down as if he thought I was disappointed.

I was speechless. My arms wrap around him. I could feel the weight of the guilt from that incident was no longer there. It was relieving even more just by being in his arms. I felt tinier arms wrap around us, as I lifted my head to see Leah smiling. We pulled out of the embrace as she got distracted by the frame in my lap.

“Pretty bear.” Her face enlightened even more as Carter and I laughed at her. I promise to get her one just like it.

We pulled in for a group hug one more time, as I whispered “Thank you” to Carter.


“You look like an orb.”

I shift my gaze at the distant horizon taking note of the way the poppies and the buttercups brush the pads of my fingers in gentle sweeps. The bite of the tundra, that kisses the parts of my exposed skin, subsides as a single ray of light escapes the cover of a tiny cloud. This light bathes a patch of reddish-brown hair, intensifying its color to a vibrant red, and highlights the silhouette of a sleeping lump in the vegetation five fox steps away from me. I move to lie on my stomach as I reach out to pet my baby mammoth. My palms disappear in the soft, shaggy expanse of the fur of Massak’s belly.

“A lazy orb.” I laugh.

Massak shifts and squirms as I rub his belly in swift, swiping movements. I move my head just in time to avoid the solid tusk that swings my way as Massak tries to burrow the back of his body into the damp surface of the earth.

“Ayyaa! Watch it!” I breathe.

“Who’s going to fend off the hunters when I’m knocked out cold?” Massak bows his massive head, avoiding direct eye contact. I watch the way the snow curves under his weight, leaving a print of a single tusk when he lifts his head again. I lean forward and press my forehead to the base of his trunk just shy of his gentle eyes the color of bleached bones. He trumpets as I sing softly. The rustle of hooves from a herd of caribou grazing lichen and dried sedges blends with the melody. The air is still. I lift my hand, hovering closely to the jagged nub of where a tusk should be. Our breaths are slow. Faint whimpers escape Massak. Warm tears tumble slowly down the plains of my face like cracks in thin ice. I sing the pain away. Large palms pour droplets of melted snow into my mouth. The water is crisp and refreshing against the heat of the fire.

“Salty.” I giggle into the back of my hand as I wipe away the drops from my chin. Embers sizzle and pop from the flames.

“These hands...” I stare, confused.

“...sorted through dried fish earlier!” my brother, Sitka, teases sucking in his cheeks and plumping out his lips. He splays all ten fingers behind his ears and wiggles them like the fins of a sculpin. I laugh, apparently distracted, because the next thing I know, I’m scooped up in an embrace.

“Ataata!” Sitka shouts.

I yelp, wound tight but safe in a comforting kind of warmth. My mother abandons the qulliq she was tending from inside and runs to join my father’s embrace. Seconds later, Sitka fuses himself with our mass of limbs. We find ourselves toppling over onto the packed snow. Bright smiles adorn the faces of my loved ones.

Sitka and I sit on plush fur as my father recounts tales of his journey back home. My mother sits across from him, patiently warming his feet under her arms.

“I have something to show you.” My father whispers at the end a lively account about how he trekked the same path as a polar bear. He takes out a big bundle, from an open pack, and cradles it in his lap. A tiny, reddish-brown head pops out.

My ancestors live in the sky. On nights like these, I watch as they play games with the skull of a walrus. Vibrant green streaks paint their tracks.

“Take us home.” I pat Massak on the hump of his shoulder. Ice crystals line my lashes and brows. I pull the hood of my parka a little closer to my frost-bitten cheeks. It’s dangerous to be out in the open this late at night. I take note of our surroundings: the path is dark; a distant rumble rips through the air as clusters of ice tumble into the sea. As if in response, a chorus of howling, from a pack of wolves, combat the thundering noises. Massak trembles beneath me. We’ve traveled this route many moons over.

“We’ll make it.” I try to comfort him.

He shakes his head, curling his trunk and blowing air. I gently guide Massak away from a seal hole that is thinly iced over. We travel deep into the night. Sleep threatens to snare my small form the way a starving hunter might to a lemming in the toughest of winters. I listen to its call.

I’m lying next to Sitka in a small patch of dried sedge. A tiny Massak nips at the blades of grass by Sitka’s shoulder. Wind rustles through my brother’s unkempt hair. The rims of his irises are deep amber. Flecks of amethyst dot the space in between. The wind shifts its path, weaving through the bones of a dead whale nearby.

The breath of land is as relentless as a saber-tooth tiger pushed to starvation. I open my eyes. Instead of savage winds, a gentle kind of stillness silences the fear that threatened to overcome me moments ago. My soul and body move, but not in the way I’m used to. It’s as if they exist as separate entities.

I watch as my body walks with Massak through a cave that houses an ethereal kind of glow. My soul trails behind. It’s cold, but there’s no parka covering my body.

I close my eyes and dip my toes in the water. Small ripples meet and disperse themselves. Massak and my body keep to the edge of the underground river. My soul attaches itself to the water. As I wade through, a thick scent of brine coats my senses. Strands of long, dark hair follow the wake of my footsteps like veins in an intricate web of flesh, tangling my progress. I walk until I am immobile.

There’s a woman standing next to Massak. They’re so far away now. She’s holding the left side of his face, except he’s no longer a mammoth. He’s standing on two legs covered in smooth skin instead of thick fur. He looks like my kind. I blink and deep strands curl tighter around me. A comb made of bone floats by just beyond my grasp.

Nuliajuk . The cave silently echoes a name.

A cold sensation cradles the back of my head. The energy of something old, something ancient, pulses through my body. My soul struggles to grab hold of the bone to comb myself out of her hair. My body watches my soul. My soul watches my body. It’s an unnatural exchange. Then, the man—the same one down the river—is holding me in an embrace, but instead of skin, it’s fur that meets mine.


It’s in those moments that you realize that thing you associate around a person is built up with a series of moments you faced alongside that said being. You view a story in one angle, when another sees a completely different point of view as to what happened. There is no correct version to a story, just point of views that associates a person and their past which then creates a certain perception in their mind that, this is what happened. Points of views don’t actually really matter in a story if each different character experienced a sort of similar scenario, where they saw most of the same things and heard a relative amount of details in a conversation, then one might say it was a relatively similar experience. But what if three people saw three different versions of what happened that night and none of it was what actually happened? MAY- It was dark and gloomy, even though it was only 10 am on a supposed to be vibrant Saturday, rain was pouring down the roof and it almost seemed as if it may lead up to a storm. May had come home from collage for her break and was lying on the couch wrapped up in a blanket when she heard a knock on the door. Daren, she thought as she slowly crept near the door. There he was standing in the rain, handsome as ever. Daren was May’s twin Carla’s fiancée. Carla had gone on a no electronics retreat with her fancy modern day critic friends and this was the perfect opportunity for May to get her way. The two had an ongoing rivalry since they were little. Carla would always break promises she made to May and deny that she ever did. It got even more out of hand when Carla started accusing May of things she’s never done. More the conflict grew, they seemed to slowly drift apart. Daren always had a hard time telling the sisters apart. They were identical, both had washed up blonde hair and were tall and slim, almost the same size and had matching black eyes. The only thing that was different is that Carla had a butterfly tattoo and May had a flower tattoo, both near their ankles, ones they had gotten before the whole rivalry began. But no one had ever noticed the tattoos, cause since then the girls always wore socks or shoes that covered their tattoos and the memories that was bound with them. May opened the door and let Daren in. Daren let out a sexy smile and pulled May closer to him. Smirking at her he placed his lips on her neck. ‘why is he even marrying her if he doesn’t even know to tell us apart’ May thought as Daren’s lips trailed further down her neck and kissed her shoulder. May felt as if it were only her and Daren in the whole world. She wanted him all to herself. She wouldn’t even care if anyone saw her. Also, it wasn’t like anyone was going to see her, she was all alone in the house. Oh, how wrong she was! CARLA- She watched from behind the corner of the wall that separated the living room and the stairway. She watched as Daren kissed May, ‘that bitch’, she thought to herself. She knew that when May had so eagerly bid her goodbye, something like this was going to happen. So she had bailed on her retreat halfway and come home to THIS! Suddenly Daren stopped kissing May. She was whispering something in his ear and he nodded. She walked away. Probably by the looks of it to the kitchen. Should I go to him, or should I stay... thought Carla. Then from the corner of her eye she saw May climb up the stairs that went through the kitchen and up to her room. If she slid in now Daren wouldn’t notice. ‘he can’t even notice that he’s kissing the wrong girl’ Carla scoffed. Just as she started to climb down the stairs, she saw May coming back. Quickly she hid again. DAREN- Carla came back down almost as soon as she’d gone up. Didn’t she say she was going go washup before we would catch the train to the town? She was dressed completely different, in a black top and jeans with boots. How on earth did she change so quickly… whatever, thought Daren. He never really understood girls. Carla came up to him and slid her hands around his waist… “hey babe ready to go?” asked Daren “go where?” answered Carla. Daren frowned, was she joking? Carla never joked. “You are joking right?” he smiled, Carla laughed. “Of cause silly… lets go” Daren smiled, Carla was making jokes again, does that mean he had forgiven her? When she called and told him that she was going to bail on the electronic-free trip he was so relived. And then she had invited him over. Things were going back to normal. “before we go, I need to go up and quickly get my bag” said Carla. Daren nodded. “sure” he said. He watched as Carla disappear up the stairs. Just as she disappeared, she came back down. Wait, no, that was May. “hey May, I didn’t know you were going to be here? Your sister said it was just her alone…” MAY- Hold on now did he say May? Oh my god…is Carla here? But that cant be…wait, SHE KNOWS!! Oh my god she knows!!! But he doesn’t…so that’s a good thing, Right? She smiled. Be cool! “oh ya, I just came to get some stuff” she blurted out. Good thing Daren didn’t notice that she had nothing in her hands… even a bag… great, her bag was upstairs.

“so, where are headed to?” he asked. Oh right, she was dressed to go out with HIM! “I’m going out with a friend…” she said. When did Carla get here? that’s all she could think of. She was here all this time? She had heard someone near her bedroom but thought it was just the neighbors. The walls were pretty thin. Ok so, that had to be Carla. “your sister just went up to get her bag…” said Daren. Ok so that definitely was Carla. Maybe she didn’t know, maybe she had gotten here now? Nevertheless, May knew she had to get out of here before her sister caught her. She was about to go when she remembered her bag was still in her room. “I’m just going to go grab my bag and then I’ll be out of here” she said. As she was going to go up the stairs, she saw Carla coming down… she slipped into the kitchen to avoid her. CARLA- “hey May, I didn’t know you were going to be here? Your sister said it was just her alone” said Daren. May was dressed in a white crop top and a skirt with her rain boots on. Wasn’t she wearing a black top and jeans? Hold on he said May, so he recognized her? He doesn’t even sound surprised. Wait, why is he referring to me AND her. “your sister just went up to get her bag…” said Daren. WHAT BAG??? I’m here…! Carla wanted to scream. Why does May look confused? Maybe it’s part of their plan to you know, acknowledge that they know I’m here. But May looks sincerely confused and Daren has always been so oblivious. Carla knew for a fact that Daren would never team up with May and that her sister isn’t THAT cruel. What was happening here? May said something about going to grab her bag and disappeared. But just as soon as she disappeared, she was back…wearing the black top and jeans!!! What was with the outfit swopping? “Hey babe, what took you so long? And did you know your sister is here?” asked Daren. What on earth was actually going on here? Carla was ready to think that she was being played when something caught her eye. From the place she was hiding she could see a shadow in the kitchen. Her heart started to beat rapidly. She slowly crept keeping one eye towards the living room. The shadow moved into the light and a scream froze in Carla’s throat. In the kitchen was MAY!!! May stood there in her white top and skirt. Carla felt faint. Even though she tried to creep into the kitchen slowly her foot bumped on the table and something made a small sound and May turned and they locked eyes. MAY- As she tried to slowly sneak up to her room without bumping into her sister, something in the kitchen made a noise and she turned to see CARLA!! Wait what??? Carla was here and there? They locked eyes. “What…who...you?” they said at the same time. Carla was as surprised as she was. “What the hell is happening here?” asked May. A voice came from the living room. Of cause, May wasn’t surprised to see the person there before, as she thought it was Carla. But Carla was HERE! They both looked into the living room at the same time. There she was, in a black top and jeans. She had long washed up blonde hair and black eyes. She looked EXACTLY like Carla and May. No, correction, she was IDENTICAL to Carla and May. The two of them let out a shriek which then caught Daren’s attention. He first looked at the girl in front of him and then his eyes widened when he saw May and Carla. That made the other girl lock eyes with the two sisters. She smiled. May walked towards the living room and Carla followed her. “What the hell is going on here?” asked Daren. He couldn’t believe his eyes, in front of him stood May and Carla AND another girl who looked exactly like the other two. The other girl smiled. “I came here to visit ma, she recently contacted me. She called to tell me that grandma had passed away and that they needed to sort out her will. And of cause, I met Daren here at the coffee shop a month ago and thought it might be fun to mess around with him a bit” she laughed. From the looks of the three people standing in the living room, they were still shell shocked and confused. How does grandma connect with her? the two sisters thought. They looked at each other at the same time. “no…” they whispered, but how? Before they could answer that question the girl beat them to it. “I’m Dalia, I’m your triplet”


The sun touched the fertile landscape with its golden fingers as the cockerel crowed triumphantly. The rhythms of the dawn swelled with the growing light, marking the end of the night's dominion. Amidst the celebration of nature, a young man lay quietly in his bed, shades drawn and windows shut, and he stared contemplatively at the ceiling above him. He felt ill this morning, not of the body but of the mind. He had begun feeling this way every so often since the death of his father about five years before. His friends had tried their best to comfort him, but no amount of joy could extinguish the lingering darkness in his heart. The sun was about halfway to its zenith when the young man forced himself out of bed, no longer able to tolerate his idleness. Today was meant as a day of rest, one in which the townspeople could enjoy the company of their loved ones and indulge themselves in their favorite pastimes. But not for the young man. He was utterly alone, with no friends or family to commune with and no hobby that gave him passion anymore. The last of his close friends had moved to the city for work. A mining mogul had begun recruiting nearby townsfolk to work in his lucrative emerald mine, enticing them with promises of riches and stability. Leading a plain life in his small cottage was enough stability for the young man. His father had taught him the beauty of living among nature and being in touch with the earth. He told him that the only way to truly understand oneself was to study the ways of nature and find one’s place among it. As man was born of the earth, he must spend his life learning from it, and end his life by returning to it. But his father was gone, and the young man could no longer appreciate the beauty his father had once admired without being reminded of the pain of not having him there to share it. The young man opened the door to his cottage and stepped onto the soft green grass, shielding his eyes from the overwhelming light of the sun. The day was nearly at its half point, and with nothing else to do, the young man decided to take a walk. It was warm outside as it was springtime, but there was still a residual winter chill in the breeze. If the young man were not sick, this would have been his ideal type of day. He used to love fishing in the lake. On some days of rest, he and his friends would fish all day and build a fire to roast their spoils in the evening, and on others, he would go on walks with his father to learn from him the different types of birds, plants, and insects that crossed their path. His father was the one who had taught him how to fish, which ones were the best to eat, and which ones were best to throw back into the lake. The young man walked past the lake not far from his cottage. Two small children were splashing their feet in the shallow waters by the shore, their parents watching cautiously nearby. Across the way, three adolescents cast their fishing lines into the deeper part of the lake where the biggest fish resided. The young man stopped for a moment to watch them. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could see the flash of their teeth as they smiled and joked with one another, and he could swear that their laughter was carried on the wind and tickled his ears. His path slowly diverged from the happy scene at the lake and took him further into the rugged countryside. Here, the grass grew thicker and wilder and the trees taller and more overgrown. Something about this land was welcoming to him as it seemed to shut him off from his burdens in the real world. Suddenly, a flash of orange flitted in his peripheral and he quickly snapped his gaze to it. It was a robin that had alighted on a bare branch of a nearby tree down a shallow hill, its bright orange breast a stark contrast against the dull grey bark of the tree. It sang with its sweet, high-pitched melodic voice - a smile touched the corners of the young man’s mouth. He gingerly stepped toward it to get a closer look, but it quickly leapt from the branch and glided further down the hill where it disappeared into the rocks. The young man was astonished: where had it gone? He figured there must be a burrow in the hillside it had flown into, but he had never noticed any significant holes or tunnels before. He decided to investigate and started down the shallow hill. The rocks were more numerous on the side of the hill and the path more treacherous, but he was usually very sure-footed. This time, however, his toe caught on a small protruding rock in the ground, and he felt himself tumble forward. He fell the rest of the way down but only suffered minor cuts on his hands and knees and a bump on the head. Before him was a substantial hole in the ground that appeared to be the maw of a cave. It was just large enough for a man to crawl into comfortably. The robin had to have flown in there, for there were no other holes or burrows nearby. He couldn’t recall ever seeing this cave before, but sometimes heavy spring rains and rushes of water from melted snow uncovered hidden parts of the earth that perhaps were meant to remain concealed. He stuck his head partly into the hole and listened for the sound of the robin, and he thought he could hear a faint flutter of wings. He suddenly worried the bird perhaps had injured itself or couldn’t find its way back out. A chirp issued deep within the cave and echoed within a seemingly vast space. Curious, the young man ventured further into the mouth and let his eyes adjust to the darker environment before him. He could begin to make out a tunnel that seemed to decline at a slight angle. The air that swept up from the tunnel seemed to come in breaths, the smell of it humid and stale. Pushing his hands against the sides of the tunnel to steady himself, he began his descent into the throat of the cave. As he delved deeper, encouraged by the occasional chirp of the robin, he felt the temperature drop and the light recede rapidly. He began to hear the echoes that emanated from some cavernous space ahead even though he couldn’t see an end to the tunnel. As the darkness began to envelop him entirely, a momentary panic rose in his chest. What if he couldn’t get back out? How would he find his way around to help the robin if he had no light with which to see? He cursed himself and pressed his palms hard against the walls to stop himself from going further. He winced as the rock dug into the cuts on his hands. The tunnel was too tight for him to turn around, so the best he could do was crawl backwards to the mouth of the cave. Working against gravity, he propelled himself with the heels of his hands and balls of his feet. He was making good headway, but the exertion was beginning to fatigue him, and perspiration gathered on his forehead and dripped off the tip of his nose. The warmth of the air above began to permeate into the tunnel, filling him with hope, and his energy renewed as he climbed higher and higher. That was when tragedy struck. His palms, slick with sweat and blood, gave way and slid down the sides of the tunnel, his chest and chin slamming onto the rocky passage. The arching of his feet, once providing traction for his ascent, inadvertently aided in his fall as it launched him forward in his panic. He tried to reach out for something to grab onto, but the tunnel was smooth, smoother than he remembered, and the decline felt steeper, too. He was too terrified to yell as he tumbled into the abyss and was consumed by the cave. It seemed like he fell for many minutes, maybe even hours or days. The cave was timeless. The young man let himself be drawn into its bowels since there was nothing he could do to prevent it. His eyes strained to collect the few photons that managed to make their way to these unimaginable depths. He prepared himself mentally for the inevitable landing at the bottom of the cave, but it didn’t come; he just kept falling.

Just when he began to think the tunnel might lead all the way to the center of the earth, the floor gave way. For a moment, he felt as though he was swimming through the dark waters of a massive lake. But then his stomach lurched as gravity pulled him toward an unseen ground. His panic renewed, and he shielded his head with his arms as he crashed onto the rocks. He lay motionless for a time in a fetal position, his arms still covering his head, eyes closed. His breaths were ragged and quick; his heart beat wildly in his chest. He felt a sharp pain in his side, but the rest of his body felt numb. There was a consistent dripping noise behind him, and an occasional splash like a small fish leaping in a body of water. Slowly, he relaxed his muscles and began to unfurl his body. He opened his eyes, but nothing seemed to change. The void was still before him. He blinked a couple of times, but there was no distinction between the opening and closing of his lids. He sighed deeply and looked in the direction where he thought he had fallen; no shred of light betrayed the position of the calamitous tunnel. A chirp in the distance stirred the air around him and he felt an instant spark of hope in his chest. He carefully got to his feet, clutching at the pain in his side. With his free hand waving ahead of him to feel for any obstacles in his path, he shuffled his way in the direction of the bird. Just as he wished for another sound from the robin, a string of high-pitched notes issued from the space in front of him, even further away than last time. His free hand struck a piece of rock and he nearly cried out in surprise. He soon realized that the rock was a wall, and that the space around him had gotten narrower. He inched his way forward, using his free hand against the rock as a guide. The air seemed to compress and his chest felt heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was from some external stimulus or if it was all in his head. The rock gradually eased away from him and the passage expanded. It was deafeningly silent. The young man could hear his own blood rushing through his veins to his beating heart and flowing out through his arteries. He uttered a small sound, but his voice was immediately swallowed by the darkness. A sharp cry cut through the darkness and the young man covered his ears. It was the robin, but it sounded distressed. “Where are you?” he called, his voice muted. He thought he saw in the corner of his eye a flutter of wings. He turned around and stumbled forward and grasped at the wings but didn’t feel feathers.

He felt flesh. He fell back in horror and tried to make out the figure before him. It was amorphous, almost blending in with the rest of the cave, but he could swear that he could make out a familiar shape.

“F-Father?” Something moved and he gasped. His eyes stung with tears, his breathing uneven and frantic. He heard breathing that was not his own - the breaths smelled humid and stale. A footstep padded gently on the rock, and then another. The young man’s breaths quickened and his heartbeats sounded wet and heavy, the blood roaring in his ears. “ Dear god! ” His eyes widened as he tried to make out the full shape of the being in front of him. Pat. Another padded footstep. “Oh god! What - ?” Pat . “ It can’t be. ” Pat . “ Why me? Why now? ” Pat . The young man began weeping. “ Please, I beg you, stop! Come no closer! ” The footsteps stopped only a few feet away and the breaths fell gently on his face. The terror fused with some other emotion like euphoria. It squeezed his heart until he felt it would burst. He slowly reached out and touched something. Trembling, he sobbed, “ It is - ! I-I can’t believe - ! No, it can’t - ! Father! I-I love -”


I awoke with a sudden fit of coughing, my throat felt dry and I grabbed for the plastic bottle of water I had left on the side before going to sleep, there wasn’t much left so I took a small mouthful, just enough to rinse my throat, and swallowed. I tasted ash. Panicking, I swung round to where I had put the children to sleep, both were still on the single bed in the corner, the worn-out tartan blanket had been kicked off and had slid onto the floor but they both still had all 3 of our jackets over them for warmth, top to tail with the little ones legs thrown over her elder brother. Both had a slight rosiness to their cheeks so I quickly checked that both were indeed actually breathing before I loosened my shoulders and unclenched my jaw in relief. This had become a morning ritual, the panic and checking for signs of life in my children, not a routine I ever pictured myself undertaking back in the school run days of snack and jacket checks while hurrying everyone out of the door for another mundane, yet peaceful day at our local village school, chatting to other parents about a child-free alcohol-fuelled night out or gushing over 4 pieces of artwork brought home every day from nursery. This felt like a lifetime ago, although it had only been a few months, a mundane and peaceful life was now a happy memory and one we were all grasping to the hope of having again soon.

They should be home by now. My next thought. There’s ash and they’re not home. My shoulders and jaw are clenched again, and my stomach lurches. I lean over and pick up the discarded blanket off of the floor. It smells of dog. I wrap it around my shoulders. I squint my eyes out of the small gap in the makeshift shutters. It’s snowed overnight, I can see a layer of perfect crisp white peeking out from where the ash hasn’t covered it. A perfect example of this life and the last, laying together like some kind of horror story I never imagined myself part of. I look for footprints or even dog prints, but there is nothing, which at the same time brings worry as that means Eric and Glen haven’t made it back yet but is also a blessing as it means no one else has been here either. This new world has me constantly stuck between ironic emotions. I force myself back to being hopeful, for this to be a temporary world. As soon as one of the new wave groups breaks through the governments’ stronghold, surely we will get back to some kind of new normality? A better normality?

I hear one of the children stir and I pull myself back to the present and remind myself to keep it together for their sake. They have already been through a global pandemic, watched a far off war taking place and as far as they understand, it always goes back to normal. This is just one of these things, happening where we live this time. Fine. It’s fine, It’s going to be fine. I pick up the cleanest useable pot and head over to the log burner. The electricity has been off for the past month and we have all of the belongings we need to get through the days just now, moved into the living room, both for warmth and for safety if a quick getaway is needed. By some miracle, we rented a house with a working log burner before all of this, once for luxury, now used for eating, washing, heating, time is looping back on itself. I had prepped a new fire last night for this morning and I lit our final remaining match, said a prayer to the universe for it to work, and set some paper alight, it burst into an orange and blue flame, taking a minute or so for the kindling to catch and I turned away to prepare breakfast while the fire became usable. I tore open a packet of porridge oats and poured them into the pot, along with the last of the carton of almond milk. Hopefully, Eric would manage to get some kind of UHT milk on this trip out, and matches, Eric, please find matches I thought. As I stirred the dull mixture together one of the children sat up.

“Mummy, where’s Eric?”. He coughed.

“Just out getting some shopping, he’ll be back soon, have a drink of water please”. I handed my 6-year-old the bottle of water. “Leave some for your sister just now please, Eric will be home with more soon.”

“Why is there ash everywhere again?” “I think the wind has blown it over from the town with the snow,” I said, trying to avoid telling them why there was ash in the first place. I looked at the hole in the ceiling, caused by a weak spot from the gutter draining inwards, back when this was a trivial problem, now the gutter was completely broken and the rain and wind had created the hole in the roof cladding which allowed us a front seat to the elements…and anything else in the air when it managed to blow through our makeshift towel covering. I wished I’d had this fixed before, but it was always a tomorrow problem, and none of us saw this coming.

“Mummy, I’m hungry”. More coughing from my 3-year-old daughter this time and her brother handed her the last of the bottle of water.

He had taken it on himself to look after her as much as I did, to make sure she was always safe and warm, something a 6-year-old shouldn’t even have to consider. I used to hate their constant fighting, but now, I would love to see them fighting because one of them wants to watch Cocomelon and the other wants to play Xbox.

We eat the porridge in silence, all of us knowing better than to complain about its dull taste and consistency by now.

“Mummy, what are we doing today?” “Well we need to keep this fire going until Eric gets back so we can’t go far”, I reply, not mentioning the ash and potentially toxicity outside that I’m trying to protect them from. “How about we read some books to practice your reading?”

“But we’ve read all these books a hundred times…” my son moans. “Well, you will know the words and spellings off by heart the…” I was interrupted by a bark and clawing coming from the front door. We all jumped. “Eric?” Please be Glen and Eric.

“Stay there please. You know the plan?”. I say, trying to keep the fear from my voice.

I slip out into the hallway and quickly close the door behind me, leaving the room in the semi-darkness we were now accustomed to. The whining comes again and I can see a black and white silhouette through the frosted glass. Glen. I start to quickly unlock the deadbolt and yale locks then the newer additional sliding locks and I open the door just enough to let the ash-covered dog in. I stall for a second before I stick my head around the door. “Eric?” No response so I pull my head back and close the door, making sure to redo all of the locks before I even check Glen over.

“Slightly ash-covered but no visible bleeding or limping, I run my hands over his back and round his stomach. I take his muzzle in my hands and use my thumbs to check his teeth..all there and none broken. I let go, he whines again and nudges my hand. We slip back through to the living room where the children wait in silence. “Glen!” they shout in unison as they rush over to see him. “Where’s Eric? Is he okay?” “He’s fine, he’ll just be somewhere that dogs are not allowed so he will have sent him back.” “But how did Glen know how to get home?” “Because dogs are very clever and have a great sense of smell to find their way home” “But what if…” “Shhh.” I cut him off, “Eric is fine, Glen is fine. Let’s get ourselves ready for the day”. We tidied up the jackets, folded away the blankets and I rubbed down the dishes as best I could with a tea towel until we got water. I brushed everyones hair and we all brushed our teeth with our dry brushes in the name of some kind of normality. I tried to sweep up as much of the ash that had come in the damaged ceiling space and had lain across the living room as I could, and I slipped out the doors and reenacted my unlocking and locking act while I popped it out into the snow and ash layer that was covering the driveway.

I popped some more of our dried sticks into the log burner and we settled down for our story. My son started “Niko wanted a pet. Niko wanted a pet mon..” We all jumped again as a gust of wind swept down the chimney and almost blew out the fire. I rushed over and grabbed a bit of paper from old junk mail and shoved it in the embers, it relit. I restarted the fire using paper and some more dried kindling. We settled down again. “Niko wanted a pet monkey. That way he wouldn’t have to keep asking his parents to take him to the zoo”. As he read, his soothing childlike voice and the warmth of the fire soothed me into an almost meditative state. It must have only been a few minutes when another gust of wind in the chimney and a soft bang and a sizzle brought me back to reality. The wind had brought down some snow onto the fire and it was dying quickly. I jumped up and grabbed some more paper, pushing it in to try and ignite it the same way I had just before, but there was nothing left to ignite it, the snow and resulting water had extinguished the fire. Now there’s an idea I thought to myself and put away for later. I tried to blink away the tears starting to form in my eyes. With no more drinkable water and our last match used, I was going to have to go out into one of the towns or we wouldn’t be around much longer to even need them. Normally Eric would do this, but I was going to have to go in search of him too, he had never been away this long, and I was trying not to let the ash coming from the town and the return of the dog, extinguish my hopes that he would be back. It had been a long time since I had been out for supplies, and I had never had to go alone, we had all gone back in the beginning when it was still deemed safe and we still had family in town. We would need to go in the opposite direction of the ash, I couldn’t risk that. Do I take the children like we used to, do I leave them here with the dog? What was safer? I looked around for some items to trade while I mused this over, I wasn’t sure how things were in the towns now. I slid some dried firewood into a pillowcase, nothing else had much value at the moment. I gathered our empty bottles to refill. I didn’t want to wait much longer in case the snow worsened, or it darkened, also we needed water, fast, and what if Eric didn’t come back? I had made my decision. “Jackets and shoes on, we’re going on an adventure”. The children looked at me. “Are you sure Mummy?” “Yep, I need my best two helpers with this one today” “Okay, Mummy”…they went over and got their jackets and shoes on. “Don’t forget your masks” I added, they patted their pockets to show me they had them. “Come on Glen!” We made our way to the door and I picked up the pillowcase, it was heaver and squarer than before, my son smiled at me. Maybe we can swap some books Mum, you know I love reading to you.

I unlocked the deadbolt. I unlocked the yale. I unlocked the first slide lock, the second, and the final and third lock and I stepped out into the air filled with ash and snow.

“Hold hands guys. Don’t let go of each other.” Fine. It’s all fine. It’s all going to be fine.


In the cold and unforgiving cityscape of London, Gabriel Stone, a private investigator hardened by both the city streets and the unseen dark corners of the paranormal, sat quietly in a seedy pub tucked away in a narrow alley. It was a sanctuary for the downtrodden, forgotten by the world and drenched in shadows. Here, Stone knew, lay a trail that could lead him to an entity as insidious as it was clever. In the treacherous game of cat and mouse that he played with the supernatural, the trail of The Miller was the dodgiest he had ever followed. Named for their talent to feed the gossip mills, The Miller was a species of Enchanter. They whispered impossible rumours and twisted the fates of their victims until the absurd became their reality. It was a diabolical prowess, one Stone begrudgingly admired. Social media, the 21st century’s weapon of mass deception, was The Miller's playground, amplifying the rumours into a deafening roar of fake news. Stone had seen the chaos unfold as these fabrications became someone else’s all-too-real nightmare. He'd noticed a pattern, a perverse thread linking the victims, which he had chased down the city’s dark alleys, in and out of dodgy pubs, always under a cloak of secrecy. Even as he ventured further into this dangerous investigation, he knew he couldn't afford to become a part of the twisted narrative. Once your name found its way to The Miller's whispers, there was no evading the inevitable. But Stone wasn’t one to shy away from danger. His audacity had been forged in the fires of countless encounters with the dark arts, making him a formidable adversary to the Enchanter. At the heart of his strategy was the way he communicated: brief, cryptic words, carefully designed to offer little about his intentions. He was a silent shadow amongst the rabble, listening, observing, never revealing more than a sliver of his true intentions. "Terrible about that schoolteacher, innit?" he said to the barkeep, casting his line into the murky waters of bar gossip. "Yeah, grim. Got no idea what came over him," the barkeep replied. While his external dialogue was a model of restraint, his inner thoughts were a different story. Direct, candid statements of what he saw and how he interpreted it, a constant narrative that fuelled his understanding of the world around him. This schoolteacher is just another victim. I need to find the link to The Miller. With every interaction, every piece of news he gathered, he felt closer to The Miller, his every instinct screaming that he was on the right track. But with every step, the waters seemed to get murkier, his path, uncertain. Could he trust his instincts? Or was he being led into a trap? The suspicion that had served him so well was casting shadows on his own confidence. His relentless pursuit led him to The Grindhouse, a notorious internet café known as the epicentre of online rumours and scandals. He suspected this was where The Miller spun their webs of deceit. Walking into the café, the soft hum of computers and the click-clack of keyboards filled his ears. He had to be careful. One wrong step and he might trigger a rumour about himself. "Any interesting news?" Stone asked the girl behind the counter, his voice as casual as the weather. "Always," she replied with a smirk. He spent hours in the café, watching, listening. The conversations around him were a mix of harmless chatter and scandalous gossip. Yet, he couldn't shake off the feeling of an unseen menace, the undercurrent of The Miller’s invisible handiwork. As he sifted through the details, he started to form a chilling picture. The schoolteacher was the tip of an iceberg in an unforgiving sea of icebergs, a piece of a horrifying puzzle that was The Miller’s handiwork. A sinister thought pierced his confidence. He was piecing together the fragments, but what if they were purposefully laid out for him? Was he unearthing a trail, or walking along a cleverly mapped path? The shadow of doubt began to creep into his mind. Was he merely a pawn in The Miller's malicious game? Was he about to be ensnared in a rumour of his own making? Returning to his office, Stone pondered his findings. He was too close to back out now. The dodgy lead hadn't deterred him; rather, it had solidified his resolve. He'd seen the damage The Miller caused, and he was more determined than ever to bring this demon to justice. The phone rang, disrupting his thoughts. An anonymous tip about a high-profile businessman's sudden downfall. Another victim of The Miller, it seemed. As Stone listened, the anonymous voice echoed the chilling patterns he'd uncovered. His heart pounded with the weight of his reality; he was dealing with an enemy that could turn his worst fears into a reality. The next day brought another call, then another. The tempo of The Miller's game had definitely intensified, and the signature was obviously theirs, but the pattern was no more evident to Stone than when he first began this chase. Moreover, Stone was all too aware he had not been as discreet about his intentions as he had hoped. Under any other circumstance, tracking any other mark, he would have been grateful for the litany of leads he was receiving. But not now, not when it came to the sheer damning power of words when wielded by The Miller. As the days blurred into a tapestry of accusations, confessions, and manipulations, Stone felt the spectre of The Miller grow larger. With every rumour that blossomed into a dreadful reality, he sensed a taunting presence, an unseen foe watching his every move. He was close, he could feel it, yet The Miller seemed always a whisper away, an insidious shadow just out of reach. Navigating through the storm of rumours, piecing together the whispers, Stone stayed the course. He questioned his leads, followed the threads, all the while keeping his pursuit hidden from prying eyes. His instincts, the voice that had guided him through the darkest corners of the city, were now a mix of certainty and doubt. Am I close? Or am I walking into The Miller's labyrinth? In a moment of weakness, he pulled a coin from his pocket, ready to offer the fate of his next direction up to the whims of Tyche, when the tinny clink of his letterbox cracked the silence of his darkened flat. He bent to retrieve the yellow parcel, and, in that moment, instead of an off-chance call for heads or tails, it all came down to a crumpled envelope delivered to his office, and a single piece of worn parchment folded neatly inside. The elegant but erratic handwriting indicated urgency, lending an even more ominous air to the message it held: "Midnight tolls where spirits gather. Seek the whisper in the static. The rumour’s birthplace hides in plain sight." It was cryptic, no doubt, but to Stone, it was more. He had spent countless nights hunting whispers of the supernatural, deciphering riddles that were far more obscure than this. His heart pounded with a glimmer of hope. The spirits' gathering place... could it be the internet café? The whisper in the static... an online broadcast, perhaps? And the rumour's birthplace hiding in plain sight... Could it be that The Miller had been weaving his rumours right under everyone's nose, within The Grindhouse itself? As he unravelled its meaning, he felt the cold chill of realisation. He'd found the link he was searching for, the common thread that led him straight to The Miller's doorstep. Or so it seemed. The faint glimmer of hope surged into a beacon, as Stone knew he'd just caught a break. This clue, as puzzling as it was, might just be the lead he needed to corner The Miller. Or, as the inherent risk of his investigation dictated, it could be yet another lure into an intricate trap. The clue felt real, but he couldn't shake off the nagging question - was this truly the break he'd been waiting for, or was it another manipulation by The Miller? The line of his jaw tightened with replenished determination. Reaching for his hat as he slid his keys into his coat pocket, he decided that was a chance he was destined to take.